The Day Time Went Somersaults

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It was said that the Clockmaker of the Clouds was as strict as a pendulum. No one had ever heard him laugh, and anyone who messed up his clocks supposedly had to count backwards for the rest of their life. But that afternoon, he seemed to have forgotten himself. He stood in the middle of the floating terrace, built of light and wind, while around him, small planets danced like soap bubbles. His long coat flapped, and his pointed cap hung askew. In front of the large clock sat two children—a boy carrying a backpack full of pebbles and a girl clutching a tattered notebook. "All right," sighed the Clockmaker, looking at them sternly. "You want to know how to stop time?" "No," said the girl. "We want to know if it's ticklish." The old man blinked, then actually laughed—a deep, warm laugh that echoed among the clouds. "Tickly? I'm afraid you two have no idea who you're playing with." "Yes, I do," said the boy. "With time." He rummaged in his backpack and pulled out a small stone. "This one is from yesterday. I saved it so I can visit yesterday again later." The clockmaker knelt down, picked up the stone, and held it up to the light. "Yesterday is rarely so beautifully round," he murmured. "You are brave collectors." Then he stood up and placed both hands on the face of the large clock. The hands began to tremble impatiently. "If you really want to know what time feels like, then hold on tight." A soft click, a hiss—and the world did a somersault. The children screamed, but then they laughed, for the clouds had switched places. The sky hung below, and the ground was made of flowing evening light. They floated through a spiral of hours and seconds that danced like golden leaves. "Welcome to the disorder of eternity!" cried the clockmaker cheerfully. "Here, time does what it pleases." The boy grabbed a passing minute, which looked like a shimmering ball, and threw it into the air. It burst into glittering dust. The girl eagerly wrote in her notebook: "Time tastes of cinnamon and pepper moon." "You mustn't stay too long," warned the clockmaker. "Otherwise you'll forget where you belong." "Where does one belong?" asked the boy. "Where you wait for something to happen." "But we never wait," cried the girl. "We just do it." The old man nodded thoughtfully. "Then perhaps you're already wiser than I am." He stretched out his hands, and the clock's hands retracted like elastic bands. A loud bang—and everything fell back into place. They stood on the terrace again, the planets floating serenely, and the sun skimmed the golden edges of the clouds.