The Misplaced Locket

I used to be a treasure so well-loved and once symbolized love and dedication. The mold was also determined to be a delicate, perfumed lock, decorated with elaborate engravings and encrusted with diamonds in a tiny size. Let my chain of gold once adorned the neck of a lovely maid whose sweet prize was me, above all other treasures on this earth. Now, unfortunately, I am in a rational polyhedron, far from my homeland, being lost and forgotten by people.

It all started on a balmy summer afternoon. Elizabeth, a woman, wore me into her bosom as she went through a market that was thundering. Through every breath was the smell of foreign spices, and in every without was the sound of the merchant arguing with the seller. Elizabeth laughed with admiration at the brilliant textile patterns and dazzling jewels. She giggled, delighting the crowds.

At this point, however, my unscrupulous gust of wind steals me away from my rightful spot. As I slipped from Elizabeth’s neck, I fell like a careless leaf and hurled down into the air. The fear of being outside her warm embrace overwhelmed me, as I had been left on my own. after having gone through a soft landing on the ground, covered by a collection of abandoned trinkets.

It was one day a week, then two days, then three, four, five, until the day became a week, the week became a month, and the month became a year. I lay still, invisible and impregnable, as the world continued to turn and navigate through the tangible as it does daily, ignoring and averse from the evil that was running parallel to it. It is really hard to describe the marketplace at that time. It changed with seasons and I was invisible in it – tarnished golden relief to start with.

In a moment I became a silent witness to the lives that walked with me. I saw the flower petals and the lovers, their happiness lingered sending laughter across the square. Her tears fell like raindrops on cobblestones, and there was I, the observer and at the same time, the one seen. I stared and I could not help but see the sorrow of a grieving mother. I saw children playing in the park with their childish sounds of lilt and belief.

Through the immensity of all the beauty and turmoil around, I wished to return to Elizabeth. I wanted to feel her again, to hear her voice again, a secret clenched between her teeth, sending golden whispers into my shell. I would think whether she had noticed my absence, whether she still carried me in those dying adipose curves that defined vulnerability, dignity, and not a few memories.

On a dark day, one day, a girl child met me to my surprise. My eyes widened like a frantic light bulb as she lifted me, wiping away the dirt and grime that had settled with time. She lifted me to the light and muttered dazedly as the gems danced with them.

With a sparkle of excitement, she whispered, ‘Look, I’ve discovered a jewel’ as she held me to her in her small palm.

That little girl brought me home, where I sat on a shelf covered with her dirt, along with other mementos of her life. While she was admiring me with tender eyes full of amazement, I was watching. I was taken on a horrific one, she was not aware of the journey I had traveled; the lives I had seen.

It took days to minutes becoming weeks again, and the girl started to lose interest in me. I soon became as commonplace and again as a forgotten object, only now dust spreading through the corner of her room. However, when I was under her gaze, I could feel a speck of love and adoration that had once been in my favorite place.

And so I stay, an out-of-place token waiting for the glow of a woman ever seeking to touch me. Even though I may never eventually find my way back to Elizabeth, I still dwell upon the lives I have touched on the journey simply because I live by the things I have learned from Elizabeth. I have witnessed the kind of beauty and complexity of man’s life, even as an outside and wrongly placed object, and this alone would be the greatest treasure.