Excerpted from the House of Clocks:
This clock was constructed by Mr. C.J. Perry, who it is believed was an apprentice for the great Meat Clock (no longer on Public display for health reasons). This clock comes with a caveat: Looks can be deceptive. That piece looks like it is made from metal. This bit looks like it is coated with enamel. That other piece looks like wood. As a whole; the item looks like a pleasant clock manufactured by normal sensible means. In fact this is a masterpiece of ossuary and a wonder of the preservers arts. Looks can be deceptive but on a hot day, your sense of smell cannot be deceived. — Capt. S.S. Hendley
Seven Chronologically Displaced Pocketwatches
Seven sterling silver pocket watches, each of them the property of the absent-minded Sir Rupert Spencer, noted explorer and “time-tourist”. Alike in appearance, closer inspection reveals that their similarity runs deeper than mere design. They each bear Spencer’s scratched initials, the lettering so distinctive, and so identical on each, as to place it beyond doubt that they are in fact the very same watch. Discovered at various times throughout four centuries, in locales as familiar as Lincoln Park Zoo and as remote as a Delhi lake bed, all that distinguishes an individual watch from its fellows is the amount of wear and tear on each. From their increasingly scratched and dented condition one might place them in order, and thus construct a map of their owner’s escapades, zig-zagging back and forth through time and space, an erratic journey which occasions the watch’s multiple appearance in our current age.
At some future point Sir Spencer will visit the House and claim the first watch in the sequence, its casing almost flawless. It will then be lost on the platform of Michigan Central Station in 1934, found and brought to the House later, becoming the second watch in the display. Sir Spencer will return once more to claim it, subsequently misplacing the piece during his jaunt to the Carpathian mountains in 1732. Again it will find its way back to the House sometime thereafter, thence becoming the third in the sequence. And so it goes, the watch’s temporal trajectory looping sevenfold upon itself, Spencer returning to claim it each time until finally only a single piece will remain. The last in the display; its casing cracked and its face shattered, blood dried into its crevices, suggesting that its owner has an appointment with some frightful accident in the Bucharest salt mine where it was discovered.
The implication that there are numerous versions of Sir Spencer on the loose throughout history, each of them without a convenient method of keeping time, is supported by his appearance in a photograph taken during the construction of the Brooklyn Bridge, fourteen years before his birth. The gentleman chrononaut can be seen in the middle-background, his hand reaching into his breast pocket, an expression of perplexity etched on his face. — Mordecai Mulroney
The first owner of this timepiece claimed that, if the clock is set on its back and one circles it in time with the second hand, (i.e. completeing the circuit in one minute), then the person who circled it can move at a speed relative to their current distance to the clock. No matter how far away they are, time accelerates for them so that they are always able to circle the clock in a minute. While we at the House of Clocks do not believe such claptrap, please do not try to remove this clock as it is nailed upright to its display. — Eliot Thad Gilvie