John Gone HTML version

different intensities as the second-hand ticked past the
numbers that circled it.
At first, the resonations seemed random, but the
longer John watched the wires stir, the more he sensed an
indefinable order behind their movement. The effect was
“John!” His mother’s call broke the trance. “John,
it’s two o’clock!”
John read the time from the watch; it agreed with his
mother. Quickly, he latched the band beneath his wrist and
ran through the sand back to his porch where his mother
stood waiting and smiling. Embarrassed by his predicament,
he hid his hand and the watch in his pocket as he
“Are you ready?” his mother asked.
“I’m not sure how to be ready when I don’t know where
we’re going,” he answered, unlatching the Velcro straps on
his dripping sandals.
“What’s that on your wrist?” she asked, eyeing the
watch he’d exposed.
“It’s nothing,” John replied hastily, kicking the
sandals from his feet. “Just something I found on the
beach.” He moved swiftly past his mother and walked through
the wide sliding glass door behind her to her bedroom.