As old as time

The sound of creaking bones was one Henry had always thought was something resigned to story books. But the older he got, the more he realized the truth in it. That morning, as he pushed his weary body out of bed, he was more aware of it than ever. Ignoring the complaints of his joints, he forced himself into his begrudgingly familiar morning routine.

First, coffee. Setting the water to boil, he opened the cupboard housing far too many mugs for one person to have. I really should get rid of some, he mused, a sentence so often thought it was now somewhat a parody.

His eyes glanced briefly at an impossibly delicate porcelain cup. It was way back in the cupboard, the floral design now faded but still clinging onto the remnants of bright blues and purples once painted so carefully. He pretended he hadn’t seen it, the pang of grief in his bones still too raw after all these years. He reached up for the battered, coffee-stained mug instead.

He made his coffee extra bitter that morning. He hadn’t needed to buy milk or sugar for a long time now. He clutched the cup in slightly shaking hands whilst slowly making his way out onto the bright porch and into the bright winter sun. His steps were more akin to a weary shuffle these days, time seeming to slow around him.

Henry, now just where do you think you’re going with your coat?

A soft yet strikingly stern voice filled his thoughts as he placed his cup down by the front door. His arm ached in protest as he reached for his coat hanging on the hook. He wrapped it around his thin shoulders, the weight of it somehow more heavy than it ever used to be.

Once finally settled on his porch chair, he closed his eyes as a gentle silence washed over him.

“Bitter morning today, isn’t it love?” He called out to the cool morning air, not expecting a response. He never expected a response, but it made him feel a little less lonely on these quiet mornings. A brief and welcome distraction from the blaring silence in his head. He missed her voice, of course. But he come to realise that he truly missed the subtle background sounds the most. They played like an old, scratched record in his head. Soft sounds of her footsteps on the floorboards. Her humming a tune she couldn't get out of her head. The water boiling for another cup of her favorite tea.

A small buzzing noise brought him back to reality. Damn drones, Henry thought bitterly. The sound, now as common as the birds singing, filled the air around his home as they made their seemingly endless deliveries throughout the neighborhood.

Henry had opened his eyes just in time to see one of the blasted things flying along his garden path. Small yet somehow piercing lights shone in his direction, scanning and beeping and whirring and driving Henry quite mad. He watched on as it hovered its merry way to his front door. Stopping for a moment, it unceremoniously dropped a package beside him. Then it was gone, without even so much as a good morning.

Henry wasn’t expecting anything. He had a computer somewhere, and a phone, but he only ever ordered groceries and even that somehow felt depressing and lifeless. He didn't want to become that old guy, but he really did miss human interaction. He often wondered what happened to his postman, a cheery sort who always wore shorts no matter the weather.

Henry begrudgingly picked up the mysterious delivery, bones cracking and complaining with each movement. It wasn’t heavy, Henry noted to himself, as he made his slow way back inside his home. He placed the box down on his dining table. Peering at the package, reading glasses now perched on his wrinkled nose, he noticed the handwriting on the brown paper was incredibly neat.

For the attention of Mr. Henry Noah Wright.

Henry’s impressive brow furrowed. Noah? He was quite sure he had told very few people what his middle name was. Now admittedly curious, he carefully peeled away the brown packing paper. It revealed a small, seemingly plain cardboard box.

Upon opening up the fragile lid, he came face to face with a slightly dull, gold pocket watch. A very old one, he noted with some hesitancy.

He pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose as he carefully lifted the small treasure out and placed it on the table. He looked back into the package for a note, a letter, really anything to explain the delivery. But there was nothing. Just an empty box. Henry let out a weary, irritated sigh.

He cast his attention back to the delicate watch, turning it over in his hands carefully. Whoever sent this must have known about his past career. He had spent his life repairing and restoring antiques of all kinds. But watches were something he collected as a hobby. Well, until a few years ago, at least.

Was it a gift? He wondered to himself. If so, from who? His children, now long flown the nest, would surely leave a note. Perhaps it was someone looking for him to work on the piece?

If so, something told him to pack the watch back up and ignore the frankly arrogant gesture of the sender. This wasn’t how he did business. Not he that had done business for a long time. How long had it been since he retired? He couldn’t quite seem to remember.

The house stayed silent as his thoughts rumbled on.

Just do it, you old fool. Make use of yourself. Her voice snapped him to attention, but in that loving way he knew so well. She could always read his thoughts so easily.

Just like that, he moved quicker than he had done for years (which admittedly wasn’t very fast at all). He firmly closed his front door and was soon clanking his workshop tools onto the dining table. Switching on a nearby lamp, he settled down as well as he could manage on the hard wooden chair, angling the light over the watch.

