story.

there once was a clockwork girl who lived in a cold little street, in a cold little house, in a cold little city, with two bunnies, and lots of books. she came from far away, from a big sunny house, that she didn’t like, on a big sunny street in a big sunny city that she loved. in the big sunny city, she had lots and lots of friends who would help her turn her key - two very tall beautiful artists; a sister who was half cat, half person, and half in this world and half out; a lizard queen with beautiful animals and a beautiful heart; a very tall man who told wonderful stories and made gentle music while wearing a hat; a lady who made mechanical hands and feet; and more than she could even list. she loved them all very much. she was in love with a magician, though, who pulled shiny shiny jewels out of his hat, and juggled them fast. he told stories too, and danced, and sung, and she could watch him for hours. he loved her, but was not in love with her, and she knew that was ok, even if it made her cry sometimes.

then one day, the clockwork girl moved away, to the cold little street in the cold little city. her new house was much nicer - she still didn’t wash her clothes quite enough, and wasn’t very good at doing the dishes. but she started to learn, and even though the floorboards sometimes had wind blowing through them, she loved her little house more and more. she did not, however, love the little city. it was cold and lonely, and there were not many people, and dead leaves blew down the street. sunlight rained in her old home, and people held hands with strangers; here, people would stare, but never smile. she could not find the people who did chalk drawings, and she missed the magician so much more. He visited her, with strings of silk kerchiefs and colours running out of his pockets, but he didn’t love her, and never told her lies, and she still watched him and dreamed of him from afar after he left, dreaming over the letters they wrote back and forth as she cried herself to sleep back and forth the nights. her key was hard to turn all by herself with cold little fingers made of tin, but she tried, and she got better at it, day by day, twist by twist.

slowly, the clockwork girl started to get used to the cold little city. she made some friends - new friends,; a man who made fire fly; a storyteller from the middle of the earth; a minstrel who was a princess in disguise, but even she didn’t know; a dancer who entranced the world; a lady who bought skulls to life in bright colours; a movie peddler just starting to find his way; a very tall boy with a magical black cap ; a lady with colours on her arms, and two beautiful squids; a big big man who built things, with a beautiful warm heart; .... her life started to seem a little brighter, and she was learning how to walk with the ten jumpers on, and the big coat and the key moved smooth now with the help of her friends, and even by herself, for the first time ever.

the people who sent her to the little city sent her away to the middle of the earth for a little holiday, with some other people, all sitting around and drinking and meeting. while she was there, the girl met another magician. she’d seen him around, and his eyes sparkled, and she’d seen some of the magic he made. but she realized - he made things crooked, without touching them. she was enchanted. and he, enchanted with her. her key was moved, and made crooked too, but it was beautiful, and she made it fit back in, and it still worked ok, and he loved to turn it.

this magician was very different. his magic was less shiny, because he was older, but stronger, more powerful, and she sometimes didn’t even know he was doing it. sometimes, it made her want to fly, but other times, she was just sad and confused - things completely changed faster than she knew what was happening.

and even though she came back from the centre of the earth, her house was not the same. she felt like a part of her was still far away after she came back; that the magician had somehow taken it swiftly and turned it into something else. she missed being in her little house with her little bunnies that she had built herself; he didn’t like being in her house at all, because he liked his house more, even though she had to feed and love and care for her bunnies. she would say things, and then he would make them crooked too, making them sound different until she didn’t know what she had said anymore. she got scared, and confused, but she was enchanted, and he, enchanted with her, and she didn’t know how to break the magic.

sometimes, she tried to talk about it with him, but he would laugh, or pull more colourful hankies out. the girl would even call the other magician for advice, who would answer in cryptic puzzles as always, so she would sigh and turn away. when she asked her other friends, they were sometimes frustrated with her because he seemed mean from what she said; but she was enchanted with him, and wondered if her words were wrong, and didn’t paint him properly, because he was beautiful, and she needed them to see it, but she was hurting, and she needed him to see that. but she would say things, and he would slip them behind her back and move them, twisting them into balloon animals that started to look more and more like angry monsters.

