clockwork.

[kytaen]

 the clock ticks, strikes one.

 

keep turning the gears, he'd said. it's the only thing he knows, turning the gears round and round. up and down the gears go, and the clock keeps ticking, and time keeps moving.

 

don't talk, he'd said. so nito keeps his mouth closed, and turns the gears. because that's all he knows, and the clock needs to go on.

 

sing for me, the boy had said. the boy from the music box below the shelf. the boy from the fairy's palace.

 

nito doesn't say a word.

 

the boy's gears are turned, and he sings a melody.

 

nito keeps turning the gears of the clock, because that's all he knows, and the clock needs to go on.

 

the boy sings the next day.

 

and the next.

 

and the next.

 

and the day after that. there are tears forming from his two-toned eyes. sing for me, he whispers. i know you have a voice.

 

nito does have a voice.

 

but nito doesn't sing, because he's not supposed to, and the clock needs to keep ticking.

 

the boy doesn't sing the next day. no one is there to turn the gears. the music box collects dust in the corner of the desk, below the shelf.

 

it's the same the next day.

 

and the next.

 

and the next.

 

there are gears, shiny ones, silver ones, gold ones. brass ones and bronze ones, laid out on the table. there are screwdrivers and tiny objects that cast shadows in the flickering candlelight.

 

the music box doesn't make a sound.

 

nito wants to scream.

 

he wants to scream, wake up. he wants to listen to the boy's voice again.

 

but his gears don't turn, and nito has to turn the gears of the clock, or else it wouldn't tick.

 

time passes. a month, two. a sticker decorates the music box, and the dust is wiped clean. there's a number on that sticker, printed in red. a price.

 

nito turns the gears.

 

nito doesn't want to turn the gears. 

 

if turning the gears meant that the clock would tick, that time would pass, he doesn't want to turn the gears.

 

"sing for me," the boy had said, back then. "sing, and i'll sing back."

 

so nito opens his mouth. puts down his hands, stops the gears.

 

and sings.

 

(the glass of the clock shatters, each crack a note of a forbidden, forgotten melody.)

 

the next day, the music box is open on the table, its clasp broken by force. 

 

no one is here to sing,

 

and the gears don't turn anymore.