Golden Watch

Snow capped ever green trees we're all that stood between the air and the earth frozen by the hand of winter. Where animals, deeply burrowed, sleep undisturbed away from the chill pricking them like needles against their fur. The valley, between two large mountains both of them on either side of the valley, kept the snow in, and also it kept the snow out. At times, the valley is covered in snow and others it is devoid of it entirely. The terrible part is that all that is about to change. A few hundred feet above the valley, above the tips of the mountaintops, a bright star stretched across the sky. As if as an omen, and wishes were made upon it, wishes for love and prosperity, hope and freedom. It is a sad thing to wish upon a star if it falls to earth, one never knows what it brings with it. The star streaked across the sky leaving a trail of fire in it's wake. From the trajectory, and the angle of descent, one would estimate that the valley was it's intended destination and make plans to venture there after the damage was done. Though, even if a few sateliates were destroyed on it's entry into the ozone layer, the star was not tracked beyond that. One will notice that services are lacking in some areas, and due to the randomness, no one will be able to blame anyone else.The shooting star, a composite of fire, screamed as it flew across the sky. The sound would wake the dead, as if it were a call to arms, filled with an unearthly howl no wolf could ever match bringing forth the frightened and the furious to witness, first hand, the final judgement sent from beyond the stars, beyond solar systems and the milky way. For a moment, even if all ears, awakened by the rumbling, trembling earth as if it cannot fathom what will happen. Shuddering at the mere thought of this, a living being crying out in mercy. It only receives a visitor, inside the star, a bright white light could be seen if one looked hard enough making everyone turn away. It made one feel of wrongness, of a terrible sense of pain and anguish inside their bellies. As it approached the valley, just above it, the star exploded, with a white light equaling the glory of an angel's wing, the inhabitants of the valley found the crystal clear darkness illuminated completely. The white light then converged at the center of the valley, bringing relief to many frightened and awestruck eyes. Then, a second later, as all of their eyes adjusted to the darkness that once again consumed the valley a red cloud of fire exploded in the sky. A boom could be heard for hundreds of miles getting people's attention, everyone's attention as local television and radio signals were knocked out due to the shockwave blasting the leaves from the branches of trees and flattening many untold miles of forest. The valley utterly covered with flames, smoke and a sulphuric smell that pervaded every single inch of the valley killing by asphiaxion if not the heat itself. The crackling started then, as the fire made contact with the remaining vegetation and began to eat away the life of the valley. After about an hour.. the fire subsided in the sky as if on command. Once again, it converges at the center of the valley, leaving an odd silence before a figure dropped from the sky into the darkened earth, a clear face of ashes, and dark clothes covering the figure entirely. Slacks, with a dress shirt, all covered in the same colour as his face. The only remarkable feature, beyond his dingy and dirty appearance, were two burning eyes. Two eyes that burned through and through, furnaces that made holes in the brain, then deeper, into the heart. And finally, into the very deepest reaches of the soul, the mark was left. The man fell, without a hint of fear of heights, of the sudden contact with the earth, with the rushing wind or the sinking feeling a normal person would feel in their chest.This man though, did not feel the sinking feeling, the thumping of the heart, or the exhilaration of his final moments. No, these were far from his final moments, far from the dying breaths of a life no one wanted to have. As he reached earth, past the cracked mountains and the destruction wrought just moments earlier, smoke raising from trees and bushes, and carcasses of many varieties of animals laid waste by the fire. The man struck earth with a soft pat as the ashes broke the fall, and the burnt wood made for a soft landing. He stood tall then, admist the offering that were made, where the skin of the earth howled at the injury, screaming for the injustice to be righted. Some amount of give with all that was taken. It was then that the figure, a man standing five foot five, smiled at the world he had entered. The man walked forward, as if to survey where he had landed, where just behind him a darkness followed him like a shadow that never left where it touched. As far as he was concerned, the valley was his. The earth howled a name, as if heard right on the wind from some unknown spot, and all who heard it shuddered and couldn't help but repeat it in their heads, even if they didn't understand language like that. They repeated it in their own language, in hushed whispers, as if it were a danger to even utter it. The name, off of the tongue, was simple to say and easy to remember. Throughout the valley, throughout the whole area for days, the single name, Malachi - the rotted rose had come.

