Time will run out
The Pocket Watch
The Curse of the Oh So Intimidating Pocket Watch
Time is a funny thing, don’t you think? See now, contrary to the popular belief, it can be changed. I mean, I should know, I changed it a few times.
Now let’s get something straight, you really shouldn’t change time. If at all possible, avoid it. It’s not exactly the best thing to do, and by that I mean it can have repercussions. Bad ones.
Long story short, don’t trust pocket watches, because looks can be deceiving, and I know that saying wasn’t made about pocket watches but just trust me on this.
“Cadie look!” my cousin and best friend Mauve Ryan says, holding up something. “This would be perfect for your costume!”
I step forwards and take what she’s holding up. It was an ornate, golden, pocket watch, just a little smaller than my palm. “Ohh, you’re right, it’s great, thanks,” I say, putting it in the basket we’ve been filling with Halloween costume material for the past half hour.
She nods and moves down the rows of trinkets and clothes. The Barringer thrift shop is probably the only interesting place on the entire island of Maverick Hallow.
Maverick Hallow is a small island off the east coast of America. It’s quiet and relatively uninteresting, unless you dig into the story. See, supposedly years and years ago, there was a curse placed on the island, and this curse had a zillion awful effects, one of which was being unable to leave the island, which isn’t true, so of course none of the other stuff is true, and it’s all a silly tourist bait story. But you’ll still find it and a million other legends everywhere.
“You girls need help finding anything?” Mrs. Barringer asks from the front desk.
Mauve shakes her head, “I think we’re done, thanks though.”
We pile our findings onto the counter and Mrs. Barringer begins to check us out. She picks up the watch and looks at us, eyebrows raised. “You sure you two want this?”
“Why wouldn’t we?” Mauve asks.
“Oh,” Mrs. Barringer says, nodding her head in understanding, “you don’t know the story.”
I cross my arms, “we’re not tourists Mrs. Barringer,” I say, “you don’t have to give us some silly story.”
Mrs. Barringer shakes her head, “I’m a little insulted you two think I would give you some “silly story”, there’s nothing silly about it. See this watch is cursed. See the story goes that a young man bought it overseas in Europe from a witch, but the witch thought he was a bad man. He was wealthy, and perhaps he hadn’t achieved his wealth in very, um, fair, ways, no one really knows. But the day he got home his best friend was in a terrible accident. Some say he had a way to save his friend and just failed, others say there was nothing to be done, but three days later his friend was dead.”
“Yeah, we definitely still want the watch, nice try Mrs. Barringer,” Mauve says, shaking her head and giggling. I giggle too though the story left me with goosebumps.
We pay and leave, then walk outside and sit down on a bench in front of the shop. I pull the pocket watch out of the bag.
“How do I set this thing?” I ask, fiddling with it. Mauve shrugs. “Thanks a million,” I say sarcastically.
“You’re very welcome,” Mauve says.
A blue car pulls up and stops in front of us, Mauve’s dad (my uncle), waves from the front seat. We both hop into the back and buckle our seat belts.
“Find anything good?” Uncle Carson asks.
“Loads of stuff,” I say, grinning.
“Cadie got a cursed pocket watch,” Mauve giggles.
“A cursed pocket watch?” Uncle Carson asks, raising an eyebrow.
“There’s supposedly some ridiculous story behind it, you know how it is here, if someone finds something old they give it a crazy story and sell it to the Barringers,” I say.
“Sure, sure, Arcadia, but you know, one day the ghosts might get you,” Uncle Carson says, and Mauve snorts.
“You two are so immature, still believing ghosts,” I say, shaking my head.
I pick up my pocket watch and the second my hand meets the cool metal I’m thrown into a nightmare. The world around me shifts, changing, but only slightly. I’m still in the car, but when I catch sight of the clock on the dashboard it’s two minutes ahead of what time I know it is, and uncle Carson and Mauve have both shifted their positions slightly, and they’re speaking but I can’t hear anything they’re saying.
Then comes the impact, what should’ve produced a loud noise is silent to my ears, what should be beyond painful is numb to me. I realize I’ve squeezed my eyes shut and open them. The car is in ruins, smoke is billowing into the sky, and cars along the street are stopping, people are running over, someone is on their phone speaking frantically, though I still can’t hear a thing.
Then it’s gone.
“Cadie? Earth to Arcadia,” Mauve says, waving a hand in front of my face.
I blink, and turn my head to face the clock on the dashboard so fast I crack my neck. 3:05pm. The time on the clock was 3:06pm, in the weird nightmare thing. But it can’t be real, it just can’t be.
“Arcadia, seriously, are you okay?” Mauve asks, worrying spreading across her face.
“I- I’m fine,” I say, shaking my head a little. “Just tired.”
“Are you sure you’re-” Mauve begins to speak, but then there’s the impact, and this time I hear it, and this time it hurts. Except one thing has changed from the nightmare thing. This time, it’s real.
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