The Golden Watch

A short woman, through by no means looked down upon, with black hair and a brown tan to her skin that reminded people of flower pettles and other exotic things, this was cast off as soon as she spoke however, was walking toward Sophia. At the building of Scotiabank, there was always someone to speak to, and always something that held in it a sense of urgency. Sophia had an urgent feeling, just a sensation, all through her day to investigate and illuminate the mystery about her golden watch. Though, to do this she would need time off of her job, resources to support her during the process and a plan of action to get the investigation off to a good start.

Sophia smiled as she saw this short woman, but there was an air of confidence that made up for her lack of stature. No doubt it was the lack of stature in the first place, all Five feet of it, that made her someone that had to shout to be heard in amongst all the tall guys in the building. She put her foot down, made a voice, and anyone in her way better know how to run. And just from looking at her, the thin body, the cute way the straight shoulder length hair curling at the end made her face resemble Halle Berry, that she'd be a predator, a jacket laying in wait, waiting for the perfect pristine moment to pounce. Sophia had measured her conversation beforehand for this meeting knowing it would be difficult to pursue her investigation otherwise. After all, this small woman controlled all of the scheduling, emergency shifts, over time and most importantly, it was her word against anyone else if mistakes were made. This was the part this small cute woman enjoyed the most.

"Hello, Jin-Ye. Could we talk for a moment?" Sophia said as Jin-Ye walked up carrying a file under her left arm. Her suit was a dark grey with a red button up blouse and dark dress pants with matching shoes and earrings. Sophia loved her sense of style. Jin-Ye, who had spotted Sophia from all the way down the hallway minutes before, nodded with a cute smile. "Sure we can, I just have a minute though." Sophia new that the time limit was a method of keeping everyone's responses quick and to the point. There was no nonesense with Jin-Ye. "Of course, I won't take much of your time. I know I have vacation time that I haven't used since last year. I'll be needing to use it now while there are people available to cover for me."

Sophia said this knowing that there were individuals able to accomplish tasks that she would normally do, not allowing anything to fall behind, too much. Jin-Ye had a book where she kept records of all this, and everyone knew that book was both gold and radioactive waste. To Sophia, it was gold, for the moment anyway. "There are others that are capable, yes. And, there are others who are looking for vacations as well, have you missed any days recently, Sophia?"

Sophia shook her head at this, and replied, "Not one day all year. Even when I had that nasty flu a few weeks back. I'm pretty sure that I've three weeks since my last vacation last year, right around this time I think." Sophia nodded remembering that this was true. Jin-Ye's records will confirm this as well. The most important thing, in negotiating this with her boss and especially with Jin-Ye is that the truth is backed up by the experience that tells the truth. Sophia and Jin-Ye both know, the reason Jin-Ye continues the Human Resources Manager position is that every person that proves they deserve what they can get, definitely get it. The added vagueness that what is gotten isn't necessarily good or bad makes these informal meetings difficult even if the information is there to prove one's worth.

"Yes, right around this time, and there's a lot of others that have waited for awhile for vacations." Jin-Ye stated. Sophia replied, "Yes, I know. And I wouldn't be asking if I knew what your answer would be. I'm darn sure that I've been putting in my hours, in overtime, to get projects completed over the last two months because we've been trying to get the Nakuso Deal finalized." Jin-Ye nodded, because she couldn't deny that claim at all, no one could and Sophia only used it for that reason. "Yes, I realize you've put in quite a bit of extra time here to get the deal completed. But, Sandra has come to me asking for Vacation time and Aldus asked for 2 weeks just yesterday. It's as if they've all taken after you and go for Vacation at the same time. Obviously I can't have that. Aldus has been working hard with the same amount of work everyone else has, Sandra too. And since if they all went on Vacation now, the paper would back up and we'd all have to put in extra hours just to stay on top of it."

