The Devil's Pocketwatch

I had brunch with the devil yesterday.  Strange thing to say I know, but there it is.  It's hard to explain how it happened.  I got lost downtown, ended up walking in circles for a while, finding myself walking through that same damned intersection in different directions three times, and finally decided just to stop and sit a while.  I had recalled seeing a small cafe' a couple of times and found my way back to it pretty easily.

The patio was larger than the interior and the place had steady business, coffee break office workers mingling with the assorted students and tattooed artists that haunt any source of caffine in the mid-morning hours.  I saw him sitting alone, with another chair at his table and all the others filled to capacity with grumbling suit-shirted men or various rainbows of hair involved in heated debate, it wasn't a hard decision to take him up on the offer of his casually outstretched hand.

A pretty waitress came and took our orders, noting my companion's smile she returned it with one of her own, and as she walked into the cafe' a man set up a stool and brought out a mandolin.  My companion and I sat for a while, watching the player tune his instrument. 

He looked at me then, eyes like sapphires piercing through me.  He was darkly handsome, brown hair cut short, but not militant.  His mouth, for lack of a better word, was sensuous, with wide lips that I had already seen smile wonderfully at the girl helping the tables nearby, and that I knew could curl to be equally mean.  Everything about him seemed to be well groomed, while still definitively masculine.   

"It's alright, I won't bite you."  I wish you could hear his voice dear, you would melt.  It was just higher than a baritone, but not quite a tenor, and rich.  It seemed to dissolve the anxiety, leaving me feeling a bit silly standing in front of him.  So of course, I sat. 

There was a silence between us then, even when the waitress took our orders we spoke to her, no words passed between us.  He turned as she went and watched her go, not hiding it in the least when she looked back, and she seemed to appreciate his appreciation.  As he turned back from his admirations he quite casually said "Yes, I am the devil."


There are middle bits, but they escape me at the moment.


It seemed we must have been talking for hours, though neither of us had once mentioned the time.  There seemed a spell between us inwhich the outside world had ceased to exist, and all there was was our words, our thoughts flowing between eachother.  The spell was shattered by the simple motion of his checking his pocketwatch.  The moment I saw the thing it had woven its own spell over me.  The silver chain seemed at once to be made of flames and waves frozen in motion.  The watch it led to was simple but well crafted, and held my eyes like a vice.  He looked up from checking the time and noticed my instant obsession with the bit of silver in his hand.  His eyes travelled between my ownand the watch in his hand a few times, and he shut it.

"I like you, so I'm going to give you the chance to look in it.  Realize please, before you do this, that you can't take it back.  Its different for everyone, but you never return the same from what you find within."  With the offer of looking within he set the watch on the table between us.

The speech was out of character.  Throughout our discussion he had been warm, thoughtfull, pleasant, this shift took me for a turn, and reminded me of the premise of our conversation...he was the devil.  This was the first he had spoken of anything mystical or life altering, and it had me wondering again...what if this truely was the devil I was speaking to?  The watch shone silver beteen us, the light catching me again, wonder drawing me to it.  My hand seem to move of its own accord, I merely able to watch as it reached out and picked up the silver siren between us. 

It was heavier than I thought it should be for its size, and cool to the touch.  I was frozen for a moment, caught gun shy before the unknown in my hand.  I was hardly even aware of the twitch of my finger that opened the watch.  As I gazed into the open face of the watch, I felt tears come to my eyes.  I can't justify why, but there was a pain in my chest, something breaking.  I looked up at him and saw compassion in those dark jewels of eyes.  No longer piercing, but something gentler...he seemed almost sad.  I managed to keep from allowing the tears to flow, this wasn't the place.  He reached out and shut the watch still in my grasp, I tipped my hand and dropped the watch neatly into his.  A word hung on my lips, tinged with the hurt I felt in my chest.  "Why?"

His eyes seemed to share some of my pain as he looked at me.  "Because everything ends, but nothing ever truely leaves us." A weak smile now, something to give me some hope.  "We carry our endings with us.  They define us."

I couldn't respond to it, I was afraid to open my mouth.  I was dimly aware of him getting up, he pat my should as he passed.  I seem to recall him having shared a word with the waitress, I don't know what he said but she brought me another coffee, said my friend had paid for it. 

I sat there, staring mutely at the people passing by.  They sat, talked, drank, and got up again, leaving for the next people to come and continue the dance. 

I don't know when I left, but I found myself wandering, watching.  My feet seemed to know where to go, and my mind was intent on containing the pain my heart suffered.  Soon I found myself at the top hill in a nearby park.  It seemed I was alone, and I allowed myself to break down at last.

The bud of pain in my chest blossomed; I knelt down and cried.

I'm loosing my train of thought, I'll return to this