my first and last trip to amsterdam, i stayed in a strange hotel, it's not in the guide books but it's known in travelling circles, the hobo hotel, it's basically a run down hovel with paint peeling of the walls, horrible stained linen and awkward rooms. the corridors are narrow and barely take a big guy like me, the lights very rarely work, most often or not they flicker randomly so everything feels like a lonely disco for the miserable. the stink of the place is, wet dog, some sort of damp mould permeates the surfaces but there's also an industrial strength  bleach that wafts out of the bathroom straight into your nostrils and brain and you're uncertain which direction to walk into as your direction faculties seem to go out of whack.
i was meeting a girl, yeah romantic huh? it was her idea, she raved about the place being kooky and filled with interesting characters. i hadn't met any kooky people yet, just a strung out junkie looking to score, a transexual prostitute who offered me her services for free and a couple of american youths who looked very nervous as they checked out at the same time i was checking in.
i booted up my computer and hooked up to the free wi -fi, checked my e mails, looking for naomi's name.
ah, there it was, i opened it and scanned the words, she couldn't make it but would be here in the morning. i stretched out on the bed and pulled out a half smoked joint. 
'fucking hell naomi,' i said with a hint of bitterness, 'so this is romance.'
i must have fallen asleep but when i woke the joint had burnt down to the roach and a strange shadow seemed to flash across the wall. it took me a moment to work out it was the light globe strobe from the hallway blinking away, my trench coat hooked over the wardrobe was casting a curiously human shadow on the wall, like a detective hiding in the darkness. i settled down into some deep breathing and settled my anxiety. 
it crossed my mind to get up and clean my teeth but i feared leaving the room so i just stayed on my bed, my body weary and still.
the bed was very uncomfortable, the thin mattress, the spring bed was unsprung in areas, i like a firm surface for my back and decided i would move the mattress off the bed and sleep on the floor. it would offer me very little space as the room was tiny but it would save me a lot of pain.
i pulled down the mattress and lay it on the floor, and as the strobe lit the room i noticed something under the bed, through the network of broken springs and circles and spirals was a dirty old shoe box. 
i pulled it out and sat with it on my lap, a thin band of sticky tape sealed it shut so i carefully located the end and peeled it away. i felt a pang of guilt as i wondered if i should have just handed the box in at reception but by then i had lifted the lid off and seen a rolled up parchment of papers, and a black pouch. i lifted the pouch and opened it up. a fob watch feel into my hands, it was silver and black and had an inscription written on the back. the hands had stopped moving and the time read 11.50pm. there where various buttons and dials on the watch, it seemed intricate, hand crafted. i couldn't make out the inscription so i returned it into the pouch. i went back to sleep the shoe box by my side.
i slept dreamlessly, awakened by the traffic, outside a car alarm was sounding through the neighbourhood. i felt groggy, still tired and lay there staring at the ceiling on my back.
i looked at the box, it was there where i had left it. 
after a shower and some coffee i returned to my room, i went straight to the box, opened it up and took out the watch, it felt perfect in size as it sat in my palm, the hands were now moving, and it appeared as if the indicated time was actually correct, i checked with my mobile phone. the inscription read, 'he whom holds this watch, holds time.'
i opened up the parchments and saw that there were a number of photographs inside the roll, i put them down and thought i'd take a methodical approach to investigating this shoebox mystery.
so i started reading the parchment.

