Agdar

A gentle breeze pushed against the tarp tacked over the broken window, causing it to flap against the wooden frame. The sound was light, but persistent and slightly irritating. With the fire from the night before reduced to ash in the fireplace, the room seemed darker than usual. The only source of light came from a single lit candle, flickering on the table.

Druknet stirred in his bed. A dull light-headedness lingered as the effects of the sleeping pills began to wear off. His body felt heavy, as his mind slowly regained consciousness.

Rolling onto his side, he pushed himself upright, then glanced toward the clock… It was ten o’ clock in the morning. If it wasn’t for the tarp covering the shattered window, he wouldn’t have been entirely sure if the night before was just a dream… or rather a nightmare.

For a moment, he sat quietly, listening… Other than the faint flap of the tarp, the house was silent.

He slowly reached for his crutch and stood. His body was stiff from the long sleep, but the sharp pains he felt before had dulled into more of an ache.

The room was empty. It appeared that Bjorge wasn’t around at the moment.

Druknet limped over to the chair in the center of the room and sat down. He ran his hand over the carved words on the crutches handle.

“Kom tilbake.” He muttered quietly.

Beside him, illuminated by the candlelight, sat the scrap of paper with the etched name.

Russel.

He picked it up between his finger tips, staring at it. Hovering the scrap of paper over the flame, he contemplated dropping it and letting it burn.

“Maybe it's best to just forget…”

As much as he wanted to release the paper, he couldn’t bring himself to open his fingers. There was a resistance he felt in his mind, as if there was a pressure behind a locked door that was desperate to break through.

Before he could think further, he froze.

A subtle yet eerie noise caught his ear…

Slowly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the watch. The sound was unmistakable... Once again, it was ticking.

He tightened his grip around it, as his hands began to tremble. An uneasy feeling churned in his stomach.

Leave me alone. He thought.

The ticking had suddenly stopped and the room grew silent again…

A click rang out as the door handle turned.

Druknet gasped, falling back in his chair, nearly tipping it over. The door creaked open...

“I see you managed to not destroy my home again.” Bjorge said dryly, as he stepped inside.

Druknet exhaled with relief.

He glanced down at the pocket watch. It had gone silent. Closing its cover, he slipped it back into his pocket.

“Get your boots and jacket.” Bjorge continued. “Agdar wants to meet with you face to face.”

“Who?” Druknet wondered.

“The man from last night…” Bjorge replied.

“What does he want?”

Bjorge gave a small nod. “I spoke with him this morning and tried to explain your condition. He wants to judge you for himself.”

“How’s that supposed to work if we don’t speak the same language?"

“He knows some broken English, but I’ll help translate.” Bjorge’s tone sharpened. “Whatever you do, avoid having one of your episodes around him. He isn’t fond of surprises.”

Druknet was momentarily hesitant, but nodded. It wasn’t like he had a choice.

He stood with his crutch and began to dress himself in his boots and jacket. As he reached for the door, he glanced toward the tarp-covered window that still flapped in the wind. Part of him expected to see something pressing against it, but there was nothing… only the wind.

Following Bjorge outside, the cold air hit Druknet immediately. As they walked through the village, people went quiet as they passed. Doors shut while eyes followed him.

As they reached the well at the center of the village, Agdar was there, already waiting….

His face was red, but whether it was from the cold or the bottle of vodka resting at his feet, it was hard to tell.

“...” Agdar stared silently.

“...” Druknet stared back.

The two men sized each other up in silence.

“Agdar, dette er Druknet.” Bjorge tried to break the tension by introducing Druknet.

“I don’t like look in eye.” Agdar spit out in broken English.

“I don’t want any trouble.” Druknet calmly spoke. “I just want to heal, so I can figure out where I came from.”

Bjorge translated Druknet’s words.

Agdar looked Druknet up and down, then picked up his bottle of vodka. “You drink, outsider?”

Druknet took the bottle from him. “Does this answer your question?” He took a long swig.

Adgar let out a drunken laugh. “Kanskje han ikke er så ille.” He pointed to the dock. “You work.”

A couple of men were in the process of pulling a fishing boat out of the water.

Adgar continued. “Du kan lære mye om en mann fra hvor hardt han jobber.”

“He says you can learn a lot about a man from how hard he works.” Bjorge translated. He turned back to Agdar with a look of concern. “Han er fortsatt i bedring.”

“His arms work, don’t they?” Adgar snapped.

“It's fine.” Druknet interjected. “I wouldn’t mind getting out for a bit.”

“Come.” Agdar beckoned. He drunkenly stumbled a bit. “You scrub side of boat.”

Druknet took another sip from the bottle of vodka before following. He hoped being around others would help keep him grounded… or at the very least keep whatever has been tormenting him away.

As he approached the dock, the distant sound of waves grew louder. Without thinking, he moved his hand over his pocket, just grazing the outline of the watch… For just a moment, he swore he heard it ticking again…

Reaching inside, he pulled it out. Just as he brought it up to his ear, it fell completely silent.

My mind is playing tricks again. He thought as he slipped it back into his pocket…