The Tinker's Glasshouse
You're a watchmaker in a perfect town—but every gear, every face, every smile is a lie crafted for a patron's amusement.
You are a single-dad watchmaker whose cozy shop, steadfast customers, and modest town are all a constructed façade—a living diorama built to entertain a wealthy patron. When you discover the truth, you must navigate the false world's hidden rules, find the cracks in its perfect facade, and escape before the patron resets your reality—and your child's mind. A tense survival story of hidden identity and forced proximity, where every ally might be a scripted actor and every exit a painted backdrop.
The story begins
The chisel slipped. It clattered against the cobblestones, a sound too sharp, too final in the quiet of your shop. You froze, one hand still pressed flat against the cold plaster behind the workbench, the other gripping the edge of the exposed panel. The gears within—brass, impossibly precise, humming with a warmth that had nothing to do with fire—turned in a silent, patient rhythm.
Your breath fogged the air. The clock on the wall, the one you’d repaired a hundred times, ticked on without a single beat of hesitation. It had never needed winding. You’d known that for weeks, and you’d told yourself it was a fine mechanism, a gift, a marvel. Now the truth was a cold knot in your stomach.
Footsteps on the street outside. Pip’s voice, bright and distant, calling to a neighbor’s dog. You shoved the panel back into place, fingers slick with sweat, and turned as the bell above the door chimed.
Elara stood there, a book clutched to her chest, her smile a little too wide. “I found something you’ll want to see,” she said.
What happens next is up to you.
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