This is the second section of my pocket watch story. I had to post it earlier than I thought I would, due to demands from the public which I found rather unexpected. Because of so, the story is not entirely finished and I shall have to keep posting the continuing parts in the hopefully near future. As long as it takes. Reader, enjoy the second section.
As he rotated the knob and the arrows turned anti-clockwise, he began to remember what he did the exact time the arrows where pointing at, with their tops as sharp as ravenous leeches. It was a peculiar way of remembering memories, indeed, seeing as they weren't exactly in what you could call a chronological order. Even so, it matters not if he was keen on this method of recollecting his past; but it was his way of recalling memories he had once thought long gone and lost for ever.
Quite some time later, he had reached what he would remember as his earlier and mostly carefree years.
Instantly, his childhood memories began to flow in his mind like a never-ending stream. He began to remember.
First there was a very faint, vague image. Sobs. A starry sky. Yes, the worn out man could see it now. His teary eyed mother, mopping her eyes with a lacy handkerchief, silently weeping. Oh his loving, serene mother! She had once, so long ago, nurtured him all the love and care in the world. How young and real she seemed. Oh, how he loved her when she was living! She waved her trembling hand at him. if he wasn't mistaken, he was carrying and juggling many suitcases. His heart sank. He remembered this day very well. It was his birthday, when was no longer an adventurous boy- but a foolish young man who wanted more than life could offer. It was when he became of age and left his household to start a new one. He recalled he didn't know most of what he was doing, back then. So young and lost. He knew that exactly what he was seeing he would dread and haunt his dreams in many years to come.
Gravely shaking his head, he turned the knob once more.
To be continued, once again...
Sunday, April 22
I have decided, after thinking over and over, to show a story to the public. On my Blog. It's not much, but I wrote it specially to post it on here. I split the tale into parts, and plan to publish the next one any time soon. Enjoy! I hope you eagerly return shortly, in search of the next section. Thank you.
In his hand lay a pocket watch. He was an ancient and wispy haired elder; his worn out skin, wrinkled and color drained, hung from his bones. Yet who could believe the contrast between his state and his spirit. Although his thin and tightly pressed lips didn't form a smile, his expression was tender and sympathetic, topped off by the look in his eyes. His eyes. Vacant and wide, his amber eyes filled with wisdom and prudence looked out into the vastness.
Such instrument he was grasping itself was remarkable; fine gold curved and fashioned into its elegant and adorned form, and the light chain attached to its end looking as if it had been woven, tightly and full of effort as it slid through his sharp fingers.
|"His amber eyes filled with wisdom and prudence..."|
Suddenly, the ancient man looked down at the item he was holding. Carefully and patiently, he pressed the largest knob and opened his treasure. Time didn't wait for the old man to finish. It flew past, impatiently and rapidly. The pocket watch's keys ticked on. Tick tok. Tick tok. Still meditating, the elder slowly began to turn another knob. He clutched the open pocket watched. He closed his eyes. And then it happened.
To be continued...
Saturday, April 21
I guess one entry wasn't enough for me. I decided to come back, to write another one today. You can call me inpatient, anxious and over exhilarated. I don't know what causes so much excitement, because by now I know it's certain that nothing will happen, even if I never really actually knew what I was supposed to be expecting. Possibly I thought I would gain admirers overnight or so, but I was just being foolish. I found writing a Blog surprisingly amusing, though. And who could blame me? I've always written for pleasure and I intend to continue doing so.
Momentarily, my face is pressed against my bedroom's icy window. Darkness crowds all around me. The empty sidewalks. The chilling silence. It gives me time and space to think; to dream. It's my only opportunity to face matters with clarity or fear and wonder about what the future holds. Who knows? Maybe... just maybe...
Never mind. I should be going.
I hope you'll be hearing from me soon. And you probably will, due to my recent enthusiasm and eagerness to write Blog entries.
Until next time,
The Aspiring Author- Lit by the Pale Light of the Crescent Moon
So I've put together a little blog to call my own. How should I structure it? What should I record in it? Should it be sophisticated? Plain? Complicated? Maybe I can start off with a brief introduction if- I don't mean to be discourteous- the reader was lazy enough to not bother reading my description on my profile. Also I can commence with a cliché used in a fresh and different way. Here goes nothing...
Incase you've been wondering, and I don't doubt you have, I am known as Daniela. My age, location and last names are classified and unimportant to curious strangers anxiously skimming through my blog entries. I must clarify that I plan to remain anonymous- well, not completely anonymous; I mean, you do know my name and interests... but that's about it.
As I was saying, I have completely and passionately devoted my life to books. Reading, writing... Everything. Books influence my thoughts, opinions and stories. If I ever become a professional and successful published author, which I deeply and strongly desire, I wish I could have the skill to do so to my own readers. I would have never dreamt of having readers even before I managed to publish a book. But look at me know; I have a blog! It can effect ordinary people's lives!
Anyway, back to reality. The time I don't spend tackling homework or having my nose stuck in my book, I use to write stories. Who knows? Maybe someday I'll have the courage to post them on this very blog.
Physical description. Right. Well, I'm awfully tall and I have wild, untamable chocolate curls. That's about all you'll ever get to know about me.
Having finished my introduction, I bid you farewell and hope my pure nonsense didn't bore you. I will be back soon, and so will new blog entries.
Until next time,
The Aspiring Author- Lit by the Dim Glare of the Crescent Moon