Sophia knew that this was likely true, but Jin-Ye could just be dangling an invisible carrot in front of her. As well, there was an implied need in Jin-Ye's words to hire more people to handle it when others go on Vacation. This also meant, deep inside the words, that new hires would possibly need to fill positions of... recent terminations. However, Sophia knew that was just Jin-Ye complaining if it ever came to that, they couldn't fire her for taking a well-deserved Vacation. "Yes, but unlike them, I'm not taking time off as frequently. In fact, your records are spotless when it comes to me. But, ya know? I think a few new faces around here might be a good thing. Just keep them away from my office" Jin-Ye well knew how spotless Sophia's records were and chuckled at Sophia's little joke saying "Have you spoken to Jeffrey? I'm quite sure you deserve a few weeks Sophia, and I'll make sure to hang a little sign on your door saying, 'Vacancy' and give them a full tour of your spreadsheets." Sophia, then realized what Jin-Ye was doing the whole time. She was just putting something in front of Sophia's face to see how she'd react. "Yes, I have, and he said I deserved it. Oh, by the way, my spreadsheets are protected with passwords in ancient Hebrew so good luck" Jin-Ye smiled and nodded. "Yes, I expected that much, so I'm going to hire a Rabbi to come in. With any luck, we'll have it broken in a few days." Jin-Ye chuckled and said with a smile"Alright. I'll have a look at my records and get back to you, Sophia. How long do you plan to be on vacation and when do you expect to be back?" Sophia responded, "Hot darn, well I'll make sure to change it before I go then. To Finnish, maybe Icelandic... anyway, I plan to be gone for 2 and a half weeks while I go to Austria. I plan to be back on the 6th." Jin-Ye smiled and nodded once more. "That's fine. Sophia darlin' I'll only say this just because we've known each other for quite awhile now... why is it you take my crap? Everyone knows your the next in line for Vacation, and yet you walk up to me like it solely depends one me."

After a moment of silence between them, Sophia said, "Um.... thanks.. I suppose you're an intimidating person, Jin-Ye. It's like a huge bull dog walks five feet in front of you to clear away the specks of dust before you enter a room." Jin-Ye looking puzzled for a moment sighed. "Well, I guess my daughter's right. I'm a callous wretched bitch." Sophia was thoroughly confused now, usually Jin-Ye wore it like a staple around the office because of the men that acted like dinosaurs, who were also two or three feet taller than she was. And here Jin-Ye was regretting it? It's amazing what kids can do to a person. "Hardly, Jin-Ye. And, anyway, if you come on a little strong, thats only because of the people around here. Most of them we're born in the stone age, and spurns the day woman work into the office." Jin-Ye smiled a little with a shrug. "Yes, you have a point there. Hey, Sophia... I'll keep your office door locked this time and I'll make sure to hold onto the key myself. I remember what happened when I left it with Cornelius. I hope you enjoy yourself." Sophia smiled, at this rare and wonderful moment when the ice witch melted and proved to be a human being after all.

Deep down, Sophia knew that things were moving along well, and something inside her jarred her little positive streak. Something small, like a bug bite, or an ugly face in the midst of a day dream, kept nagging at her that it was all too easy. Though, with every senseless negative thought, she put it out of her mind as soon as it came determined to see it through to the end. As if the watch was strongly in her mind because it was mysterious. The urge to solve it's riddle, the unspoken unwritten truth hidden beneath the gold and the pearly white, was strong and that inquisitive part of her mind nagged at her.

She saw Jeffrey an hour later and he said to her with one foot leaning against the cubical which was adjacent to her desk. She turned to face him, looking up from her computer screen where an excel spreadsheet was all that was on it. Lots of numbers and decimals. Sophia made a point of pinching between her eyes just below the forehead. Jeffrey noticed but did not seem phased, lord knows he has done that enough times in the last week. He said, "Your good to go Sophia, and just remember, Justin and Andrea can do the accounts but you've got the extra after they're through to catch up on. But, knowing you, you'll get it done in a heartbeat." Jeffrey hesitating for a second or two, catching more of Sophia's attention, and he could see her mind snapping to full attention. His face was bothered as if not quite sure how to explain something, not a look he often got.

"What's that look on your face Jeff?" Sophia said with a little hint of concern on her face. "Well, it's hard to explain. Like, I'll never see you again. Bah, it's stupid forget I mentioned it. Have a good Vacation Sophia." Jeff said just waving off his doubt that was inside his words. Sophia caught onto it smiling she rose from her chair and gave him a small friendly hug. "You silly goose, I'll see you again. It's not like the city's going to be dust when I get back. Sheesh. And thanks. I hope I find what I'm looking for." Jeffrey smiled a little at her hug and then backed from the embrace, as not too look too familiar with her at work, he said to her "Looking for what? But whatever it is I hope you find it too." Sophia said, "Thanks Jeff, but I'm not too sure what it is. Sometimes you don't know, it figures itself out along the way. When I get back I'll tell ya all about it." Sophia said with a little grin. Jeff replies "I can't wait to read it in Time. Have a good trip." And with that he turned and went to his office. Sophia finding no reason to stay further that day, packed up her things and left the office stopping to say goodbye to a few people. Everyone except for Jeff were acquaintesances.

