The young man took a step along the gangway, and, holding back a mournful groan, reached for the strong column of timber beside him. Holding himself up, he breathed while the all-encompassing whisper of turning gears impressed the presence of time upon his soul. Gathering himself up, he forsook the support beam, leaving his shadowed lair and entering the threshold of daylight: he stood before the opaque clockface, on the other side of which was the world.
Time ticked on, the interlocking gears each driving its brother. The young man walked out along the terrace and stood now on the other side of the clockface. A great vista spread before him veiled in thin wisps of rising dew. Fields and houses and trees; cattle and rivers and blue sky! The air entered his lungs like a cold drink, and he sucked it in deeply, filling his chest with its promise.
Tale Told 