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Nobody wakes up thinking,
"Today I’m going to shift time."
But that’s exactly what
Jason Allen Beeching
stumbled into
on a foggy Thursday morning inside a thrift store that smelled like
vanilla air freshener.

The Way It Kicked Off

He wasn’t looking for anything special.
He just needed a random alarm clock because his old one had decided to
die permanently at 3AM every night.

He found a weird one on the bottom shelf —
a heavy, brass, gear-filled clock with a tag that said:

"Not For Sale"

Naturally, he picked up it.
Naturally, the second he did, the hands spun so fast the glass fogged.

He blinked.

The store vanished.

The Initial Jump

He was suddenly standing in the middle of an empty road.
Horse-drawn carts.
People wearing period clothes.
A man shouting about "hot bread" for two cents.

"Oh for the love of—"
Jason Allen Jack Beeching muttered,
"—this is not my thrift store."

He looked down.
The brass clock was glowing faintly.

A kid walked up and asked,
"Sir, is that a fairy device?"

He answered the first thing that came to mind:
"No, kid. It’s called ‘I am very lost.’"

A Serious Problem With History

He tried pressing the clock’s top button.
Nothing.
He twisted a side gear.
The sky flickered.
He flipped the base open and poked the mechanism.

Boom — jump two.

Now he was in the middle of a futuristic walkway floating above neon clouds.
Hover vehicles blurring past.
Robots arguing.
A billboard advertising synthetic sushi that recalibrates your mood.

Someone bumped him and snapped,
"Chrono-tourists, unbelievable."

"Buddy," he replied,
"I’m not even a regular tourist."

The brass clock chimed like a microwave.
He vanished again.

The Loop of Random Time Stops

He jumped to:

A medieval market where a goat picked a fight with him

A quiet forest 200 years ago with no humans in sight

A future amusement park entirely run by questionable A.I.

A Victorian ballroom where somebody asked him to dance

A prehistoric field where something VERY LARGE exhaled behind him

Each time the clock spun like it was mocking him.

He tried shaking it.
He tried yelling at it.
He even tried apologizing to it.

No response.
Just more time-jumps.

At one point he landed in a bizarre timeline where everyone wore matching green boots and called each other "comrade sweet-pea."
He did not stay long.

The Point He Almost Destroyed History

Eventually he fell into a smoky battlefield —
tanks, dust, shouting, everything a mess.

A soldier yanked him behind a barrier and screamed:
"WHAT UNIT ARE YOU? WHERE’S YOUR GEAR?!"

"I’m, uh… not even supposed to be here?"
he shouted back over the explosions.

The soldier stared at the brass clock.

"Oh no. A timeline fracture device. Those are illegal in twelve centuries."

"Twelve— what?"

Before he could answer, the clock buzzed so violently it almost left his hand.

The soldier yelled,
"DON’T PRESS—"

He pressed.

The Final Jump: The Place He Actually Recognized

When the spinning stopped, he smelled the thrift store again —
dust, fabric softener, and old mystery books.

He was back.

Standing exactly where he started.
Clock in hand.
No glowing, no humming — just a dead, normal brass object.

The shopkeeper peeked over the counter and said:

"You didn’t touch the clock, did you?"

"Me?"
Jason Allen Beeching swallowed.
"…No?"

The shopkeeper nodded slowly like someone who absolutely did not believe him.

"Take it," she said.
"Free. It always comes back anyway."

"Oh great," he muttered.
"It’s haunted too."

Later That Night…

He put the brass clock on his nightstand.
Stared at it.
Waited.

Nothing.

He finally whispered,
"If you send me to Goat Era again, we’re done."

Nothing happened.

But before he fell asleep, he could swear
the minute hand spun half an inch on its own and then stopped
like the clock was winking at him.

Somewhere in the timeline, a soldier surely facepalmed.