reader
if you are reading this then it would mean i am trapped, and therefore long gone. for the record, my name was joseph delaware, i'm an american by birth but at the age of 30 decided i was a citizen of the world having travelled across the four corners of this fine globe and lived amongst many different cultures.
at the age of 50 i found myself living in london england and happily married, a family man, and successful entrepreneur, a shipping line, black star, you may have heard of it.
i considered myself a responsible man and one whom liked to know his business and the people that ran it, and i liked to often work amongst my employees disguised as someone else, to gain insight into their conduct and duty, to then make whatever changes i saw as important. this was the secret of my success and also my downfall.
on the cold winter of 1795 i was en voyage to the spice islands, working as a rigger, living in the bowels of the good ship 'destiny' when a mutiny occurred. the captain wanted to sail through a storm, the crew were nervous and refused, and the result was they captured the captain, tied him up and put him on a raft. i stepped forwards, it was my duty to reveal myself and put a stop to this accursed action, but the crew mocked my claims, they sat me in the raft with the captain and said, i would be his rower and first mate.
as they lowered us into the dark waters i felt certain we would capsize and drown, the angry sea forged waves the size of mountains, troughs like canyons. i untied the captain and he thanked me and looked in my eyes and i will never forget his words, 'do not be afraid of death good man, for one who is afraid is already dead.' he smiled and gave me a strange look.
rowing was pointless, when the storm hit us we were tossed about, at the mercy of the seas. as each wave sent us rolling in a new direction, we tossed and turned the captain laughed and laughed, he shook his fists at the black skies, rain hitting his face, 'is this the best you have, it's not a storm it's a teacup, i'm not afraid of you, take me neptune i'll spoil your daughters and drink your wine.' words to that effect.
as he raved i was scooping water from the boat with my hands but it was a self defeating exercise. a huge wave lifted us up and my last glimpse of the captain was his look of surprise as he was snatched by the mighty hands of an angered sea god and taken down to davy jones locker.
for myself and my sins i survived, washed up on a shore. 
i was grateful to be alive, i felt the sweet sun, the gently lapping of water as waves broke, the breeze skimming off the water, hear the sounds of birds and insects in the deep green jungle.
i pulled myself up and stood on the land, a strange feeling after being aboard an ocean vessel. my stomach felt wretched and coughed up some water which fell at my feet in a foul splash.
i wandered around the shore line, maybe the captain was washed up, if not maybe items from the raft, i knew there would be water rations and food supplies on under the rowing arms. i needed water, i felt dry and thirsty. i wandered for about an hour following the sealine, looking for any sign of debris. i retraced my steps and did the same thing on the other side, and again nothing, so i decided to head into the jungle and search for water.

the dense jungle formed an outer ring against what was a valley under the shade of a massive mountain, from which a massive waterfall fell, branching out into three smaller ones, in turn branching out into various smaller ones, one of which was about a mile away. i started towards it, clambering over what seemed to be huge glass crystalline forms, that sprouted from the land. 

i could see the mouth of the lowest and nearest waterfall high up but before climbing i found myself standing before a river, i immediately fell to my knees and drunk in the clear fresh water and then somehow i was inside it, splashing around, feeling it's soothing currents and invigorating side effects like a tonic. 
it was a beautiful looking river, for i could feel it's flow but not see it, for the surface was completely still, there were no under currents, just clear clean waters that seemed to move downstream and then i realised that the waterfall was actually not falling at all, it was rising from the river and flowing upwards against the side of the mountain, against gravity, i floated on my back looking at the beautiful jungle and tree tops, the waterfall roaring in my ears behind me seemed to suck me upwards, i found myself being carried by the water up the face of the mountain, against gravity.
as i ascended i saw the beginning of a ledge, and i leapt across onto from ground where gravity seemed to reassert it's control. i jumped into the opening through the curtain of water into the mouth of a cavern.
there were yellow fruit hanging from vines that were growing close to the side, i tore them open and ate the flesh, succulent sweet and invigorating, i could feel my body reviving. if only the captain had made it i thought, the wonders he would have seen.
the climb down was not so challenging, the rocks were spaced evenly and my descent was more laborious that dangerous but i was going down deep into the bowels of the mountain, and light was now fading. 

i was in darkness, complete darkness when the bats swarmed and flew past me, thousands of them, i could see their white razored teeth and their blood red eyes, i huddled down low and waited for the swarm to pass. when i stood up i felt out the wall and followed it further, then i came to a long circular set of steps which i followed down to what seemed like a small chamber, i stood there, perplexed. i was never sure what i would find but nothing would have prepared me for what came next.
i felt the hands around me, my throat suddenly constricted and i could hear the sound of a man sized being, feel his fingers and sharp long nails digging into my neck, my body twitched and shuddered and i knew i would die. i never saw who my attacker was, death came suddenly and all i saw was a shape, a dark long elongated fleeting shadow maybe. i saw those eyes, the eyes of a bat.


i came shooting out from one of the other waterfalls, this time i fell down into the river, as i fell i looked downwards at the beautiful river winding through the jungle. it was nightfall, the sun long disappearing over the soft horizons and there seemed to be two moons in the sky, one a red one reflecting the sun and almost at 160 degrees, another darker one with strange pulse emitting circle of cobalt blue light. i hit the water.

i will not bore you with how i returned to london, suffice to say i did, and i found that my fate had taken a strange twist, for my company had been sold off and i had inherited a vast wealth which i put to good use but after several hundred years i grew bored and restless, for what can an undead man do apart from feed of the living, i found love many times but fleeting as they aged i stayed young, i refused to take them to the island, although many begged thinking it offer some romance but there was nothing left inside of me that thought of romance, romance became flowers wilting and the mark of time hunting down beauty, i saw everything fade away, everything. 
as written by joseph delware 

the watch in my hands felt good, the way it ft so snuggly, i opened it up and read the inscription 'how did it get late so soon.'
i saw the day had passed, it was nearly night time.