< Back
BONG, BONG.
The echoing of the grandfather’s clock forced Lydia out of sleep and she groaned with annoyance. She’d been dreaming - and it had been a good dream, too. She had been exploring an ancient castle, searching for a golden key. Just as she’d been about to open the chest with the key inside, the clock had rudely barged its way into her head.
She rubbed her head and counted the bongs. 4, 6, 7! She’d slept in on the history fair day! Lydia leapt to her feet, slipped on her lucky bracelet and sprinted down the stairs two at a time, red hair flying after her.
“Hey Mum! Hey Rob! Gotta run!”
She grabbed her prepared lunch box, snatched an apple, stepped into her shoes and raced out the door in a whirlwind of excitement. Her eyes gleamed.
Today she would be going to the National Museum of Australian History - which might seem boring to anyone else but to Lydia it was heaven. She’s been looking forward to it for weeks!
Lydia loved history - it was her favourite subject and she knew everything about it. Which was why it was so important she made it there on time.
She crunched on the apple whilst running, a stitch blooming painfully in her side. April clutched at her stomach as she sprinted. How much time did she have before the school bus went and she was left behind?
As she neared the school grounds a shadow fell over and she looked up, face falling. The bus passed her, her best friend Nancy inside pulling a sad face and doing two thumbs down.
She’d missed it. If only she’d been roused a little later, if she’d ran a little quicker, she could have…
Tears of frustration pricked her eyes and she kicked a brick wall. Of all the days to wake up late, she had to choose today. Sometimes she just wished she could turn back time.
That afternoon she trudged up the steps to her room, head hanging low. She’d had a bland day at school doing extra maths, science and english in textbooks all day. Even worse, she was the one of the only children who hadn’t gone. Today was a disaster. Even worse, April had had to finish up her schoolwork at the end of the day as all the other kids came in buzzing about their fantastic day.
She slumped on her bed and gazed up at her grandfather's clock. She hadn’t wanted it in her room, but it was in her grandfather’s will that she have it, so here it was. He’d died two years ago and her eyes blurred every time she thought about him. She shook her head. It was best not to think about it.
Her eyes flicked around the clock's exterior, paying full attention to every detail, her heart thudding. The hands ticked past slowly. Around in a circle. No start, no end.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
She stepped towards the clock without thinking, eyes trained on the hands.
Bong. Tick. Tock. Bong. Tick. Bong. Tock. Bong.
Four o’clock.
As if in a trance, her hand stretched for the knob that opened the grandfather’s clock, grasped the handle and swung it open. Her foot lifted… and stepped inside. The door clicked shut.
Suddenly, she realised what she was doing. April was inside the clock! Her hand strained against the door, trying to push it open. No, no, no! Her Mum had always told to be careful with it as it only opened from the outside.
She opened her mouth to call for help but stopped short. Her elder brother Rob was at after-school football and Mum was shopping. They both wouldn’t be back for hours.
Her heart thudded.
Bong. Bong.
Hang on, that doesn’t make any sense. She thought, craning her head around. It had just turned 4 o’clock and wouldn’t hit another hour for ages.
Tick, Tock, Bong.
BONG. BONG. BONG.
TICK. TOCK. TICK. TOCK. BONG.
The clock echoed in time with her heart beats, then faster and faster. And louder.
BONG. TICK. TOCK. BONG. TICK. TOCK. BONG.
It was deafening. Her eardrums screamed. Louder and faster it got. Colours streamed before her eyes but she couldn’t focus, so in pain were her ears.
The pendulum swung once more.
BONG.
All went black.
April rubbed her eyes and blinked, then reeled back in schock.
Staring at her with large eyes - one green, one blue - was a boy with frosty white hair curled back along his forehead, dressed in blue and white tartan. He looked mildly familiar, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.
“What are you doing here?” He whispered in a thick courtney accent, his breath fogging up the glass of the grandfather clock.
April struggled to respond. Her eyes roved absent-mindedly over the building, popping in shock. She was in a clockworker’s shop, filled with lovely clocks of all shapes and sizes - from intricately carved wooden cuckoo clocks to fashionable golden pocket watches.