At the same time, thousands of miles away, there was another mystery unfolding in the depths of a jungle just as unforgiving and bleak, that held it's own chaos in the guise of a predetermined order to the world. Deep in downtown Vancouver, a beautiful and charming young woman steps out of a large office building towering to the sky.

Sophia Newbrough, a cosmopolitan woman of about twenty-six, with beautiful cascading waves of brown hair just touching her shoulder and a fair complexion that did much to make her blonde highlights standout. She stood 5'8" and weighed a modest 139lbs. She was happy with herself, unimpressed with the emblazoned pictures she sees on TV. In the midst of a semi-busy downtown street, Sophia takes a good look at those around her. Finding a man in a three piece suit that screamed money, power and energy. His face was well shaven, angular and looks like it was cut from a piece of stone by a sculpter. She turns her eyes away as his eyes meet hers, a casual admittance that she's not interested. He passes her with a second look as he walks down the sidewalk. Whatever buddy. She waits until hes quite a ways down the street before checking behind her and then she sees a mother pushing a carriage along the sidewalk. A white and blue carriage with someone very special riding in it. She must be in her twenties, by the way she's built. Short brown hair as she makes her way towards Sophia. Sophia nods to herself and takes out a golden watch held by a chain of gold as well. A heavy watch, by virtue of it's materials, made her hands steady when she holds it in her hands. Though its small enough to rest in her palm, she holds it with both hands with care as if its too big for her to carry all at once. She slowly slides a latch out of its holding place and lifts the lid up revealing a white backdrop where golden hands pointed to the various appointments she will have tommorow. The hands, ticking by and by, reminding her of the inevitability of time and the pressure it always exerts whether we are aware of it or not. This is not what makes her look at the watch, because she never completely forgets this. She likes how she can open it and watch time pass, watch the beauty of the hands go around and around the in a circle. There was a sensation she felt, as if the watch makes it's presence known, but that was a silly thought. It's a watch, how can such a thing be? It's a bloody beautiful watch! Watches don't do much more than tick, and tock. Still, it was something she couldn't shake.

She felt a tug, she has to get home and make dinner. The tug was insistent because somewhere in her tummy, a growling was taking precedence in the list of priorities. Three blocks and then she could get home, put her professional self in the closet for another night and get ready to be domestic. All of this flooded her thoughts with images of dinner, the steps involved, a dozen little things she has to do in order for dinner to be tasty, and germ free. She then found a strange calming sensation running through her. As the mother with the carriage passed, Sophia blinks. Everything suddenly taking a back seat to reality. She must have looked like a very strange person staring unblinkingly into a watch. The mother didn't look at her though, not that she saw. Not paying attention, anything could have happened to her just then, she has a moment of fright. Sophia reasoned it was better to do this inside, instead of out in the world. Still, the calming sensation, ending the same moment the carriage wheels hit the stone sidewalk behind Sophia. Sophia put the watch away, as if the whole thing was just too wierd. She could feel a lingering good, pleasurable feeling that was taking her mind when she looked at the watch. The same moment all of her earthly worries seemed so important. On her way home, Sophia was playing back the event that just occured in her head. What exactly had happened anyway? She stared at a watch, felt impatiently tugged home by obligations her stomach was insisting were the most important thing right now, and then, her mind was awash with a calming feeling. A state where nothing could touch her. Only to be shaken back to reality, by a carriage and a mother that'll stay away from Sophia for as long as she draws breath. Sophia couldn't figure out what had made her feel so calm and placid. She couldn't come up with anything that could explain it. She'd taken no drugs, no alcohol, and whenever she was reminded of her needs and wants, it was insistent until it was taken care of. Her mind was very well trained that way. She never found anything that stood to be interfere with that so strongly before today.


