Keaton 1

Holly Keaton
Ms. Gardner
English 10 Honors, 0 Period
5 September 2014
When Your Future Comes Back To Haunt You
My chin rests on my hand as I absently survey the scene in front of me, ignoring the
benchs uneven boards digging into my legs. I allow my mind to wander, and try not to think of
the mountain of homework I abandoned and the stress that threatens to overcome me at any
moment. The sounds of hammers and shouting men permeate the air, and the afternoon smells
intoxicatingly of poppies, an odor that makes me drowsy. I toy with the idea of having a spell put
on me by the Wicked Witch, but soon disregard it, unable to focus for very long. The bench
overlooks a bustling construction site. Out of the piles of wood and materials, a rough-looking
building is taking shape. I have no idea what its to become, and for the first time I wonder about
it. Next to the site, rising almost unsteadily, an old-fashioned building perches. It has been there
for as long as anyone can remember, and it still retains an air of elegance and wisdom.
It's a beautiful Sunday afternoon, so I'm not surprised to see a figure ambling down the
path towards me. As the individual comes closer I see that she's an old woman, dressed in a
cheerful floral print dress. I smile politely at her as she approaches the end of the bench, then
glance away to study the golden thread someone tied around the arm of the bench, hoping to
avoid being drawn into an awkward conversation. It's to no avail; she plops herself down next to
me, and heaves the sigh of someone who has been walking a very long time.
Good afternoon. She has a pleasant voice, and a very decisive manner of speaking.
Thats a lovely dress you have.

Keaton 2

I automatically look down. Thank you. I love yours too.

She smiles at me, but doesn't reply, instead turning away. I take the opportunity to study
her. Although she must be nearly seventy, she doesn't let her age define her. She sits straight and
proud, and her brown eyes - ones that look vaguely familiar - glitter as she stares wistfully off
into the distance. I follow her gaze and see that she's looking at the workers milling around,
hammering and sawing away. My eyes wander to a design graffitied on the side of a dingy
grocery store. It's a staff with two snakes entwined around it.
Holly, the stranger says suddenly, and I flinch as she startles me from my reverie.
What do you want to be when you grow up?
I blink at the question. I have heard it many times before, but never with such a serious
tone. I dont know, I answer truthfully, albeit reluctantly. I never like having to give that
answer. Im only fifteen. Im still figuring it out.
She nods once, and her hand reaches up unconsciously to fiddle with her necklace. I
mirror her, grasping the locket around my own neck and playing with it. I open it for a second,
and catch a glimpse of my mother and sisters familiar faces before I snap it shut again. The
question she so innocuously asked has been a cause of great stress for me; I'm getting to the age
where I am expected to know what I want to do with my life. I've considered several different
careers, but my future is still undecided. I find myself curious as to why she inquired. Thinking
back on our brief conversation, I realize with a surprised jolt that she knew my name without me
having mentioned it to her. I chew on my lip, and snap open and shut my locket worriedly.
A hand rests on my fidgeting fingers. I look up in surprise to meet the mysterious
womans eyes. She gazes at me for a long moment, then opens her mouth and hesitates, seeming
to take a moment to gather her thoughts.

Keaton 3

Thats okay, she begins. Thats okay - you have years to figure that out. And you will.
Youll make mistakes, of course, but you cant give up hope. I know sometimes it feels like your
life depends on these few short years, but it doesnt Holly. It really doesnt. You have your whole
life ahead of you, and trust me, it will never be as unexceptional as you think it will be. But you
cant be afraid to step forward and take it.
I blink dumbly at her, and scramble for some way to reply to this overload of
information. The first thing my scattered brain blurts out is not the first question I want
answered, but I ask it anyway.
What's your name?
She doesn't seem surprised by my reply. In fact, it almost seems as though she expects it.
Its funny, we share the same name. Im Holly as well, she answers. Holly fiddles with her
necklace and bites her lip, looking nervous for the first time since Ive met her. My eyes are
drawn to her movements, and I catch a flash of silver before her hand covers it again.
Who are you? I ask wonderingly. I have a sneaking suspicion, but I'm neither naive nor
hopeful enough to believe that it's true. In reply, the odd woman turns her head away from me to
look at the buildings - one worn and full of stories to tell, and another just beginning to develop.
A look of nostalgia crosses her face. I notice her twiddling her locket around, and have an
irrepressible urge to see whats inside. What kind of people does this eccentric woman love?
Whom does she hold closest to her heart?
I feel a bit like I'm sitting next to Dumbledore. Here is someone who seems to know too
much, who radiates wisdom and sentimentality in equal parts, who reminds me inexplicably of
myself. It's a ridiculous idea, and I know it only happens in the wonderful books I lose myself in,
but secretly I wonder if my future self has somehow time-traveled.

Keaton 4

Interrupting my fantasy in which Im sent on a quest to save the world, Holly pulls out a
bag of candy from her purse. She silently offers me a chocolate cat with a toothy grin, and I take
it without hesitation. I find myself staring at her locket again, the silver reflecting the midafternoon sun. A sort of peace has settled over us, the type of quiet when both parties have
nothing more to ask of each other. Well, almost nothing.
Gathering up my scant courage, I cautiously ask her, Whats in your locket?
Instead of looking uncomfortable or annoyed like I expect her to, she merely lifts the
corner of her mouth and reaches her hands up behind her gray hair to unclasp her necklace. She
grips it tightly in her hand for a moment, looking down at it, and then visibly steadies herself and
hands it over to me. I take it warily, anticipation thrumming through me. Carefully, I clutch it in
my fingers, and open it without delay. I stare for a moment at the pictures, my mouth falling
open. I look up at her, startled, then I put her locket down and reach up to retrieve my own. I
snap it open as Ive done millions of times before, and hold the two necklaces side by side.
From Hollys locket, the faces of my mother and sisters gaze up at me, worn but still
utterly recognizable; next to hers, my own locket cradles identical pictures. I reel slightly as I
take in the implications of this. She has kept my - our - family over her heart for fifty-five years.