The Cuckoo Clock

Rain and wind thrashed the windows outside the Park Avenue apartment. Anthony pulled the wooden clock out of the packing peanuts and examined the ornate treasure. It was a cuckoo clock that was shaped like a lovely log cabin. It had shingles and a chimney, a balcony with twirling townsfolk, and a working water wheel. The wheel was beautifully detailed and painted blue to resemble churning water. There were dangling, weighted pine cones, wrapped neatly in bubble wrap. It even told the time in roman numerals.

“Wow, look, there’s a woodsman chopping logs!” Anthony poked around his new toy.

“Hang it up, we’re late to meet my parents for dinner!” Margo yelled over the blow dryer. She fished a gold earring through her earlobe.

He hung the clock above his desk. Above his rows of colorful books. He sat down in his red leather chair and crossed his arms. Anthony stared up at his new timepiece. It chimed 7:00pm.

A blue bird popped out and let go a piercing “Coo-coo!” while sticking out it’s long neck.

“Coo-coo!” The clock shook, it came loose, and fell off the wall… Coo-coo, coo-coo, coo-coo, coo-coo!

Anthony awoke in a green glade. He was laying in a ring of red and white mushrooms, in the middle of the woods. A stag, with large antlers, watched him from a distance.

His confusion faded as he slowly opened his eyes. He saw a blue and white sky through the opening in the trees. Songs by chatty birds filled the air. Clover and blades of grass tickled his ears as he sat up. He could smell sweet honeycomb from a nearby beehive as he breathed in. "Where am I?" He grabbed his head in pain. A startled chipmunk darted up a tree.

Anthony stood up, dusted off, and looked around. The first thing he thought of was Margo. Then he immediately realized he was lost. He was standing in the middle of a forlorn wilderness.

A redheaded woodpecker flew above him. It went down one of the many paths into the underbrush. Looks like he knows where he's going, Anthony thought, so he followed. Maybe he would find some water or a place to scout from up high.

He strolled along through a sunlit trail that was full of mountain flowers—Orange, pink and white with purple. “It’s a nice day,” he declared.

A shadow appeared up ahead. Someone was coming in the distance. He ducked behind a tree.

As she came into view he could see the person was a farmer. He stepped back onto the path. A young woman, who was pulling a goat, slowly passed by him. She smiled warmly.

“Guten morgen,” she said with a confused look, probably because he didn’t respond. He stared at her braided pigtails that were twisted like pretzels.

She kept on going her way and he continued down the shady path. Her blue frock looked rather warm for this weather and the white mittens seemed unnecessary, he thought.

The goat looked back and screamed.

The path came to an end when he reached the foot of the mountain.

A wooden sign said: Achtung! Hoher Berg!

He didn’t want to climb a whole mountain but he missed Margo. He wondered what she was up to. It was more than enough to keep him going forward.

Snow and wind beat against his face as he trekked up, across, and through blinding cold weather. He crossed rickety bridges and ducked under alcoves for reprieve from the blizzard.

He persevered and made it all the way up and over the top. From the summit he could see a rainbow down below. There it was—a green valley covered in golden sun with a shimmering blue river flowing through it. He had a long way to go but the weather slowly became warm again. Carefully, he made his way down the back of the mountain.

It was a crisp morning when he picked back up the trail flanked by mountain flowers. He followed the gentle river into the woods. After meandering through pine trees for an eternity, he came to a wooden house, deep in a clearing. It was complete with a water wheel. He wasn’t sure what to make of it. He watched from the bushes on the perimeter. “Should I knock?”

He peeked in a window and the room was full of beautiful leather chairs, a love seat, coffee table and a fire place mantel that was laden with framed photos. There was also a garden out back to tend to, to grow vegetables and make soups in the nearby burning cauldron.

“Hello?” He cupped his hands and looked in several windows.

He slowly opened the door and went in the house. The door shut behind him.

Anthony lived a long life and grew old in the valley, in between the Black Forest and the river. He always thought of Margo. His hair turned grey and his skin wrinkled over the years as he tended to his garden of carrots, onions, celery and radishes. He sat in the shade and ate his vegetable soup. He even talked to the occasional rabbit, but he never stopped thinking about Margo.

The young man became an elder with paper skin. He sat in his rocking chair and watched all of the sunrises. Baby woodpeckers hatched every spring and came to see him. He wished he had more time but most of all he missed his wife. They would be together soon—he could feel it—because it was the end of his life.

He reminisced about his adventures… when, suddenly, someone high up in the mountains yodeled over the valley, “Yoohoooooo! Ihre zeit ist abgelaufen!” It echoed through the pine trees and rivers. All the creatures scattered. The ground began to tremble and the cabin started to buckle.

The old man looked out at the peak and an avalanche of snow came down to bury him and his house. Everything was black and freezing. He tried to kick and flail his way out but it was too heavy.

He laid still in the darkness and slowly opened his eyes.

“You’re still going to dinner, right?” Margo said gently. “Wow, you have a little bump on your head. Looks like your new clock is broken.” She picked up a few miniature green trees that came loose. They rolled across the floor but she scooped them up. Rain pounded the windows.

“Let’s glue it later, we have to be uptown in fifteen minutes.” Margo grabbed his hands and pulled Anthony off the floor.