She knew it had to be tied to the golden watch in some way. There was no other leads, nothing else that made any kind of sense that would lead to a possible cause. So, Sophia tried to remember where she first acquired her golden watch, and she had come up with a few possibilities. She may have picked it up at a jewerly store. Every so often, she fancied a piece and, if her check book could swallow it, she'd cough up the cash right then and there. She bought things like that sporadically. there was no ryhme or reason to it, she just felt a little better when she put on a new set of earrings, or a bracelet, or the ultimate repellant, a ring. She would have to go through her little collection and receipt pile in order for this possibility to be realised. And then, she'd walk into the store and said, "Hey, you remember this watch you sold me... oh, ages ago?" Sophia put that on the list of possibilities, very likely printed across it in her head. Then, she considered that it was an heirloom. But, she would remember this, as such things were common in her family since her mother Martha passed on, there were a lot of old and precious things that held value, sentimental if nothing else. She remembered, Martha's mirror was particularly old and had a bit of history attached to it as well. A lot of lords and ladies had the same mirror, or so it was said. Even a crazy guy, Maltosie, or something like that. Everyone agreed that it was better he was dead, and there was nothing better than a crazy tyrant deep in the earth. She wasn't quite sure why the name was equated with insanity, it was just something she picked up on instantly. Seemed like a likely possibility and she accepted it right then, without hesitation. But, what would a mirror have to do with her watch? She put it out of her mind and couldn't seem to remember where the watch originally came from. As far as heirloom's were concerned, she was drawing a blank. Other than the mirror, that her cousin Jodi had gotten. There were no other heirlooms to think of.


Sophia then drew a blank entirely, about any other possibilities. She hadn't gone on any trips to the jungle, or any other country in years. She remembered she had the watch for five years or so. Sophia couldn't place where exactly the watch entered her life. Most things, she could account for by memory, even the earrings she had on now. Pearls with a bit of silver cutting into her ear. She got them three years ago, in a jewerly shop in the mall when she lived in Kelowna. She worked as a receptionist but left because the boss made an advance that was deemed inappropriate. Sophia smiled because of the words she said as she walked out of the office. "These boots are made for walking, and that's what I'm going to do." And out of the office, out of the city, she walked and never looked back with anything more than a chuckle at the look on his dripping wet face and her empty cup she discarded into the waste paper basket without even checking if she got it in or not. The claps and smiles on the faces of everyone there as she slammed the door. Sophia treasured that memory like it was yesterday. She forgot his name, and didn't care that it slipped her mind. He was a guy, like thousands of guys, every guy, and therefore, wasn't important at all.


The watch seems a mystery. Sophia, as a matter of principle, made it her duty to root out mysteries and come to the hard truth about them despite what it might do to her. She was determined, as if something inside her made it intolerable for the world to be incohorent, inconsistent and nonsensical. There was something very investigative in her head, almost a need for things to fit in perfectly despite what might inconsistency is staring her in the face. There was a system, a reason, a method. It was up to her to find it. She would dig through her receipt pile tonight and make headway that way. Still, somewhere deep inside her soul, there was little stock in such a desperate search. Her mind, playing a different tune, did not make any such assumption and put it on the to do list for tonight. She got home, and going upstairs, she let out a big breath feeling the day fall from her skin as it had spent the day seeping into her pores. She finally realised, how she smelt. The day had taken it's toll finally, after all this time, she was tired. Still, she had to make dinner and, she started stripping off shreds of her suit. First she was going to have a shower and get rid of this stench that invaded her nose.


When she got to her bathroom, her clothes were mostly off already. And during the cleansing, during all of the relaxation, the thought of the clock stuck in her head when everything else went away. The well dressed young man that passed her on the street, the conversation she had earlier that day with her boss, a middle aged woman, about her sister Adrianna. And the way the coffee tasted in the morning, all of this went out of her. As if she was a snake shedding it's skin in the warm embrace of the water running off of her skin. She took another deep breath and let it out, putting her hand between her eyes blinking the soap out of them. She was tired, of that she had no doubt, but she was also hungry. She would take it easy tonight, but she would start on her search for where she found the watch. And if she didn't find anything, there was a good possibility it was an heirloom after all. She'd have to contact Adrianna and Joe. Her sister and brother, and just see what they remembered.