the girl loved him, and tried. sometimes, there were weeks of magic, but then the balloons would burst, or the crooked thing would tilt and look scary and mean. and after a few too many things moved, the girl stopped eating. her breathing was hard. her tummy hurt.
her body felt sad and scared, and started to slow down, because she had forgotten to turn the clockwork key in her back, because she was so scared of the world. she realised that the magician had been secretly turning the key in her back, only the other way so that she stopped working properly. that is why her hands had been shaking, and she had stopped eating. she didn’t know why he did it. or how he did it. but she knew he did, and she was scared. she missed the jewels and how they shined when the magician that didn't love her made them move, because she was sometimes made sad, but never scared by him.

the girl didn’t know what to do. she wasn’t happy. she was very very sad. so sad she could not cry. so sad she wanted to hide and hide until the world went away. she was even scared to talk to the magician, because of how crooked things had gotten and how when she tried, he twisted and twisted and twisted...

the girl didn’t know what to do, so she went to bed and hoped she would wake up with the answer in her house, because she loved her little house, and her little bunnies, and she wanted to find her way home again, properly. the wind had knocked down the door, and the walls were hurting, and she needed to fix them up before she started with the magician. she needed to pull out the key, and get her friends to help her start it up again. she wanted the magician that didn't love her to travel down to her land, flightly troubadour he was, just for a story and some colours, but she would pay for that because she wanted to see him so badly, knowing him, and trusting him, and feeling safe and warm and home with him, even if he didn't love her as she loved him. but she was scared and she didn’t know what to do or how to talk to the magician. she was scared he would make her really small, like he did sometimes, and she would give in. or he would use magic to make her not care that he never made up her mind. but the way the key was turning was breaking her heart. she had no choice, but to do something.




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... the clockwork girl slept and slept, and mulled and mulled, for a hundred years. it might have only been a day, but it hurt a lot because she started to know that, even though she loved the magician who loved her, they could not be lovers any more. he turned her key as he thought he should, because where he was from, the water went down the drain differently.

she loved him, and it hurt. and she told him and they spoke and she put the pieces in her blue jigsaw puzzle when she got home.

all the hundred years, she got letters from the people who loved her flying around the world, and voices floated over the seas to make her heart sing a little soft squeaky song.

she knew he loved her and it hurt. but she wanted him to be her friend as well, still, when the sun rose up, for the next hundred years. so she told him not to turn the key anymore. not because of lack of love, but to save it, to let it grow into the love between friends which oh yes, is so much stronger for some people. he put away his magic tricks and held her little tin hands and they knew they could be friends and not lovers, and his crooked making is better for crooked people, not little clockwork girls.

and the little clockwork girl went home to her bunnies, and a jigsaw puzzle, and had little birds fly around her heart, sent by the tall beautiful artists, and read all the letters from the last hundred years, and gently kissed the ring the magician who was in love with her gave her, and patted the bird that flew around from the magician from far away who she missed and she missed them both in her heart, but knew it was time to pick up the pieces, alone and brave, with the help of her friends.



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and she thought it was finished until her heart broke.

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the little clockwork girl was sad. so so so sad that her heart fell out and she put it back in, sore and bruised and twisted out of shape. she was so so sad without the magician, much sadder than with the crooked bits.

and she realised something, silly little clockwork girl. she'd never told the magician not to turn her key the other way.

and other things, shameful things. she'd taken things from him. little diamonds and coal from another clockwork girl he was friends with. the little clockwork girl had stolen stories of them and hid them in her little cold house until they got bitter and ugly. she was a sad little clockwork, clunking miserably, sadly.

so she sat down with the magician who held those little tin hands as little tin tears fell down her face and she told him that he turned the key wrong. and that she had a box of feelings that belonged to him that she felt she had had a right to.

and then she gave the magician the box. and he held her hand and looked into her eyes and smiled. and she told him about how when he turned her key like that, it hurt, and it didn't work. and he looked sad and asked her how he could help make it better.

and so, they would. he would keep his box, and the little clockwork girl would keep trying to find all the stolen things, and she would remember to tell him when he turned the key wrong, and he would try and turn it right. and she would watch him do his tricks, and he would watch her sing little songs in the rain.