Welcome back to The Time Keeper's Garden Part 2 The Clockmaker's Cottage Before we step forward with Alara tonight,
Let's quietly remember where we left her.
Yesterday we met Alara,
A gentle dreamer with a heart full of curiosity.
She wandered beyond her village at twilight,
Drawn to a hidden path she had never noticed before.
The path shimmered faintly,
Lined with swaying grasses and faint whispers of magic.
Following it,
She entered The Time Keeper's Garden,
A place where time itself seemed to slow.
She discovered flowers that glowed in colours she had never seen,
Streams that sparkled like liquid crystal,
And fireflies drifting like golden lanterns.
The garden welcomed her,
Wrapping her in peace.
Beneath a silver-tipped willow,
She rested,
Breathing slowly and gently.
Feeling completely safe and perfectly held.
That was where her journey paused,
With the garden inviting her to explore deeper tomorrow.
As you settle in tonight,
Take a slow breath.
Let your body soften.
Notice the surface beneath you,
Supporting you fully.
Inhale and exhale,
Letting the day drift away.
Milara's feet carried her deeper along the winding garden path.
The air grew cooler,
Carrying the subtle fragrance of pine,
Lavender,
And a sweet,
Mysterious spice.
Tiny lights hovered in the air,
Floating orbs twirling like stars caught in a gentle wind.
Occasionally,
A soft giggle echoed,
As if magical creatures watched,
Curious but friendly.
Ahead,
Hidden beneath the sweeping branches of an ancient oak,
She glimpsed it.
A small stone cottage,
With windows glowing warmly.
Moss the colour of emerald velvet covered the roof.
And ivy curled along the walls like green ribbons dancing in the evening breeze.
A lantern above the door cast circles of golden light across the soft moss of the path.
From within came a steady,
Ticking,
Rhythmic and calm.
Like the heartbeat of the garden itself.
Milara felt her pulse quicken in gentle anticipation.
Reaching the door,
She paused,
Noticing the intricate carvings,
Swirls,
Stars,
Tiny flowers etched as if time itself had been painted into the wood.
Raising her hand,
She knocked softly.
The door opened,
Revealing the clockmaker.
His eyes sparkled like distant constellations,
And silver hair framed a kind face.
His robe was deep midnight blue,
Embroidered with threads twinkling like stars.
Ah,
He said softly,
You've found your way.
Welcome,
Milara.
Come in.
Inside,
A golden light wrapped her like a warm embrace.
Clocks of all shapes and sizes ticked in harmony.
Grand pendulums.
Delicate pocket watches.
And curious devices with shimmering dials.
Shelves lined with swirling sands shimmered in reds,
Golds,
Silvers and indigos.
Each sand moving gently as if alive.
Maps of stars glowed faintly on the walls.
Tracing constellations she had never seen.
The air smelled of cedarwood,
Lavender,
And something elusive,
Perhaps the scent of time itself.
The clockmaker led her to a chair by the fire.
You are here because the garden has chosen you,
He said.
And because you carry a question in your heart.
Milara nodded.
She wasn't sure what her question was yet.
She only knew she was searching for something.
A truth.
A way of seeing.
A sense of peace.
He handed her a small timepiece.
Its face shimmered like moonlight on water.
This does not measure hours or minutes,
He explained.
It measures moments.
Hold it close and it will remind you to notice the beauty of now.
Milara turned the watch in her hands.
Tiny stars swirled inside.
Moving like galaxies.
Illuminating her face in soft,
Silver light.
The clocks around her hummed in gentle harmony.
Some whispered softly.
Others chimed delicate notes.
Like wind chimes.
A small automaton,
Shaped like a golden bird.
Fluttered along the mantle.
Singing a delicate melody.
Milara felt a warmth in her chest.
A recognition that magic existed quietly.
Patiently.
In the smallest details.
The clockmaker smiled.
Time is not to be rushed or feared,
He said.
It is a companion,
Guiding you gently.
You may rest.
And in your rest,
Notice.
Milara closed her eyes.
Breathing in the warmth of the fire.
The rhythm of the clocks.
And the soft hum of the cottage.
The timepiece pulsed gently.
Sinking with her heartbeat.
Every breath she took grew louder.
Longer.
Deeper.
Slower.
As if the garden itself had wrapped her in stillness.
The clockmaker placed a hand lightly over the timepiece.
Rest now,
Child of the garden.
Tomorrow the path will call you again.
Outside fireflies drifted lazily.
Moss seemed softer.
The night air cooler.
Filled with whispers of unseen wings.
The gentle ticking of countless clocks became a lullaby.
Guiding Milara into calm,
Quiet reflection.
As you rest here with Milara inhale softly.
Exhale slowly.
Notice the steady pulse of your heartbeat.
Imagine clocks humming in harmony around you.
The warmth of golden firelight wrapping your shoulders.
Let the magic of the garden cradle you into calm,
Gentle sleep.
The garden will wait.
Ready to carry you deeper tomorrow into mysteries that shimmer with stars.
Time and quiet wonder.
Until then sleep well.
Goodnight.