Sophia left the office thinking over her trip to see Andre. An eccentric autrian collector, or so she gathered anyway. It was always dicey dealing with these people because they had some secret agenda all their own most of the time, especially when something rare and exotic is up for grabs by some naive city girl that can't see their way around a hedgemaze. Sophia had to calm her arrogence from making her feel too confident. It was bad enough that it sounded like a challenge when it was really a threat. And worse that it's the truth. Sophia was not into being drugged, tricked or coersed out of her watch. She waited for the bus playing out a lot of possibilities in her head. As if worrying for what may happen, however through this she has an idea, at least a clue, as to what may occur when they meet. Sophia likes to have her bases, at every turn, examined before an important meeting with someone who, by all accounts, is definitely smarter than most of the population as a whole.

Sophia was worried for another reason entirely. The lack of information that she had about Andre made her quesy and there were always people that wanted her little watch. The one in her pocket where she held it all the time, from now on. For some reason, she equated that the watch gave her guidance, if not a comforting feeling of security. And, lately, she heard the voice in her head, that she equated with the watch say, "Be ware of Andre." As if out of the blue it seemed like a good idea. Sophia couldn't shake it, and she wasn't being paranoid, the thought just came to her. She went home and sighed, there was no time to do automatic things in her life anymore. Sophia, in her day full of realizations, came to one more. She became too comfortable with the word "Automatic." Pulling out the box and taking the bits and pieces of her previous life had awakened a spirit, a presence in her soul, a place of infinite questions and a sinking feeling of being all out of answers. For Sophia, the feeling came with a bitter reminder, of all the stories she covered and cried about, for all the victims that walked away, and all those that don't walk now. She remembers why she went into journalism in the first place. It was partly because of the questions in her head but it was also because the stories were about suffering, and how much she tried to ease it by letting the world know.

What she did not let anyone know, was how much it weighed down on her fragile little heart. How much it almost crushed it, squished it and broke it. She still saw faces in her head, the desperate cry for help without a sound. Sophia's camera captured the hearts, captured the ruptures, the stabs and the hundred little knives that stuck in her soul, putting them on the front of Time Magazine, and Macleans. There were moments, tiny moments, infintescimal moments that seemed an eternity for her. The turn of a head, a sudden tear, the dozen little truths that are found in the flash of the moment that made her love her profession. Sophia was not searching to heal her broken heart, not this time, not ever again.

It was that Sophia had gone the distance and knew what it felt like to have her heart strings plucked out, it made her angry, and she used it to continue her job. After awhile, the reality of what she was doing hit her, and she nearly fell straight over with it. The sincerity of her emotions got to her, even if she lied to everyone else, and they sank deep into her bones. And the only feeling worse than that, was the image of that terrible man's eyes looking down at her. Like any negative feeling, any feeling of oppression, she fought to defeat it or it would defeat her. She had done both and succumbed to the former once already.

Sophia thought about this on the bus on the way back home. She realizes, deep down, that she can't bring the watch with her. And realizing this, perhaps Andre might not believe a picture or two, but she can't risk losing it. Or can she? There was a certain guidance that the watch had over her, and deep down she realizes that she might need it as well. As if by some premonition. It was difficult to contend with sound logic, but then a thought came to her. She can email the pictures ahead of time and bring the watch, with the note that it never leave her sight. In fact, she would wear a chain to connect it to her clothes in some discreet way. She had to make sure that if the watch was snatched, her skirt or dress wouldn't go along with it! And then she thought, jeans and normal clothes. There would be no sophistication at all, though only a woman's touch where a man may not necessarily look. She needed to wear protection after all, and not "That" kind of protection. She had terrible boyfriends before, and there was no room left in her psyche for anymore.