When she was dressed, she walked down in sweat pants and a tight t-shirt. After a few hours, she went to her receipts. After clearing the table, washing the dishes, all of this done on automatic. Her apartment, a pristine example of her clean and dutiful nature. There was a living room with a big black chair sitting at the back wall. The leather reflected the light from the sun, and the lamp that was attached to the ceiling by four screws. The arrogence of it as its big puffed out arm rest spanning the width of a foot or half a foot. The living room had a glass table as the centerpiece, with four brown wooden legs. There was a television beside the big arm chair resting on a small wooden stand, a bright lightly tanned brown resembling the centerpiece glass table. There was also a couch the same as the arm chair at the back of the room.

The living room lead to her bedroom through a narrow hall way, that also led to her bathroom, and a walk in closet. A lot of stuff was in her closet, coats, dresses, and dusty old boxes that never got opened. She dreaded what was in these boxes, and dreaded even more the dirt that would be made opening them up. And, besideswhich, they were behind the coats and dresses that hung on hangers, enough to resemble a tomb where forgotten lives were stored.
Sophia upon opening her walk in closet, breathing in the arciac smell of ancient history, tries to remember exactly where the receipts are. She keeps a lot of things within this little corner of her apartment, because she had no storage space anywhere else. She walked in, having no labels for any of the boxes, it was a real "adventure" to descend into the dust, documents and riddles that were unearthed.

She moved a dusty old fur coat back and with a squeak she winced as it was sometime since she heard the sever sound ring through her ears. Though, at that moment, she heard a small voice in her head, "left... look left." The voice sounded as though muffled, whispers from the back of a class, down the hall and from another room, from outside and down the street. Somewhere deep down, she was listening and unable to stop listening to it. She looked left, as if believing that any lead would be a good thing by now. Just to get this over with, and she saw a row of boxes, file boxes like a lawyer might have. She wasn't sure which one to pick up, so she started with the one furthest to the left and work her way right. The box she pulled out was full of something heavy, as if it was concealing a hundred bricks of stone. She had to stoop to pick it up and then stopped put the box down, saw on her heels and picked it up once more.

The second time her back didn't feel quite so bad, as if it was straining. She remembered someone telling her that it was better to lift heavy objects this way. Otherwise, her back could give out. She didn't hear the little voice anymore. Though, she didn't really think about it that much, it just seemed odd that it dissapeared as quickly as it came. She let it go then ready to search this box for any hint as to where the golden watch came from. It never crossed her mind why it was so important to search for any clues to its past, she just started looking.
The box made her steady on her feet, enough to make her focus entirely on balance. A steady few steps and she'd be in her bedroom to tear this box apart and see what was inside. She set the box down on the floor carefully and then, sitting cross legged, she opened it up. Tossing the box lid aside, she turned her face when she smelt the stale, old smell of papers keeping in a hundred little bugs, little critters that were better left deep in the earth. She worried more about what this may dig up. She had a difficult past, something that wasn't easy to share with anyone, even herself.

She turned to face the stacks of papers there. A few big file folder tied together with elastic bands and other smaller boxes inside of this one. She reached out to touch a box and drew her hands back as an array of images struck her.

A large man, with strange porous skin almost like he was made of clay, or mud. He has a built physic, his eyes, she'll never be able to peel the burning eyes from her mind, both of them staring down at her. Not in triumph, not in satisfaction or dominance. There was nothing to show any kind of victory here, it was a simple emotion, hate. The destruction evident, the chaos and fury, heart of a firestorm where everything was permanently changed. Every little island is burned, every little speck of dust is on fire, everything is created into something new. She lay there, on the pavement, in the shadow of him, seeing nothing but his eyes burning a hole into her soul. A moment later, she shook herself from this trance and opened the box out of pure defiance. Eager to view it's contents and, more importantly, to show that she wasn't afraid.

There was enough negativity already without submitting to it. She had a hatred of giving into her negative feelings and strove to be dominant of them, despite what they might be. To her, emotions stood as tests of our faith in our lives, our devotion to it's success. She realized though, that they also indicated things, disturbing things, and she would evaluate it all later. What bugged her most was, the man was someone she never saw before. It was something her mind conjured up, it musta been. Nothing like that existed anyway, not with those terrible burning eyes.

