Friday, May 18

Pocket Watch: Part IV

Dear Blog,

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.

The memories spun around him, and he watched himself be kissed goodnight by his mother, learn to ride a bicycle and pick a bouquet of fresh lavender. All these moments which he had lived, accompanied by his treasured pocket watch tucked in his coat pocket or hid safely in his cupboard. Then, his eldest memory came to his mind. A newborn baby lying in a ruffled crib, not more than a day old. The baby's eyes glittering in the moonlight. And then it giggled. Such sound was music to his ears; to anyone's ears! It represented hope, a new life and the beginning of what once would be the end, when you would look back to the start and recall it fondly. As the elder remembered, he cackled with his croaked and hoarse voice. Only to him, the sound ringing in his ears was the same as the giggling baby's. They belonged to so distinct- yet so identical characters. The two laughs became one, as he continued to cackle. He realized that he was no longer the foolish young man- but at the same time he still was not the same mischievous child. He was someone different, a mixture of his past self with the part of himself which he had gained with experience and learning form mistakes. Feeling he had everything he would have ever needed, the elder closed the pocket watch and clutched it tightly to his chest, the laughter still sounding and the memories still filling his heart. Then, feeling satisfied with life, the man took a sigh and closed his eyes for one last time.

Sunday, May 13

Pocket Watch: Part III

Dear Blog,

Please excuse me for taking so long to post the semi-final part of my pocket watch story. I apologize to all the readers I have gained with my writing who so dearly longed to finish reading the peculiar adventures of the elder man and his pocket watch. Enough said! Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the following section of the pocket watch story, which you have anticipated for so long!

This time the memory wasn't so misty. Feelings, colors, sounds and smells came to him in an instant. A school bell rang as gleeful, beaming children began to fill the one-room school house. A laughing, young teacher stood by the entrance, welcoming her students with a benevolent smile spread across her face. Locks of her hair were loose from her bun and freely danced in the wind.
What was left of the children, who still hadn't entered the building, where racing each other across the spring lanes so they wouldn't be late. Amongst them was the elder. But he didn't feel old anymore. He felt as if his spirit had lightened, become younger. He felt the unquenchable thirst for adventure, mischief and entertainment  which all young children have.
The breeze playfully ruffled his hair. He let his lungs fill with the pure, aromatic country air full of the sweet scent of cherry blossoms which flourished and bloomed across the terrain, with their unique and pale pastel shades of pink. He skidded around the lush and rich flora, leaping over long patches of turf.
He couldn't have been happier as he jogged to the snug and welcoming school house, watched by fellow students either crowded around the small windows or lined up at the doorway,  slightly jealous of his carefree attitude.
The elder chuckled, now a young boy enjoying life like never before. He didn't understand how later in life, in his memory which he had visited previously, he would give up all of this to grow-up faster. He realized that someone's childhood was the best and shortest time of a human's life, so they should make the most of it and cherish every moment.

He sighed and forced himself to turn the knob again, not wanting to leave this memory. He shook his thoughts off and turned it, faster and faster.

To be continued, only once more...

Wednesday, May 9

Half full or half empty glassed personalities.

Dear Blog,
I have the strange habit that, whenever I meet someone, a question pops into my head about them which I have to answer. It's what I call the Full or Empty Glassed Question. Reader, you see, it's a bit like a quiz. You observe the person and imagine the following;
Visualize yourself inviting such character to a fine, formal dinner in a luxurious dining room. You prepare an excellent feast and have a splendid time. There's entertainment and music whilst you dine- but near the end of the reunion, you lay an ordinary glass filled half way up in front of the person. You turn to this interesting new individual and ask, 'What do you see?'. Yes, I know. Quite a simple question. But the key is in the answer. They may say 'Blimey, I'd say it's a glass of water that's half full!' or 'Umm... I dunno what you mean by that... I guess it's a glass of water and it's half empty!'
If they answer half full, they are being optimistic. If they answer half empty, they are being negative. Do you see what I meant to interpret previously? It's the same situation but you see and think about it differently, depending on your personality!
It's a way of asking yourself how you think they would react to situations. Yes, I know you must not judge books by their covers, which I should know by loving books, but it's an interesting way of looking at things.
I dare say, I would be, as much as I dread it, a half empty type of person. What about you, dear reader? What would you be?

Until next time,
An Aspiring Author - Lit by the Engaging Halo of the Crescent Moon