Sophia, walking home, felt confident and full of energy that her plans were working out. Of course, Jeff would let her have time off with all the hard work she has been putting in. Every step sprung from the ground, as if she could dance on the very air itself, dance like a ballerina and... fly like a bird. She shook her head, as if by instinct, to remind herself that her plans needed a clear head and a clear focus on the facts. Sophia could barely help it though, she was so happy there was a place to fly too, a goal to achieve, and a life beyond the desperate hooks penetrating her knees, her eyes and her chest keeping her locked down, chained like a slave to the inevitability of success. For years, Sophia convinced herself that it was something she could live with, a chance she knew many others would be very happy to get. She understood the difficulty in landing a position with this company, and staying there was another thing altogether. Especially with the expectations of advanced education and the tough hide that everyone needed to have. Just for the sake of survival, and handling the politics that came in any group of human beings, in the jungle of human interaction where every event could be a strike against you, or a blessing in disguise.

It was that simple, either you defended yourself or you were a piece of beaten meat to be given to the wolves. That spoke volumes when you knew that Jeff was her only real friend in that place. Everyone else had knives thrown into their words, and perhaps, with her leaving her job would be up for grabs. Some fools might even try to and vie for it. Sophia, however, was not considering that however... she beat people out of her office before and, if she had to do it again, she would make an example of whatever idiot managed to get in there. Behind her cute and harmless smile, meant to disarm anyone she spoke with, there was a raging and conniving wild animal ready to pounce at command.

Sophia's steps, as light as they were, though she was not usually light on her feet at all especially not with high heels on. Sophia, despite her earlier reluctance, felt like a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. The only problem was, that there was little stability in a life like this, in fact to be perfectly honest folks, there was none. Every job, every encounter, brought you closer to the truth. But there were so many hurdles, so many broken hearts, and in the end, if you found the pieces of your own heart and put them together. The results might be more than you can take all at once.

Sophia's mind, in all her happiness, played with the idea of journalism as a break from the jungle of words she fought everyday. A flash of an image came into her mind, as if the shutter of her mind came clearly and distinctly into focus for the second time that day. A sudden coldness ran over her body, a chill of the ghost running over her unburied grave, foot steps leaving frozen imprints in the snow of her flesh. It sent shudders through her, shakes to her limbs, and a broken jagged piece of glass in her heart. The glass moving to collide with her sensibilities, her empathetic soul, once buried like the boxes in her closet, came alive with a piece lodged right at it's core aggrivating it just enough to make itself known. An image made all of this perfectly clear to Sophia, the same image she couldn't shake from her mind, the one that strikes deep like a bullet.

Two eyes trembling, as the tears, in the world's smallest oceans, come right to the surface overflowing to the umph degree. The eye brows, and lashes twitching just enough to break any illusions that the fragile and senseless mind behind it had any logical connections to speak of. As the image pans outwards from the eyes, one sees the young and smooth brown skin of a boy's face with caked on mud covering his cheeks and forehead. His mouth open in a howl, Sophia hears because her mind shakes and convulses as it reverberates in her head, his little teeth with the two front teeth missing and the rest of them white as ever. Any mother would be proud to have their children's teeth that white. The child, staring right at the camera, shouting through the lens, into the objective? eyes of the journalist. The last cry for help, no one else was able to reach the little boy, sitting in a pool of muddy water having every sensibility thrown to the belly of the beast without a name. The darkest thing the human race has ever made, but is almost unaware of, like a dark specter looming, like the Grim Reaper itself, over ever soul and every pair of eyes on that battlefield. A lone little boy, caught in the chaos, the all-consuming fury taking every life and damning it to the loneliest deaths. The little boys face, forever etched just beyond the surface cried out that day to Sophia's stone cold heart and melted it. The dead all around it, as the bullets flew... one just by the boys foot as the photo was taken, the shutter flapped as the bullet caused the surrounding mud to splash into the boys eyes. In slow motion, Sophia watch the boy try to shield his eyes from the water, only to have the water enter his desperate plea insulting it with a dash of hopelessness.

The little boy, as the camera was dropped from sight dissapeared a moment later. A flash as Sophia remembers covering her head as the mud flew all around her, and the smell of smoke in her nostrils and the taste of smoke in her mouth. It was moments like this that she realized the uniformity of human nature when she literally became part of the earth. A few seconds later, a hand grabs her from her fetal position in the mud into two big arms carrying her over someone's shoulder. Where ever the boy was, a ball of smoke now lay, offering nothing left of the boy but the immortalized photo in her camera. If she ever got out of there alive... but she did.

