The Pocket Watch
Tom Raimbault
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © Tom Raimbault 2010
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Copyright © Tom Raimbault 2010
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This work is 100% fiction. All scenes and events within these pages have been an invention of the author's imagination, and to his knowledge never occurred in reality. Any resemblance to the reader's own experiences is purely coincidental. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
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The Pocket Watch
Peter sat in a psychiatric ward, under close care and observation of doctors and family. He was one of the most peculiar medical cases ever witnessed, with the explanation being extreme physical and mental breakdown; brought on by a frightfully, traumatic experience. In a matter of 12 hours, Peter had aged some 30 years, complete with sudden, white hair; heavily, aged face with dull color and a dysmorphic appearance. In addition, he had difficulty speaking and appeared to have problems comprehending his surroundings.
After a few days, there was promise for Peter as he made progress and a speedy recovery. But according to his wife's speculation, something terrible happened to her husband that involved an antique pocket watch and a visit to his great, great grandfather's grave.
***
After a dismal year of caring for his elderly mother in the final stages of Alzheimer's disease, Peter’s mother had passed away; leaving her home, estate and inheritance to be divided among her three sons and their children. But not everything is spelled out in a will. There were all sorts of things in his mother's house; primarily hidden antiques in the basement which Peter felt justified in rummaging through, before the will was finalized. He was, after all, her sole caretaker in her final year as both Peter’s brothers lived out of state.
It was an antique pocket watch that had belonged to his great, great grandfather. This is what Peter determined. He found this in an old, wooden trunk which sat in his mother's basement. Solid in construction, surrounded in gold casing; the boldly, printed, Roman numerals were equally impressive. For you see, things are not made in modern times with such care and dedication to withstand decades, even centuries of use. Peter wondered if the old world technology was still alive, and began to wind the pocket watch.
The second hand moved and the rapid sound of ticking could be heard. It still worked after over a century of sitting in the trunk! But then Peter imagined some unheard-of rule that one must never start the watch of a deceased relative. It was a realization intensified by the peculiar sensation of viewing his great, great grandfather in a 6 foot hole, while receiving a gaze in return. It was as if starting the watch had awakened the man he never met, and now was a part of Peter's life.
The only thing Peter knew of this man was the strange story told by his father, many years ago. That particular day was a Saturday afternoon, and the boys were treated to lunch at a fast food restaurant, after helping Dad with a project which had taken up the morning.
After lunch, father announced, "Well guys, I want to show you something. But don't ever tell your friends, and keep it to yourself."
The boys simultaneously replied, "Sure Dad; what is it?"
The father and his sons walked through the parking lot and into a small patch of wooded area, behind the fast food establishment. It was about a city’s block worth of trees and wild bushes, parted by a small path that was apparently used by pedestrians to get from one area to the next. Parties obviously took place, hidden from the eyes of police, as beer cans were left throughout various piles.
Then Father turned left through an area of wild bushes; and continued along until reaching a nearly, buried cement stone with a barely, legible engraving. He announced, "This is where my great grandfather is buried."
One of the boys asked, "This is a grave, Dad?"
"Yes, they buried him here because the cemetery wouldn't take him. The church wouldn't even do a funeral service for him! The family had to hold a private funeral and then found this place to bury him. Of course the businesses and restaurants weren’t around in those days. I guess he had the reputation of being an evil man who was able to cast spells on people. Cool, huh?"
The boys were impressed. And then Peter, the oldest, began to rub his foot around the soil that covered the stone, as if to remove the dirt. It was an act of respect for a deceased relative.
"Peter, no!" Father stopped his son and pushed him away from the gravestone. "Trust me; just leave it alone. Let the dirt cover it up and forget about this place. It's supposed to be true, his reputation. Why else do you think the church and cemetery wouldn't take him? I wouldn't go fooling with his grave."
***
Decades later, Peter held the pocket watch of this supposedly, evil man in his mother’s basement. The vision of viewing his deceased, great, great grandfather that was down the 6 foot hole continued. It was a surreal phenomenon which provided the ability to see through the soil and wooden box.
“Nonsense!” Peter was never one for superstitions, or funny tricks of the mind. The pocket watch was beautiful and would certainly give him character. Nobody carries such an adornment these days. In a world where Peter's coworkers and business associates displayed the latest smart phone, an old world pocket watch would certainly make an interesting conversation piece.
Peter hadn’t given the timepiece much thought that Sunday. He did show it to his wife, but then it remained in his pocket throughout the day. Before going to bed that evening, it was set on the nightstand along with his wallet and keys.