“Well, what are you doing here?” She retorted, then wished she could swallow her words right then and there when she realised what a terrible response it was.
“What am I doing?” He ogled at her. “I work here. And you? What are you doing here in a grandfather clock?”
She sighed, realising there was no easy way to answer that question.
“Um, I… just let me out of here, would you?”
He shrugged and gave the door a good tug, causing her to fall out and crash onto the floor face-first.
“Are you all right?”
April got up and dusted herself off, irritated. “I’m fine.” She replied curtly and strode towards the door.
She stepped outside and her jaw. DROPPED.
Outside was every history buff’s dream come true. The streets were simple and unkempt, with rows of Baroque style buildings. Horses and carriages clip clopped past, the manes and tails swishing by. Men strutted past in linen collars, large bulging pants and puffy sleeves of rich fabrics. Meanwhile the women dressed in puffy dresses with multiple petticoats and extravagant hats and hairstyles.
For a moment her breath was taken away. What had happened? Where was she?
April swallowed. Ok. Maybe she had fallen asleep and Mum had driven to her a fun history fair to make her feel better about missing out on the excursion. Yeah. That would make sense.
She smiled brightly. That made sense. She went to step forward and greeted a man in frilly shorts.
“Hi! Have you seen my Mum? She’s about -”
The man’s face soured. “Beat it, girlie.”
“No, but I -”
He hit her sharply across the face and leaned in closer, leering, revealing brown teeth. Spittle flew at her.
“I said, BEAT IT!”
April reared back, stung, her hand on her cheek. She didn’t have to look in the mirror to know there was a red mark. She’d never felt pain like that before. April glanced around the street indignantly. Surely someone had seen that act of violence and would report it?
But no one looked up. No one cared.
Her eyes flashed around, seeing the things she hadn’t seen before. The river - dirty and polluted. The women - staggering around in tight corsets. The street urchins - dressed in little but grimy rags.
This was no act.
This was real.
April stumbled backwards, gasping, and for the first time ever, fainted. In a very unladylike way. Not that she cared.
The echoing of the grandfather’s clock forced Lydia out of sleep and she groaned with annoyance. She’d been dreaming - and it had been a good dream, too. She had been exploring an ancient castle, searching for a golden key. Just as she’d been about to open the chest with the key inside, the clock had rudely barged its way into her head.
She rubbed her head and counted the bongs. 4, 6, 7! She’d slept in on the history fair day! Lydia leapt to her feet, slipped on her lucky bracelet and sprinted down the stairs two at a time, red hair flying after her.
“Hey Mum! Hey Rob! Gotta run!”
She grabbed her prepared lunch box, snatched an apple, stepped into her shoes and raced out the door in a whirlwind of excitement. Her eyes gleamed.
Today she would be going to the National Museum of Australian History - which might seem boring to anyone else but to Lydia it was heaven. She’s been looking forward to it for weeks!
Lydia loved history - it was her favourite subject and she knew everything about it. Which was why it was so important she made it there on time.
She crunched on the apple whilst running, a stitch blooming painfully in her side. April clutched at her stomach as she sprinted. How much time did she have before the school bus went and she was left behind?
As she neared the school grounds a shadow fell over and she looked up, face falling. The bus passed her, her best friend Nancy inside pulling a sad face and doing two thumbs down.
She’d missed it. If only she’d been roused a little later, if she’d ran a little quicker, she could have…
Tears of frustration pricked her eyes and she kicked a brick wall. Of all the days to wake up late, she had to choose today. Sometimes she just wished she could turn back time.
That afternoon she trudged up the steps to her room, head hanging low. She’d had a bland day at school doing extra maths, science and english in textbooks all day. Even worse, she was the one of the only children who hadn’t gone. Today was a disaster. Even worse, April had had to finish up her schoolwork at the end of the day as all the other kids came in buzzing about their fantastic day.
She slumped on her bed and gazed up at her grandfather's clock. She hadn’t wanted it in her room, but it was in her grandfather’s will that she have it, so here it was. He’d died two years ago and her eyes blurred every time she thought about him. She shook her head. It was best not to think about it.
