Chapter 1 Finn Feenbart and the Clock That Woke Up Too Early

More about Chapter 1 Finn Feenbart and the Clock That Woke Up Too Early

Finn Feenbart was an inventor who liked to keep to himself—or, more precisely, to a tiny island in the middle of Mirror Lake. There he had built his house: half workshop, half cabinet of curiosities, with a large clock on the facade that he proudly called "the Heart Time." Every morning it didn't show the hour, but rather the mood of the house. Today, however, the clock was flashing angrily red. "That can't be," Finn muttered, stirring his cup of cocoa and looking skeptically at the hands. "I'm not angry. I'm just... slightly offended." For a week now, the clock had been doing strange things. It beeped when he fell asleep, snored when the sun was shining, and yesterday, in the middle of the night, it had screamed, "TOO EARLY!"—and then gone back to sleep. Finn had written it down. He wrote everything down. “If I ever solve the riddle of mechanical temperament,” he said to his notebook, “I’ll be the first watchmaker to have a nervous breakdown.” He put his tools down and stepped out onto the small terrace. The air was filled with the scent of autumn; the water sparkled as if someone had sprinkled stardust into it. Pumpkins rolled leisurely along the edge of the stones, and the large maple tree in front of the house sighed contentedly. “Finn,” the tree rustled in a warm voice, “you should think less and rest more.”“I rest all the time! Just while moving.” “That’s not resting, that’s running with a coffee break.” Finn grinned. He liked the tree. The tree liked him too, most of the time. Only when Finn tried to drill a weather antenna into its trunk did they argue. Just as he was about to sit down again, there was a soft ticking sound—not that of a clock, but that of footsteps. Small footsteps. Then a figure appeared under the railing: tiny, round, and orange. A pumpkin. With legs. Finn blinked. "Oh no. Not again." The pumpkin wobbled merrily, pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, and squeaked, "Delivery for Mr. Fairybeard! A time core, fresh from autumn storage!" "I didn't order anything." "Then it's a surprise package!" The pumpkin set down the small, glowing sphere, saluted, and rolled away. Finn bent over it. The "time core" glowed like a heart of light—beautiful, but suspicious. He took it to the workshop, placed it on the workbench, and said, "Please don't explode." The core didn't answer. Instead, it began to hum softly. The next morning, everything was different. The clock on the house wall showed the correct time again. The shutters opened by themselves, the teapot whistled, and the maple tree hummed a lullaby. Finn was delighted—until he realized that the sun hadn't risen yet. "Too early," he muttered. "TOO EARLY!" "I know! I know!" screeched the clock, this time wide awake. "I know!" The house vibrated. The time core blinked frantically.