“Did you send this, Eve?” Henry spoke to the empty dining room. He didn’t expect an answer, of course. He didn’t believe in ghosts. But if anyone was going to give him work to do from the afterlife, it would surely be his late wife. He smiled at the thought.

He blew what was a considerable amount of dust off his toolbox before unclipping the latch. It opened with a pained creak.

“I know, I know. I haven’t touched these things for a while.” He mused, seeing her disapproving face as the dust settled on the table. He pulled gloves over his old fingers, the fabric a familiar comfort to his aged and worn hands.

Picking up the watch, he studied it carefully. It was what is known as an open-face watch, which Henry noted was usually a sign that the owner was someone who checked it often and did not wish for a cover to impede their view.

The face was incredibly beautiful, a dark, impossibly deep black with striking copper roman numerals. The hour and minute hands were equally as ornate. These models were often incredibly old and, as such, required to be wound by hand to keep them going. But as he tried to turn the delicate stem, it didn’t seem to be working. Was it overwound, perhaps? He carefully turned it over.

“Would you look at that? All the gold plating has worn away,” Henry mused aloud. His gloved thumb rubbed along the now-exposed brass of the watch. He worked carefully and slowly against the tremor in his hands to carefully pry open the back casing.

“Oh, good god. Just look at that. Beautiful. Just beautiful,” he whispered, eyes greedily scanning the intricate and untouched inner workings of the watch.

He found his rhythm before long, slipping back into the pleasant, well-practiced movements of his old trade. Days went by, filled with a renewed sense of purpose and (although he would never admit it) a quiet joy for the first time in a very, very long while.

Henry was making the finishing touches to the watch, polishing the metal of the intricate case when a knock startled him out of a comforting daze. He looked over to the door. A neighbor, perhaps?

He shuffled his way over and opened it cautiously. The kind smile of his neighbor was nowhere to be seen. Instead, there was a man in his doorway. Tall, with a slightly unusual presence about him. He wore a well-tailored dark suit and long overcoat.

“Good evening. I think you have my watch?”

Henry’s mouth opened to reply, but he didn’t quite know what to say. When the man spoke, his skin had twitched at the deep, unexpected sound. He couldn’t quite place it, but he felt a strange familiarity when looking at this man. Had he seen him before? His mind tried desperately to place him amongst his memories, which admittedly were becoming harder and harder to recall.

Another thing that bothered Henry almost immediately, was the fact he couldn’t seem to age the man who stood before him. He looked old, older than any other man he’d seen before. But then his posture and smile told him no, he was younger than that. 30s? 40s? Regardless, he looked too young to be the owner of an antique pocket watch, Henry thought, trying his best to work through his muddled thoughts.

“Sir?” The man spoke those deep tones again, his eyebrows raised expectantly.

“Sorry. Yes. I have your watch. Come in, I suppose.” Henry spoke a touch wearily, suddenly feeling exhausted. The man nodded politely before stepping inside. As he brushed past, Henry could have sworn he made no discernible sound as he moved. Was he that light on his feet? Henry closed the door with a click that seemed louder than usual.

“My apologies for the unannounced intrusion. I won’t keep you long.” The stranger spoke confidently, watching with a somewhat fond, warm gaze as Henry shuffled back into his familiar seat in front of the watch.

The stranger took off his dark coat and settled into Henry's armchair, smiling cheerfully across at him like he’d been a visitor a thousand times.

“So, I see you’ve been working on my pocket watch,” The man’s sing-song voice filled Henry’s thoughts. “I’m honored you decided to fix it up.”

“Yes,” Henry replied, rather curtly. “You didn’t send a note with your watch. Nor any payment for the repairs. I have a phone. You could have called ahead.”

“Ah. Did I not include a note? My apologies,” his lips twitched into a polite smile, seemingly unphased by Henry’s rather stern words.

“How did you know where I lived? I haven’t done this work for a long time.”

“So many questions, Henry,” the stranger laughed a little then, brushing his hand through his dark hair. The laugh seemed to reverberate around Henry's head like an echo. “But, if you must know, you came strongly recommended by an old friend of mine.”

Henry cast his attention to the pocket watch, now gleaming in his palm. He gave the metal a final polish before beckoning the man towards the table with a firm nod of his head.

“Remarkable,” the stranger whispered in amazement as he leaned over Henry’s shoulder to consider the watch. “It looks just like when I was first given it.”

“It’s a beautiful piece,” Henry agreed. “How long have you had it?”

“Far too long to even say for sure,” The tall man spoke with mild humor, but his expression seemed to soften somewhat.

“Well, it should work now. Just needs a wind. Here.” Henry went to hand him the watch, causing the man to take a long step back from his reach.

