Pippo and the Copper Clock

9-11 min read
25 pages
6+

In a creaky old house live the Purrs, a family of night cats. Every Purr has a night job, except little Pippo. When he sneaks up to the attic and touches a magic copper clock, the whole night freezes and morning never comes. With gentle help from wise Grandma Mira, Pippo sets things right himself and finds out why the rules are there: so dreams can fly and morning can come.

At the edge of town stood a creaky old house. From its roof you could see the clock on the town tower. Here lived the Purrs, a family of night cats, from Grandma Mira down to little Pippo.

Every Purr had a night job. Grandpa Purr padded across the rooftops, making sure every streetlight was glowing. Not one could go out or flicker.

Aunt Zara kept watch over the moon shadow. If it grew too long, it might scare the children.

Big sister Lola rolled dreams into fluffy balls and gently sent them floating in through children’s windows.

But Pippo, the littlest Purr, had no night job yet. He was a kitten with mismatched paws, and he was always underfoot. When the family gathered before work, he was always late. And he always asked, “But why?”

“Why do I have to clean my whiskers?” Pippo asked the grown-ups. “I don’t even eat with them!” “Why can’t I run fast on the roof?” “And why do we even have rules?”

Grandpa Purr shook his head. “We Purrs aren’t ordinary cats,” he said proudly. “We keep the lights on, the shadows kind, and the dreams coming.”

“What’s up in the attic?” Pippo asked every single evening. “Just old things, napping,” Aunt Zara muttered, hurrying off.

Grandpa Purr winked. “There’s a treasure up there, too. But only a true Purr can find it.”

One night, while the Purrs were off at work, Pippo couldn’t wait any longer. He tiptoed up the twisty stairs to the attic. Dust lay thick as a blanket, and cobwebs hung like lace curtains. It was exciting—and a little spooky.

Among old suitcases, dark lanterns, and clocks that didn’t tick, something gleamed. It was a copper clock—and instead of a hand, it had a little cat’s tail!

“Treasure!” Pippo whispered. “The real thing!” I wish nobody would boss me around, he thought—and reached out a paw. Everything froze.

Pippo peeked out the attic window. The clock on the town tower had stopped. The streetlights didn’t even flicker. Not one leaf moved. The night went on and on, and morning didn’t come. At first, Pippo was thrilled! Nobody told him to clean his whiskers. Nobody said, “Don’t run on the roof!” Nobody said, “Pippo, you’re late!”

Out onto the roof! Pippo somersaulted off the chimney. “No one’s looking! I can do anything!”

He raced across rooftops, leaped over balconies, and spun on weather vanes. He ran and ran, and the night just kept going. But little by little, Pippo noticed something was wrong.

No new dreams reached the sleeping children. It should have been morning by now. But not one bird was singing. Pippo gulped.

Pippo sat alone on the roof, ears drooping. Grandpa Purr stood frozen by a streetlight. Nobody answered him. “I didn’t want to be bossed around,” he whispered. “I thought it would be fun. But it’s lonely.”

Out of the shadows stepped Grandma Mira, the oldest Purr, her fur silver as moonlight. She knew that old clock well, so she hadn’t frozen. Pippo wasn’t alone now.

“That’s a magic clock,” she said gently. “Whoever touches it gets their secret wish. You wished nobody would boss you around. So the clock froze us all. When we each do our little job, the night goes by and morning comes. Now nobody can.” Pippo gasped. It was all because of him.

“I didn’t mean to do anything bad,” Pippo whispered. Grandma Mira smiled. “I know, little one. And you can get the clock going again—all by yourself.” Pippo sat up. “I want the children to dream again. I want morning to come.”

Pippo hurried back up to the attic. He put his paw on the copper clock. “I want morning to come,” he said. “I want everything back the way it was.” Slowly, slowly, the little tail began to move. Tick… tick… tick…

First, one star twinkled. Then the moon drifted on, and the sky turned pink. Dream balls floated back into bedroom windows. Birds chirped. In one window, a little boy smiled in his sleep. Pippo laughed with joy.

The next evening, Grandpa Purr gave Pippo his very first night job. “Watch the clocks,” he said, “so the night goes right and morning comes on time. That’s a job for a true Purr.” Pippo puffed out his chest.

Now Pippo knew: when everyone does their part, children dream and morning comes. He even cleaned his whiskers.

Pippo had made a mistake, and he had fixed it. Every night after that, the lights glowed and the dreams floated. And every morning, right on time, the sun rose over the creaky old house. Pippo purred.

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