The Pocket Watch

The clock on Bjorge’s wall let out a hollow chime as it struck midnight.

Druknet abruptly threw his head up in a cold sweat, gasping. He breathed unsteadily, feeling disorientated. His body still ached, as he pushed himself upright. It felt as though he had awoken from a bad dream, but couldn’t recall it.

The room was dim as the fire burned low.

He looked toward the window, struggling to fall back asleep. The dock loomed in the distance, under the light of the crescent moon. It was silent and still, seeming to be waiting.

Come back.

The words came from his mind, but he was uncertain if they were his own.

He shook his head.

No, it's the middle of the night.

Come…

He gripped the blanket. His pulse pounded in his ears, as he grew increasingly restless. The more he fought the urge to get up, it only deepened.

Finally, he swung his legs to the side of the bed. The floorboards were cold beneath his bare feet. Grabbing his crutch, he rose slowly, holding back a groan.

He froze as Bjorge, slumped upright in a chair, let out a loud snore.

Druknet held his breath, as Bjorge shifted slightly in his sleep.

Carefully, Druknet moved to the coat rack. As he got dressed, he paused between every rustle of fabric from the jacket or every scrape from his boots against the floor, glancing toward the doctor, checking that he was still asleep.

Now fully dressed, he eeked the door just wide enough for him to slip through. Before stepping out, he looked back at the sleeping Bjorge.

After a brief moment of guilt poked at him, he brushed it off and shut the door.

The village was still. No lanterns burned and no voices came from the houses. Only the cold air and sound of the sea filled the ambiance.

Keeping close to the houses, he moved through the shadows cast by the moon. Each step felt loud to him, as his crutch clicked gently against the frozen earth.

A low squeak came from behind him. He stopped in his tracks. Glancing over his shoulder, he found it to be a shutter, shifting from the wind.

Reaching the dock, he placed the tip of his crutch onto the first plank. It let out a low creak under his weight. He stepped fully onto it with caution, feeling slightly off balance. The waters beneath were just as rough as they were the night he washed up.

At the end of the pier, he felt momentarily at ease. He stared out across the horizon. The northern lights danced across the sky with waves of green, blue, and purple. For the first time since waking up, he almost felt at peace.

He looked down into the water.

Come back.

The words whispered in his mind, clearer than before.

“No.” He shook his head, as he took a step back from the edge.

As he turned to leave, his eyes drifted to the shoreline where he had washed up. He felt a pull in his chest.

“Hmmm....” He muttered to himself.

He left the dock, making his way toward the rocky stretch of beach. The uneven terrain was difficult for him to traverse. He moved slowly over it to keep from slipping. Twice he rolled his ankle, sending pain up his leg

After getting roughly fifty meters out from the village, he stopped…

This was the spot. He was certain of it.

Come back.

He could no longer tell if the voice was coming from his mind or if the sea itself was calling out to him.

Instinctively, he took a step back. The heel of his boot struck against something metallic, half- buried in the sand.

As he crouched, he winced from the pain in his knees. Ignoring his aches, he dug out the circular object and dusted it off.

The piece of metal was smooth and about half the size of his palm. The silver surface was badly tarnished from wear. He ran his finger along the edge, finding a small knob. When he pressed it in, the cover sprang open with a snap.

“A watch...” He murmured to himself.

Inside, the glass was cracked and hour and minute hands were both broken off. On the inside of the cover, there was something inscribed. There were two words, but they were too worn to fully read. All he could make out was ‘am’ in the first word and ‘se’ in the second.

There was a familiarity to the watch, almost like it belonged to him.

As he held it in his hand, it felt unusually warm, as if someone had been holding it before him…

A heavy chill crawled down his spine, as he began to feel uneasy. His hands began to tremble, as he placed the watch in his jacket pocket.

“Come back.”

The voice came clearly this time from the water.

Druknet took a step back, as something several meters off the shore broke the surface.

A dark human-shaped silhouette suddenly rose up from the choppy sea. Though the waves struck against it, the body remained unwavered.

Seaweed hung from its shoulders like hair and its clothing clung to it unnaturally, not dripping. Where its eyes should have been were two pale lights that burned like tiny flames.

Druknet bit his tongue to keep himself from screaming.

There wasn’t so much as a splash as the figure took a step forward. It moved with complete ease.

“Come back.” It moaned with a low howl.

Druknet stumbled backward, dropping his crutch. Pain shot through his legs, nearly causing him to collapse.

The figure stepped again… Each time Druknet retreated back a few steps, it closed the distance.

Finally reaching the shore, it left no impressions in the sand under its feet.

“G-get away!” Druknet gasped.

He turned and limped as fast as he could without his crutch. Falling and stumbling back to his feet, he managed to reopen the wounds on his shins, causing them to bleed through his bandages.

Behind him was the sound of boots stepping over stone. He didn’t dare look back.

Lights began flickering on in the village, while windows slid open from the commotion he had caused.

He lunged for the door handle of Bjorge’s house and quickly turned it. Before stepping inside, he hesitantly glanced over his shoulder…

The shore laid empty with no one in sight. The figure had vanished, but the crutch he had dropped wasn’t where he remembered leaving it… Instead, it was sticking out of the ground, upright, in the center of the village…