Four A.M.
The story I forgot to submit
Back in January, I took part in a holiday writing contest. I had a week to write a short story with a clock that chimes at the wrong time, a frazzled shop owner, and a secret revealed. Well, the due date turned out to be a holiday itself, where my children were not in school. Sufficed to say, it threw off my internal calendar enough and I missed the submission deadline.
All that means, though, is that you get to read it earlier. I never win or place in these contests, they’re just for fun for me. I like stretching my creative muscles. Without further ado, enjoy Four A.M.
Buzzing drew her attention as her phone vibrated across her desk, moving with each pulse. Aurora’s brows pinched together, and she reached for the device. It was on do not disturb, so there were only a few reasons it would be going off. The notification that popped up was a reminder.
Check on Grama’s clock repair.
She remembered her frustration last year, when she’d been woken suddenly at four in the morning by the grandfather clock’s loud musical chime, ringing eleven times. It reminded her of the wedding bells at the end of Thumbelina. Beautiful, but not the wake-up call she wanted. And why four a.m.? Why did it chime eleven times instead of four? She couldn’t remember hearing it chime for months, then it would chime randomly. The clock was set correctly. She’d checked several times.
“Holly, I’ve got to go,” she called out, collecting her things. Snow blurred her view of the outside as she glanced out her office window, sighing. She kicked off her favorite heels, trading them for snow boots. She didn’t care how ridiculous it looked with her outfit, she hated having cold, wet feet.
“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow!” The other receptionist called out, waving from the office across from hers. Holly paused, glancing down at Aurora’s feet with a snicker. “Stylish, girl. Real stylish.”
“At least I won’t be slowly picking my way across the parking lot.”
“How did you even know it would snow today? The weather didn’t call for it,” Holly remarked, frowning.
“I just had a feeling. It’s really coming down, too.” Aurora buttoned her long peacoat, tied off her scarf, and headed out into the freezing Erie weather. The drive from her office was a bit further than she preferred, since Penn State’s Erie campus was actually a bit further northeast than her home on the outskirts of the city’s downtown area, but she made it to the clock shop before its five p.m. closing time.
It was busier at A Stitch In time Clock Repair than Aurora expected, given how close to closing it was. Natalia, the shopkeeper, looked and sounded like a character from one of her friend’s stories. Her accent was vaguely Russian, her aging brow wrinkled with her greying hair tied into a ballet-worthy bun, and the cat wandering around the shop completed the image. Hers was the only clock shop in town who had heard of the Borealis brand of grandfather clock, and was also willing to repair it.
“Be right with you!” Natalia sounded mildly annoyed as she waved over the heads of the customers at the counter.
Around Aurora’s legs, the cat wound his way, rubbing against her boots. She grinned, scratching him behind the ears as she waited. The couple in front of her were listening as Natalia gestured wildly at their clock, explaining its old history with wonder in her voice, waxing about the value it could bring to their lives. While the man looked bored, his thumbs flying over his phone screen, the girl listened with rapt attention. After five more minutes, they bought the clock, leaving Aurora to talk with the shopkeeper.
“Ah, Aurora.” The annoyance returned to her voice, along with the agitation on her face. “I have your clock.”
“Oh good, you were able to fix it?”
“There’s nothing wrong with your clock. It is working exactly as it should.”
“What? No it’s not,” she argued, crossing her arms. “I brought it to you because it only chimes like, twice a year. And never the right number of chimes!”
“I have no problem with chimes.” Natalia shrugged, her eyes tracking the customers near some of the snow globe clocks. “I tell you what, I don’t charge you, okay? You want clock fixed, you need read directions. This busy time of year for me, I don’t have time to take apart thousand year old clock because you can’t count chimes like normal person.” She fussed behind the counter, tying ribbon around wrapped present boxes while she explained.
“What? No, I want it fixed! I’m not in a hurry.”
“Listen I stay up all night several nights. Nothing wrong with clock. Chimes work, clock keep time properly. Borealis clocks are delicate. If I mess with it too much, it break. No. You pick up clock tomorrow, I don’t have help in shop today to deliver to your house. She call in due to snow.”
The Russian accent Natalia had seemed to grow thicker as she explained the situation, and Aurora’s heart sank. She’d inherited that clock from her grandmother five years ago, and it was the last piece of her family she had left.
“I’m sorry, thank you for trying.”
“Before I forget, if you want understand clock better, read letter it came with,” she groped under the register, handing Aurora an envelope with handwriting she recognized. Her grandmother’s.
“Did you read this?” The shopkeeper had her on edge, though the letter looked unopened.
“Not my letter. I did not read. But you should. I have other customers, I have to go.” Natalia made a shooing motion, and Aurora left the over-worked shop owner to return to her car.
***
The letter was on thick paper, and her grandmother’s handwriting scrolled across it like calligraphy. She read through the brief note once. Twice. A third time. It was in English, to be sure, but it didn’t make sense.
Darling Aurora,
If you’re reading this, I never got the chance to share our family’s heritage with you before it was my time to go. When the clock chimes next, speak these words: “The Aurora shines brilliantly over Christmas Town.” You’ll understand then.
All my love,
Grama Carol
What the hell was that supposed to mean? Was her grandmother playing a joke on her from beyond the grave? Aurora frowned, digging in her nightstand for the piece of paper and pen she kept there. Over the past five years, she’d written down what date and time the clock chimed.
