Tick…
Tock…
Tick…
Tock…
I threw my pocket watch upon the ground, stomping on it, yet even that failed to silence it. The inside of the upper lid read, ‘Edward Cordova’, my name. This infernal pocket watch still resurfaced memories from that dreadful night five years prior. I have never expressed this story, nor do I wish to, yet I believe this is the lone method available to rid myself of these lingering emotions… This wretched incident occurred on the thirteenth of November,
eighteen-eighty-eight in an abandoned countryside outside of my hometown, London.
.
My family had ownership of a seaside house out in the country, not a single structure surrounded it. Honestly, I was pleasantly surprised regarding the well-maintained condition of the building. As my motor vehicle positioned itself at the cobbled entrance, my eyes took a gander at the rather large house before me. It seemed to be constructed out of dark wood with signs of rot, but the integrity seemed superb. I swear I had seen something moving in the recesses of a window but I was distracted by a sudden song of wind blowing through the treeline. The song was distasteful and unnaturally shrill, but the resemblance to a melody was uncanny. Thick stone walls, suitable for a prison rose on either side of the estate and were visible deep into the forest, it felt as if I would be trapped there forever and perhaps my soul still remains there.
Tick…
Tock…
The incessant ticking of my stopwatch had returned my mind to the task at hand, it was time to get settled. At the time, I had been suffering from a severe case of writer’s block, being unable to get a single letter written on my most recent manuscript. My family thought that perhaps, sending me to this deserted and until recently, condemned, home away from home, may inspire something in my writings… I disagreed with all my heart yet they did not let up, and finally, I consigned my life away temporarily to these halls that were soon to haunt me. My stay was regular for the first few days, that is, ignoring the shrill windsong and the occasional visage out of the corner of my eye, however, this did not remain the case. Upon the third night living out in these desolate woods, in this house seated beside the sea, I took it upon myself to use the apparent boon before me and took a walk by the ocean breeze. The sand appeared coarse and dark, and the water was covered with a layer of fog, but something caught my eye. In the dark recesses of the water, I saw something shimmer for a moment and I stopped. I did not stop out of curiosity, I stopped, for I was frozen with fear. Staring up at me was an eye, a pure, red, and infernal eye that oozed malice far greater than any I had ever witnessed.
Tick…
Tock…
Wrestling with my body, I tried my best to move but it was impossible… in fact… my foot stepped one pace closer to the sea… then another… then another… my entire body was shivering with fear and anxiety but my body refused to listen to my pleas… this eye was calling me without my permission! I felt myself on death’s door! It felt like forever but it could not have been over ten seconds and I was standing at the edge of the water staring down.
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Tick…
Tock…
There in the mirror-like waters appeared a man in a crisp tan suit. His right hand was clutching at his heart whilst the left was balled into a fist, veins evident upon his wrist. His face was lined with worry; he was afraid… A few grey hairs had begun to sprout from his otherwise short, brown hair which was swept back as if being blown by the wind. His eyes were a frightful red, the red of blood… This should not have shocked me, I should not have been afraid. For this…
this was MY reflection… yet MY eyes… MY eyes were not RED!
Tick…
Tock…
My pocketwatch had only ticked four times since I had spotted the eye, surely it was faulty, it had felt like an eternity. But this pocket watch was the solitary sound that removed me from my stupor and allowed me to dash away just as a hand reached out from the mirror-like surface. The hand that was my own had attempted to grab me! What type of nightmare was this? I began to sprint back, as fast as possible to the estate but the fog was thick. I was scared for my life and my body burned with adrenaline… Thankfully it wasn’t long before I arrived back at the estate and I immediately told the caretaker to get me the first trip out… I was truly, deathly, afraid… Out of the corner of my eye I glanced at a single mirror in the building and to my dismay, I witnessed that red eye staring back at me… I left immediately never to return.
.
Ever since that day, I have had recurring nightmares of that red eye getting closer and closer. This year, it feels almost upon me… I feel an innate sense of dread every time I look at a mirror… But I do believe in my safety, after all, I have a wife now, I cannot be afraid.
Tick…
Tock...
I’m going to take a walk on the beach to calm down. I think I should leave my pocket watch here. Its ticking is only going to make it worse.
Tick…
Tock…
Yes, I will return promptly, it will only be a matter of time.
.
I woke up this morning to the sound of urgent knocking on the entrance of my apartment. Stepping out of bed, I trod on something and almost fell. It was my husband’s pocket watch. That thing had been broken since I had met him five years ago, I have no idea why he keeps it around. Stalking up to the door I have a weird premonition, a sense of dread… I open the door merely to create a gap, keeping the bolt in. A voice rings out sweetly, “Honey, let me in.” It did appear to be my husband… But my husband doesn’t have red eyes.
~