What's Yours Is Mine

Martin took something that didn't belong to him and now something wants it back.

As his pursuer gets closer and his fear mounts, Martin faces a race against time to figure what is after him in a desperate bid to stop it from taking back its possession, and perhaps him too.

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1. Chapter 1

The day, in his opinion, was a total washout. It was cold, that irritating cold that always seems to be there no matter how many layers of clothing are in its way. The sky was grimy, as the clouds jostled with any light, maintaining the depressing feel of winter. Some looked pretty loaded too, and he was not even vaguely in the mood for rain, though at least dressed for it. His mother has forced him to wear wellies, bright yellow, instead of his new Nike’s. She said she didn’t pay all that money for them to be trashed the first week he had them. He argued back that she didn’t pay all that money so noone could see them either. The problem was that he was eleven, so he was overruled.

Now, sat on the icy metal climbing frame in the park, he stared out across the wet and dirty looking land around him. A few foolish folks were out for a walk, someone had a dog the size of a horse and was struggling to keep it on its lead, there was a runner off near a patch of skeletal trees, and his mother, sat on a bench to the side of the kids area, talking to another mother, whose child was pulling up lumps of grass and throwing them for no apparent reason.

This was just stupid. He wasn’t having fun. He wasn’t exercising. The fresh air was not doing him any good. He just longed to be at home. Playing on his Xbox. His uncle had bought him a fantasy game for his birthday two months ago, and hitting trolls seemed a much better option than freezing his ass off in a play area he was already too big for. Without his school friends, he couldn’t even play football, and throwing grass with the toddler just didn’t excite him.

“Mum, can we go yet?” Martin yelled from the climbing frame, interrupting whatever fascinating thing his mother was gossiping about. She turned to look at him, and held up one hand, all five digits extended. He presumed she meant five minutes, though he knew it wouldn’t be five minutes. It would be ten, then twenty, and his Sunday would be over before he knew it. His mum smiled and went beck to chatting.

“Right then,” Martin muttered to himself, and once more stared out across the park.

Something caught his eye.

There was something moving near of thick patch of wildly overgrown hedges not too far from the play area. He couldn’t see what it was. Maybe a dog? Or a groundhog? Something like that.

“Why not.” Martin untangled his legs from the frame and climbed down, his wellies squelching in the damp bark that covered the floor of the playground. He brushed off the seat of his pants and headed towards the hedges.

In just a few minutes he was almost upon them, but the animal was not there. Damn it, he thought. It would have at least been a mild distraction until his mum was done. He looked around for a stick, then gave one of the hedges a poke, rustling the leaves to try and get a better look inside the dark interior. There was a glint of light, near the ground. Though there was no real light, whatever it was had caught a sliver, and reflected it briefly.

Vaguely excited once more, Martin crouched down to get a better look. He pushed  a large sprig of green to the side and saw the object. It was a pocket watch, gold, with a gold chain too. The chain was looped over a twig, and the watch swung gently.

“Cool,” he said to noone, as he reached into the hedge. It was deep inside, and as he stretched, sprigs of leaves brushed his cheeks and eyes, forcing him to turn his head and feel around blind. His finger tips touched dirt, moulding leaves, a sharp piece of bark, then finally he had it. He pulled but it was caught, and he struggled with the chain, unravelling it until it came away and the watch was in his hand. He pulled his arm out of the hedge, and stood again, his knees a little sore from crouching awkwardly. After wiping the watch on his coat sleeve, he inspected it properly. It didn’t have numbers around the face, just little gold lines, and a symbol he didn’t recognise was embossed in the centre. There was also a little space where the date would be displayed on a normal watch, only this one featured three black lines instead of a number. Flipping it over, he saw the same symbol on the back too. It looked really expensive, and really old. The hands weren’t even moving. Smiling to himself he dropped it into his pocket, and headed back to where his mother was sat. Maybe not a total washout then, he thought, and mouthed ‘Thank God’ to the sky when he saw his mother stand and say her goodbyes.

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