_____________________________ Night One _______________________________
- Going Where to do What to do Once There -

Many years ago, in a land far, far away, snuggled at the fork of a river, and nestled between two mountains, there was a village.  Now, this was not just any old village, but it was a special sort of village.  It was a Village of ShopKeepers.  With a capital V, a capital S and a capital K.
 

In this Village of ShopKeepers you could buy just about anything your heart desired.  You could, of course buy tomatoes and potatoes and apples and vegetables and meats of all sorts.  You could buy shoes and sealing wax and paper and ink.  However, this was just not your average 'pay for what you get' sort of village.  This was a Village where the things you might want might be things that keep the monsters away at night.  Or potions to help you find your one true love.  Or maybe the answer to an old, old riddle.  And quite often you didn't pay with hard cold coin, pulled from the Earth, melted in a fire and cooled in water.  No, quite often you paid with a bit of yourself, some old memory that you didn't need, or a part of a broken heart, or maybe just an act of kindness.  Such was this Village.  A rather ... magical place, sometimes full of wonder, sometimes rather dull, sometimes very dark and mysterious.
 

Now, not everyone that lived in the Village was a ShopKeeper.  Some folks were farmers.  Some folks were teachers and some were just simply folks, doing the best they could.  Some didn't have a lick of sense, and some had far too much.  And, then, there were some folk that just wavered in the middle, not knowing what they were going to do, nor how they were going to do it.  This is the story of one of them.

On the very outskirts of the Village, past the Bone Fence where the battle of the Something Bads took place, there was a small farm.  It was well kept, and well laid out, and the people that owned the farm were very nice people.  The husband and wife were farmers, and they knew who they were, and they knew what they were doing, and they did it very very well.

Their son, a strong lad moving toward the later years of teenagerdom, however did not know what he was doing, where he was going, and what he was going to do when he got there anyway.  He found farm life incredibly boring, and he certainly didn't want to work in a Shop, or learn some near mystical trade that would keep him working twenty four hours a day catering to the needs and wants of all the people that needed something magical right then, right away, and sooner if it could be done.

So, one day, one cool and soft sunny day, he packed a bundle of clothes and gathered some food from the kitchen.  He then kissed his mother and shook hands with his father, telling them not to worry.

'Where will you go?', they asked, concerned, as all parents do when they have a feeling that their child is about to make a big step, and not sure if it's foolishly wise, or wisely foolish, but far more concerned that if they held them back they would be making a much larger mistake than if they let them go.

'Well,' said the son, 'I'm not quite sure.  I would go down river, but I don't have a boat.  I would go to the Village, but I've been there already, and not sure if I fit in at all.  So, I think I will head towards the Twin Mountains, and see what I can see there.'

'What will you do once you get there?', asked his parents, worried, hoping that their son had some sort of plan in mind, but at the same time hoping that he would just make the wisest choice he could and that they had done their best to teach him what they could.

'Well,' said the son, 'I'm not quite sure of that either.  I feel it's just something that I should do, and once I get to where I'm going, where ever that may be, I'm sure that I will find what I am supposed to do.  Please don't worry so', he said, seeing their faces and their sad eyes, ' I will make sure to let you know what I find, and what I'm doing and where I'm at, once I get there and start doing something I should be doing.'

And with a final hug, he set off, bundle on his shoulder and spring in his step.  His parents waved until he was far out of sight, into the Darkling woods, far to the East of the Village.

Now, the Darkling woods was an odd sort of place.  It was where all sorts of magical creatures lived and roamed and played.  Most of them were shy of human folk, and would hide till human folk had passed them by.  Then they would come out of their hiding places and chitter and chatter about the strange creature that had just passed.  Some of them, however weren't a bit afraid and would bravely and proudly stand in the middle of the trail and question why a human had come there, into the Darkling wood where humans didn't normally go. And some of them were just mean, stealing bits and pieces of food or clothes or other things from the humans and the other creatures of the wood.  None of these are in this story, however, but are kept in a magic box for other adventures.  Please don't be disappointed, because, you see.. the story itself is the Darkling creature of this story.

The young man passed through the Darkling woods fairly quickly, not wanting to meet any of the creatures that lived there.  He crossed the little stream that ran down to meet the forked river and moved swiftly through the small swamp that was at the base of the mountains.  When he had reached the rocky path at the base of the mountains that signaled the end of the Darkling woods, he stopped to wipe the sweat from his brow.  Though the day was rather cool, it wasn't chilly by any means, and crossing quickly though woods and swamp had been rather hard work.  He sat on a largish stone and made himself a small sandwich, from some bread and cheese he pulled from his bundle.

As he sat there, looking at the blue sky, the rocks along his path, the green of the swamp and trees, a red and black bird lighted nearby and set up such a squawking and grackling, that they young man just had to see what was the cause of such a fuss.

'What is the matter with you, bird?', he asked, crossing over to the bird.   'Are you hurt?'

'No!', squawked the bird, feathers a-ruffling and wings a flapping. 'No!'

Looking around, not really sure he had heard what he thought he had heard, the young man said 'Well, then.  Hmmmm.. Are you lost?  Because if you are, I have just come through the Darkling woods, and crossed the swamp, and I could at least give you directions through there.'

'No!', gracked the bird. 'Not Lost!'  and that was how the bird talked, really.  Capital letters before each word.  'A Word!  I Bring A Word', cawed the bird, scratching the ground and running around in circles.

'Ummmmm', said the young man.  'Umm umm umm'   A bird that could talk, he thought, how very unusual.

Even in the Village of ShopKeepers, there weren't many animals that could talk, so the young man was very surprised indeed.  He was surprised and intrigued, which meant that the bird had gotten his full attention.  'A word?  What word?', he asked, 'A word from who?'

'Whom!', cried the bird, 'Whom!'

'A word from whom, then', asked the young man. 'From whom did the word come?'

'Up', groused the bird, red and black fluffing out, 'Up!  Find Out!  UP!'  And with that, the bird took wing and flew away in great spiraling circles up, up till it was just a tiny spot in the distance.

'How very odd', said the young man, looking up and up to where the bird had flown and disappeared.  'Well! Well, well, well and well'  Then perhaps UP is the way I shall go.  Maybe what I'm looking for is there.'  And with that, the young man started to climb the mountain, following a rocky path that lead up into the mists that surrounded the top of the Twin Mountains.

Up and up and up, stopping occasionally to take a drink or eat a bite, the young man climbed..  It seemed to take hours and hours, but when he looked up, it he had just gone a little bit of the distance to the top.  The swirling mists seemed just as far away as they had when he started.  With a sigh, and an adjustment to the bundle on his shoulder, he started again climbing again.

After hours, he finally stopped climbing.  He was very tired and just wanted to rest, so he sat down on an old tree stump.  As he sat and thought about his situation, he noticed an odd sort of stone nearby.  It was lumpy and misshapen.  This is not to say it was ugly.  It was just odd looking.  Out of place amongst the other craggy stones, this one was rounded and smooth, with a crack running horizontal across its face.  As the young man examined the stone, for it was a strange looking thing, he saw little wisps of soft black dust coming from the crack.  The wispy dust flew around and around and settled on the ground.  And where they settled, they seem to form shapes that stood out quite clearly against the ground..  As more dust settled down, the shapes took form that seemed to look like letters.  And the letters spelled out the words 'Look To The Cave'

'Cave?', thought the young man.  'There's a cave?'    And as he thought the words, he spoke them out loud, 'There's a cave?'

Just then the ground trembled and shook, causing some of the loose gravel and rocks to go sliding past where the young man sat.  In the hissing rumbly grumble of the moving stone, the young man could make out the words 'Look Ssssssouth  Look Ssssssouth', and so he did.

Just to the south, where he could have sworn there was not a thing but rock and rock and more rock just a few minutes earlier, there was quite definitely a cave entrance.  The entrance was not large, in fact, it looked just big enough for him to just squeeze through.  It was round and dark and seemed to not have much light at all, and was not the most welcome of entrances, but it was definitely a cave entrance.  Perched over the entrance was a bird.  Red and black, and staring back at the young man.  'In!', it cried.  'In!   Go IN!'

'Humph', said the young man.  'And humph again!  Why should I go in there.  It looks like a dark and dangerous hole to me.  I could get lost, or killed or worse!  How do I know that this isn't some sort of trick by a Something Bad?'

Another rumble from the ground, causing more sand and rocks and gravel to whisper 'Ansssswerssssss you ssssssseek'.  More black dust flew from the odd stone, spelling 'Answers We Know'.  'Go Down! Down!' screamed the bird, right before it flew straight into the mouth of the cave.

'Humph and Well!' stated the young man.  'I guess if I didn't know where I was going before, I don't see that this is any different.  At least I have a direction to go in.'  And having said that, he squeezed into the mouth of the cave, into darkness and away from the light.

 And that, my dear,  is enough of a story for tonight.  But don't despair!  There will be more tomorrow.
 
 

_____________________________ Night Two _______________________________
- Into the Cave of the Twin Mountains -

    Let's see..  Last night we left the young man doing what?  Hmm.. He had just crossed the Darkling wood, and the Eastern Swamp and climbed one of the Twin Mountains.  And why did he do it?  Was he particularly brave?  I don't think so, unless by brave you mean the sort of bravery anyone has when they wake up in the morning and look at another day.  Was he looking for treasure?  Perhaps, in his own way he was.  He was looking for answers, I think.  'Where am I going?  What am I going to do when I get there?  What will I have for breakfast?'  Yes, I think that was it.. he was looking for answers....   I believe that the last glimpse we had of him was as he was entering the mouth of a dark and rather small looking cave.......

