NORTHEAST OHIO YOUTH OUTLET

Author Reflection
Carlson Jones

A Silent Watch

Prose by ​Carlson Jones

A large golden pocket watch hangs over our town. The watch casts a shadow over us and stays silent, while its hands swiftly move to each destination. Its chain reaches up into oblivion. The discolored gold taunts the town members as they stare at it. Some people genuflect in front of the watch, praying to a god. Others continue with their daily lives as normal, going to the market to buy fresh eggs or say hello to their neighbors. Kids run through the sprinkling water of a broken fire hydrant. While I stand in the middle of it all, impending doom and a sense of normal. Both sides seem a bit overwhelming, so for now, I sit on an old wooden bench outside of the market. An old yellow dog laid there on the hot pavement, its ears perk up while I sit. It now stares at the watch, continuously barking. The watch does nothing but stay there.
 
I try to get my mind off of it. I could go to the small creek and look at the fish or frogs. But I decide that it is too far a walk. I could write a story about my life as it is now. But I realize I have done nothing special in my whole years of living. I wake up every day at the crack of dawn to check on the animals and do my daily chores. I have never traveled to a distant land. I saw a book at the market about a land called Egypt. I imagine the colossal pyramids and the treasures that lay hidden inside them. I can see the walls of opulent jewels and stones. A cascade of sweet-smelling perfumes and oils float around the room. I am brought back to reality by a scream, a woman lay in the street. Most likely fainted due to the heat or the watch. Everyone just stares at her, not coming to her aid. She is lucky she will not have to sit there and ponder her life choices, the things she could have done differently. I go back to my thoughts, I ponder what made me stay in this town. I could have traveled across the sea and maybe have avoided this. I see a weeping woman on her knees in the street. Her sobs get louder and louder, as her tears stain her pale blue dress. Some town members raid the market, taking all the peaches or apples they can carry. Some people take their belongings and try to leave town. If I were to leave, I would have nothing but an old brim hat and an alarm clock that wakes me every day.
 
My life so meaningless and for it to end right now is beyond unjust. I leave the old wooden bench and head for my farm. I slowly walk the dirt path roads and see little bugs crawling around unannounced to what is happening. I arrive at the old wooden gate and open it to see a peaceful little farm and its rundown blue house in the background. I see the pigs in their pen and the horses in their stable. I walked over to them and unhook the latch that separates them from freedom. The animals run out into the open fields, I wish I was one of them. I walk up the creaky wooden steps into my house. I walk into one of the rooms and see my caged bird singing. It sings a melody I have never heard. Its squeaky tone moves from lower notes to higher like a symphony. I open the cage and grasp the little creature in my hands. I walk outside and let it fly away and be free. Yet it stares right at me and still sings its tune. It won't leave, it doesn't want freedom. As now this bird is me, it won't take life's many opportunities, it won't ponder what it could have done. It just stays here in this old town, in this old house doing nothing but slaving away in the heat. I realize now I must walk back to the watch, to see my future and my past as a whole, a cog in a gigantic machine. I now run to the watch. Passing the bugs that crawl around, passing the old yellow dog that wandered into a field. I pass the market to now see the watch no longer there; the discolored gold now gone, the chain not visible, its hands no longer. I see everyone going on with life, the people praying now walk on the roads like any other Wednesday, wondering what the day will bring. The fire hydrant now fixed and kids with their mothers walking to the market. I see the Egypt book now in the window of the shop. I suddenly see my brimmed hat and a suitcase in front of me but no alarm. As now I understand that time will never cease but my life can cease to be.                                      

Carlson Jones

Carlson, 15, attends Beaumont School and is a member of the pre-med club. She is also a member of the school’s 2019 conference champion varsity tennis team and is a doubles champion. She resides in Beachwood, Ohio, and lives with her parents and her younger sister Parker. Her older brother Chris lives in Austin, Texas. She traveled to London in early 2019, achieving a life goal to see where Winston Churchill lived and visited the country where her passion for Downton Abbey and other British shows were formed. Carlson enjoys archery, reading, writing, and spending time with family and friends.