like clockwork

And so, like every other night, I will go out onto my balcony at dusk and play pretend. I will smile, because people don’t like when the sun is angry, and I will let this kingdom be deceived by a facade for a little longer. I will be their illusion, the royal family’s lie. And I will do it again. Over and over again. 

At night, I am alive, but only barely. Standing over the kingdom is a long, monotonous task, one that leaves me alone except for my thoughts. And then I sleep through most of the days, exhaustion clouding my mind like a haze. I don’t know who I am anymore. 

Tick, tock, tick tock. 

The arrow on the clock turns, mockingly slow, and the day slowly dips just a little closer to evening. And then I will go onto my balcony in a suffocating gold dress that covers all the wrong spots and twirl around as though there is nothing wrong with life— as though there is nothing wrong with me. And I will smile sweetly and charm the people of Sarquin. For the stars show up toward the later hours, and the people will no longer see the sun, but all will be well,because I can be the sun for them. For a little while.

Because in a kingdom where the sun gives life, a castle where everyone needs rays of light, the night is a time of death. A time of sickly people and never-ending pain. A moment between the days where the people of Sarquin will fade. Painfully. Slowly. They will fade until they fall out of the folds of this world, or until the sun rises once again

Until they found me. 

Until they realized, for some unknown reason, my magic has the same effect as the sun. 

And so, like every other night, I will go out onto my balcony at dusk and play pretend. I will smile ( for people don’t like when the sun is angry) and I will let this kingdom be deceived by a facade for a little longer. I will be their illusion, the royal family’s lie. And I will do it again. Over and over again. 

Tick, tock, tick, tock. 

Like clockwork. 

A sigh escapes my mouth, and I try to suck it back in. A waste of breath. That’s what my keeper would say. He would finger my chin with those long, icy fingers and tell me to stay quiet. You’re not someone meant to be heard. And then he’d treat me gently and lock me back into my room. 

Banishing the thoughts to a far corner of my mind, I turn my focus back to the ticking clock and the dress in front of me. Laid in a flat rectangular box is my costume for the night, a dress with matching shoes and jewelry and all the other things my keeper’s stylist has chosen. 

Today, it's gold and white, like almost all of my dresses. Short and frilly, with layers of fluffy fabric and a skirt that ends at my upper thigh. Too high for someone as young as me. The top is corset-like, which means I’ll be short of breath for the rest of the night, with a heart cut out in the middle of my chest and capped princess sleeves. Its lacing is made up of gold silk, and the edge of the dress is hemmed with various gold jewels. The whole thing is dusted in glitter so that the dress glints whenever the bed dips and catches the light. It is a beautiful reminder that I am a puppet. 

It slips on like a tight glove, as though the makers had known my exact measurements and chosen to make it a little too tight. I suck in and tie off the back with a bow and turn back to the box. Tall, glassy heels with gold metal embellishments are the shoes for the night, and so I slip them on quickly. I take the rest of the jewels and clasp them on like armor. And then all that’s left is the shimmering gold face veil that is a constant every night. No matter the dress, it’s always this veil. Always. 

I braid my dark red hair into two loose braids on either side and weave the edges of the veil in before I clip it into place. It sits like a crown, a crown to hide who I am. It’s sheer, so I can still see the people and they can still see me, but I like to think it serves as a reminder that I am still the sun. I am faraway, distant, but life-providing. 

You will never reach me. 

When I look in the mirror, I find that I do look quite like the sun. Light catches onto the dress and jewels with every shift I make, and my whole body glows in the light. I look like the sweet golden sun Sarquin believes me to be. 

Soon, the real sun is gone and the grand tower’s clock chimes. It’s sundown, and so I must rise. 

I’m taken to the balcony by one of the lady servants in the castle. Every night, it is a different lady, and so I have given up trying to figure out their names.

The balcony is at the very center of the palace, high above the ground, and bedazzled with tall white quartz pillars and gold. Above it is the grand clock, and below it is the palace courtyard. The entire kingdom revolves around this point. Around me, the sun forced onto its pedestal. 

The clock ticks slowly through the night. A sound engraved in my mind. 

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

And so I take my spot, stepping onto the smooth white surface in heels that make my steps wobbly, and smile at the specks of people below me. And then I let the magic in my veins flow. 

Slowly, my blood lights up, and my veins trace themselves in light. It looks as though my body is being split apart by cracks of lava, light leaking out of me. There is a faint humming over all the people, a song of pleasure that I hear on good nights. I don’t even know if they can see my smile from down there, the pain in my eyes, and the stiffness of my actions. 

Can anyone see the real me? 

