Story 2 – Grandpa’s Old Clock
On Sunday afternoons, the house always felt slower.
No alarms.
No rushing.
No school bags.
Just the quiet ticking of the old wall clock.
Tick… tock… tick… tock…
It hung above the bookshelf in the living room. Big, round, wooden, with a glass front and a long swinging pendulum.
Emma thought it sounded like someone knocking very softly from inside.
Her younger brother Noah used to count the ticks when he was bored.
And Grandpa?
He simply listened to it like it was an old friend.
“That clock is older than me,” he often said proudly.
Every Sunday, right after lunch, Grandpa would drag a chair, climb carefully, open the clock, and wind it with a small silver key.
It was a small ritual.
Like watering a plant.
Or feeding a pet.
But one Sunday, the house felt strange.
Too quiet.
Emma looked up from her book.
No ticking.
She waited.
Nothing.
“Noah,” she whispered. “Do you hear the clock?”
He stopped stacking his blocks.
They both listened.
Silence.
Grandpa walked in just then with his cup of tea.
He stopped too.
His eyes went straight to the wall.
“The clock…” he said softly.
They brought the chair. Grandpa climbed up and opened the glass door.
He turned the key.
Once.
Twice.
Nothing moved.
No tick.
No swing.
“It’s broken,” Noah said quickly. “Let’s buy a new one! A digital one!”
Emma nodded. “Yeah, something faster.”
Grandpa didn’t answer.
He carefully took the clock down and placed it on the table like it was something fragile.
Then he opened the back and started looking inside.
Tiny gears. Tiny springs. Lots of dust.
Emma watched. “Why fix it? New ones are easier.”
Grandpa smiled gently. “Maybe. But this one has lived with us for years.”
He wiped the dust with a soft cloth.
“I bought it when your mom was little,” he continued. “Every night she slept to this sound.”
Tick… tock…
“When your dad studied late, this clock kept him company.”
He adjusted a small screw.
“And when you two were babies, I used to rock you to sleep while listening to it.”
The room felt warmer somehow.
Emma looked at the clock differently now.
It wasn’t just wood and glass.
It was… memories.
Grandpa worked slowly. No hurry. Just patience.
After a few minutes, he gently pushed the pendulum.
Swing.
Once.
Twice.
Then—
Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Tock.
Noah’s eyes widened. “It’s alive!”
Grandpa laughed. “Just needed a little care.”
They hung it back on the wall.
The ticking filled the room again, soft and steady, like a heartbeat.
That evening, the three of them sat together drinking tea and cocoa, listening.
No one talked much.
They didn’t need to.
Tick… tock… tick… tock…
Emma leaned against Grandpa’s shoulder.
“Good thing we didn’t throw it away,” she said.
Grandpa nodded.
“Some things,” he replied quietly, “don’t need replacing.”
“They just need time… and a little love.”
And the old clock kept ticking, as if it agreed.
Review 🌿 The Everyday Storybook Story 2.