Chapter 1: The Discovery

English is not my first Language and ignore the grammatical mistakes.Enjoy!!!

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The market was alive with chatter and color, the air thick with the smell of roasted chestnuts and old wood and the delicious street food. You wandered through the maze of booths, your hands brushing over many things, jewelry, bracelets, etc. A vintage store caught your eye but you moved on, drawn by the possibility of something more unusual.

“Looking for anything in particular?” a vendor asked as you passed by. You shook your head with a polite smile. “Just looking around.”

The farther you walked, the quieter the crowd grew, until you found yourself at the edge of the market. Tucked in the corner was a small stall that seemed almost out of place. It table was filled with antiques: candlesticks, figures and dusty books. But what caught your attention was an object in the sunlight.

It was a antique clock, small and delicate, kept in a glass dome. The brass gears inside seemed impossibly new, as though they formed a metallic puzzle you couldn’t solve. The clock face was old with time, bore faint gold numerals that shimmered faintly in the light.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” the vendor said, his voice raspy with age. “Yeah…” you said, your fingers hovering over the glass. “Does it still work?” He chuckled. “Depends on what you mean by ‘work.’ It ticks, sure but it’s old. May it won't work after time. Might have a few secrets in it, though.” You frowned slightly. “Secrets?” The man gave a nonchalant shrug. “Every antique has a story, doesn’t it? Twenty bucks and it’s yours.” You hesitated but only for a moment. There was something about the clock, something you couldn’t explain. Reaching into your bag, you handed over the cash.

“Good choice.” the vendor said with a knowing smile as he wrapped the clock in an old newspaper. As you turned to leave, you thought you heard him saying something but when you glanced back, he was already helping someone else.

That evening, you set the clock on your coffee table. It looked oddly out of place in your modern apartment but you couldn’t stop staring at it. Its mechanisms and hands clicked softly, steady and hypnotic. You picked it up, turning it over in your hands. That’s when you noticed it a gap between the clock. Curiosity peak at your mind as you pressed your fingers against the edge. With a soft click, a hidden compartment slid open.

“What the-…”

Inside was a piece of folded, yellow paper. You pulled it out carefully, your pulse quickening as you unfolded it.

The handwriting was elegant, almost too perfect to be real.

Dear Y/N,Tomorrow, you will leave your umbrella behind at the café. A storm will come and you will regret not turning back for it. Don’t ignore this.— C.

You stared at the note, your stomach twisting. How did that person know your name? Who is “C”? Shaking your head, you set the letter down. It had to be a joke. Maybe the vendor had slipped it in before selling the clock a little prank to add some creepy feeling. “Yeah, real funny” you said, folding the note back up and placing it in the compartment. You snapped it shut and tried to put it out of your mind.

The next morning, your usual routine brought you to your favorite café. The air smelled like fresh coffee and vanilla, and you lingered by the counter, waiting for your order. As you left, with your drink and your bag, you barely noticed the umbrella you had set down by the door. It wasn’t until you were halfway to work that the sky began to darken. Thick clouds came and within minutes, rain started. You groaned, hiding under the bus stop as lightning starts.

A chill ran down your spine as the words from the letter came rushing back.“You will leave your umbrella behind at the café…”

“No way” you whispered to yourself. But your mind was telling something else. By the time you got home that evening, you were drenched and shivering, you couldn’t ignore the feeling anymore. Setting your bag aside, you grabbed the watch and opened the compartment again.

This time, there was a new note inside. Your heart pounded as you unfolded it.

Dear Y/N,I know you are confused but you need to trust me. Things will get harder from here. Keep the clock close, it's the only way I can help you.—C.

Your hands trembled, the note slipping from your fingers. You backed away from the clock as if it might come alive. “What is this?” you said your voice barely audible over the sound of your heartbeat. The clock ticked steadily on, its rhythmic sound filled the silent room. But to you, it sounded more like a countdown.

TO BE CONTINUED... ⏱🕰_______________________________________

Next part soon...