As the evening ticks away and night draws us near, the people slowly file their way back home, comforted, knowing that the sun will still stay up through the night. Safe, knowing that their sun is still with them. Fatigue itches its way across my skin, but I don’t stop. I can’t. 

I did, once. I’d been beaten to the bone that time. Beaten until my skin was wet and raw and my back was a mess of shredded flesh. It had throbbed and stung until I couldn’t feel it anymore, and my body was white numbness. There’s a reason the my little golden dresses don’t dip in the back.

I don’t stop anymore. 

By the time the sun shows its face again, I am tired to the bones. My blood feels like fire, tracing burning cracks along my skin, and I’m clinging to the edge of the balcony to stay upright. Once the sun is visible enough to paint the sky, a servant shows up and leads me back to my room, taking me to bed. I bury myself deep in the cool white sheets and plush pillows, hiding myself from the world for now. The sun is up, which means I am safe. 

That day, I dream again. I always dream, dream of the same girl a few years older than me. Always that girl, but I can never remember who she is. I can’t remember what I dreamed of, only that she is real, and that she has pale gray hair and big gray eyes that whisper safe. Only that she’s cold and soft at the same time. That she is waiting for me. 

All these dreams, they string together so far back into my mind I’m convinced some of them are memories. So many of them feel far too real.

But any other details slip through the cracks of my mind the moment I wake up. It's like grabbing at smoke, or maybe clouds, because my fingers keep passing through nothing. I can’t remember. 

It’s driving me insane.

Maybe I already am insane. 

And yet, I can’t help but feel like if I managed to escape, if I ran from this place, that I would finally get to meet her. That meeting her would make me whole, that maybe she is waiting for me, somewhere outside of here. Maybe she is at the edge of the palace just waiting for my escape. I want to find her more than anything. It itches in my blood, it nudges at my heart, a longing for something familiar, and kind, and safe.

She’s waiting for me. 

I want her to tell me I am safe. 

Days follow, and nights are long. Every night I become the sun, and every night I lose a little bit of my light. It’s never-ending, and I don’t feel like it’s real. At night, I am alive, but only barely. Standing over the kingdom is a long, monotonous task, one that leaves me alone except for my thoughts. And then I sleep through most of the days, exhaustion clouding my mind like a haze. I don’t know who I am anymore. 

But it keeps going. 

Tick, tock, tick, tock. 

Like clockwork. 

And then one night, staring down at Sarquin, a city of gold built upon blood, I wonder. Shimmering, golden blood. My blood. If I leave, how long before they find someone else like me? Is there anyone out there quite like me? If they can’t, what happens? Do they return to their old ways, huddling around fires and losing the weaker men? Or does this kingdom die out like a flame that runs out of fuel? 

Can I condemn a kingdom to that kind of fall? 

I realize that I can. 

I realize it’s either I fall or they fall. 

And I’m tired of falling. 

I start planning. Long nights I stare down at this castle, I plan my escape. I plan to find her; safety, freedom, and whatever else follows. 

Escaping a castle is a lot harder than I realize. The only things that I had in my closet other than dresses were my sleep gowns. And so now, I’m shuffling through the empty castle walls in my sandals and a loose silk dress, covered in a thick cloak that I fashioned out of one of my velvet curtains. 

A long time ago I realized that my magic likes to put people to sleep, like a warm cup of milk. That’s why the people always return home after a few minutes in my light. It makes them sleepy, it makes things hazy. 

It almost sounds like a medicine, almost sounds like a drug. 

And so I let my magic slide and shift around me, making sure no one in the entire kingdom is awake. Except me. 

It’s dark, and I’ve never been outside my room. For a few moments, panic lodges itself in my throat and I can’t help but think that this entire plan is hopeless. The keeper will emerge from one of the corners, smiling, and lock me back in my room a little more broken. Fear spikes my thoughts but I decide I’d rather die on my way out than stay locked here forever. 

I walk in circles until I find one of the grander looking staircases. I follow it down the endless spirals and gold steps until I meet a giant room at the bottom. 

By the time I make it out, it feels as though I have left a labyrinth. My mind hurts and throbs just thinking about the never-ending glass halls of this castle. 

It’s an entrance hall of some sort, with glassy crystal floors, tall quartz pillars, and gold edging everywhere. Even at night, or maybe in my light, everything seems iridescent. Everything seems to glow like honey and melting flames. Such a pretty place. 

I turn my focus to the giant arches that lead to the courtyard and follow the path out the gate with quiet steps. There are guards at the main gate, but they don’t turn towards me. 

I suck in a sharp breath.

