Russel

Druknet remained quiet, as they entered back into Bjorge’s house. Conflicted thoughts churned through his mind the entire walk back from the shore. The short trip had been meant to bring him clarity, but it only seemed to leave him more uncertain than before.

After removing the boots from his achy blistered feet, he quietly sat down in front of the fireplace and stared blankly into the flames.

“There’s no need to overthink things.” Bjorge said reassuringly, as he hung his jacket on a coat hook. “I can assure you, there is nothing to worry about.”

“...” Druknet continued staring into the flames without responding.

“Only time and rest will heal your injured body and mind.” Bjorge continued. “Just take things slowly. There’s no reason to rush.”

Druknet still didn’t respond. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the pocket watch. He held it tightly in his palm, studying it as if a memory would jump out of it.

“What is that you have there?” Bjorge wondered.

“It’s a broken watch.” Druknet took a deep breath before continuing. “I found it on the shore buried in some dirt… just before I encountered that draugen.”

“Mind if I take a look at it.”

Druknet hesitated briefly before handing it over.

Bjorge grabbed a pair of reading glasses from the mantle above his fireplace. Pressing the latch he opened the watch. “Interesting… It’s in rough condition, but it seems like it was once a high quality piece. Something a ship captain might carry.”

“Can you make anything of the inscription on it?” Druknet asked.

Adjusting his glasses, Bjorge pulled it closer to his face and ran his fingers over the worn engraving. “Let me try something.”

Walking across the room, he opened a small storage bin on the ground and rummaged through it until he found a pencil and a scrap of paper. Placing the watch down on the table, he laid the paper across the engraving and gently ran the pencil over the surface. The graphite slowly revealed the impression of faint lettering.

“Hmmm…” He lifted the paper toward the firelight. “I can’t make much out of the first word, but the second one appears to say ‘Russel’. That’s not a Norwegian name.”

“I see…” Druknet murmured. “Does the metal metal have an unusual feeling to you?” He continued.

Bjorge felt it in his hand again. “I suppose it feels a bit cool, but that’s probably from being outside in your pocket.”

Druknet grew quiet again.

Bjorge glanced toward the clock on the wall.

“Oh. It's already noon.” He started slipping his jacket back on. “I need to run a quick errand. I won’t be long.”

Druknet simply nodded.

A moment later the door’s latch clicked shut, as Bjorge took his leave. The house fell unnaturally silent now that he was gone.

Druknet slowly picked the watch back up. Despite what Bjorge had said, it felt warm in his hand.

Grabbing the backrest of his chair, he limped across the room, dragging it behind him toward the window. Outside, the village remained trapped in the same endless darkness. Days had passed since he washed ashore, yet the dark sky looked the same as it did the night he arrived.

The wind faintly pushed against the shutters. while the fire popped softly behind him. The sounds of the village from behind the pane of glass felt muffled and distant, as if the world beyond the walls had somehow drifted further away.

A pair of older women walked past the house. As they noticed him through the window, they slowed and whispered to each other. They glared at him with suspicious eyes.

He turned away from them.

The door behind him remained unlocked, yet he felt as thought the entire village had become a prison.

He looked back down at the watch and the paper etching that Bjorge had made.

“Russel…” He muttered softly, trying to find familiarity with the name.

Closing his eyes, he tried to force something to emerge from his foggy mind.

For a moment, there was nothing. Then suddenly…

The smell of salty sea air suddenly touched his nose, while the sound of rushing wind and wooden boards splitting filled his ears. The image of a ship lurching violently, as waves crashed over it, flashed through his mind.

Men were shouting then screaming…

Druknet’s eyes snapped open. His hands trembled as a chill ran through his body.

Come back.

The voice echoed again.

He slowly stood up, backing away from the window as his heart began to pound.

“Its all in my head.” He whispered.

Come back.

The voice grew closer.

“None of this is real!” Druknet tried to steady his breathing.

Come back!

“Leave me be!” He shouted.

A loud thump struck the door.

It burst open. Cold air rushed into the room.

Druknet threw himself backward onto the floor. “Get away-!”.

“Calm yourself.” A voice interjected.

Druknet froze.

Bjorge was standing in the doorway. “I told you I’d be right back.” He let out a huff.

Druknet sat against the side of the bed, breathing heavily.

Bjorge walked over and offered him a hand back to his feet.

“I think I have something that may help you.” He said.

He rummaged through a cabinet and returned with a small bottle.

“These are sleeping pills.” He explained. “A proper night’s rest will do wonders for your mind.”

“I… I think you're right.” Druknet responded.

Not hesitating, he snatched the bottle and swallowed two pills dry.

Time passed slowly until the medicine began to take effect.

As he laid in bed, his eyelids grew heavy. The light from the fireplace became blurry and the sound of the wind blowing outside became muted.

For the first time since arriving in the village, his wandering mind fell silent. Finally, he fell into a deep sleep.

As he slept, his grip on the pocket watch loosened and it softly landed on the floor beside him… still emanating the same familiar warmth.