Pocket Watches

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
Futuristic time travel of sorts

Submitted: December 19, 2011

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Submitted: December 19, 2011



Pocket Watches

A curtain blew in the breeze coming from one of the many shattered windows at the top of the stairs. The building was silent. Entering the house, he edges round the oak door into the hallway, his eyes darting round.

Following the shadows , he walked to the nearest door, uncertain of what was behind. He grasped the handle firmly in his right hand and pushed down. Nothing. Crouching down on the floor, he peered between the door and its frame and noticed the brass bolt slid across. Locked. Rising, he grasped the handle again and pushed the door with his shoulder. 

He tried again; and again; and again. Suddenly the hinges whined and the door fell inwards disturbing the room behind and send up a cloud of dust. Coughing, the man walked over to the door and propped it up against the nearest wall.

The dirty windows provided just enough light to see the room and the clustered contents inside. Looking round he realized he had come into - or what was left of - the study. The high backed leather armchair lay on its side in the corner of the room, missing a cushion. Adjacent to the chair was the mahogany desk, piled high with stacks of papers. On the opposite side of the room was an intricately carved gilt grandfather clock. Observing closely, he saw that the hourglass was frozen on 11:42pm. There was also a tall, slim bookcase with many a threadbare novel and placed atop was a motley assortment of glass bottled ships.

It was the rug in the centre of the room that caught his attention among the disarray of the room. It was not particularly beautiful; in fact it wasn't very nice at all. Once white, it had faded to a grayish musk over the years. There was an upturned corner; he went over, knelt down and looked underneath, having noticed a faint shine reflecting from the window. Reaching underneath, he withdrew a small circular object. Opening it he discovered it was a pocket watch, miraculously still fully intact and ticking. It wasn't an ordinary pocket watch though.

There were 16 hands all swirling round in synchronized motion. In the centre of the face were three more hands each with turning dials. Inspecting them closely, he saw that they aligned to make the exact date and the 16 smaller hands to make the precise time, down to a hundredth of a second. Gently twisting them and moving dials and hands, the watch now read 'Friday 22nd November 2024, 10:57pm'

He pressed the small shining oval button on the top and disappeared.

A curtain blew in the breeze coming from one of the many shattered windows at the top of the stairs. The building was silent.


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