The Oakenbury Curse Part 5

“To see?” Odd echoed.

“Yes,” Kalis hissed. “Think about it. You could walk around this town without your dog; go to the ends of the world and trust your own eyes to take you there. Wouldn’t you like that?”

Of course, having vision was Odd’s dream. Every year, his birthday wish was to be able to see, so that he could go on a walk with his Mum and Witless to some faraway place where his feet didn’t already know the shape of every stone.

Only he couldn’t.

If he agreed, his Mum would stay asleep forever – trapped by the curse. And what was the point of gaining his sight if he couldn’t share it with her?

So Odd swallowed. “No, thank you.”

And then, as Kalis barked in protest, Odd stepped inside the clock.

Odd slammed the door shut and was greeted by heavy, damp air. The space was small enough that he could reach from one end of the room to another by just extending his arms.

Witless whined at his feet, but the sound was swallowed by Kalis pounding on the small door.

Odd willed himself to focus – he did not have much time.

Somewhere to his right was the back of the clock’s face. He reached forwards and found a steel wheel dotted with small bumps.

One, two, three… each bump must have marked a minute. And if Odd was counting correctly… then the time was set to was twelve-oh-one, not twelve-oh-nine like the old stories had said.

Maybe, just maybe, all Odd needed to do was reset it.

Kalis’ bellowing grew louder.

Gripping the wheel with two sweaty hands, Odd turned it, counting carefully. As long as he kept his hands steady, it would –

The wheel jammed with a groan on the eighth notch.

Keep going, Odd begged it silently.                                                                                                                

He took a deep breath, clutched the wheel tightly, and pushed. It resisted, grinding against something deep inside the clock, but then, with a shudder, it slipped into place.

A deep chime rang out, vibrating through Odd’s bones.  

All at once, the pounding on the door ceased. The air changed. Then, somewhere outside, a bird began to sing.

For a long time, Odd was too frightened to move. He stayed with Witless – who kept nudging softly against Odd’s legs – and listened as voices started to stir outside.

After what felt like a long time, a familiar voice sounded.

“Odd!”

It was his Mum. Even Witless’ ears pricked up, and Odd straightened, his heart hammering.

Slowly, Odd plied the door open, and emerged from the clock.

The town fell silent again, only this time, Odd knew it was because people were staring at him.

“Oh, Odd!” his Mum cried. She threw her arms around him and squeezed him tightly, pressing her lips to the top of his head. She smelt of jasmine and winter berries.

“I’m so sorry it took me this long to find you, sweetheart,” she said.

Odd laughed into his Mum’s shoulder, eyes burning with tears. “It’s okay, Mum. You’re right on time.”

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