'Humph and Well!' stated the young man.  'I guess if I didn't know where I was going before, I don't see that this is any different.  At least I have a direction to go in.'  And having said that, he squeezed into the mouth of the cave, into darkness and away from the light.

The entrance to the cave was just barely wide enough for his shoulders, though he did have a bit of trouble with the bundle, as it was wider than he was.  He tugged and pulled and finally it popped in, throwing him just a bit off balance.  Regaining his feet, he looked at the inside of the cave, just to see what it looked like.  He had never been inside of a cave, no matter how small or large it was, and he was curious as to what a cave might just be like.

'Hmmm', thought he, 'it's very dark here.  So he pulled from his bundle a stout stick, which he had been intending to use as a stir stick for when he made stew.  He tore one of the shirts he had  packed into long strips and wound them around one end of the stick.  As he tore, he hoped he wouldn't need the shirt later on.  Dry, clean shirts are very handy, no matter how old,  in the case he was caught in the rain and he wanted to wear something dry.  Or , he might meet someone and want to put on something a bit cleaner.  The shirt he was wearing was showing a bit of stain from the travel and a bit of wear from all the climbing and scratchy branches and mucky swamp he had been in and about.

When he was satisfied with his wrapping job, he pulled from his pack a flat gray stone, and a sharp piece of metal.  The stone was called flint, and the thing about flint is that when it is struck with a sharp piece of metal, it produces sparks.  Enough sparks on something dry and flammable, say, a torn up shirt wrapped around a stick, then a flame starts and faster than you can say 'Jiminy Horsefeathers', the young man had made a torch, so he could see his way down into the cave.

The inside of the cave was much larger than he had imagined.  This part was as large as the largest house he had ever seen, and there were sharp rocky things growing out of the ceiling, and sharp rocky things growing out of the floor.  Here and there were pools of water, and some of the rocky things growing from the floor had flat tops on them, and the flat tops had pools of water in them, too.   Some of the cave wall glistened and shone in tiny flickers of reflected torch light, as if tiny jewels had been set in the stone,  and as he moved around inside the cave, little twinkles followed the light as they were illuminated by the torch.

The young man had heard of caves, but he had no idea what they were all about.  He suspected they were just dim dark holes in the ground, like a mole's warren.  He had no idea that it could be so big, or so pretty, or so noisy.  Everywhere there was the sound of water dripping, and the sound of small animals scurrying away from the light.  And ever so faintly, as if it was some great distance away, and covered with a heavy down comforter, there was another sound.  The sound was rather like a heart beating, it was so rhythmical.  But it was very far away, and the young man couldn't quite make it out.

The sound, as soft as it was, seemed to be coming from a place hidden in darkness.  As the young man walked toward it, he could see that it was most definitely a tunnel downward, into the very bowels of the mountain. Instead of just walking into the tunnel, willy nilly, the young man stopped and thought for a bit.

Now, one must not blame him from hesitating.  He had already had a trying day, walking through a woods where he didn't know if he was going to be eaten or not (he wasn't), and mucking about in a swamp where he didn't know if he was going to be eaten (and again he wasn't), and there was all that climbing that he had done.  He was actually getting very tired of not knowing where he was going.  And he was just getting tired, anyway.  Sleepy tired.  Tired to the bone tired, where all you want to do is rest on a nice bed with clean sheets and let the land of dreams come and take you away from the tired.  So, he hesitated, yawning and scratching.  He didn't know if he wanted to go on, or if he wanted to sleep and then go on, or if he wanted to go on just a little ways and then sleep.. well, you get the idea.  He just simply didn't know.  So his legs made his decision for him.

He sat down heavily, and started to nod off.  Before he was completely stolen away to the Land of Asleep though, he jerked himself awake and dowsed the torch by rolling it around on the ground.  It wouldn't do to wake up and have no light at all simply because he forgot to turn the light out.  And so, putting the bundle under his head, and stretching out best he could, he muttered 'Just an hour or so' and was fast asleep, softly snoring  in the soft noisy darkness of the cave.

    He dreamed of dark tunnels and strange sounds.  Of deep pools of water and pits that dropped to nowhere at all, and just kept going.  He dreamed that he met himself on a road that climbed a mountain and his other self didn't recognize who he was.  In this dream, he sat down and had dinner with himself and each talked about their lives.

    'I don't know where I'm going, but I think I'm on the right road', he said.
    'Hmm.  I'm pretty sure I do know where I'm going, and the road doesn't matter much to me' said his other self.
    'How so?  If you are going somewhere, and you know where you are going, then you must be on the right road.'. he asked, puzzled.
    'No, not always.', answered his other self.  'Knowing that I know where I'm going, means that I'm on the right road, regardless of what road that may be.  Pass me the salt, please.'
    'But how can that be?', he cried.  'To get somewhere, you simply have to be on the right road, or  you will never know if you have gotten to where you are going!'
    'Hmmmmm,' pondered the other self.  'Do you suppose it's that simple?  To find the right road means that you will go where you are going?  I don't know.  It seems to me that just by going you will get to where you are going.  Don't you think so?  And if you know that you are going the right direction, then you must indeed be going to the right place.  And if you know that you are going to the right place, then any road you are on must, therefore, be the right road.  Do you see?'
    'Arrrrgh!' he arghed.  'I'm not sure I understand you at all.  How can you be sure you are going to the right place if you don't know that you are on the right road?  How can you be so sure that the road you are on is the one that you need to be on?  How, how, how?'
    'Ahhhh', his other self ahhed, 'that is a very good question.  To know, and to be sure may not be the same thing.  If you were to ask me "Is this the road to Anondale?", I would not be so sure, but I would certainly know if this road would get me there.  And if I were going to Anondale, then I would certainly know that this road would get me there, though I might not be so sure that the road went there.'
    'You present ponderous puzzles.  And it makes my head hurt', he said sourly.
    'Look,' said the other self, 'here's a key. Hold onto it.'
    And his other self  passed over a very large key indeed.  It was very ornately carved and seemed as if it would be very heavy, but it wasn't.  It shown with a golden silverish light that might have been blinding, but it was too soft for that.  There was a green loop of some rugged material that was large enough to loop over his head, and so he did so, wearing the key like some great necklace.
    'What am I ever to do with this?' he asked.
    'It's a key,' the other self said, 'hold on to it.' right before he deflated like a popped balloon, and his voice faded into a fuzzy sort of light darkness that means one is waking up.

And that is exactly what the young man did.  He woke up, confused and dazed, not knowing where he was.  Slowly it all came back.  The woods, the bird, the mountain.. all of it.  He blinked and rubbed at his eyes a few times because there was an awful lot of light around, and it was making them smart a bit.  Which was very surprising to the young man, because he was inside a cave!  Where did the light come from? he wondered.

Standing up, and gathering his pack, he saw what was causing the light.  A tremendous swarm of fireflies had gathered in a spot near him.  He could hear their buzzing rising and falling in intensity.  Experience is indeed a teacher, so he asked 'Well?  Did you have something you wanted to say?'

The swarm quickly moved back a bit.  It was surprised that it had been spoken to.  Nobody ever spoke to it first.  It was always the first to speak, so it was understandably alarmed for the moment.  A bit frightened too, I would imagine.  After all, the young man was so very very large, and they were just tiny little fireflies.  One swat of his giant hand and.. well, it was just to horrible to think about.  Slowly they regained their composure.

"Well?', asked the young man, impatiently.

'Ahem', said the swarm.  'Ahem.. The kkkkey.  Hhhhold on tttto it.'

'Key?', asked the young man, a bit dumbly.  'What key?'  And he felt around his body as if there was a key in his pockets.  If he had had any pockets.  Which he didn't.  But there, strung around his neck on a rough piece of green cloth was the very same key that he had dreamed of.  'Oh.', he said.  'That key.  What's it to, anyway?'

'Ahem', said the swarm.  'Ahem.. The kkkkey.  Hhhhold on tttto it.'

'All right.  I'll hold onto it. I won't let it out of my sight.  Is all right if I have a bit of breakfast before we go?'

'Ahem', said the swarm.  Breakfast?  What was breakfast?  The swarm had never heard of breakfast, which wasn't at all surprising.  Fireflies like these never ate.  The individual fireflies that made up the swarm only lived about 24 hours, taking time to be born, bring a little light into someone's life, have a few babies and then pass away to the eternal light from which all fireflies come.  So, they never had breakfast, lunch, dinner, supper or even a snack.  They just simply didn't have time.  And rather than waste a lot of that time asking a number of questions they probably wouldn't understand, they simply said 'Fffollow mmmmeeeee' and swarmed down the tunnel as only a swarm could.

Sighing a mighty sigh, the young man pulled a cold biscuit from his bundle and followed as best he could, munching as he walked into the tunnel.

Down and down and down and more down and even further down than that they went.  The fireflies leading the way, and sometimes having to wait for the young man to catch up.  He was moving slower because he was becoming a bit of a grumpy person.  He was still tired, though not bone tired tired, and he was hungry, not having any breakfast.  But then, he wondered, if it wasn't morning, then it wouldn't matter if it was breakfast or not.  But then he decided that it must be breakfast because that is what the word meant.  Break Fast.  To eat after not eating for a long time.  And he certainly felt like he had not eaten for a very long time.

Down and down and still more down they went.  For a while, it got terribly cold, and a wind whipped up that tried it's best to chill the skin right off of the young man.  It was a damp sort of cold that nobody likes.  Which is why the wind was so mean, probably.  It had no friends, so it just decided to be as mean as possible.

'Would you please stop blowing so hard?' called the young man to the wind.  'It is hard enough having to follow these fireflies without any breakfast.  If you would just let up a little, I would be ever so grateful.'

