The Pocketwatch

He stared silently down at the pocketwatch in his hand. It was a beautiful accessory and it still worked just fine. Well, the second hand worked fine. The minute and hour hand wouldn't budge at all. He didn't want to crack it open for fear of ruining the precious timekeeper.
He opened the watch and looked down at the time. It was 8:00 exactly. He closed the watch and pulled back his sleeve, looking at his wristwatch. 7:36 AM. He sighed and pulled his sleeve back to its original place. He pocketed the watch and stared up at the wall of his bedroom. This was his routine. Everytime he awoke in the morning he'd get dressed, eat, make himself look presentable and then sit on the edge of his bed for a good thirty minutes just staring at his watch.
He shivered lightly and stood, grabbing his coat form the hanger on the closet door. He slipped it on and glanced at his watch again. 7:54 AM. He gave the bedroom one last onceover before he opened the door and left for work.
*
"Kyle, you pawn that watch yet?"
Kyle blinked and looked up from his work to see a tall and lanky young man with sandy blond hair and blue eyes. It was his coworker, Marcus.
"Hey, Mark. No, I'm not going to pawn the watch. And I'm not going to sell it to you either," Kyle said before Marcus could get another word out.
Marcus snapped his mouth shut and crossed his arms, leaning against the wall next to Kyle's desk.
"I don't get why you keep that thing around. It's not even yours. You just found it," he said.
"I feel like I should keep it though," Kyle said.
Marcus sighed lightly and pushed himself from the wall.
"All right, well, I need to get back to work before the boss chews my head off," he said.
"Get going, slick," Kyle said with a grin.
Marcus ruffled his hair and walked off. Kyle watched him for a few moments before turning back to his desk and getting back to work.
*
Kyle fumbled lightly with the lock on his door as he tried to balance out his paperwork and his keys at the same time as his coffee and his briefcase. It was an everyday occurance and he hated how he had to fight with his door two or three times a day. It sucked. And then, it sucked even more. Kyle slipped and dropped his keys. He stared down at them in horror and felt like shit now. He sighed as he stretched and bent his legs, trying to get to the keys while also trying not to drop anything.
"Excuse me, do you need help?" A voice asked.
Kyle jumped and everything went crashing to the ground. He let out a loud curse and stomped his foot on the ground as his coffee spilled all over him, his briefcase and his paperwork. He looked over his shoulder to see an older gentlemen in a Victorian England type suit. He was rather tall and pale with chestnut hair and hairs. He looked paniced as he saw the state Kyle was in.
"My goodness! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to startle you!" The man said.
"It's alright. You actually did me a favor by letting me get to my keys easier," Kyle said with a smile.
the man seemed to relax a bit and began to help Kyle pick up his things. Kyle took all of the soaked paperwork and thre it in a nearby trashcan along with what remained of his coffee. The man picked up Kyle's keys and gave them to him when he picked up his briefcase.
"Thanks," Kyle muttered.
The man smiled sympathetically and pulled a piece of paper and a pen from his pocket. He quickly jotted something down and folded the paper before handing it to Kyle.
"Here. Send me the bill for your dry cleaning. I have to go to a dinner party now but I'll see you later. Nice meeting you," the man said and quickly walked off and around the corner.
Kyle pocketed the paper and let himself into his apartment. He relaxed a bit on the couch and watched a bit of TV before making himself dinner and then showering before bed. He set his suit off to the side to be taken to the cleaners tomorrow. Kyle opened the piece of paper to see where the address was. His eyes widen and he cursed again as he saw that the address on the paper was his own.
"Damn bastard jipped me! I'm calling the landlord first thing in the morning about this," Kyle muttered angrily.
He sighed deeply and settled himself to bed. He stared at the pocketwatch on the nightstand for a few long moments before he sighed again and switched off the light.
*
"Jipped?" The landlord asked, raising an eyebrow at Kyle.
"Yeah, this guy made me spill coffee on myself, says he's gonna pay for it and completely jips me by giving me 'his address' which just turns our ot be my apartment number!" Kyle ranted.
"Well, if he doesn't live in this complex, what do you want me to do about it?" The landlord asked.
"I dunno, find him and make him pay?" Kyle suggested.
The landlord shook his head.
"Don't you have work to go to?" He asked.
Kyle pulled back his sleeve and looked at his wristwatch. He did need to go to work.
"I'll settle this myself if I ever see him again," Kyle said.
"You have fun with that," the landlord muttered as he kicked his feet up on the desk and looked through a magazine.
*
Kyle grumbled as he walked up to his door. He decided not to carry a lot of things home today and only had his briefcase and keys. As he approached his door he blinked in surprise when he saw the young gentlemen from the other day standing in front of his door. Anger boiled inside Kyle as he raced over and grabbed the man by the shoulder.
"Hey! What the Hell kind of trick do you think you're pulling?!" He demanded.
The man turned to him, starltled.
"What? What are you talking about?" He asked.
"Yesterday! You gave me my own address on that paper!" Kyle shouted.
The man looked confused and shook his head.
"I'm sorry, but, I have no idea what you're talking about. If you'll excuse me, I'm late for a very important dinner party," the man said and pushed past Kyle, quickly disappearing around the corner before Kyle could shout for him to wait.
