A light breeze cascaded across the field of dandelions, and an unmoving figure lay there. A man lying there on the field with a straw hat on his face. He always seemed to carry a broken pocket watch with him. I don't understand why. He was alluring, the softness of his hair flowed softly with the breeze as they danced together. The man continued to stay in the field of dandelions, sometimes I saw him swinging his pocket watch in front of him. At times, I see him accompanied by an orange tabby cat, curled up on his torso. He was just there unbothered about anything but always held his broken pocket watch with a tight grip. A light seems to illuminate the surface of his skin as his pocket watch glows dimly in between his calloused fingers. As time ticked into the trenches of the non-existent while the seasons changed, he was still there, resting and waiting. A sharp change of atmosphere happened on a peculiar day as I witnessed the man cradling himself, rocking back and forth. The pocket watch was beside him, completely shattered. Approaching cautiously, as the field of dandelions danced with every step I took, I heard him tremble his words, "She never came back".
YOU ARE READING
Mysteries of Serendipity
Short StoryStories for the new and for the old. Stories which hold deeply into your heart as it builds the courage to see the hidden gems of this world through a different perspective. Short stories that are either angelic or heinous or both.