Surprising the young man to no end, the wind whispered in his ear 'Would you now?  Would you really?  Be ever so grateful?  Would you now?  Would you really?'

'Ummmm,' whispered the young man back.  'Umm yes, I would.  Very much so.  I would be very very grateful if you wouldn't blow so hard.'

'Would you then, could you then, might you do me a small favor? Would you, could you?' whispered the wind.

'I certainly would, and certainly could, if it were in my power, do you a small favor', replied the young man.

'Then find me a toy, man child, if you would, if you could.  A thing to play with, as I've never had such a thing, and I believe that it would be a good thing.  If you would, if you could, find me a toy'

A toy, thought the young man.  What would the wind use for a toy?  Thinking and following the fireflies and pondering and following the fireflies some more, down and down with the cold wind blowing just a bit more fiercely.  A toy.... ah ha!

Calling to the Fireflies to hold just a bit, and reaching into his bundle, the young man pulled out a bit of the writing paper he had put there for when he got to where he was going.  He was going to use it to write his parents and tell them where he was and what he was doing, but he thought they wouldn't mind receiving just one less letter from him.  Working swiftly, he made three folds in the paper.  Once down the middle, and two times diagonally so there was a point on one end.  On the other end, the end away from the point, it was wide and if looked at straight on looked like a large 'V'.   He had made something that he had seen the other children play with, a paper bird.

'Does this, can this, will this please you as a toy?' he asked the wind.  And holding it with one hand, and with his tongue tip sticking ever so slightly out of his mouth, he tossed the paper bird high into the air with a might throw, grunting with the exertion.

The wind, catching the paper in its arms, pushed and shoved the paper about the cavern.  As expected, the paper bird acted like a.. well, a bird, and rode the gust and breezes of the wind, not really falling, but always just floating, soaring, and dipping.  After awhile, the wind started to chuckle, and then to laugh, and giggle and the young man could feel the wind blowing much less on him than before.

'Yes!', whispered the wind in the young man's ear.  'Yes!  This is what a toy is! Thank you, man child.  I shall call you my First Friend.  For rather than curse me, you did not.  And rather than ignore me, you listened.  You are my First Friend, and shall be forever more.  This is indeed a toy! Yes! Yes!'  And with that, the wind went blowing away, spiraling up higher and higher pushing the paper bird before it.  When the wind had died down to just the merest puff of breeze, the young man heard one more whisper.  'If you ever have a need of me, First Friend, come to the cavern and ask, if you ever have a need'

And all was still and quiet, except for the constant drip of water and the ever present sound of ... whatever it was.  The sound was very obviously coming from somewhere down below.  Still very far, but if he listened closely, the young man could just barely make out the sound.

 'Tock..... tick...... tock..... tick.'

It was such an odd sound, and the young man simply could not decide what it was.  'Lead on Fireflies', he said, knowing that the answer to this puzzle lay where the fireflies were taking him.  Reaching up and touching the key, they young man wondered if he was still dreaming maybe.  When he stubbed his toe on one of the tiny little sharp things coming from the floor, he knew it wasn't a dream, so all he could do was follow the fireflies and wonder.

As they went even further, ever downward, it became warmer. It became warm enough that the young man needed to rest more often, because it wasn't just simply warm, it was Hot, with a capital H.  It became so hot that the young man had to take of his shirt and tie it around his forehead to keep the sweat from stinging his eyes so much.  'Fireflies!', he called.  'Why is it so hot here? What is causing it to be so when it was much cooler up above?'

The fireflies hmmmmed and ahemmmed quite a bit, until they understood the questions.  'MMmmiddle of the Earrrrth', they said.  'Mmmmmuch hotterrrr than the toppppp'

'Middle of the Earth?  The middle?  Towards the centerish type of middle?  That middle of the earth?', he asked.

'Ahem.' said the fireflies, 'Yesssss'.  And that was all they said, no matter how many questions the young man asked.  And he asked a lot of them, too.

Down and down and as down as down can go and then down a little bit more than that and even more downish they traveled.

'Tock... tick... tock....tick....tock', the sound was getting louder all the time, and eventually the fireflies led the young man far enough that the sound was almost deafening.  With his hands over his ears and his eyes screwed almost shut, he didn't even notice when the fireflies suddenly stopped and so he walked right through them.  He didn't notice that he kept right on walking over a small bridge where a trickle of water flowed. He didn't notice that it wasn't as hot as it had been, and it was actually quite pleasant.  In fact, he would have simply kept on walking if something had not stopped him.  And it did, by bumping him on his nose.

'Owwww', cried the young man.  He pulled his hands away from his ears to rub his nose, and at the same time opened his eyes to see what he had bumped into.  Then he opened his eyes a bit wider.  And maybe a bit wider than that.  One of his hands reached out and touched what it was that he had bumped into.
    It was a door.

And that, dear ones, is where I will stop for the night.  My old head is simply too tired to carry any more stories tonight, and it's getting late.  But don't give up hope!  Perhaps the young man will walk through the door and find his answers tomorrow!  Then again.......

Have a delicious night and dreams of wondrous things that you have only imagined might have existed, but probably did.

"'Knowing that I know where I'm going, means that I'm on the right road, regardless of what road that may be."
 
 

_____________________________ Night Three _______________________________
- The Man who Winds the Clock at the Center of the World -

Ah! My little ones, what a marvelous adventure we’ve had, watching the young man wander far far from home, through Darlking woods, though swampy marsh, up hill and into hole!

How, you might ask, is he able to speak to all those wondrous creatures? How, you might ask, is he able to move what might be many miles in only a few hours? What about the Darkling woods? Is there more of that, you might wonder. And the swampy marsh! You exclaim.. That was hardly mentioned at all! And, most importantly, you ponder and query and fuss, what for evermore is the young man’s name? Surely he has a name!

The answers are quite simple. I just haven’t told them to you hoping that you would, in your bright and shining imagination given yourselves the answers without me. And the answers you might give yourselves, I promise you, are far more magically incredible than any answer I might give.

For example, ‘how is he able to speak to all those wondrous creatures?’ Ah, but that is simple! That’s just magic and storytelling! How is he able to move so far so fast? Again, magic and storytelling. In storytelling, like magic, many miles and many hours may only take the blink of an eye. Such as it is in life as well. The woods and the marsh? Well, my dear, those have their own tale, and they aren’t here. Maybe someday I will share some of their stories. Or, perhaps, you will share them with me!

As for the boy’s name, yes. He has a name. And he’s not quite a boy, nor is he such a young man anymore. But this will be revealed by and by, I promise you, I promise you.

Now then, where were we? If I remember rightly, he had journeyed far far from home. How far you ask? Well, to satisfy that curiosity, I’ll simply say that it’s almost 25 miles from his house to the wood. From one end of the wood to the other, it’s just about 5 miles. The swamp is very small, and you could cross it in one half of an hour, walking fast, if you didn’t get eaten or lost. Then it would take you much longer, indeed. Climbing the mountains took quite a bit of time, because it is a very large mountain. It took the better part of the day and before he had found the cave, the Sun was just beginning to redden, harking the coming of the Moon. When the cave opened up and he went inside, the Moon had lifted herself up above the horizon and was smiling down upon all the peoples and plants and other things on the earth. And by the time he met the wind, a great deal of time had passed. How great? Now, that would be telling, and is part of the magic of the story. Which is where we are now, inside the story, full circle once again. The young man had just gotten to the bottom of his downward path, when he found something in his way…..

'Owwww', cried the young man. He pulled his hands away from his ears to rub his nose, and at the same time opened his eyes to see what he had bumped into. Then he opened his eyes a bit wider. And maybe a bit wider than that. One of his hands reached out and touched what it was that had stopped him so abruptly.

It was a door.

It was a small door, as far as doors inside of caves go. Not large and ornate, and covered with gem stones and fancy words and magical symbols. It was just a small, wooden door, about the size of a door one might find inside of one’s house. It was made from three large planks, standing on their end, and they were held together by two large bands of iron riveted to the bare planks. On the left side there were three large hinges, also made of iron and held to the door with rivets. On the right side was a single brass ring, used as a door pull.

And so the young man reached down, grabbed the ring, and pulled with a mighty pull! And fell back on his rump, bruising his pride just a little bit. He got back up and looked around, which looked odd in and of itself, since there was no one to see him, except the fireflies, and they wouldn’t have laughed anyway.

He dusted off his trousers with both hands, spit in his palms, which is something he’d seen his father do right before tackling a heavy job, grabbed the ring in both hands and puuuuullllleeedd with all his might. He sweated and strained and pulled and tugged and placed both feet on either side of the door and grunted and I must say, said a few things to the door and about the door that small children should not hear, so I will not repeat them. And still the door would not budge.

The young man sat back and wondered what he was doing wrong. He simply couldn’t have been set on this trail and come this far to be stopped by a stupid door. He stood up and kicked at the ground, and a few stones moved out of his way quickly. He said a few more words that I will not say what they were, and stomped around for a bit. Then, just as he was about to grumble and yell at the fireflies about bringing him all this way for Nothing, with a capital N, his hand reached up, all by itself, and found the key hanging around his neck.

There are times, my dear, when people feel as foolish as they can. They feel like something that they should have known is right there in front of them, and they never saw it. This is not an uncommon thing, really. But, people still feel very foolish after it happens, and sometimes they laugh at themselves for their foolishness, and sometimes they get mad at themselves for it. They young man was like the first type, and had a fine old laugh at himself. He laughed till tears were coming from his eyes and his belly hurt from laughing so much. It was the type of laugh that just can’t be held back, and starts in a trickle of small little laughs and very quickly becomes a big old river of laughter, that comes out in a big rush and then trickles back down to chuckles and giggles. This was the type of laugh that the young man had, and for a little bit after, when ever he thought about the key, he started laughing all over again.

