Monday Microburst: The Moment Between Ticks
Magical. Mystical. Meaningful. Monday Microburst
Every week, I’ll share a tiny tale from Plymbury—the coastal New England town where all my stories live. These moments are short enough to read over morning coffee or tea, yet just long enough to leave a trace of magic in your day. I hope they become a small ritual you look forward to each Monday.
Design by Isabella
The Moment Between Ticks
Maeve found the watch tucked inside a hollow book while sorting donations for Plymbury’s winter fundraiser. It wasn’t old, exactly—just out of place, gleaming softly in the dim November light. When she wound it, the air seemed to tighten, as though the whole room froze in place.
Outside, a gust swept through Plymbury’s quiet street, scattering the last of the leaves. The clock on the counter paused once, then stopped altogether. Even the waves in the harbor stilled, their crests suspended mid-fall, as if the world itself had forgotten how to move.
Maeve held her breath. The second hand of the watch trembled, then ticked backward once before finding its forward rhythm again. The candle beside her flickered back to life. The leaves drifted down. The sea exhaled.
She closed the watch and set it on the windowsill beside a single fallen leaf. The moment passed, but time felt altered—like it had blinked, just long enough to reset itself.
The door burst open, and Skye stumbled in, breathless. “Did you see that, Great Maeve? One second earlier, and I would’ve been hit by that car.”
Want More?
If this moment from Plymbury stirred something in you, there’s more where it came from. Join my newsletter for exclusive stories, behind-the-scenes glimpses, and quiet magic you won’t find anywhere else.
