Marta’s Message

Sweat and tears intermingled on Jergen’s cheeks as he tried to focus on his craft late into the night. Deadlines had always been a motivation for him, and he dearly loved building and repairing clocks. Over the years he had produced countless creative timepieces. 

On this day his grief fought back, trying to convince him that his time was up. He had nothing left and needed to retire. His surroundings told him it wasn’t true. Everywhere he looked in his establishment he saw monuments to his skill and dedication. Even the antiques and other objects he hadn’t built with his own hands breathed when he did. He and the shop were one.

“Oh, Marta,” he said, slumping down in his chair to try to compose himself. “You always knew how to lift my spirits.”

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. “Who could that be?” he wondered. He slowly shuffled his way to the shop entrance. Opening the door he was confused to see no one. As he prepared to close the door and return to his work, he spied a large flat envelope on the ground.

Minutes later he found himself looking at some sort of architectural plan.

Jergen groaned as he stooped to collect the photo from the floor. Pressing it to his lips he went to place it gently in his shirt pocket. In doing so he noticed a drawing on the back of the photo.

“What’s this?” he said, squinting through his glasses to try to decipher the image. Blinking away tears he saw something truly unexpected. The drawing was eerily similar to the blueprints that had just appeared at his door 

“Just build it. The rest will make sense in its own time.”

The caption sent chills through Jergen’s body. Was Marta speaking to him? What was so special about the blueprints?

She had always believed in his capabilities and encouraged him to attack any challenging task.

With the spirit of his wife urging him on, Jergen began to follow the plan laid out by the blueprints. The object started to come together, an unusual-looking thing. According to the plans, it would make currency obsolete and allow people to exist without financial burdens. But something wasn’t quite right. No, something was definitely happening. 

As he worked on the contraption, Jergen looked at the photo, feeling a sense of connection with his wife. Instead, he looked in horror as her image started to fade. As he tightened another gear into place, another line vanished from the photo. 

This was the only photo he had remaining of his wife. Without it he might lose her forever. Frantically, he stopped working and flipped through the pages of the blueprints with the hope of finding an explanation for this phenomenon. 

Nothing made sense. The blueprints suddenly seemed to be in a foreign language. “Wait—“, Jergen said. “This can’t be all! How can I finish the project? What is happening to my photo?”

He didn’t know how to continue. Suddenly the project felt like a curse upon him. Instead of a special tribute to his wife, it acted as the very thief who would steal her away from him. 

Then, he heard the voice of his wife. “Just build it. The rest will make sense in its own time.”

“But you’ll be lost forever!” he protested. “I can’t carry on in this shop without you anymore.”

Marta had supported him in everything in life. He had trusted her unconditionally. He didn’t want to disappoint her, but the photo meant more than life itself. The photo was an extension of her spirit. 

“Just build it. The rest will make sense in its own time.”

Marta’s spirit was adamant. With a sense of reluctance Jergen gave up his protest. What kind of person would he be if he didn’t respect her wishes?

“How am I supposed to build it? The plans don’t make any sense!” Jergen began to grow frustrated with his situation. 

“Let me go,” the voice said. “Tear up this photo, and you will have everything you need.”

What kind of cruel nonsense was this? Jergen wondered. First, building the machine seemed to damage the photo. Now he needed to destroy his only link to his past in order to improve the future?

He knew this invention would change lives. Countless people could have homes and families and enjoy their time worry-free. All he had to do was make this one sacrifice. 

“No!” he yelled. “No! I won’t do it! I can’t!” This was asking too much. Why did he have to be the one person tasked with making such a sacrifice? Surely the delivery had been made to the wrong door. 

He had never really interacted with anyone in recent years outside of dealing with timepieces. It didn’t make sense for him to have a responsibility of such major public repercussions. He was just a simple craftsman.

But the voice couldn’t be wrong. She wouldn’t lie to him or mislead him. He wasn’t imagining that. 

“Just build it. You haven’t lost me,” the voice said. Its tone remained loving and reassuring in spite of the pushback.

That patience had always been what attracted Jergen to his wife more than anything else. That was her most endearing quality throughout their long marriage, and Jergen always felt compelled to do whatever he could to remain worthy of her grace. 

He returned to the blueprints and studied them intensely once again, hoping for some kind of spark to strike him. 

Staring through his glasses he noticed that his eyes were playing tricks on him. He shook his head to gain focus, then returned to the blueprints. 

Again he had the same experience: suddenly everything seemed to click. The plans made sense, and he could resume building his machine. Excitedly, he got to work attaching more parts and inspecting gears and joints to be sure everything would work. He felt reinvigorated and happier than he had been since his wife’s death. 

He took the photo in his hand and kissed it gently. The image had faded almost entirely with the machine nearing completion. 

“Thank you,” he said in a voice choked with emotion. “Thank you for everything, my love.”

Though Marta’s face no longer appeared on the photo, it somehow felt more powerful than an ordinary photograph. There was a glow about it, a glimmer that rippled through the air and permeated Jergen’s subconscious. 

And then it was gone. The glow ebbed, and the photo vanished into thin air. Marta’s spirit remained, a stronger force within Jergen’s being than ever before. He saw that lasting image burned into his memory. He would be okay. 

Jergen finished building the machine and began promoting it around town, touting its ability to give people the chance to live life however they wished. He had never felt a stronger sense of accomplishment. 

The shop buzzed with activity as people from all over the region wanted to meet Jergen and thank him for his invention. They asked him about his life, and his wife, and with every story Jergen told, Marta’s presence grew stronger. And they helped his business, too. They brought all sorts of timepieces for him to display or repair. Jergen felt a sense of purpose that he thought had left him forever. 

“You were right all along,” he told Marta’s spirit late one night after he had closed up the shop. “I can’t ever thank you enough for the life you gave me and how you continue to help me.”

As if on cue, the clocks around him all struck the hour simultaneously. She knew. She always knew. 

Written as a response to Bradley Ramsey’s Power-Up Prompt 36