But the photo, it was a thing to be destroyed, but it was reproduced many, many times in newspapers and magazines. They could all be burned and lost to time, and in a way, so could her mind where the picture lay as clear as when she first took it. As she stood in front of her door to her apartment, she breathed feeling very drained. The rememberance of the picture, for all it's complexity, took a lot to play out. No one knows how real a memory is until something like this comes up and strikes deep, plunging like the needles into her skin in the first aid camp. Or the piece of glass, forever lodged in her heart, that her mind insisted was real enough to hurt. The most real image, those two eyes indicating the broken mind that lay just beyond them.

Sophia turned the handle of her door, though she was completely unaware of her doing this, and stumbled into her apartment. She kept the picture in her head, unlike any other moment, she kept it there clear as day realizing what children do for her. They kept her vibrant, as if the suffering of them kept turning over the glass in her heart, and the simple truth's they unearth bring forth answers everyone else previously ignored.

For Sophia, the image in her head, reminded her of the absolute horror that can occur anywhere in the world. She kept it for another simplier reason because it reminded her of the real need for love in the world. The horror, the horror... she kept repeating as dark as Marlon Brando slithering down her chest couldn't be denied. So a strange co-existance was in Sophia, as both lived in the same room but refused to speak to each other. The silence reminded her of the many relationships she had and she chuckled. There was no way to make it either, love mingle with horror, and all's right with the world? Sophia never did believe that all was right with the world, not ever, she survived comfortably for a number of years now after quitting the journalism industry. Now, she put herself back on the edge of a pin and she did it, because of a golden watch? The watch made her do it? What a headline that would make! Sophia chuckled and regained a little of the vibrancy she had when she started walking home.

She did not laugh because it was a foolish thing to say, and indeed it was, but what is foolish is also true in some rare... obscure cases. The watch did make her do it. Sophia took note of what she had to do, and with the image of that boy's face in her head, she got to packing. Packing clothes, and the necessities was not the difficult thing, and the image only gave her strength to continue on. The pain was familiar, the sort of feeling that brings nostalgia, and even a comfortable sense of joy, in being back in a sand box that was visited daily back in one's formative years. The difficult part was, remembering all the moments, all the nerves that were burnt out like fuses throughout her career. Like a pair of wire cutters were taking her brain apart wire by wire... and the after picture leaves the cold chill running up your back and down your chest despite how many pillows and blankets piled up around.

Sophia sighed as her heart began to give. A child, about 8 years old, stands in sandles, shorts and a jacket with emblems on his jacket's shoulder marking him as a revolutionary in Afica. What is striking about this photo, was the look in the child's eyes, a menacing stare even though there is a bug on the boy's forehead that looks like a house fly. Though, complimenting the boy's hate filled eyes, is a loaded AK-47 held in both hands pointed at the photographer. Sophia still remembered the sound of that gun, distinct and in all her years, she never found a sound quite like it. She took her shirt off and looking just below her left breast, a scar was there. She had been shot by that kid and it was lucky to bounce off of her ribs and did not pierce her lung. She rubbed the war wound with a deep breath as the sound reverberated through her bones her lungs and out of her mouth leaving her light headed for a moment or two. She burst out crying then looking at a box of camera's.

The flood gates had finally opened in full, tearing at her bleeding heart like a vampire having it's meal. She could handle this, she was a tough girl, but the injury went far deeper than that. There are things that are lost, irrevocable damage that is done, and a cynicism that clouds and overtakes the mind. Most take this out on themselves, but Sophia poured it out into her work, as not to let it affect her the way it did others that turned to alcoholism and other less than desireable habits. Sophia's tears came out into her carpet, adding the first real tears she had for quite awhile. Living in the anesthetized life in the city, there was not room for real tears, or the empty feeling they left her with, she had to be on the ball without a sense of weakness. Moments passed and Sophia sniffled happy no one was around to see that little display. It was then that Sophia remembered the phone conversation with Andre's assistant.

"Yes, this is Andre's Collectibles, Sonya speaking. Who is it?" Answers a woman with a thick Austrian accent, but her english sounds natural enough. Does he get a lot of international customers?