But in the middle of the night, he awoke between stages of REM and sleep, and lay awake while listening to the ticking of the watch. Peter had never met his great, great grandfather and realized that the ticking of the watch was an actual sound that the man heard, over a hundred years ago while alive. It was as if the sound had the power to bring him back to life, like an incantation or persistent chant. Perhaps this sound was not a good thing to have.
The ticking grew increasingly louder with morbid agitation, bringing the constant vision of a deceased man, who spoke in delight of being alive, and now a part of Peter's life. Every time Peter closed his eyes, he saw the body of his imagined, great, great grandfather who lay in the coffin, striving to resurrect. Peter had no choice but to remove the pocket watch from the nightstand and set it on his dresser while getting up to use the bathroom. He had hoped that the brief walk and exposure to the light would have awoken him from the hypnagogia.
While lying back down with the intention to fall asleep, the ticking of the watch could still be heard from the dresser. Great, great grandfather was persistent and remained in the incantation of that pocket watch.
"What are you doing?" Peter’s wife became curious upon hearing her husband get up, again.
"I'm putting the pocket watch in the drawer. The ticking is keeping me awake!"
Would you believe Peter could hear the morbid agitation coming from inside the drawer, buried beneath his underwear? It was frightening for Peter, leading him to vow never to wind that pocket watch again.
"Now where are you going?" Once again, his wife was disturbed awake by her husband getting out of bed.
"I'm bringing this watch downstairs! I can actually hear it through the dresser drawer!"
The pocket watch was brought to a desk in the basement where its new home would be inside a drawer. Finally, Peter could fall asleep as there was no way the ticking could be heard through the floor.
***
The following evening, Peter was awoken by the disturbing tick of the pocket watch. It sat next to his nightstand and caused immediate terror upon its discovery.
He called out to his wife, "Jen? Jen?"
"Huh?" His sleepy wife was awoken by her terrified husband.
"Did you bring this pocket watch upstairs?"
"No..."
"It's on my nightstand, and it wasn't there when I fell asleep!"
The possibility of one of the kids bringing it upstairs to the nightstand, while Peter slept, was highly unlikely. The pocket watch had volition of its own—possessed and haunted—and would soon be sold, thrown away or whatever it took to no longer be in the house. But on that night, Peter brought the pocket watch to the glove compartment of his car, until deciding what to do with it in the morning.
The antique shop, down the street, was conveniently located on the way to Peter’s work, and opened for business, early. Peter parked his car in the small lot, and then opened his glove compartment for the pocket watch. Where was it? He had put it there overnight! Peter didn't have time to waste playing a silly game with a cursed watch. He was prepared to accept any price offered by the dealer as he simply wanted the haunted timepiece off his hands. While removing every item from the glove compartment, the passenger seat became a collection of maps, receipts, maintenance logs and other junk as Peter frantically searched for the pocket watch. He dreaded the possibility of being awoken by the ticking and discovery of the terrifying watch, later that night. No where in sight, Peter accepted the possibility that it had vanished only to reappear later.
Thank God he discovered the pocket watch, later that afternoon, upon leaving work. It was wedged between the cushions of the passenger seat, apparently unnoticed earlier that morning before attempting to sell. And the more he thought of cursed pocket watch, the more he realized that selling it may only result in bad karma as it would only torment the new owner. There was a better place to bring the pocket watch where it could finally rest peacefully, and no longer disturb Peter, or anyone else who came in contact with it. But of course it was best to phone his wife and inform her that he would be late for dinner.
Peter parked his car behind the fast food establishment, where his father treated him and his brother many years ago. Unfortunately, he had brought no digging tools. He rummaged through the trunk and pulled out a tire iron that had a sharp chisel at the end. It would have to do. It wasn’t necessary to dig very deep; only a half-foot, or more, to completely bury the watch. But would someone take notice of the white-collar businessman, wandering into the wooded section behind the restaurant with a tire iron?
The section was now offered for sale, so hopefully someone would think that Peter was simply looking at a possible business prospect.
An untamed landscape can dramatically change throughout the course of nearly two decades. Peter struggled to recall where his father turned on the path to reach his great, great grandfather's grave. It wasn't an area where the white-collared man should have been wandering alone. Hypodermic needles, broken beer bottles and other unmentionables suggested a hangout for thugs or other street people. Might he have been open to being mugged in this area? If so, he could have given the mugger the cursed watch to teach him a good lesson.