My Pocket Watch

By Jake Diprose @jakediprose

Right now I am in my attic. Boring place to be right? Wrong! This place is full of mysteries from years ago; secrets which have never been uncovered. Every time I come up here, I try to open the brown box in the corner. It feels as if it is sealed shut; as if it had never been opened. Once again, quite melodramatically this time, I tug at the lid with my pliers.

Suddenly, I fall back. In a slight daze, I crouch on my knees looking at the contents of the box. This isn't just an ordinary box. It is full of letters from my great grandfather. I pull out an embellished pocket watch; not a speck of dust on it. One letter reads: 'Dear family member, This was written on the day we won the war. All day today, we have been celebrating. I decided to go and treat myself to a bespoke pocket watch. I bought this at the Freeman Pawnbrokers. I didn't really like the jewels on the outside, so I thought I would store it in a box for one of my family members. Enjoy it, Love from George Thompson.'

I know that this letter must be for me or somebody else in our family as my surname is Thompson. I am shocked that he would do such a thing for me.

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