The Nocturnals

Chapter four

I look ahead of me to the house as I'm crossing the breach, before I drop my gaze to the linear moving water below the logs that make the breach, undisturbed from its straight motion.

Getting closer, I see the disaster father's technology has caused, smokes erupting from insides out of the broken ceilings. I shake my head and run into the house, calling for father.

"Pa!" I do not hear him answer, but the sound of his machine running makes me go to his workshop where the smoke is coming from.

"Pa." Again I call, and he turns to his back, sighting me. I calm myself, my brain registering that he's okay. 

"Kara, you're home." 

"Mmm-hmm." I answer with a hum, not bothering myself to shout, knowing he wouldn't hear because of the quaking sound that the tech is making. His clothes are dirty, looking as though it's just being brought from a dust-plus-sand-plus-grease place. His beige face is the one part of his body spared, his blonde hair stock behind his cotton, self-made cap; used for things like this, also bringing out his vibrant, and bulgy green eyes. Spotlight enters the room from the small windows, made to adjoin with the ceilings so that the reflecting lights can be focused on his doings in his workshop.

"Thought I got it to work at last after..." He gestures to the broken and ruined area with his hand, before returning his gaze to me.

"Okay, so what does it do?" 

"Can travel fast. I mean, if possibly I get it to work, it would be able to transport anyone and anything to anywhere in shorter time. I'm sure this time, the Head won't call me crazy." He yells to overcome the sound.

"You're not being serious, are you? I mean, why will you want to impress the Head after all he's done — enough to make you want to quit all this." I direct my hands to his works. I can suddenly feel anger seeping into my pores. How will father even think of wanting to impress the Head in the first place?. "He's not worth it. Not at all. It's better it doesn't work, than it does and you let him benefit from your hard work. Who knows if he'd even take it from you." I breath, seeing as father's face nods in agreement to my statement. 

"You really don't trust that man?"

"Not in a fragment." I state firmly, even a bad listener will notice the hatred my voice carries. I just don't like that man one bit. The man acts like he's nice, always smiling at you, giving you his attention and more, but beneath, I don't think he actually means it genuinely. I think he's only faking it, hiding his so very bad side.

My train of thought is driven into an accident when suddenly, the machine releases a ball of fire from its exhaust, causing its smoke to fill the room, making us cough uncontrollably. Can't this get any better? My subconscious chimes in. She's being optimistic— well, in her own way of being hopeful.

When the smoke dies down, I look at the machine. It's a little big, occupying most of the space of father's small workplace. It's in the shape of a rectangle, having a tube opening at all sides and at its downs where the exhaust can come out. There is the wooden seats draped with soft cotton to aid comfortablity when one sits in its rectangular inside. By its same side where the tubes are, is two glassy curved door that looks like wing in its resting state by the sides, but with a pressing of a button inside the machine, it can cover up to help in keeping its occupant fixed to their seat, protect them from the outside air running in, abreast the leather belt that also aids in holding the occupant.

Now, the iron-wood-glass machine still looks beautiful, but not like earlier as smokes and part of the roofings has fell on it, making it look like some olden used equipment in some olden used workplace.

Father coughs lastly, clearing his throat. "Well, looks like this thing is not going to work anytime soon. Perhaps I'll go back to it later." 

"I think that's a good idea." I pat him on his shoulder, and he nods to me that he's okay. "Don't worry. I do trust you to make this... thing work. Ma believes in you, and so do myself."

Father chuckles. He removes his cap, letting his straight hair jump forward before he pushes it back. "Ha, I trust my girl to make my day." He pauses, and while he takes off his working dress, he adds, "so how did outside go?"

"Bad. Very bad...but yes, sweet too. I got us some breads," I glance over to the bag I've dropped when I rush in here, "and I've received a promotion."

"A promotion?"

"Ah, father, you won't understand." 

"Sure I can't, dear. Don't all your Pa knows is his science?" He ask teasingly and laughs, making me join him.

"I'll go and cook us breakfast." I tell him, as I make my way to carry the bag and move to the kitchen.

I made us cooked fish, and extracted some soup from it, coupling with the bread, I know it will be such a delicious food. When I am through with setting the table, I call Pa, and thankfully this time, he's bath, his beauty not being cloaked like earlier. He looks so handsome, making me reel on the happiness of being his daughter. No matter what the outsider says about us, only us knows each other better. And I don't think any one else can know me like my Pa does.