Soon, though, he went to the door, and looked underneath the brass ring. Sure enough, there was a key hole there, just big enough to fit the key. And that is exactly what he did with it. He pulled the green cloth from around his neck and carefully inserted it into the keyhole until it stopped. Then he turned it carefully, because it was such and old key, and such and old door, that he didn’t want to break either key or lock. And turn the key did! As the key turned, the lock went ‘click clack, tinkle tonk, clink’, as if it were singing to the key, as if it had missed an old, old friend and was glad to make it’s acquaintance once again.

Then, when the key had been turned, and he had taken a deep breath to steady his nerves, he grasped the ring in both hands and tugged at the door once more. Slowly, without a creak, without a shudder, without a complaint of any kind the door swung open, silently. Now, the door was not terribly thick., and as it swung open, the young man could see beyond it. And what he saw, seemed fairly ordinary for just another room in the cave. Not having the benefit of the fireflies, it was almost pitch black, and the only thing that could be seen was from what light spilled through the doorway. All else inside was shadows, receding into darkness. The sounds from inside the doorway were the same as on the outside, the steady drip of water, and the consistent tock-ticking that had been there from the beginning of the trip downward.

Needless to say, the young man was disappointed. He wasn’t really sure of what he had expected. Some great shining light perhaps. Some figure of great age and mystery, beckoning him inward, so that a tremendous wisdom could be given to him. Some marvelous treasure, to be taken home and given to his parents, so that they could live in a way they had only dreamed of.

But no. It was just another room. Dark and gloomy. No treasure, no wisdom, no light. The young man sighed a heavy sigh. The fireflies seemed to sense his disappointment and urged him onward. ‘Innnnn’, they said, ‘Go innnnn’. Taking the key from the lock, which seemed as if it resisted him every so little, he hung the green cloth back around his neck and with a determined set to his face, stepped through the doorway.

Or tried to. As he crossed the threshold, he could feel a tugging, a pulling, as if he were walking through a very soft yet thick fabric. Sparks shot before his eyes, and his skin tingled, and each step seemed at first to be stuck to the floor, and then it would let go, and he would take another step forward. It seemed to go on and on for a long time. The sparks he was seeing took on colors and spiraled away in front of him. Sounds seemed to come from all around him. Sounds of speech, sounds of crying, sounds of laughter. Sometimes more frightening sounds, as if he was in the middle of a great war. Sometimes it was just a roar, a rushing, rumbling sound that had a rhythm to it, a pulse, a definite sort of a tock-ticking sort of a sound.

With every step, he felt as if he were being pulled in two places at once, both backwards and forwards. It was if he was becoming two different people, and there was a great struggle going on inside of him. Closing his eyes against the sparkling, ever changing darkness, and gritting his teeth, he took another step against tremendous resistance, and then another, and another. A pain unlike anything he had felt before started on his forehead, building and building till he felt that he could not stand any more. The pain ran down his neck, down his sides, through his arms. The pain flew down to his legs and across his feet. It seemed to him that he had become nothing but pain, walking, one hurting, painful step at a time. He could almost, but not quite feel himself being torn apart as he grimly kept to his task of making though the doorway.

And then it was over. With a final tearing feeling, with a final roar of sound, with one more, final, endlessly painful step, it all stopped. No more pain, no more resistance. The young man opened his eyes with a start, and then closed them again. It was just too bright! Light seemed to be everywhere! And the air was cool and clean and fresh, and he took a deep breath as he slowly opened his eyes again.

At first, he was dazzled by the light, and then, slowly, he could make out the fuzzy forms of …. Well, things, scattered around and about in a haphazard fashion. As his sight cleared, and the images grew more distinct, he could see that he was in a very large room, filled with furniture, with bits and pieces of old chairs and tables and he could see what seemed to be an old pot bellied stove over in the corner. On the walls were clocks, hundreds of them, thousands of them, maybe millions of them. Clocks of all sorts, clocks of all kinds. Small little chimers, and large grandfather types, reaching very high up to the ceiling. Round clocks and square clocks and clocks of odd shapes of animals and plants and people.

What he thought were bookshelves were really just shelves of tiny little clocks, all ticking and tocking away. There were clocks just everywhere, on the tables, on the chairs, some scattered around the floor. Some were ticking and tocking, some where clicking and clacking, some where chiming in tinny sparkling little chimes and some were bonging in great deep bongs. Let it simply be said that there were clocks Everywhere, with a capital E.

‘This must be the source of the tocking and ticking!’, he though, and of course, he was very right.

As he gazed around the room, seeing all that he could see, his eyes fell upon a door way, at the far end of the room. Even the door had clocks on it, clocks with long pendulums. And a sign. There was definitely a sign on the door. He carefully crossed the room, avoiding stepping on the clocks that were scattered on the floor. Some of the clocks were shaped like beetles and he was surprised when they scuttled out of his way. There were clocks shaped like cats and their eyes moved left, right, left, right, with every twitch of their pendulum tail. Sometimes the cat clocks would meeeeeow as he went past them, just as the clocks shaped like dogs would give a tiny little bark as he passed by them. There were clocks shaped like soldiers on either side of the door, their faces brightly lit under their tall red soldiers hats, and they snapped to attention as he arrived at the door. Curiously, he looked at what the sign said. And this is what he read there:

‘I will be back at’ and below that was a picture of a clock without hands. Below the clock picture were the words ‘Knock once, and come in’ That was what he did. He knocked once, lightly, pushed the door open, and walked in.

The room beyond the door was quite a bit like the room outside. It was smaller, of course, but in a way, it seemed larger. There were still clocks crammed into every nook and cranny, corner and shelf. And there was something else, too. Or, in fact, someONE else. Seated in front of an old, old desk, made of some dark wood and full of drawers was a man.

He was short and had a rather pleasant face, with bright twinkling blue eyes. His hair, what there was of it, crowned his head in a ring from his forehead to back and was a solid steel gray color, which is as it should be, because there was a fine webwork of lines across his face, indicating great age. He wore a loose fitting dark blue robe, which was, unsurprisingly covered with pictures of clocks of all sorts and shapes. His hands were large and clasped lightly in his lap as he swung his slippered feet back and forth below his chair.

‘I was wondering if you were going to make it’, he said, ‘Though I had no doubt in the world that you would. No doubt in the world at all. And I knew that you would make it in time, of course. You had nothing but time, just as I do’ With a laugh, he waved one of his hands to indicate all the clocks that were in the room. In fact, he might have been indicating all the clocks in the entire world. ‘I would wager that you are wondering what you are doing here, what I am doing here, and what the dickens this is all about. Am I correct? Am I? You see, it has been long enough since I actually saw another person that I might be a bit rusty, but I think that is a safe wager, wouldn’t you?’

The man rose and pulled another chair from somewhere along the wall. He brushed the clocks off of it, not seeming to care that they fell with a clattering clang onto the floor, and said ‘Oh my, my, my. I have forgotten my manners. Would you like a seat? Something to eat, something to drink, perhaps? Please, come and sit and ask you hundreds of questions, because I have hundreds of answers, I assure you. And we have all the time in the world to talk, I have no doubt of that. No doubt in the world at all.’

Cautiously, because he wasn’t at all sure if the man was at all sane, the young man crossed the room and sat down in the chair. He had been very careful not to step on any of the clocks that littered the floor and was just as careful when he sat down, just to make sure he wasn’t sitting on any of the tiny, tiny clocks that he had seen scattered here and there. Clearing his throat, he started to ask a question, but the man interrupted him with a wave of his hand.

‘Let me try to guess your first question. I think this would be fun, don’t you?’ He put a finger to his forehead, and screwed up his eyes and seemed to be thinking very hard. To the young man, it seemed that if the man had thought any harder, steam would have come out of his ears. Suddenly, the man dropped his hand, opened his eyes wide and said ‘I would wager that your first question would be "Who am I?". I think that would be a safe wager, wouldn’t you? I have no doubt of it. Is that your first question?’

The young man opened his mouth to reply, but was once again interrupted by the man. ‘On second thought, your question could be "What is all this about?". It would seem odd to you, I have no doubt, seeing a room full of nothing but clocks. Of that I have no doubt in the world at all that it would seem very odd indeed. Could that be your question? That would seem a safe wager, wouldn’t it?’

For the third time the young man started to answer, but the man went on with barely a breath between. ‘Even so, your question could be "What is the reason that you have been brought here, by bird, by stone, by firefly? What is it that I could possibly be wanting of you?". That might, I have no doubt at all, be a safe wager. Safe as houses, I have no doubt in the world at all. Could that be your question?’

Quickly, before the man could say one thing more, the young man answered simply, ‘No.’

‘No?’, said the man. ‘No! You said no, didn’t you? Hmm hmm hmm and hmm again. You said no. That would mean that I would have no idea of what you question might be, wouldn’t it? Of that I have no doubt in the world at all. I think that’s a safe wager. Then I must ask you, young man, what is your question, that I cannot guess? What is it that you would ask of me? Whatever it might be, I have no doubt that I can answer it, no doubt in the world at all.’ And with that, he settled back in his chair, pulled a pipe from his right sleeve, a match from his left sleeve, lit the match, lit the pipe, puffed a great cloud of blue smoke and waited, smiling.

‘Ahem’, the young man began. Of course I have all of those questions, so you weren’t completely wrong, sir. But the question I have most in my mind right now is, may I have something to drink? I’m very dry, you see, and it’s been a rather trying journey.’

