Literature
Clockwork Girl
Twirl, twirl, twirl.
Clickityclick.
The first time I opened my eyes, I saw my father. When I reached out for him, my joints squeaked and creaked and my arms jittered.
“Hmm.”
That was his first word to me.
He took off his glasses and left the room cleaning them. That left me alone, in the dark, listening to spiders clicking and clacking inside my head. They frightened me. I wanted my father.
When I tried to move my legs, I found that I had none. It was disconcerting, but not an impassable obstacle. I used my arms and my fingers to drag my body across the floor, until I met the door. It was disconcerting, but not an impassab