Contest giving voice to silence: Diary of a Pocket Watch

I was born in a dark workshop, surrounded by gears and oil. My creator, a skilled watchmaker, lovingly assembled me. My hands shook as I made the first turn. “Tick-tock,” I whispered. The world opened before me.

My owner, a gentleman with a high hat, carried me into his pocket. Together, we explored cobblestone streets and elegant halls. I witnessed duels, dances and shared secrets. My mechanical heart beat at the rhythm of its life.

I met a lady with sad eyes. She looked at me in amazement. "What do you see, old friend?" she asked. I showed her the time I spent with her. We love each other in whispers and furtive glances. But one day, she left. My ticking turned into melancholy.

My owner got old. His steps became slow. He left me in a dusty drawer. “Tick-tock,” I muttered into the darkness. How long has it been? I lost count. Silence became my companion.

A curious child found my hiding place. His eyes shone when he saw me. He cleaned me up, wound me up, and took me with him. Together, we explored forests and mountains. My ticking echoed with his laughter.

Now I'm an old pocket watch. My case is worn, my hands worn. But I still tell stories. On starry nights, I whisper to the wind about lost loves and forgotten adventures. I am the guardian of the silent, the chronicler of time.

Dear reader. If you ever find an old pocket watch, take it in your hands. I may tell you a story that will change your life. 🕰️✨