Kyle growled angrily but decided it wasn't worth it and just went back to his apartment to go through his usual routine. When he sat down on the edge of his bed he felt complelled to stare more at the pocketwatch then ever before. He had never actually stared at its details before, but, now he felt he just had to.
The watch was old. Maybe 40, 50 years old. The chain that had held it was rusted so Kyle had thrown it away. The front was finely decorated and the back was just a smooth surface. The watch was gold in color and seemed ot be pure. When it was opened, Kyle looked inside the lid and was suprised to see the initials P.H. engraved in fancy script on the inside. The hour and minute hand haven't moved. Still 3:00 exactly.
Kyle closed the watch and set it down on the nightstand. He sighed again and ran his hand through his hair. He was becoming more stressed then normal. It was odd to feel like this. It felt like he needed to do somethign with that watch instead of just keep it and oggle it every chance he got. But, selling it didn't seem like the right action to take either.
"What am I gonna do?" Kyle asked himself.
*
The next day Kyle went to go and see his landlord again. He thought long and hard on the matter and decided that he'd ignore his feelings and sell the watch. The landlord was an expert in antique items so he should be able to give Kyle a good estimate on the watch's value.
"Mr. Timbers?" Kyle called and knocked on his landlord's door.
It took a few seconds but the door opened and Mr. Timbers opened the door and looked at Kyle with a sour look.
"What do you want?" He asked.
"I need your opinion on this antique I found. I want to sell it and I need a good price to start with," Kyle explained.
Mr. Timbers nodded and let Kyle inside. Kyle came inside sat down on the couch in the livingroom where he had been seated the other , complaining about his ruined suit. Mr. Timbers sat opposite of him on the armchair.
"So, this antique?" He asked.
Kyle reached into his pocket and took out the pocketwatch. He handed it to MR. Timbers but Mr. Timbers just stared at it. Kyle blinked a bit.
"Mr. Timbers?" He asked.
Mr. Timbers looked at him, his face going pale.
"Where did you find that?" He asked.
"My apartment. It was in the closet when I moved in," Kyle replied.
Mr. Timbers was silent as he stared at it.
"Do you know what it is?" Kyle asked.
"How can I forget?" Mr. Timbers asked.
He stood from the armchair with a heavy sigh and walked over to a large window on the far wall. He pulled back the curtains to stare out at the park. There were children playing in it. Running and laughing with not a care in the world. Mr. Timbers took a deep breath and looked down at the window sill.
"That watch belonged to a man who lived in your apartment. His name was Patrick Harris. He was a great man. Genereous, polite and kind. He made an orginization to help out starving kids in Africa, you know, the saint type of guy that eveyone loved and admired. And me. I was his best friend," Mr. Timbers said.
Kyle blinked a bit in confusion as he watched Mr. Timbers. He really didn't need to know this story. All he wanted to do was come for an estimation price, but, it seems he'd be getting a whole lot more than that now.
"Patrick lived in your apartment all his live. His mother lived there when she had him and when he got old enough and his mother passed, he kept on living here. He really was an extraordinary man. Unfortunately, 23 years ago, he died. He was on his way to an improtant banquet to promote his charity when he was shot by a mugger, "Mr. Timbers muttered.
Kyle's heart skipped a beat and his blood ran cold.
"Wait, what was that part about a banquet?" He asked.
"It was a promotional dinner for his charity. He got all dressed up in a nice Victorian England suit he bought from an antique store down the street. Too bad he only got t wear it once," Mr. Timbers replied with a heavy sigh.
Kyle was silent for a long moment. He grabbed his coat and threw it on and began to head for the door.
"Thank you, Mr. Timbers for the story but I really need to go now," he called.
Without another word he was gone.
*
"No way," Kyle muttered to himself as he stared at the picture in the news.
The photo was black and white and was dated 23 years ago. On the front page of the paper was the figure of a man. The headline read: MAN KILLED ON WAY TO DINNER. Kyle shook his head in disbelief. The man in the photo was Patrick Harris. The man that Kyle had run into only two days previous. But, that was impossible. He was dead. Kyle didn't understand what the Hell was going on.
"This is insane. What does he want if he's still here?" Kyle asked himself.
Then, he mentally kicked himself for being so stupid. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the pocketwatch. Patrick obviously wanted it back. He wanted it so badly that he needed to come back from the dead to get it. Kyle sighed deeply as he understood what he had to do.
*
Kyle shivered in the cold evening air as he looked around. He pulled back the sleeve of his shirt and glanced at his clock. It was nearly 8:00 at night. He looked this way and that, but, it didn't look like Patrick was going to show himself at all.
"I'll give him another five minutes," he muttered.
Kyle didn't have to wait that long. When he glanced up from his watch after the second time of checking he came face to face with none other than Patrick Harris. Patrick was staring at him, frowning lightly. Kyle felt his blood run cold as terror began to fill him.
"Are you....Patrick?" Kyle asked.
Patrick nodded silently.
"Um, I'm Kyle. I think I have something of yours," Kyle said.
Patrick watched as Kyle reached into his pocket and pulled out the pocketwatch. Patrick's eyes widened and he looked up at Kyle after staring at the watch for a moment. Kyle handed it to him. Patrick took the watch in his hand and smiled brightly at Kyle. He leaned over and hugged him tightly. Kyle blinked in confusion and just stood there.
"Thank you," Patrick muttered into his ear.
And he was gone.