Her eyes flicked around the clock's exterior, paying full attention to every detail, her heart thudding. The hands ticked past slowly. Around in a circle. No start, no end.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
She stepped towards the clock without thinking, eyes trained on the hands.
Bong. Tick. Tock. Bong. Tick. Bong. Tock. Bong.
Four o’clock.
As if in a trance, her hand stretched for the knob that opened the grandfather’s clock, grasped the handle and swung it open. Her foot lifted… and stepped inside. The door clicked shut.
Suddenly, she realised what she was doing. April was inside the clock! Her hand strained against the door, trying to push it open. No, no, no! Her Mum had always told to be careful with it as it only opened from the outside.
She opened her mouth to call for help but stopped short. Her elder brother Rob was at after-school football and Mum was shopping. They both wouldn’t be back for hours.
Her heart thudded.
Bong. Bong.
Hang on, that doesn’t make any sense. She thought, craning her head around. It had just turned 4 o’clock and wouldn’t hit another hour for ages.
Tick, Tock, Bong.
BONG. BONG. BONG.
TICK. TOCK. TICK. TOCK. BONG.
The clock echoed in time with her heart beats, then faster and faster. And louder.
BONG. TICK. TOCK. BONG. TICK. TOCK. BONG.
It was deafening. Her eardrums screamed. Louder and faster it got. Colours streamed before her eyes but she couldn’t focus, so in pain were her ears.
The pendulum swung once more.
BONG.
All went black.
April rubbed her eyes and blinked, then reeled back in schock.
Staring at her with large eyes - one green, one blue - was a boy with frosty white hair curled back along his forehead, dressed in blue and white tartan. He looked mildly familiar, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.
“What are you doing here?” He whispered in a thick courtney accent, his breath fogging up the glass of the grandfather clock.
April struggled to respond. Her eyes roved absent-mindedly over the building, popping in shock. She was in a clockworker’s shop, filled with lovely clocks of all shapes and sizes - from intricately carved wooden cuckoo clocks to fashionable golden pocket watches.
“Well, what are you doing here?” She retorted, then wished she could swallow her words right then and there when she realised what a terrible response it was.
“What am I doing?” He ogled at her. “I work here. And you? What are you doing here in a grandfather clock?”
She sighed, realising there was no easy way to answer that question.
“Um, I… just let me out of here, would you?”
He shrugged and gave the door a good tug, causing her to fall out and crash onto the floor face-first.
“Are you all right?”
April got up and dusted herself off, irritated. “I’m fine.” She replied curtly and strode towards the door.
She stepped outside and her jaw. DROPPED.
Outside was every history buff’s dream come true. The streets were simple and unkempt, with rows of Baroque style buildings. Horses and carriages clip clopped past, the manes and tails swishing by. Men strutted past in linen collars, large bulging pants and puffy sleeves of rich fabrics. Meanwhile the women dressed in puffy dresses with multiple petticoats and extravagant hats and hairstyles.
For a moment her breath was taken away. What had happened? Where was she?
April swallowed. Ok. Maybe she had fallen asleep and Mum had driven to her a fun history fair to make her feel better about missing out on the excursion. Yeah. That would make sense.
She smiled brightly. That made sense. She went to step forward and greeted a man in frilly shorts.
“Hi! Have you seen my Mum? She’s about -”
The man’s face soured. “Beat it, girlie.”
“No, but I -”
He hit her sharply across the face and leaned in closer, leering, revealing brown teeth. Spittle flew at her.
“I said, BEAT IT!”
April reared back, stung, her hand on her cheek. She didn’t have to look in the mirror to know there was a red mark. She’d never felt pain like that before. April glanced around the street indignantly. Surely someone had seen that act of violence and would report it?
But no one looked up. No one cared.
Her eyes flashed around, seeing the things she hadn’t seen before. The river - dirty and polluted. The women - staggering around in tight corsets. The street urchins - dressed in little but grimy rags.
This was no act.
This was real.
April stumbled backwards, gasping, and for the first time ever, fainted. In a very unladylike way. Not that she cared.