Whooping and guffawing, the old man slapped his knees and laughed and chortled till he was blue in the face and with a cough and a big breath, he stood up, crossed over to a cabinet hidden in the wall and pull out a frosty glass of what looked like lemonade. He crossed the room with a sliding sort of walk as if he were dancing, and gave the drink to the young man. Then he went back to his chair, sat down, puffed his pipe and waited. When the young man had taken a sip, and nodded his thanks, the old man went on to say ‘My apologies, young man. I do tend to forget my manners, that I do, I have no doubt of it at all.’

‘While you collect your wits about you, perhaps I could answer some of your questions before you ask them. Would that suit you, sir? I wager it would, and I think that is a safe wager. I have no doubt in all the world of it, at all.’

‘My name,’ the old man began, ‘ is Hephestus, though I’m known by a number of others. But my real name is Hephestus. Just as I know your real name, though you are also known by a number of others. Some may call you son, some may call you young man, and some may call you friend, and some may call you stranger. Some may never call you, and some may call you more than you like, I’d wager. And I’d think that would be a safe wager, I’d have no doubt of it.’

‘But I know your real name, as your mother and father named you. As the name you have come to know yourself as, and as those that know you well enough that you have told them what that name may be. Names have great power, you see. And to give someone your name, gives them a bit of power over you. And for someone to know that your name is John, means that you must trust them well enough to give it to them. As I have given you, John, my name as Hephestus’

‘Now I Know (with a capital K) what your next question is going to be. You will want to know how I know your name. I have no doubt of it in all the world. And I will tell you. I know all of your life, John. I know when you were born, and I’ve watched you and listened to you when you thought that no one else could. I have heard your discontent of your life, and the confusion of what you were going to do, and where you were going to be when you were doing it. I know, because I can find all the people and things in all the world from where I sit. It’s all here, in this room, in this cavern. Oh, yes, have no doubt of it, it’s all here.’

The old man, Hephestus, stood up, and puffing his pipe and blowing blue smoke rings over his head, he crossed to one of the shelves hanging on the wall. It was a set of shelves with a set of glass doors on it’s front. It ran long, the length of the room and it was deeply set into the wall. Hephestus opened one set of glass doors and took out a particular clock. It was small, and pearly white and glistened as it quietly ticked away. He turned back to John and handed the clock to the young man.

‘Be very careful when you handle these, John. These aren’t just clocks you hold. The contain the Time, with a capital T, of a life. Turn the clock over, and look at its back. See what is written there’

John did as instructed, and very, very gently turned the clock over. On the back was written the words ‘Sally Bernadine Hawkins’. He looked up at Hephestus, and asked, ‘Who is Sally Bernadine Hawkins?’

Hephestus replied, ‘Why, she is the one for whom that clock keeps time for. If you hold it to your ear, you can hear her doing whatever she is doing right this very second.’

Holding the clock close to his ear he could hear, as if from a great distance, the happy squealing laughter of a little girl. Startled, he pulled the clock away and asked, ‘How? How is this possible?’.

‘She is the clock as much as she is whoever she is. The clock is her, as much as the clock is whatever the clock is. It holds the Time of her life. When her life is over, the clock stops, until it is picked up by another life. Then, that clock becomes the Time of That life, until That life is over. That is just the way it is, that’s the way it’s always been. From the beginning of time, I have no doubt, no doubt in all the world. I could show you the clocks of your mother and father, or the clock of this mountain, or the clock of the whole of the world. I would wager, and I think it would be a safe wager that you would find that interesting. Yes, I think that would be a safe wager, indeed.’

Hephestus moved back to his chair, and puffed a very, very large cloud of smoke. ‘I could show you your clock, John, but not right now, not quite yet. There are some other questions I must answer first, I would wager. Other questions I have no doubt of at all.’

_____________________________ Night Four ________________________________
- The Clock that gives Time Enough for Everything -

We left John, newly named, and Hephestus at a point of disclosure.  Hephestus was an odd man to be sure, but he knew enough about John to be very disturbing to the boy, and to cause his young mind to flutter like leaves before the wind, as if it had taken the wings of doves and was whirling about his brain case.  We come in, where we left off, thought the back door, listening very quietly. Hephestus moved back to his chair, and puffed a very, very large cloud of smoke. ‘I could show you your clock, John, but not right now, not quite yet. There are other questions I must answer first, I would wager. Other questions I have no doubt of at all.’

'What would you like to know, young John?  Where this place is?  Who I am?  What you are doing here? What would you like to know?'

John  leaned forward and put his hands in his lap, looking at the old man earnestly.  I would like to know all of that and more, sir.'

'Sir!', Hephestus whooped, 'Sir!  I'd wager it's been a long time since I heard that, if I ever heard that at all, I've no doubt.'  He sat back in his chair and looked at the young man very seriously.  'All right, young John.  I'll start with...', and here he paused, as if deciding.  His tongue stuck out just a bit and his head cocked just ever so little to the side, as if he was listening to somebody else, and then, after a bit, he returned his gaze back to John.  'I'll start with the hardest first.  It is always best to start with the hardest first, I've found, though that may not be true for everything.  You certainly wouldn't want to start with the heaviest weights and work down to the lightest, I'd wager.  Oh, my dear no.  You certainly wouldn't, and that's a safe wager I have no doubt of it.  But here, in this case, the hardest, being the hardest to believe, mind you, would be the best to start with.  So prepare yourself, young John, if you would, to at least try to understand what I'm going to say.  And what I'm going to say will probably generate even more questions, I'd wager.'

And with that, Hephestus stood up, and crossed to the wall.  He pushed some of the smaller clocks out of the way, and from somewhere he pulled a large book, clad in green velvet.  He opened it up and the pages were red paper, and from where he sat, John could see silvery writing shining from the pages.

'This is the book of the World.', said Hephestus.  'It is very old, older than I am, older than the people and things alive now.  It was here before the first tree, before the first river, and before the first stone.  I don't think it's a real book, mind you.  I think it must just look like a book because that's what I want it to
look like.

'In it is the story of the World, as much as I can make out.  It talks about how the World, with a capital W, came about.  And it wasn't as those teachers will tell you, oh my no no no.  It wasn't created by fire and rocks and all sort of scientific activities.  The World, with a capital W, young Jack was created because someone Dreamed it.  Dreamed with a capital D, mind you.  At first there was just one mind.  One very very powerful mind, I have no doubt.  And all the trees and all the rocks and all the creatures came into being from this Dreaming.

'The book talks about how everyone, and everything here that thinks and dreams, even small dream, keeps the World as it is.  That the Dreaming of everything holds the fabric of the world together  It talks about how all the people and all the birds and the rocks and the rivers and the trees and even the Twin Mountains dream..  Sounds like magic, does it not?  I'd wager it does, and I'd wager that wager is a safe wager, I've no doubt.'   He started to pace, as a great lumbering bear might, from one side of the room to the other, speaking in quiet, though very heavy words.

'Now, what this place is, this Cavern of Clocks, is a place that was made to hold the Time for Everything in the World, with a capital T, a capital E, and a capital W, and it was created by the same Dreamer that brought the World into being. This Cavern came into being with one glorious, spiraling, glowing burst of dream stuff, and it was created simply so the people of the world would have time enough to do what they needed to do.

'You see, the original Dreamer knew that the World was a fragile thing and that it might not hold true if he wasn't here to watch over it.  He created the Cavern of Clocks as insurance, of a form. And everything on the World has a Clock.  When their time runs out, which means they die, or get destroyed, then the clock for that thing, be it person, dog, tree, or mountain, stops, till it is started again by a new thing that has just been born or created.  Then the clock becomes a part of that new thing, continuing the cycle over and over again.'  Here he stopped, and waved his hand around to indicate... well, everything!

'Now, the World itself, being as big as it is, needs a Tremendous clock. Indeed it does! Because, after all, the World is very, very big.  And as odd as it seems, the Worlds clock needs someone to safeguard it, and that is what the Man who Winds the Clock at the Center of the World does.  He makes sure that the World's clock doesn't run down, doesn't stop, never quits.  Because if it did... Well.. that's just to terrible to contemplate. Simply to get it started again, it would take a dreamer as powerful as the first one, and I have no doubt that the likely hood of that happening is very remote, very remote indeed.  I have no doubt of that in all the world.'  With this, Hephestus returned to the shelf, and placed the book back from where it came.  He gathered a few clocks and, after looking at them to make sure that they were all right, placed them back on the shelf, hiding the book.

With his back to the young man, he said, 'That is what I am, and what this place is.  As for where it is, well, that's another thing all together.'  he turned back to John, with, strangely,  an almost sad look in his eye.  'It's a place just a little bit out of the normal space.  This place is inside of where dreams are made and kept and take place.  It's not exactly someplace you can get to if you come looking for it.  You have to be led, or brought here, just as you were, just as I was, long. long ago.'  He puffed his pipe and looked at John with a rather severe look.  'I am not the first Winder of the Clock,  young John.  Nor will I be the last.  I don't know who the first one was, because the one before me was not the first either, of that I have no doubt in all the world.

'In order to get here, you must cross over from the World of what everyone else knows is real, and enter the World of Dreams, where every thing that is real is thought up.  And in order to cross over, you must give up a part of yourself.  I believe you felt that when you came in through the doorway, did you not? I'd wager you did, and I think that would be a safe wager.  You felt a tearing of yourself, right before you came into the Cavern, didn't you?'