“Why don’t you have the honors? It's only fair.” The man's kind face shifted into that charming smile of his. Henry sighed begrudgingly, still unsure of this stranger but somehow compelled to do as he asked. He held the stem between his fingers and gently turned clockwise until he felt the slightest resistance.

“There we go. All looks good to me.”

“You fixed it. You truly are a remarkable craftsman, Henry,” the man’s quiet words carried with them an incredible warmth. “Eve was so very proud of you, you know.”

As Henry repeated what the man had just said in his head, unsure if he was dreaming or misheard or perhaps he had finally lost his mind, he let go of the stem.

It was then that he felt a sharp pain in his chest, blossoming out towards his arms. He opened his mouth to make a sound, but instead, a warm, comforting pressure on his shoulder made him look up at the man now by his side. Henry felt an incredible calm rest over his old bones, the pain slowly dissipating into the cool air around them.

“It was a bit selfish of me to take you right after the watch was fixed. But no time to waste, hmm?” The man’s impossibly cold fingers lifted the watch out of Henry’s hands with great care. He let go of his shoulder and took out an impossibly small, leather-bound book from his waistcoat. Placing it down on the table, he referred to the watch and then scribbled down something. Henry couldn't read it, nor did he attempt to, the shock whirling through his body keeping him rather distracted.

“What is happening? What did you do to me?” Henry demanded, his voice wavering.

“Henry, you might not believe me just yet, but you have just had a fatal heart attack. ” The tall man gave a consoling smile whilst pushing his notebook back into his waistcoat pocket. He headed over to his coat, placing it over his shoulders in one swift, graceful movement.

“What do you mean, fatal? I'm dead?” Henry spoke cautiously, as if afraid to say the word, mouth agape.

“Yes, I am afraid so, old chap,” The man spoke kindly, giving a small, resigned sigh as he pulled on a pair of leather gloves. His eyes were impossibly dark, but they held within them a warmth as he gazed at Henry's confused, weak figure.

“Are you the devil?”

“No, no,” He smiled, shaking his head with some amusement. “I’m just here to take you to the next place. A guide, if you will.”

“Why the watch?” Henry questioned, his mind suddenly fill to the brim with queries about this utterly confusing situation. He was quite sure he would wake up at any moment. This had to be a dream. A nightmare.

“It had been broken for some time. I knew of your skills and thought it was the perfect opportunity. I was due a visit, anyway.”

“Are you so cheap as to make a dead man do your repairs?” Henry snapped, suddenly feeling more than a little ripped off.

The man didn’t seem at all phased by Henry’s sudden outburst, quite used to being the brunt of people’s emotions.

“I suppose you could look at it like that,” he mused, perching against the armchair and crossing his arms. “Or, perhaps you could see it for what it truly was. A reminder.”

“A reminder?”

“Yes,” The man smiled. “A reminder of what you were good at. What made you...you. That’s why Eve suggested you, after all.”

“She…you know her?” Henry's mouth didn't seem to want to stay shut, each revelation proving to be more shocking than the last.

“Your wife? Of course. She gave me quite the ridiculing over my battered watch when she saw it. A remarkable soul, and one that I always remembered.”

“Where is she? Can I see her?” Tears began to well at Henry's eyes.

The man’s smile wavered slightly and Henry didn’t miss his sudden change in expression. He quickly stood up straight and made his way over to Henry in confident, easy strides. He held out his arm towards him in a welcoming gesture. Henry wanted nothing more than to fall into him into that moment.

“I cannot say for certain. Even I don’t truly know what happens after we part ways,” he spoke softly whilst helping Henry to his weary feet. The stranger allowed him a moment of silence to take in the events, quietly gripping his shoulder. Then, the old man spoke up again.

“Why did you use a drone of all things?” Henry mused as the kind stranger guided him out through the front door and into the bright light of the winter sun.

“I wanted it to look somewhat normal. I did consider posting it myself but I don't always fit in around here," his words were tinged with amusement as Henry considered his response in silence. "Also, I’ve always wanted to try them out. Cute little things, aren’t they?”

Henry looked up to the stranger then, a bemused expression on his face. “You’re not quite what I expected.”

“You are not the first person to say so, Henry. I’m starting to take offense, honestly.” The stranger laughed, before checking the golden pocket watch briefly. “We have a little bit of time left before we must go.”

Henry closed his eyes for a moment, still able to feel the warming sun on his cold skin for just a brief, fleeting moment. His thoughts filled with the smiling faces of his children. With his late wife, Eve. He noticed how his bones didn't ache as much as he was used to of late.

"Let's not wait any longer. I’m ready.”

The stranger smiled.

"Of course," he said, taking the old man's arm in his. "Let's go."