I was very inspired by steampunk for this writing prompt. When writing it, it reminded me of a wonderful series by Kady Cross, who wrote the Steampunk Chronicles series that includes The Girl in the Steel Corset, The Girl in the Clockwork Collar, The Girl with the Iron Touch and The Girl with the Windup Heart. Clearly these are where I drew my inspiration from. It's a wonderful series and I would recommend them for those interested in the genre. I was also a bit morose when writing this. The end of today has been trying but writing this has soothed my nerves. It was also a moderator's choice. The highest rated story in this prompt is absolutely amazing. I hope you enjoy mine!
She could hear the slow 'tick tick tick' in her chest as her heart beat. It was a rhythm that had been with her all her life. Her heart was a strange contraption of muscle and metal, pieced together by a father desperate enough to do anything to save his little girl born with a broken heart. And it set her apart from everyone else.
'Tick tick tick tick...'
Girls her age, also born into privilege, sought opportunities she had no right to hope for. When she would walk the streets, she would hear the whispers of balls and dancing and dresses and afternoons spent under endlessly blue skies and buttery sunshine and on the backs of horses. She had a look about her that always put her under the scrutinous and envious stares of mothers and the daughters they paraded around like prize mares. Slim and waif-life, smooth, peach cheeks and plump, full lips, eyes a strange hazy purple-grey of heathered moors, and glossy chestnut curls. A porcelain doll to be seen and not touched.
'Tick tick tick tick...'
But she was an outsider and always had been. The mechanical heart set her apart. There was no visible proof of the machine that kept her alive. Her father had made sure the scars she had were almost invisible every time he would operate. She had a patchwork of scars on her chest, like a map of London.
'Tick tick tick tick..."
She had once asked to see his drawings of her heart. She knew he kept them hidden away lest she be disgusted at what beat in her chest. It was beautiful in a way. Carefully constructed with delicate cogs in constant motion, performing a life saving dance. He had held onto her first heart. A tiny little thing, no bigger than a walnut, made of strings of red and pink and gold and floating in a small jar. He had replaced her heart several times as she grew, each heart more elaborate than the last.
'Tick tick tick tick...'
"I will protect you, my dear heart," he had whispered into her hair after that night.
'Tick tick tick tick...'
But promises were meant to be shattered. Her father was taken from her by a man frantic for money. Her father was not a fighter. One well placed blow pushed him off balance causing him to fall when he was trying to get into a hansom carriage and strike his head on marble steps. He was gone in an instant. Solemn faced policemen came to the door to inform her of his demise and she thought her fragile heart would stop.
'Tick tick tick tick...'
Without her father, she would die. He was her heart's keeper and its caretaker. As the weeks dragged on after his death, she could feel her body failing around her. Her hands were cold and blue, lips bloodless. Her body was sluggish and she felt listless. Her father was so busy trying to protect her at all costs that he, in all his infinite wisdom, had forgotten to teach her how to live.
'Tick tick... Tick tick...'
If she was going to die, she decided she would know true joy before she did. She did things she was never able to before. She took her father's gelding and sprinted him across what seemed like endless fields, her chest aching as her heart fought to keep up with the excitement and joy she felt at being alive. She danced barefoot in the spring grass in rhythm to the throb of her blood. She naked as the day she was born in a hidden crystal lake at the edge of their property, unable to distinguish the cold of the water and the coldness slowing creeping into her limbs. She lay in the glen next to the lake with her hair spread around her, sunning herself.
'Tick... ti... tick tick tick...tic'
She returned to the city proper, hair unbound, in search of a confectioner's shop and pushed her way past the people crowding the small interior. She ordered a boxful of sweets from the harried proprietor and sat in Hyde Park as the sun began to set. She shared the candies and cakes with ragamuffin children and a man thumping by with a wooden cane, missing one of his legs.
'Ti... tick... tick tick tick tick ti...'
She sat, bathed in the golden light and knew her time had run out. She had felt her heart slowing all day. If only she were a true clockwork doll like some believed her to be. Then she could be wound up and start the day anew. Her breath came in small, panting gasps but she smiled anyway.
'Tick... tick... tick... ... ... tick... ... ... ... tick... ... ... ... ti... ... ... ... ... ...'
No one noticed at first. The fairy like girl sitting on a park bench with her hands folded demurely in her lap and a slight smile on her face. It wasn't until they found her to be cold to the touch that they realized what happened.
Time had run out for the girl with the clockwork heart.
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