"Hello, Sonya. My name's Sophia Newbrough and I was hoping to speak to Andre about a rare golden watch I have. I am aware that he has a vast knowledge of Antiques and I was hoping he could shed some light on it. I am doing a piece of Rare antiquities and this watch appears to have a long history which is perfect for the story I am doing." Sophia's voice was full of motivation and enthusiasm.

"Let me see here. I'm sorry Sophia. It seems we are not having a lot of openings for international clients at this time. If you wish you can send photo graphs of the watch via email. We are booked for the next three months, as there are a lot of partners that are interested in the collection we have. I'm sure you understand."

Sophia was not going to let it go that easily. "I realize that you are busy with such a rare collection and offers to purchase pieces of it must be difficult to arrange and schedule. I wouldn't be calling if I didn't know that the item I have is more than a few hundred years old. It's gold for the most part, but it's golden roman numerals are set on a pearl white backdrop, while the mechanism inside is gold itself." Sophia loved how she took the watch apart one day to examine the internal works. That everything was made of gold except the white pearl backdrop astonished her.

Sonya was quiet for a moment as if considering this. After a moment, she spoke, "I am certain that it's quite valuable the way you describe it. But you must realize, we do not have any time available to schedule an appointment, at this time." Sonya said again with some urgency in her voice.

Sophia bit back her impatience and took a breath. She had sent an email to Andre's website with detailed pictures of the watch and a full description of it. Likely, the receptionist had a copy of this in her database somewhere, or perhaps Andre was looking at it beside her right then and there. Sophia could never know.

"I realize that it's quite a luxury to be able to meet with him and I did send an emailed pictures along with a description of the watch to your website the other day. If you wish I can appear with the watch in person. I am able to travel internationally with no trouble, and I prefer to do it this way than to send it via Express Post. I promise that I will leave it with him for a few days while I am in Vienna. After which time, I am sure he will come to some conclusions about the watch that I have not been able to uncover yet." Sophia's voice was even and very confident.

Sonya paused once more and more typing was heard. Sonya then said, "Alright, on the condition that you leave it with us for a week. While you are here we can discuss options for insurance, unless you have it insured already." Sophia did have it insured already, and a few hundred thousand dollars did not replace the watch itself. Sophia could do a lot with that money, but she would not have the watch itself and the watch was the important thing. Too important to lose to anyone.

"Of course. I'm very happy that we've come to an arrangement Sonya. I realize that Andre is a busy man and I appreciate that he is willing to take the time to open this mystery more than I am able to." Sophia was relieved, but still the conditions worried her. She realized that it would take time to examine in order to determine it's origins. But something bothered her. If Andre already had the watch and let it go, didn't he already have a complete report of the watch and where it came from? And, an international collector was not one to let it go easily, if at all. Someone must have had to sell their liver or kidneys to even get a look at it. Still, it was her best lead and, a man with his background could give her quite a bit of information that she wouldn't have otherwise. When the conversation was done, Sophia kept in mind that her watch may be more valuable when someone knew what they had in their hands. Someone like Andre might see a few millions where Sophia may see only a few hundred thousand.

It was a risk she was willing to take. With this in mind, she packed away what camera's she would need and went to her calender. From there, it was a process of scheduling and preparation. One item of note that she did carry, from experience was one that she needed, was a small hand held taser that shot out 45,000 volts of electricity at some unlucky bastard. She had a permit, which was in her purse should she ever need to dig it out. And the taser itself, was strapped to her belt for quick use. When she put it on, she moved her hand down to it and then quickly, grabbed it and shot it forward without triggering the electronic cords. She did this a few times to get comfortable with where it was and how to move her arm to reach it in time.

She smiled at herself, she was taking every possible precaution. Except well, if someone wanted her dead. She would be. She countered this thought with the realization that, if someone wanted anyone dead, they would be. It's that kind of world and Sophia was happy she took that into account.

Clearing her head and sniffling the last of her sniffles. She took her bags to the door after checking if she left the stove on, or the garbage can full (She hated how that smelt). This time it was empty, and the last thing she checked was the dirty laundry hamper. It was not full either, though it had some dirty whites in it. There was nothing there that signified a real need to do a wash right now.

Sophia called for a cab and took her bags out front.

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.