And then I’m walking past them and there’s a hand at the back of my dress, and I can’t breathe. One of the guards is dragging my back by the arm, hard enough to bruise. The other pulls out a blade and I suck in a breath I can’t take. What do I do, what do I do, can I even do anything?

I can hear the clock tower in the outskirts of my mind. Tick, tock, tick, tock.

My blood boils as the two guards grab at me and I can’t even stay strong enough to keep my eyes open. Panic makes my hands move, and I push at the guards face, yanking myself away. Stay away, don’t touch me– hands don’t let go and a knife dances over my skin, lightly splitting skin. 

The pain makes me stiffen all over and hysteria starts to take over. Tears prick the edges of my eyes and blood drips down my arms from various cuts. Golden droplets hit the ground with too much weight, and the world starts to slow. I take in a wet breath and crack open my eyes to see the two guards keeled over on the ground behind me. 

I thank the universe and carry on. 

Within a couple hours, I’m wandering the streets of Sarquin, the castle a distance behind me. Despite the distance, I can still hear the tick of the grand clock, as though it’s still hanging above my head. As though it’s still looming over me through the night. This night is different though, because I’ve realized just how much power I hold. I don’t know why I ever let them use me. I don’t know why I ever thought I needed to do anything for this place. 

But now I am alone and tired. Now, the blood starts to burn and flicker in my veins, and I can’t see clearly. It’s too dark, and I can’t figure out where up is. The sun seems to notice though, because light glints at the edge of the horizon.The sky starts to paint itself colors I could never achieve, and I finally let go of my magic because even I can’t compete with the real sun. 

It’s only after a long night and a bright morning that I realize I don’t know where I’m going. This whole time, my mind’s been in a haze, a cloud cutting off any actual thoughts. Instead, my body’s gone its own way, following every tug of my heart, leading me to nowhere. 

Except maybe I am going somewhere. 

Because the closer I get to the edge of the kingdom, the strangest sense of familiarity and warmth tingles up my spine, creeping through my veins like it doesn’t want to frighten me. A brush across my skin, a cool touch. 

It feels like my dreams. 

Standing alone in the middle of a field of pale flowers, the village a short distance behind me, I startle. And then throw myself at the weird feelings coursing through my body, chasing them until I realize my feet are also moving. That I’m falling through the fields, that I’m sprinting through the thin trees, along a creek that is too dry. 

Sometime through I open my eyes against the wind and realize I can see her, I can see her. And suddenly the pieces of my dreams slot together like a finished puzzle, and I realize it’s always been her. Even if I’m not sure who she is, she’s rooted in me. A sister, a friend, a keeper. My real keeper. She’ll keep me safe.

And she looks like me, except maybe the polar opposite. Pale grayish hair that glints in the sunlight like melting snowflakes that drip in locks down her back. Sharp eyes, faint freckles, and a cold blush dust her cheeks. Her eyes catch mine though, and I realize I could get lost in them forever. They are the lightest of blues with a ring of violet that seems to spin and pulse the longer I stare. She smiles, and I melt because I’m done waiting. 

“You’re like me,” I whisper against my tears, and the woman’s smile stretches just a little wider, her glass eyes crinkling at the edges. 

“No,” she says back, her voice dry and yet soothing, sliding across my ears like snow across a frozen lake. “You are like me.”

Almost a moon later, I realize I’m starting to forget what it was like in that castle. Not forgetting, really, it’s more like I won’t let myself reach that far back. Like my mind is protecting me from reaching things I don’t want to see because I’ve realized that life can be good and I don’t want to go back. 

I learn that my keeper’s name is Izira, but she lets me call her Ra-ra. She’s one of the magic-users that escaped the kingdom. Her magic doesn’t work the way mine does, it doesn’t soothe and send people to sleep. Her magic slips into people’s bodies, makes them heal or grow sick or disappear altogether. She doesn’t like it. But I think it is beautiful. 

Ra-ra makes me get up in the mornings, and I realize that the sun is far more beautiful than I. She doesn’t make me wear jewels and smile all the time, but I find myself smiling anyway. 

Time passes easily here, and the future feels so infinite that the past slips away like melting gold. I don’t want to remember, and yet whenever I wake up I feel as though I might have been dreaming about it. I reach back and I try to pull it out of the corners of my mind, and yet all I can remember is red hair in braids, gold veils, and the never-ending tick tock.

Even as time passes and seasons go, it never leaves me. It lingers, it stays, it rings in my head. Tick, tock, tick tock. 

Even now, it feels like there is a tower looming over me, ticking as time goes by, like it might eat me alive. It doesn’t go It fades, but it always stays. 

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

Like clockwork.