12/23 - 4 a.m. - eleven chimes
11/6 - 2 p.m. - nine chimes
The same two dates and times spanned four years, with the December date repeating a fifth time. Tomorrow was November sixth, and it was a Thursday. She would be home to hear the clock chime its nine chimes, even if she had to call out to be there.
***
Aurora dashed out of the office, driving faster than was probably safe over the snow-coated roads to get back to her house on time. She pulled into her driveway at exactly two, panicking that she would miss the chimes. The sound of loud bells was already spilling from the clock as she opened the door, digging the letter out of her peacoat pocket.
Alright, Grama, you’d better not be laughing at me from the great beyond, she thought, standing next to the clock, feeling ridiculous.
“The Aurora shines brilliantly over Christmas Town.”
Nothing happened. The ninth chime sounded, the last note fading out as Aurora spiraled with shame that she’d left her job for this. How stupid am I?
She turned toward her kitchen, and a sudden wave of vertigo overcame her, causing her to stumble. Everything went black for a moment, and she caught her balance, looking up.
“What in the ever loving fuck?” She muttered, looking around.
The room around her was not the hallway with the clock that opened into the kitchen, but instead was a cozy office or den. A fire blazed in an antique-looking fireplace, with a large, wing-back chair facing it. Mahogany stretched out behind the chair, a neat, polished desk with two piles of papers stacked neatly on either side of a large calendar. Movement caught her eye, and she saw the chair turning.
“Language, Aurora. You don’t want the elves to hear, do you?”
She had fallen and hit her head. That must be it, because why else would she be standing in front of Santa Claus? A laugh bubbled out of her, the sound hysterical to her ears, as she reached up the cuff of her jacket, pinching her arm.
Ouch! She frowned. Dreams weren’t supposed to hurt.
“You’re a couple of years late, you know. I thought I was going to have to come down there and find you myself.”
The door opened behind her, and in walked a short, pink-faced elf, whose cheeks seemed to shimmer in the firelight. Pointed ears stuck out from beneath a red and green cap, matching the red and green overalls they were wearing.
“Years? Late? I’m sorry, what is going on?” Disbelief colored the words as she took in more of the scene around her, meeting the eyes of the elf delivering hot chocolate.
“It’s the new Santa!” The elf gave a squeak of shock, undiluted joy filling their eyes. But Aurora was startled, because the words didn’t come out in English. They came out in a language she was unfamiliar with, but somehow understood.
“I think you have the wrong girl,” she protested, though again the words came out in the foreign tongue. “What is happening to me?” She whispered to herself, suddenly feeling too hot.
“It’s a lot to take in. Normally the missus and I would have a few years to teach and prepare you. But I see the magic is taking hold quickly, since you never found the letter.”
The door opened again, and her grandmother walked through, her hands flying to her mouth.
“You finally made it!” She breathed, tears limning her eyes.
Seeing her grandmother was the last straw. It was too much.
“Finally? I’m not supposed to be anywhere but at work! And you died!”
“Oh, no darling girl. I just returned to the North Pole. To Christmas Town.”
Aurora shook her head, closing her eyes tightly as if she could force herself to wake from this bizarre dream. A strange feeling was settling in her chest, and she sensed that the words were true, which made her more anxious.
“This isn’t happening. I just miss you, that’s all,” she murmured, more to herself than the three others in the room.
“Why do they all do this?” The elf threw up their hands in frustration, before putting them on their hips to glare at Aurora. “Listen. Your parents are mystical beings who deliver toys. You will be taking that job over this year. Best accept it now rather than ruin Christmas, so we can be teaching you what you’ll need to know.”
The strange language was beautiful and rushed sounding, though Aurora understood every word. Her grandmother handed her a snow globe, with a beautiful castle next to a small town. The globe was as big as her head, and weighed heavily in her hands as she took it.
“This is insane.”
“Just look into the globe, darling. Let the magic show you what to do.” Her grandmother smiled.
Before she could respond, something moving in the globe caught her eye, and Aurora was swept into a blizzard of memories and magic, showing her the truth. She looked up, eyes wide, at her mother.
“Mom?” She turned toward Santa, “Dad?” The words rang true, even though she struggled to believe them.
“Darling daughter. How we’ve missed you. Come, we have so much to show you, and so much to do to prepare for Christmas!”
***
In her father’s—no, her—office, Aurora prepared for her first flight as Santa Claus. Next to the door, a stately grandfather clock chimed, the familiar tune drawing her attention. It was 11 p.m.
“That’s your call to get ready, darling.” Her mother’s voice floated through the open door.
“Mom, what time is it in Erie, where you raised me?”
Carol looked at her watch, then smiled. “It’s four a.m.”
Aurora smiled, and headed to check on the reindeer.
I was aiming for something a little more cozy and Hallmark-like with this story. In my head, Aurora is played by Lacey Chabert. You might notice a strange familiarity in the shopkeeper, but I swear by Darth Jules any similarities are strictly coincidental and not at all a result of our friendship ;)
I hope you enjoyed this cozy short, and I look forward to digging back through October’s notifications to find and cross post all of the short stories from my Spooky Campfire Series. Sorry it’s so late. Let me know what you thought of Lacey’s—I mean Aurora’s—story. Drop me a line in the comments or the chat. I can’t wait to share what’s on my plate next!
xo
Grace
