The pocket watch
She sat down slowly on the bench. It was cold, freezing. A fierce wind blew, but for her it was warm, hot. She knew it as it burned her cheeks and chapped her lips. In the silence and the frost, she felt at home. But here the earth smelled different. Back home it tasted sweet, here it tasted bitter, disgusting. It’s a big island, huge. But why are they all in such a hurry? She thrust her torn hand into her coat pocket and took out the little watch. It was going the wrong way; some passers-by had told her. Something like ten minutes backwards or forwards, something like that. She missed home. Maybe more than that, she missed the little window above her bed. Now, bed and kitchen, were in one room, downstairs, buried in the earth. Back home there was a different kind of moon. More intense, brighter. There, the moon sang distant songs of great merchants and travelers. Where is the little moon lost here on this island? Back home, the sea was never wild. It always stayed calm and peaceful. Only when they came with their guns, beat her, hurt her, the poor thing reacted. It’s all wild here. She’s only quiet. But my dear, how expensive is it here? And strangers, how many strangers! The little clock sounded ten. Rhythmically and steadily, ever so slowly, it continued its course, to strike eleven again. It rose like a sudden, terrible wind, the waves blew, and the sea raged, bleeding, filling bodies, washing up corpses. Well, again the same thing – suddenly it just calmed down. The earth was silent again, the sea fell into a deep sleep. The bodies were gone, forgotten. Did anyone know her here? Did she know them? For she was never called by name. «The old woman», there she was, «the old woman on the bench». Ten minutes later the church clock chimed. She picked up the little clock and threw it away. It was going wrong, going slow. And there’s not enough life to go slowly. She looked up, to heaven. Why did she grab the little watch at this time of madness? She should have taken the money, the jewellery! Not the worthless watch. But, with them out of their house, did she have time to contemplate it? And what did it matter anyway. It was just a watch. She’d just lost her house. She’d just seen her city burned. She was just a little person. It was just a little watch, with a hidden word engraved on it. A simple little clock that went back exactly ten minutes and 34 seconds. Or was it 35?
Antigone Rassia
1st Model Middle School of Athens
