Short_Story

She stood timelessly. Deep inside my pocket, I fidgeted with its steel frame, slowly lifting and carefully hiding it beneath my other palm, the coldness of both entities mingling with the raindrops. Her body swayed dangerously near the cliff’s edge - her eyes focused on the shimmery sea of lost memories, mind drowned in the murkiness of merciless guilt. I uncovered the entity and steadily raised it to her back, to unchain her from this world... ----- Maria Meier. A lost little child who was robbed of her most precious blanket. They say as time pass, people grow. But it seemed as though she wanted to escape the burden of maturity - to retain a sense of false innocence and remain oblivious to family and friends who could no longer sacrifice their life to stay in her world. I’ve watched men plant roses at our doorstep, their sweet lyrical words lingering down our hallways. I’ve seen her play human, her make – up cloaking the indifference she felt of their approach. When the moon of festivities paled its shine, she’d come back with the same dull expression etched on her face. With the superficial mask removed, tired wrinkles began to deepen, her lips no longer upturned, her eyes dull. Sometimes, she reached inside the cabinet and pulled out a small framed image of her younger self, glorious and graceful in her former nature. As she reflected, minutes passed, leaving wet crystals of recollection sprawled on her face. She’d always wear this particular, overcast brown coat lodged with deep pockets hidden inside. It reeked of age, retaining decades of memories. The gems sleeping between those fibres were untouched. Yet the items budged out of the pocket like an unhinged door. The temptation was simply irresistible. The door had to be opened. One day, when she went on her daily routine, i decided to grab onto the chance. Inside the coat, my hand antique silver pocket watch, slightly tarnished by the passing of time. The hands had stopped moving. I shook it slightly to make sure it was really dead – only to unhinge the clock and broke it into two. It revealed a small stiff paper inside, scrawled with the words ‘they remain forever lost in your failure- forget it not’. I carefully removed it from its frame and flipped it around. A photo. An image of my mother wildly smiling, standing tightly with three other people – an elderly couple, and a striking young man. The photo was brown and antique as the clock, creased from the edges right through to the centre. Who were they' In the midst of my confusion, I heard her footsteps beyond the door, signifying her return from work. In my hurry, I grabbed the watch and scrambled to my room, reminding myself to return it later. However, it was all too late. She knew immediately from the lightness of the coat. Her footsteps penetrated increasingly with each sound. She was coming. “Mel, where is it'” she asked quietly. “Where is what'” “You know what I’m talking about” “I don’t” “Don’t push me”. The fiery glare in her eyes caused my heart to palpitate. Silence. The door slammed shut as she stalked out. I couldn’t return it. I thought that if I could out find why the time in her world stopped ticking, the key to unchain her from her wasteful world would appear. After the event, I began to scratch for the truth. I found years of unkempt diary entries hidden in the darkest corner of her closet, where it all finally surfaced. Ten years. Ten years since the last time she felt the warmth of her beloved parents; ten years since her husband departed to the battlefield – cruelly snatched away from her by a war-torn Germany. Their unknown fate forever stained on her conscience; the guilt of her failure to find them stole away her life. The pocket-watch belonged to my grandfather, given to my mother on her wedding day. I never knew. -- “Mum”, i called gently. The clock felt solid in my grasp. I held it towards her back, now determined to confront and return her most precious belonging. Her hands twitched, but she didn’t turn around. The harsh gale of wind daringly brushed against her as small particles started to erode from the sharp cliff. My body surged with panic at the thought of what she was might do. “Maria Meier!” i screamed. It was then that she slowly turned around, her pale complexion painted light pink, tears lost in the raindrops. Her eyes locked onto the watch, and for a moment, i saw a flash of relief. When she lied fully within her grasp, she turned her back towards me and slowly spread out her arms, as if to embrace the wind. Her hands reached towards the glorious sun whose emergence from behind the hazy clouds, emitted rays of warmth onto shone onto doves shimmered across the horizon. For the first time in a very long while, i saw her lips crease into a warm smile. “Mel, thanks for returning this to me. It means a lot”. She paused. “It’s time, isn’t it'” With one final look at the watch, she arched back her arm and flung the watch far into the horizon - its existence vanishing with a splash into the sea. Freedom from failure lies only in the decisions we make. She stood before me, her expression firm. The little lost child had finally found what she had lost.