John, dumbfounded by all that he had heard, could only nod his head in silence.  Then, recovering his wits from where they had gone, he asked, 'Can I leave, then, if I've given up a part of myself?  Can I go back?  Why am I here, Hephestus?  If I was led here, then what purpose do you have for me, since I can only imagine it was you that led me here.'

Hephestus seemed to sag when he sat back in his chair.  His pipe had gone out, and he didn't seem to be in a hurry to light it.  "Yes, you can, if you really feel you have to.  There is a way, very simply, to just go back out the door you came in.', he said with a voice tinged with a little sadness.  'And I will tell you why I led you here, young John, though I'd wager you already know in the back of your mind, if you think about it.  I brought you here to replace me, to take my place as the Winder of the Clock of the World, if you would.  If you could.  But you'd find it a grand adventure here, I'd wager, and I have no doubt about that.  Quite simply, young John, you have been rather trained for this, you see.  Since you were born.  As was I.  The great Dreamer that set all this in motion also set it so that when a Winder of the Clock had grown tired of the responsibility, had grown weary of the duty, another would be born to take his place.  Now, I will not try to convince you that this is where you should be.  Not hard anyway, but I'm wagering that you are willing to hear me out, at any rate.  And that's not exactly a safe wager, but it's one I will take regardless.  Will you, young John, hear me out?'

John sat for a while, and thought.  Hephestus sat as well, trying not to look at John where he pondered, because he knew that would put pressure where they must not be any.  As when making diamonds, the wrong pressure will create an awful lot of dust rather than a thing of beauty.  After a bit, John raised his head, swallowed hard, as he would, since everything he had heard so far was hard to swallow, and said 'All right, I will hear you out.  It's the polite thing to do at the very least.  I should warn you, however, that I have found what I have heard rather difficult to believe, and you will have to work very hard to convince me that I am destined to be a Winder of the Clock, if indeed that clock even exists.

Hephestus started to speak, but John interrupted him by raising his hand.  'Now, everything that I've seen so far has been incredible.  This Cavern of Clocks, the Wind, the fireflies.  All very amazing and rather difficult to believe in itself.  I have no proof that a charm wasn't put on me when I was walking through the Darkling woods and I am, even now, about to be devoured by some foul beast, and only dreaming that I am here.  So, speak on, Hephestus, please, but you are forewarned.'

With eyes that twinkled as much as they were sad, Hephestus lit his pipe and smiled behind the stem of it.  'You are right to be suspicious, John, I have no doubt of it.  I was myself many years ago, too many to even count or remember, so I don't try.  And I cannot prove that you aren't about to be devoured by some foul beast of the Darkling woods, nor can I even prove that I exist except as an image in your enchanted mind.  I will leave that up to  you to prove to yourself.  All I can do is show you the importance of the responsibility, and explain that you are perfectly suited for the position, as I have grown tired and may become careless.

Hephestus reached into his right sleeve and pulled out two clocks, small and golden.  They looked identical, and he passed them to John, who held them carefully.  Hephestus said 'Turn them over, and read who those clocks belong to.'  John did as instructed, and almost dropped them when he read his name on the back of both of the clocks!  He was very surprised, indeed, as he had expected, though not believing it, that there was a clock for him somewhere, but here there were two of them.

'Why are there two clocks with my name on them, Hephestus?', he asked.

'Because you left a part of you behind when you came in the doorway, and that part still exists out there, back in the World.  Part of your main thoughts, I would have no doubt, would be of your parents.  I would wager, and it would be a safe wager, I would have no doubt, that you would be concerned if you were here and had no way to contact them.  Here is the method by which you can, you see.  That part of you that was left behind is even now making his way back through the Darkling wood, back to your home, where he will grow to be a fine man, farming and working side by side with his father, and taking care of his mother when she needs him.  Look closely at the watches, John.. hold them close together and see the differences, because I have no doubt that you will indeed see that there are differences.

John looked closely at the watches, trying hard to determine the differences.  They were both smallish and round, and of the sort of white gold that almost looks silverish in the right light.   The both had stems to be wound by, and they both had 3 hands. One counted the hours, one counted the minutes and one counted the seconds.. but wait!  One was ticking, the other was not!  One was counting the time as it flew past on its merry way, and the other simply sat there, like so much ornamental jewelry.  He raised the silent one up and asked 'Is this one broken?'

Hephestus laughed a deep chuckle, and explained 'No, it's not broken.  It's just that particular clock has stopped.  That clock is the clock that is the you that is here.  The other clock is the clock that is on its way back.  Both clocks are you.   The reason that one is not running is because the Winder of the Clock cannot have his time run out, you see.  It simply wouldn't do to have him or her die or be destroyed, so for that person, time has simply stopped.

'When I became the Winder of the Clock, I only had one clock, and it stopped as well.  I had no family, no one that would miss me, so when I crossed through the doorway, the part I had left behind became something all together different.  You see, there was no one on the outside to dream me back into existence, so I may have become a rock, or a tree or even a gust of wind.  You, on the other hand, have parents that love you and you are in their dreams, so a part of you must stay on the outside, and continue as they see you.  Their dreams of you are to stay with them and help with the farm, and that is what the part of you that was left behind is going to do.  Fulfill their dreams.'

'But, but', John butted, 'does that mean I will never see them again?  Does that mean that I can't?'

'No, of course not.',  answered Hephestus.  All you have to do is hold the two clocks close together tightly and will yourself back to your other self.  Go ahead.  Try it.  You'll be surprised, I have no doubt.  No doubt in the world.  But you must remember that you are also here, and you will return when the part of you that is outside gets tired, or you will yourself to return.  For now, please take just a few minutes and go find out.  There is still much to be done and discussed, I'd wager and it would be a safe wager too.'

So, John held the two clocks close together, tightly with one hand covering the other.  He closed his eyes and tried to think what it would take to will himself back outside to join his other half.  Somehow, somewhere, he felt something do a snap! in his head, and he felt something like a rush of butterflies all over his skin, and the sound of a hundred winds in his ears.  Startled, he opened his eyes to find himself in the Darkling wood, his hands clenched into fists.

Had it all been a dream?  He stooped down to pick up some dirt and tossed it into the air.  He smelled a flower and drank some water from his bundle.  It all felt so real, and so solid.  So what was the dream, and what was real?  Was he also back in the Cavern of Clocks, as Hephestus had said?  Or was this all part of a charm placed upon him?  He had to know.  He simply had to.  So he closed his eyes and though about pushing back to the Cavern.  As soon as he thought of it, he felt the snap! the butterflies, and heard the winds.  When he opened his eyes, he found himself looking back at Hephestus, calmly sitting and waiting.

'Well, young John.  Did you find yourself?', Hephestus asked with a chuckle.  'It wasn't that hard to do, was it?  No, I think you found it quite easy, of that I have no doubt, no doubt in all the world.   Now, you might think that it was all a dream, and then, you might just wonder if it was real.  Or you might just wonder if it's all a dream and real at the same time.  Well, to that I'd have to say yes to all three.  It is all a dream and it's all very, very real as well.  But, you see, you can visit your parents any time you've a mind to, as long as the Clock at the Center of the World is tended to.

'Though I've not gone outside very much at all since becoming the Winder of the Clock, I have traveled a bit.  You can take any clock there is, any one at all, and hold it to your stopped clock and travel there.  For the short time, you will become that person, that thing, and live and experience the World out there beyond the Cavern of Clocks.  I don't recommend it, though.  It can cause quite a bit of confusion to the people out there.  Imagine becoming someone quite unlike yourself, and then talking and doing things that you would do, but the other person might not.  Oh, I dare say that would cause quite a bit of mischief, I would wager.  Or you could become a tree, or a rock, or a fish in a river.  And that, my young John, would be very confusing to you, I have no doubt of that. Because rocks and trees, and fish all think differently than you or I.  Though you might find it fun at first, I would wager.  But you would tire of it very quickly, because of the strangeness of it all, I have no doubt of that at all.

'Now then, young John, though I don't have to have your answer yet, and I still have one more thing to show you, I can tell you that this is an incredible adventure that awaits you.  Here, in the Cavern of Clocks, you have the ability to go anywhere in the World.  You might even find out things that I have no idea exist.  You might find uses for the clocks that I haven't even dreamed of.  And I can see that you are intrigued by the idea, even if you are still a bit
doubtful.  As you should be, I'd wager.  I would be if I was you, and I think that would be a safe wager to say that you were still doubtful.  What do you say so far, young John?'

John sat and thought for a long while.  It was all very new to him, of course, and he was not the sort of young man to be rushed into anything.  Especially something that might not even is real.  But, he was thinking, and thinking a lot.  After all, he really didn't know where he was going when he left the farm. Or did he?  Perhaps he himself had already known and that's why he decided to come to the Twin Mountains.  And most assuredly, this was a place where he could do what he was going to do when he got here.  Whatever that may be.  And a Winder of the Clock!  That certainly sounded like an adventurous job.  Well, actually, thought John, it sounded a bit boring, but the possibility of adventure was certainly there.  The ability to travel anywhere in the World!  To see things that he had never ever dreamt about.. that was certainly tempting.

Of course he was concerned about his parents and their well being.  But if all Hephestus said were true!  My oh my!  To have his father and mother taken care of by the son that they had always wanted.  Someone who would work sides by side with his father and helps his mother till they were too old to tend for themselves.  And who was that someone?  Why it was John himself!  Not some stranger, who wouldn't have the best interests of his parents in mind, but John himself.  Yes, it was a slightly different John.  It was the John that his parents had dreamed about, but still and all, it was stills him!