She found that the box held many small pieces of paper with scribbles on them. Phone numbers and names, addresses and sometimes a note about who they were. Sophia remembering that she had lost a list of contacts, was extremely happy about finding them once more. There is a certain amount of joy that comes with unearthing your networking tools, finding old friends, and rekindling the flame. Sophia has all of this in her head, playing through the joy as much as she can, as if to outweight the negative force. She looked through them, each name bringing forth a memory, or a hint of who it was and where she met them. She's certain that she met all of the people that were in this box, by condition and necessity.

Judith Roles: phone number, 887-4594. Nothing she remembers about that one, another, Anderson Stiles: phone number, 998-7785, nothing either. There were quite a bit of these names and numbers, so she sorted through them, every so often she stopped, Josie Candershan, no number, but the note that said, "Bakery, West Broadway, Macdonald." This meant little to Sophia, as she knew that was very far away from her. Perhaps it was when she lived over in Kitsilano, and the bakery there had been the sight where she met someone named Josie. She'd never see that person again, not without a number, an address, or some kind of reference.

Still, she met a lot of people and claimed she'd never forget them, well, of course she would. Life was so random and complex, how'd anyone remember anyone is truly an amazing notion. Why people believed her was another puzzling thing. She shuffling through more names when something struck her, and she saw the word, Watch. The word was striking out at her before she saw the rest of the words printed in pencil, scrawled out on a torn out notebook page. It read, "Watch, Newbrough. 897-5540." She found it. Or had she? It all seemed too easy? And for some reason, like it or not, she was eager to find what else was in this box. Though, she was wary of the images, the sudden shocks, and terrible diseases locked away in places like this. She trudged on taking the rest of the box apart. The box held a file folder, full of pictures, newscliping from an accident that happened 12 years ago on a stretch of highway between Kelowna and Vancouver, off of the Coquhalla highway.

Sophia remembered that she was once a journalist doing a piece on this accident, and had to dig up a lot of news about the developing story and previous accidents involving a drunk driver that took part in this accident, inparticular. The drunk driver, a broken spine and a head injury, suffered massive concussion, survived but was confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life. The other, mother of two, though no kids were with her at the time suffered whiplash and a massive concussion. She got off easy, and admitted in the newsclipping that she was very lucky. She was a born again christian from then on and helped the drunk driver to live life to the fullest. One odd comment on a paragraph Sophia had written ages ago, was the lost Golden Watch that had been belonging to the drunk driver at one point, or another. The man, Gary Stelisa, could never quite recall where he got the watch from and everyone agreed his drinking had finally caught up with him. Sophia was about to dismiss it as the same, except that it was described to what she possessed now. The object would not of otherwise been mentioned, except that the drunk driver could clearly remember it. Sophia had written that it was just an excuse for the recklessness that was going on. And, perhaps it was, very well might have been actually.

Sophia looked about at the various stories she found regarding the history of the drunk driver. He was ex-military, and had served with the marines in Vietnam. As well, he was also in Kuwait with peacekeepers. Sophia realized then, the watch changed hands before ever reaching her. This meant, that if any number she called now would only lead to someone else who had the same questions she did. She frowned realizing that, yes, it wasn't going to be that easy. It never was after all.

She found a description from the drunk driver of the watch and then, finding her work coat, she digged out the watch to compare. "Golden, oh yeah, gold all over. Real gold too, not that fake stuff you find nowadays. I was heavy too, 'cause gold's heavy ya know. Anyway, I had it for years. I just found it one day, or other. Aw, hell, I can't remember. It was gone though. Really gone, like after the car hit me, It went flying out of my hand and out the window. I couldn't even look for it after, but I kept telling people, 'I lost my watch. Where'd my fucking watch go.' at the hospital right?... But no go. I lost the damn thing. It was all white where the hands were, and the roman numerals, with golden hands. Yeah, they sparkled some if you held 'em up right against the light." The message went on then, trying to pick her up for a date. Sophia smiled remembering how she causually 'misplaced' that section of the interview when she transcribed it to paper.

