Foreword:
Here is the moment you have been waiting for. I present to you the final and most awaited piece of the Pocket Watch story. I deeply hope you enjoy it. Read on, read on.
As the elder turned the knob, memories began to fly past. All his life! All his diligent and effortful work! Everything which he had labored throughout all these years; a lifetime of rigorous toil.
He could see it all, crowded around him as if he stood in the center of a compact chamber, fashioned from memories and images of his past, plastered on the walls. Every picture he could recall. Every moment. Many which he once believed to be the most significant, when he was only just living them as his present, and not simply errors of his past.
He saw himself as an infant, in a weedless meadow of radiant wildflowers and poppies. He could barely stand on his feet, yet he clumsily followed his siblings which he had once so greatly looked up to and idolized. If he ever tripped, which he did frequently, he would heave his chubby body over to get up and start anew, never loosing hope. He remembered how he had once observed life, when he was innocent and naive. Everything was simply a joke which you could chuckle at. Oh how he wished life was as simple as that!
In a different memory, he was watching his much loved aunt set a piano to life with her slender fingers. She sat neatly on a stool, leaned over the powerful and harmonic instrument. The elder watched patiently as her hands danced over the smooth, ivory keys. The beautiful yet haunting tune would draw any audience closer, wanting to hear more. The sorrow from the piece seeped into his body and gradually spread in his veins. Melodic and hypnotizing music flooded the room, engaging him so he would never want the music to stop. He felt afraid of advancing towards the piano, as if he was in a dream and one wrong step would waver the music, waking him up and abandoning the vision forever. He simply watched the scene in awe, unable to do more.