And it was all very confusing!  John held both hands against his head as if to stop the whirling thoughts in side of it.  The possibility of the reality of all that he had heard seemed as if it was just too much for the young man.  As he sat there, his mind a whirling, a single phrase came into his mind.  He had heard it in a dream, and it seemed as if that dream were a very long time ago.  The phrase was 'Knowing that I know where I'm going, means that I'm on the right road, regardless of what road that may be.'.  And all of a sudden, it was very clear to him.  Here, in this Cavern of Clocks, he knew where he was going. And he didn't know, he wasn't sure, absolutely, positively, if it was the right road or not, but at least he knew that he knew.  All of his life, he had wandered and been lost, not fitting in, not feeling a part of things.  Granted, here it was still very strange and very new, but here he felt like he might just, could just be able to find the spot he had been searching for.  And that might just, could just be able was enough for right now.  He held onto that thought, as he raised his head and asked of Hephestus one question:

'Where is the Clock at the Center of the World?'

And that, my dears is enough for now.  It's very much past my bed time, and I'm still not completely well.  At least John and Hephestus came and visited with us for a little while,  and that made the time all worthwhile.  So, until tomorrow, when I hope I will be able to write a bit more, perhaps we will find John down in the very Center of the World, where dreams become very real, reality becomes nothing more than Dreams, and  answers and questions mean no more that straws in the wind. 

_____________________________ Night Five ________________________________
- Winding the Clock, Saving Time -

Where we left John, standing in the Cavern of Clocks, having just experienced himself on the outside, and having just found out that, as far as He Who Winds the Clock  is concerned, John is the most likely successor.  The questions and the answers were almost as confusing for the young man, but because he is made of stern stuff, of a questioning nature, and a curious mind, it takes him not long at all to come to some sort of balance.  Life is often a matter of choices and decisions.  What sort of breakfast shall we have?  What socks go best with these trousers?   Should I become the Winder of the Clock? And quite often we need to make these decisions quickly, and sometimes we have no choice at all in the matter.  We join him at a point of decision.

All of his life, he had wandered and been lost, not fitting in, not feeling a part of things.  Granted, here it was still very strange and very new, but here he felt like he might just, could just be able to find the spot he had been searching for.  And that might just, could just be able was enough for right now.  He held onto that thought, as he raised his head and asked of Hephestus one question.

'Where is the Clock at the Center of the World?', he asked, leaning in to peer at the old man as if his very eyes could pull the answers he needed out of Hephestus.  His hands gripped the arms of the chair hard and it was obvious that there was a struggle going on, deep inside of John's mind, and his heart. 'How does one get to the Clock?'

Hephestus returned John's gaze with one of his own, calm, but clear, penetrating without being piercing.  A silence grew as the two men, one very young, one very old sat and measured, sat and thought.  The lights around them seemed to dim, and a sound, like a humming, but not quite heard, almost over came the constant ticking from the background clocks.  Though nobody was there to see, it could have been said, had anyone been there to say it, that the moments passed like weeks and it almost appeared as if the two of them were talking on some high high high level, far above words, above heart, even above thought, perhaps.  Eventually, after a long long time, Hephestus grunted, put his pipe back in his mouth, and leaned back.

'Young John,' he began, 'or perhaps not quite so Young, do you think?  Hmmmm. Hmm.  I'd wager that you are a bit less young than when you first walked into the cave, I'd wager.  Young John?  No, no, no.. I believe I shall have to call you simply John.  I have no doubt of that at all.  John.  No doubt of it in all the world, because you are not as young as might be seen at first.

'John, the Clock is such a large thing that it isn't just a matter of How, and it isn't a matter of Where.  The Clock is in a spot deep deep below us, I have no doubt, or perhaps somewhere just to the side.  The thing is, John, you don't go see the clock easily.  Oh my dear no.. It is a thing that is there when you go. When, John, when you go.  And when is so much more important than where you go.  How doesn't matter as much either.  Because how can change from moment to moment, you see.  Where and How are just places, and places change,   But When, now.. When is very very simple.  When is either Now, or Not Now.  If you want to see the Clock, you have to start Now, but take a turn and go just shy of the Not Now.  In between the two, that is When you will find the Clock.  The Clock is all around us, even Now, always Now, and sometimes Not Now.  But you can't be finding it by thinking of Where it is, or How you get there.

John stood up abruptly, knocking the chair backwards. 'Hephestus!', he growled, and it was a deep growl, which was very surprising.  John had always been a fairly quiet lad, never ever raising his voice, even in anger, even in pain.  But now his frustration was so great that it leapt out of him in one surprising voice, deep and commanding.  Surprising even himself, he dropped his voice to a more calm tone.  'Hephestus, please!  No more riddles, no more games, no more misdirection.  If I am to take your position, and as yet I have not decided I will, then I must know what it is that I am to do.  Show me, now.  Please.'

Hephestus puffed his pipe and smiled and said 'Tell me John.  If you were to hide something as large as the Clock at the Center of the World, where would you hide it?  Would you hide it in a Place?  Where anyone could stumble on it in their clumsy way?  Where they might gum up the works with thoughts that don't know what they are doing?  Would you put in a spot where someone might, in their cleverness, figure out the How of finding it?  Where someone might, for reasons of their own, dark and nefarious, actually Stop the Clock?   So tell me John, if you could, if you would.  What would you do with such a thing, as immense and helpless as the Clock, to keep it safe and away from harm?  I'll wait just a few moments, mind you, but I wager you will have no answer.?

John looked at Hephestus, quick and sharp and hard.  He was on the border of anger from his frustration, but his mind was a whirl with the questions that Hephestus had asked, and indeed the questions that he himself was wondering.  He felt, though some mechanism that was maybe partly himself, that this.. This, with a capital T, was where he belonged.  This sort of responsibility, this challenge, this World felt right to him.  Incredibly, magically, right.

At the same time that he was feeling this, he was thinking lightning fast about the questions.  When was a when, not a when?  Where could a where not be a where?  When was just a matter of time, and if the time was Now, then where was Not Now.  Round and round, pieces of thoughts falling and gathering, touching and moving and shifting, like colors on an artist board in the falling rain.  Some of them sticking, sticking, holding and then, letting go till one by one, they each had a part of the other, and mixed and blended and molded and contained the shape and smell and feel of each other.   And then, with perfect crystal clarity, the sort of clarity that is found on a cloudless blue sky day, where distances mean nothing and everything in the world seems possible, the thoughts in Johns mind fell together and with a flash they became one.  And that one Thought, with a capital capital T, tickled him.  And the tickle started at the top of his head, rolled down his back to his toes, climbed up his legs, grabbed hold of his shirt and jumped into his belly.  From there, it was an easy path up his chest to come bursting out of his mouth, where it came rolling out in a soft gentle laughter.

'I know Hephestus,' he laughed, 'I know exactly when it is.  I have no doubt of it.  NO doubt of it in all the world'

Hephestus looked again at the laughing young man, who wasn't quite so young anymore.  And Hephestus looked at John hard.  What he saw was a man, youngish perhaps, but still and all, a man, full of the confidence that comes with Knowing, with a capital K.  He saw what looked like a lighted glow from behind John's eyes, and he was a-wondering if perhaps it was truly true after all.  He was a-wondering if the feelings that he had since John's birth, that the thoughts that had come unbidden in the night to him were true.  Could John be the true He Who Winds the Clock at the Center of the World?  He reached up and pulled the pipe from his mouth in a slow, calculating way.

'Then show me, John.  Show me of what you have no doubt in all the world.  Surprise me as nothing, Nothing, has surprised me in a very, very long time. I've waited, oh, so long a time before, and so long a time before that, to be surprised.  So show me, John.'  His voice shook with some deep emotion as his voice raised to almost a shout, 'Show Me!'

And with that command, John raised his watch above his head in one hand, reached for Hephestus with his other and said, 'Take my hand, Good Sir.  The Time, with a Capital T, is NOW!'

And as the two men joined hands a tremendous sound began from deep inside of .... well.. inside of Everywhere.  The walls, the smaller clocks, the furniture, the doors all shook and reverberated with the sound.  Sight blurred and hearing almost was stopped from the sound that came and moved through and picked up and moved the men.  Had there been anyone there to watch, it would have seemed as if the sound shook the men so hard that they simply evaporated. And if there had been anyone to describe the sound, they might have, just might have said it sounded like the largest clock in all the world chiming with the largest chimes in all of existence.

                                               --------------- ** --------------

Colors, all the Colors in the World and Sounds, and Feelings, and Emotions.  All the things that Exist were Felt and Heard and Seen with a Capital Emphasis. To John, it seemed as if all the World had been unfolded, and reshuffled and refolded and then, just to the left, there seemed a door.  Well, perhaps not a door as you or I might see it, but a bright, glowing rectangle of light, spilling and flowing out to illuminate an already over illuminated scene.  It was as if there was lightning, and then lightning on top of that, and then even brighter lightening.  And rather than being dazzled and lost and confused, John moved, somehow, some magic somehow he moved, towards that spot, pulling Hephestus with him.

When they entered this light,  this brighter spot in an incredible brightness, all things stopped.   Perhaps stopped is to harsh a word.  Perhaps resolved is a better word.  Focused might be an even better word.  Because that is exactly what happened.  The World seemed to come into focus, as if a set of lenses had just been adjusted so as to bring things in close and sharply.  Sounds fell away and Colors moved to where they made sense and Feelings and Emotions went back to the spot they had come from until there was nothing left but John, Hephestus, and The Clock at the Center of the World.