She realized that she has to call the number she found, in order to get to the bottom of this mystery that wouldn't let her go. She put the watch in the pocket of her sweat pants and continued to look through the file on this accident. A lot of it was commited to other parts of the accident, and little to no mention of the golden watch were found. She closed it up putting it carefully back into the box. The file folder went back into the bottom of the box beside the box of contacts that she also put back. She took out a bigger box that was piled against the file folder. This one was the heavy part of the box. She set it out on the floor careful to keep the one contact she had separate as not to lose it.

The heavy box, with it's lid uncovered, had a lot of cameras in it. Three or four, big ones, and they looked to be digital and another one that was older. She checked, by popping the lid on the back, of the large older camera and finding no film in it. She checked the digital camera's. They both had battery power and they showed no pictures on them at all. She thought it odd that these were blank and then it occured to her. She put these away if she ever took up Journalism again. She remembered the day she put the box away, just then. When she changed her career and put her old life away. This was a few years ago too.

She remembered, she said to herself, "I'm not a grunt anymore, I'm a lady!" She sighed thinking back on those words. She had bad gas that day too, when she put her old life away into this closet. It was things like that, the body's smells and events that happened now and again, that made her remember days and times of important events. She put the camera's back into the box and leaving the contact on the carpet, she carefully picked the box up and carried it back to where she originally found it. After she returning to her room, she picks up the number and decides to give this person, mysterious as it was, a call and see what she could dig up.

There was another reason she hated digging up the past. It was as if a spirit was awakened from the dead, into the world of the living, into the thousands of untold miles of her soul. A bat back from hell, ready to stalk and destroy the world once more. She found it easy to find the courage, doing a cold call was something she did a lot of when she was a journalist. It stuck with her like walking. A lady yes, but deep down, she was a grunt through and through. A few rings came from her cordless phone in her room. Then a female voice, sounding young answers, "Hello, Angela speaking. Who is calling?" and Sophia, as if by instinct carried the conversation from there. "Hello, my names Sophia Newbrough, I'm doing an article about an old watch for a jewelers magazine, The Sparkling Stone. And I was wondering, could I have a few moments of your time?" Sophia, knowing it was a complete lie, had to sound professional for anything to come off in her favour. The other voice, sounding curious, replies "Sure, I have a few moments. I come across a lot of old watches, I'm a collector. Let me just check here and see. You said your name was Newbrough?" and Sophia replies, "Yes, that's right. I may have received the watch from you at a previous date, but for the life of me, I can't remember when that was. If you have any records.." and the voice said, "Yes, I was just searching into my records here. It'll just take a moment." At that point, Sophia hears clicks of a mouse and some typing. A PC keyboard, Sophia was sure of that, and likely an optical mouse too.



After a few minutes, the voice on the other end said, "Yes here we are, Newbrough. Received Golden Watch on November 12th, for 66.79$. I don't remember this but that' why I have records. It shows here you paid in cash too." Sophia was a bit unsettled by this news. She always had records of purchases like that. And, wondered why it didn't stick in her mind. "Well thanks, that answer some of my questions, Angela. Would you have any idea when and how it came into your possession?" Sophia asked with an interest evident in her voice. She could easily mimic emotions the right way to play off anything. It helped in getting places, and more with getting information. Whatever someone believes helps her get to her goal a little faster. "Oh, well. I can look into that for you, Sophia. It'll just take a minute here." And Sophia said, "Thank you very much, Angela."

"Yes, here it is. We received it from an Austrian, Andre Streizenkurg about 20 years ago. Though there isn't a note about where it came before that. I'm sorry that's all I can give you Sophia. I do hope your article goes well. Good luck!" and Sophia said, "Thanks Angela. I'm sure it will and have a good day." Sophia hung up then having a name. Andre, Streizenkurg. She scrambled for a pen and a paper, immediately putting the name to memory by writing it down. Using the unknown connection between the arm and the brain.

By then it was reaching bed time, around 10pm. She stood by her bed and taking off her tightie whitie t-shirt that did nothing to hide her breasts underneth, she turned off all the lights in her apartment and slid into bed. And into a long and uneventful night's sleep.