In the summer of 1887, my grandfather stole a clock.
Tag: YA Fiction
Horace wrapped his fingers around the box. The world dropped away, and he swooned a little, overwhelmed by the sensation that a question he hadn’t asked yet had just been answered.
“This is it,” he said, though he had no idea what that meant.
“I was sweating, but the sweat was turning cold on my forehead. I jumped across the ditch of the last terraced field and looked down to where my home had always been. The house was gone.”
“You’re going to be leaving us, aren’t you?” the Magistrix said suddenly, as Sabriel replaced the bell and stood up, sword in one hand, bandoleer in the other. ” I just saw it, in the reflection of the bell. You were crossing the Wall…”
“Yes. Into the Old Kingdom,” said Sabriel.