Enormous would not begin to describe the Clock.  Very big would not do it justice, so we will toss that away.  Gargantuan is far to small a word.  There just was not any word to describe the size of the Clock.  There may never be a word.  One single Gear, one of the smaller ones, was the size of a country, one of the larger ones was the size of a continent.  It was all in motion, on long Tick at a time, followed by a Tock, the Gears and Pulleys and Cables moved gently with incredible grace, measuring an interval that was not Time, nor was it Space.  What this Clock did, was to count Whens, and John, surprisingly to himself, and the rather more surprised Hephestus understood it all.

As he stood there, looking upward at the Face of the Clock, stretching up, up, up into a darkness that did not lead to a ceiling, he Understood the Clock and what it did, and why it did, and When it did.  With his eyes closed, he could see the slow Movement of Time, and the quick ticking of the Seasons.  He saw the swing of the masses of land as they moved relentlessly on their way, and the chiming of each and every raindrop as they fell on the entire World.  He saw the birth of Islands and the death of Mountains, measured by the Clock to be reborn again as Islands also measured by the Clock.

There was no people measured here.  There were no trees or boulders or children or fishes or any other small thing that had life and lived and died and passed and was reborn again.  This was not some simple clock, such as those up in the Cavern. This was the Clock, with a capital C, and it was measuring nothing more, nothing less than the very life of .. well... of LIFE.  The Life of an entire planet is not a simple thing.  It cannot be measured in seconds, nor hours, nor even days or years.  It is not a thing to be measured by any of the man-made things that man makes to measure.  It cannot be measured in a simple lifetime, which is how most of man thinks of measuring.  The ticks and clicks and tocks and bongs of smaller clocks are nothing to this clock.  This was the Clock!  And it ran the World!

If this Clock was to stop, then all the smaller clocks would not matter one whit, not one bauble, not one titter.  Oh, they would continue to count the time of all the trees and the birds and the children and all of everything else on the World.  But they would suddenly start running faster and faster and faster till they all off a sudden ran so fast that the tiny gears would melt and the tiny chimes would chime like mad and each and every tiny clock would glow with a heat as hot as the sun and then they would all just quite simply quit.  And all life would be gone from the World.  For that matter, the World would be Gone, with a capital G.

But here, at this moment, none of this mattered to John.  He knew that he was here, and he knew what he was to do.

Hephestus, however was not quite so sure.  'Well, well, well, well, well', he welled.  'You certainly showed me, that you certainly did.  I am surprised, that I am.  For sure and true, I have no doubt that it would be a safe wager to say I haven't been that surprised in the whole of my life.'  His words echoed inside this largest of large spaces, and fell from his mouth to crawl across the floor and disappear into the darkness surrounding them. 'But tell me John.  Now that we are here, How do you wind the Clock?  Where is the Key?'

John smiled a long slow smile and turned to Hephestus.  'Ahhhh, my dear Hephestus,' he began, 'It's not a matter of Where,' he smirked, 'and it's not a matter of How, either.'  John walked over to the Clock and ran one hand down a length of it's gleaming armature, as if it was an old friend.  'It's a matter of Who, Hephestus.  Surely you know that.  Surely even you know that.'

'Oh, John,' said Hephestus, 'I'm not only surprised, but very very proud, I think.  Tell me.. how much do you know, John? Tell me, tell me all that you can tell me.'

'This is not just a Clock,' said John.  'This is a Heartbeat, a  Breath, a Thought of the World.  It's a part of Everything that makes the World the World.  Did I say "part"?  This IS the World, in mechanica!  Created by the First Dreamer, kept running by the hearts of life beating up on the planet, oiled by the imaginations of countless storytellers and polished by the laughter of children.  Yes, it runs the World and is the World, but it is also the minds of all the people that can think and dream and believe and love and care.  It's the hearts and rivers and crystals buried deep in mountains and the breeze that hold birds aloft.  Oh, it's not everything.  It's not the Universes, or even this one tiny Universe.  But it Is, with a capital I, the life of this planet, of this world.  And yes, Hephestus, I know how to Wind the Clock.  I know what makes it Tick, you see.  I don't know how I know, but I suspect that I have been here before, and I suspect that I have done this very job a long long time ago.'

'Let me tell you a story, John.' said Hephestus.  'I don't have a very clear memory of my life before coming here, but I do know that I found this place, or it found me.  I think, I suspect, that the Winder of the Clock, had been gone for a while before I came here.  Perhaps a long while, I don't know.'  He sat on the dark, dark floor and continued.

'When I found the cave, I know I had been traveling for a long time, and I, too, was brought here by the fireflies.  All they told me was that I was needed, and being the sort that feels that it's part of my life to help, I followed.'

'When I came to the doorway, it was open, and I just walked in.  I spent a long time just figuring out where I was.  I had heard the stories, but even so, it was not the sort of thing that one expects to find ever in their lives, I have no doubt of that.  I have no doubt in all the world.  Or all the World, for that matter.' he chuckled.

'So here I was, in this incredible place, not knowing what to do. At least until I found the Book of Clocks.  As I said, I think it became .. a book, because that's what I needed.  And what the Clock needed, I'd wager.  Because, you see.  The Winder of the Clock was gone.  Dead, missing, out on a holiday, I do not know, but I do know that he wasn't here, and I wasn't he.  But, I suppose, there was something in me that was what the Clock needed.  And so, here I was brought.

'The Book of Clocks told me just enough to find my way here, to show me what I could do to keep the Clock running.  I couldn't wind it, though.  I was not a Winder of Clocks.  But I could maintain it until either the Winder returned, or a new one appeared.   Oh, I don't need to tell you the horrible dreams I had, wondering if a Winder would show up to relieve me.  Nightmares, I can tell you.  Fears and doubts.   What would I do if a Winder never showed up?  What if the World were to stop and I could do nothing more than stand helplessly by.  Oh, I was worried, to my very core, I don't have to tell you.  I have no doubt of that, I can tell you.  No doubt in all the world.

'And then, one day, not too many years ago,  the Book held something new.  It held the record of your birth.  Just a tiny little notation, along one of it's shimmery margins.  And then, the Book held something more important then my very life, John.  It held hope. Hope that you would grow to be a Winder. And not just A Winder, but The Winder, with a capital T.

'So I waited, and waited, and maintained the Clock, and waited some more.  I watched you grow, and I watched you grow disillusioned and disenchanted with life on your parents farm.  I watched as you dreamed and thought and wondered, but still, I didn't know.  Were you a Winder?  I couldn't tell.  I couldn't know.

'Then one day, I watched as you packed your bundle and left home.  I watched as you crossed through the Darkling woods and the Swampy marsh.  I saw you being protected, though you couldn't know it.  The World had plans for you, my boy.  I knew the second you could hear the bird talk to you that you had Winder potential. I knew for sure and true.  But still, would you come here?  And once here, would you become The Winder?  I still didn't know.  And even when you showed that you knew, Knew, with a capital K how to find the Clock, I wasn't sure if you would know how to Wind it.  But I have no doubt of it now.  Not a doubt in the world.. or the World, for that matter.'  he chuckled.

'Now,' he continued, ' I don't know all the secrets of the Clock.  All the Book showed me was how to maintain the Clock, but nothing else about it.  I suspect however, that there are things that only a Winder could know, only things that a Winder could do.  So, I suspect, that you will have quite a number of adventures as you grow into your Winderhood.  And perhaps, perhaps, as I wander the world above, I might just hear some of them.  Could that be possible, I ask you?  I'd wager it is, and I'd wager that it's a very very safe wager.  I have no doubt of that, John, no doubt in all the World.

'And so, I have to ask of you this very important question, John.   Would you, could you, might it be possible.. will you become the Winder, John?  Could it, would it be you?  What say you, John?  Will you do it?'

As Hephestus watched, John slowly turned around and looked at the Clock, there in it's immensity.  He seemed to shine with a light that made him as golden and bronze and glowing as the Clock itself.  Slowly he turned around and looked at Hephestus with a beaming grin on his face.  'Hephestus,' he said, 'how could I do anything else?' He placed a hand on the shoulder of the old man.  'I am the Winder, it's what I was born to do, I know that.'

A tear ran down the old man's cheek.  A smile was across his face, and his eyes shone with a wonder of the person before him.  The Winder, after all, was a legend, magic come to life.  He ran a shaking hand through his hair, and for the first time in a long time started thinking about a blue sky with clouds, a clear stream as it chills the skin, and a full moon, shining down to light a night time path.  And then, like a thief hiding in a darkened room, a question came to his mind, unbidden.  It was a small question, but one he had to know the answer to.  And so he asked it.

'John, how do you wind the clock?  Where is the key?  I never saw mention of what it looked like, or where it was kept or anything about how to use it?  So I must know before I leave, and leave I will.   Where is the key, John, if you would, if you could.  Please, John, where is the key?'

John stood before Hephestus, and threw his arms around the old man.

'Hephestus,' he said, 'the Key would never exist without a Winder, and a Winder would never exist with out a Key.  For there to be one there had to be the other.  And now that I'm here, to do the thing in the place I need to be, Hephestus, my friend.. 'The Key is ME!'

And so it was that John came to be The Man who Winds the Clock at the Center of the World.  Hephestus lived many many years, wandering the land above, telling tales of the Clock and the Man who Wound it.  He heard quite a number of them as well, I should add.  Some of them quite true, some of them mere stories to entertain children before the lights were turned out.

And, sometimes, late at night, when the moon is very full and almost spilling itself onto the earth, and the wind has sent itself to bed and all is quiet and still, it is said that one can almost hear the faint tock ticking of a very large clock, and one can rest assured that there is indeed a Winder around, to make sure that the Clock at the Center of the World never stops.

Pleasant dreams, my dears,
and may all your clocks have wondrous long mainsprings, tight fitting cogs and gears, and not stop tock ticking till you feel it's absolutely necessary.

Good night,