"Aye, what a sweet aroma. You're so fantabulous daughter." He speaks, using one of his new founded English. I'll like to learn that new word. Sometimes, Pa who's the scientist use to be the one who will have new words often than I, who's a literature-lover.

"I see, you did some new digging. What's the meaning of that word?" 

"I don't know yet. It just came, and I thought of using it for something praising, for something enticing, for...um... excellence..." He trails off, drawling each words.

"Bravo, Pa, excellenté." 

"Don't you start French?" He pouts. I laugh in a quick manner.

"Was that French?" I ask, and I am not kidding. I don't even know since I don't really pay attention to other language, as I do to English. When I hear other words, I just learn them without paying attention to their origins.

"Mh-hm."

He says nothing next, taking his seat and I help him carry up the bowl of soup so he can scoop his share. Once he did, I collect the bowl after he's said, "thanks," and pour myself. Within seconds, we've shared food, and are eating in silence. The thought of going to bring one of the books so I can read it while I eat flashes across my brain, urging me but I decide against it. I will surely get fed up of the food later since I won't know when I'll stop eating and pay an undivided attention to the story.

"So, today's lecture? Please, enlighten me. What did Ronald say?" Father prefers calling him his real name instead of Head, which I very much prefer.

"Huh, he just, you know, same usual stuff. He's got nothing different to say than the same old tale his ancestors has been telling people." I can tell that father feels my disgust. Not that I have anything in line with the beast, it's just that as much as I hate the beast— if it's truly real— is as I don't like that Ronald.

"Nevertheless, please do not go near that forest. You believe, or not." His eyes are questioning even when his statement is not.

"Yes, Pa." I breath, and remembering Cole's issue, I take that up too. "And can you believe that that stupid, hairy, idiotic Cole insults you in front of me, while he tries to woo me?"

"He did." Father laughs. Wait up...I think I'm lost. He can't be seriously laughing over me telling him that he's been insulted by someone he's more than thirty years older than.

"What's funny?"

"He woos you, my daughter." He exclaims. And... "I can believe it."

"Father, you are seriously not trying to say what I'm thinking? Instead of saying, I find myself rather asking. I don't even want to actually let the thought cross my mind. It's so...ugh!

Father gives me the eye.

Silence. 

Short silenced, then...

"Oh no!"

"Oh, yes." He says just in time I say mine.

"You're joking." 

"No, I'm not. Cole's handsome..." He teases, making his voice sounds sing-song-ly, c*****g his head to a side. "He's mature. He has those big muscles from months of gyming, and he eats many protein, so he has many energies—"

"Wait...wait up, how did you know that last part?" I am curious. He shrugs, letting his hands rest onto the table, at either sides of his plate.

He doesn't answer me though. "Even though I don't go out much, still I know that there are lots of girls, wanting him."

I squeeze my face in disgust when the thought actually by force invades my very private mind. Cole and I? We can never work. Yes! Yes! Yes! He's so handsome. Technically the most handsome man I've ever seen, followed by the Head. Just the thought of us being together irks me, making my stomach turn badly, not to say being mated.

"Father, in my opinion. He's too, you know, um, too arrogant. He abuses a lot. And see today, he insults you when I said I wasn't going to go with him to the beach, but stay home with you, you know, to help you out. He looks like the kind who will lash out on his wife when she talks not in line with his reason, and could even beat up his wife. More also, he believes. He's illiterate. He's..." I breath, putting my hands up at my sides and gesturing them in a way that says I'm trying to cool down myself while I inhale harshly and exhale likewise.

"That is definitely loaded."

"I could still continue on how bad I see him as." I add. Father shakes his head, motioning he doesn't want to listen any further. Thank goodness, he doesn't apply any pressure. I want to stop the converse as much as he wants to now.

"Well, I'm just... I mean absolutely nothing about what I said earlier. I love you so much, Kara and I'll wish that you do things your way — which you think is right." Father's tone gives him away that he means what he's saying.

I just nod, approvingly. 

When Pa is done with his food, he pushes the plate forward.

"I'll clean up." I tell him. He smiles gratefully.

"Okay. I need to go back to my stuff." He takes a stand. "Make sure that the machine gets to work rather than being the junk it is at the moment."

"Okay." I drawl, and he leaves.

In about twenty minutes more, I'm through with eating, and washing the dishes. I go to my room to drop my small leather cross bag, and pick the book given to me by Mr. Peters and walk to the outside. Sitting on the few steps that leads to the front door, I bring my knees closer to my body, and place the book on them, before opening the pages in anticipation and anxiety, then start reading.