Hello. This is written in the format of a Goosebumps book, so some chapters are short, some chapters are in the middle. Some chapters are almost exactly the same as the book, others could not be more different. That is my warning.

Prompt from retro mania.

Disclaimer: I own nothing

"Tommy, get back here!"

Fifteen year old Michelle Webster rushed around the corner, running after her four year old brother. Her hair was soaking wet, and one side was buried neatly, pushed flat with the impressions of the bristles of a hair brush, but the other was a tangled rats nest. She wore a bath robe, and water dripped off of her body and onto the carpet.

Her brother giggled as he continued to run, her hair brush held above his head.

Michelle practically tackled Tommy and wrestled the hair brush away.

Tommy smirked before plastering a fake expression of fear across his face.


Their mother dashed into the room, and she saw her teenage daughter pinning her son to the floor with a hairbrush held above Tommy's face.

"Michelle Sarah Webster, get away from your brother this instant!" she shouted.

"But Mom!" Michelle yelled. "He stole my hairbrush and made a mess in my room. He hid my clothes and my make up, and I need to get ready for my date with Mark tonight."

"He only did that because he doesn't want you to go. You always seem to be out of the house, and he wants to spend time with you," Mrs. Webster said, holing Tommy close after Michelle let him up.

Michelle stared at her little brother, who smirked.

Tommy didn't care if she was here or not. He just wanted to embarrass her in front of her boyfriend. Michelle couldn't answer the door in a bath robe. Talk about humiliating. Therefore, he'd hidden almost ever article of clothing she owned (aside from her lounge wear, which was even more embarrassing than a bath robe) and her make up (to make matters worse, Michelle had a pimple the size of a penny on her chin, and without her make up, she couldn't cover it).

You see, Tommy-a scrawny elf with greasy brown hair (probably because he almost never washed it) and lips so plump and red, they looked like a clown's-was Mom's perfect little angel. He could cause no trouble. In their parents' eyes, Michelle was the troublemaker, the liar, the troubled kid, when really, it should be just the opposite.

"Michelle," their mother sighed. "You're tracking water all over the floor. Go dry off, and I want you to cancel that date tonight."

"But Mom-"

"You cannot scare your brother without suffering the consequences. Go."

Michelle glared at her brother before stomping upstairs, making sure to whip her hair and spray her mom and Tommy with a shower of water.

"Michelle, that was unnecessary," Mrs. Webster called, but Michelle had already disappeared upstairs.

When Michelle returned to the den after dressing in shorts and a tank top and canceling her date with Mark, she found her parents and brother gathered around an antique clock.

It was mostly black, but it was painted with gold, silver, and bronze. There were more knobs and buttons and designs than Michelle could count. It was the kind of thing that small children went nuts over, playing and messing with the buttons and the knobs and such.

The clock itself had a white face and gold Roman numerals. There were secrets doors hidden under the paint designs and a big door in the center of the clock.

"It's an antique Cuckoo clock," Dad exclaimed. "It was a bargain. You know that place across from my work, Anthony's Antiques and Stuff?"

The three others nodded.

"It's been in the shop for fifteen years," Dad said, patting the clock. "Every time I walked past the store, I'd stop and stare at it. I've always loved it. Anthony finally put it on sale."

"Cool," Tommy said.

"It's a nice clock," Michelle said, although that was a lie. The clock was actually pretty ugly, although it was probably a master piece when it was made in… the 1800s, maybe?

"You've been bargaining with Anthony for fifteen years," Mrs. Webster said. "Why would he put it on sale now?"

Mr. Webster's face brightened. "Well, today, I went into the store, and Anthony said he found a tiny flaw in the clock. Something wrong with it."

"Where?" Michelle asked. The clock was ugly, but it seemed to be in working order.

Mr. Webster shrugged. "He wouldn't say. Do you see anything, kids?"

Michelle went through a mental checklist. No chips in the paint, the numbers were correct, the hands were working… she didn't see any flaws.

"I don't see anything wrong with it," Tommy said.

"I don't either," Michelle agreed with her brother (that's a first).

"Neither do I," Mr. Webster agreed. "I didn't know what Anthony was talking about. I told him I wanted to buy the clock anyway. He tried to talk me out of it, but I figured if the flaw is so tiny that we can't even notice it, why not? Anyway, I really do love this thing."

Mrs. Webster cleared her throat. "I don't know, honey. Are you sure it belongs in the den?"

"Where else would we put it?"

"Uh, I don't know- The garage?"

"Oh, I get it," Mr. Webster barked a laugh. "You're joking."

Mrs. Webster shook her head. She wasn't joking, but Michelle and her mother both knew arguing with Dad was pointless, especially when he was so passionate about something.

"I think this clock is just what the den needs, honey," Mr. Webster added.

Michelle focused on the side of the clock, where she noticed a tiny dial. It had a gold face and looked like a miniature clock, but it only had one hand.

Tiny numbers were painted in black along the outside of the dial, ranging from 1800 at the beginning to 2050 at the end. The tiny gold hand pointed to one of the numbers: 2015.

The hand didn't move. Below the clock, a small button had been set into the wood.

"Don't touch that dial, Michelle," Mr. Webster warned. "It tells the current year. The button changes the year."

"That's silly," Mrs. Webster said. "Who forgets what year it is?"

Mr. Webster ignored her. "See, the clock was built in 1800, and the notch moves ever year to show the date."

"Why does it stop at 2050?" Michelle asked, always the curious one.

Her dad shrugged. "Maybe the clock maker thought the year 2050 would never come. Or maybe he thought the clock wouldn't last that long."

"Maybe he thought the world would end in 2049," Tommy suggested.

Dad shrugged. "Anyway, I don't want any of you touching it. I don't want you touching the clock at all. It's old and very, very delicate. So no touching."

"Yes, Dad," Michelle replied.

"Okay!" Tommy exclaimed.

"Look," their mom suddenly said, pointing at the clock. "It's almost six o'clock. Dinner's almost-"

Mrs. Webster was interrupted by a loud gong and one of the many doors on the clock opened. A flurry of yellow and blue hurled itself at Michelle, who cried out in shock and acted on instinct.

She grabbed a lamp off of a nearby table and raised it high, ready to smash the thing to pieces.

Also, remember, Michelle is a thirteen year old girl, so you will see a lot of teenage angst and mood swings. That is basically what a teenage girl is all the time, so you've been warned.

Thanks for reading!