The Nocturnals

Chapter three

"Hello, Mr. Peters." I voice out the moment I enter and hear the door jam behind me. "Hello." I say again, this time rather loudly when I see no one, nor do I hear any sound.

I access the book-stock room, darting my eyes round and taking in the brown wooden shelfs, containing eclectics kinds of books, and a wooden placard tagging each with the type of books they are being categorized into. 

From my side, a door opens, and enters in is Mr. Peters, Alessia's father. His eyes is fixated on to the book he's reading. He hasn't noticed me yet. I smile and near him, and put my hands onto the book, disturbing his reading. He looks up calmly, recognized by the fact that I'm the only one who does this to him frequently.

"Mr. Peters." I acknowledge.

"If it's not you, Kara who else am I to expect?"

"Your daughter?" 

"Oh, we both know she won't even come here to just take a glance." He says and laughs, his glass moving away from it's fixed position. With the help of his fingers, he places it back. "So, what can I do for you?"

I'm exhilarating, squealing as I start to speak. "I just finish that book you gave me yesterday, and I love it so much. So romantic, and beautiful. Thank you, Sir."

"Oh...aren't you so adorable?" He questions mostly to himself, and I nod my head, knowingly. "I won't hesitate to help you anytime, so tell me what you need." 

Awn!

"I know, that's why I'm here for another." I say and pass him yesterday's book, and he hesitantly collect it from me, eyeing me.

"You're through with it?"

"Sure yes. I couldn't place it down." I rush to speak, and dash to the wheel ladder, climb it and wheel it to the tag, he's taken out yesterday's book for me. "So, any other interesting series?" I look down to meet his hazel eyes. He's still chuckling to himself, as he flips the pages of the book I gave him earlier.

"I have one." He moves closer to the ladder I'm on, and wheels it to a section entirely different from the ones he's ever taken out books for me. "Today, I graduate you to a...ah, an enticing section."

"Mmm-hmm." Hums my happy self. I feel nothing more than happiness, one of the reasons why I always make sure to come here. Mr. Peters and his books always finds a way to bring out delightfulness from my insides out.

"Take that one, next to the green cover novel." I do as he instructs.

Taking out the book, I check its title, In The Depth. Hmm. Doesn't it have an intriguing book title? And even the cover alone is fascinating as well.

"Thanks so much once again, Mr. Peters." And I mean it.

"You are welcome. Now, come on down." He moves away so I can climb back down. I did and pull him into a sharp hug, then pull away, helping him to place his glass well again. 

"See you tomorrow, Mr. Peters." 

"See you tomorrow, Kara." 

Sparing me a crooky smile, his lips tugging up at a side, I return one, but I'm suddenly interrupted by the sound of a cart, and horses whinnying, as they move closer to his shop. My eyes flare accordingly, realizing what this means. 

"Oh, no." I gasp. Mr. Peters gives me an ununderstanding look, he's confused.

It's the bakery cart, they must have sold their sales for today, and now moving the rest of their products to nearby town for exporting, and they must to come back before the sun sets in. I can not go home without any of those bakery foods. They are my always eaten food. I can't go a day without them. I hope I don't die today.

Hastily, not saying anything to Mr. Peters, who's already facing his work, I run to his window, and look down. Oh, yes, I'm right. I can see the cart, almost getting near and will soon move away with the goods. The gods helping me out, I see an iron, making the shape of a plank, long enough to reach from the ground to this three storey building's window and can surely contain my slender figure with the help of its being curved by its sides. For a brief moment, I thought this was made for periods like this.

With deep breath, I jump and slide down, howling both from the thrill and afraid-ness, causing adrenaline to gush down my veins. The air is of no help as it forces me to open my eyes not widely as I would want. From my peripheral vision, I can see that I'm calling the attentions of people, almost getting down, I leap a bit so that I will fall into the sawdust, packed sidewall to the library's brick-constructed building.

Pulling my head out, I yank my body out next, falling to the floor with my behind, making me groan. Help me goodness, I must gain the breads and sweets.

I'm able to get in front of the cart, and place my head forward, gesturing that Mr. Robertson stop his horses. They neigh, as he pulls them to a stop. I snicker to myself, as if I've had an accomplishment. Well, maybe I did.

"What do you want, Kara?" He ask, looking at me from his seat, unbothered; if I'm not reading his expression wrong.

"You know what I want." I laugh awkwardly at him. He remains stoic, his comportment impassive. He picks from his nails with his teeth.

"If not for that you are a persistent customer, I would have just crush you past without no remorse, do you understand that? Now get off my track, before I change my protocol." He says, his eyes still giving nothing away.

What? I just fall down a three storey building for what I'm certain he knows I want, but yet he would talk to me this way. I will not allow it.

I stand up from my sitting position, my coat is already wrinkled as my gown, and my scarf is long gone, perhaps fallen when I jumped.

"I just fall down a three storey building, not with comfort, because my back hurts from the coarse plank, and all for what? Because I'll not let you take away the bakery foods. All I want is two breads, and a packet of sweets. Please." I add, although my eyes does not agree with my pleading as it remains stern just like his. 

"Just leave my tail." He tells me and gets down his seat to open the door to where he keeps his goods. As he does, I quickly run closer, flashing a smile that reaches my face as I anticipate on the fragrance of his bakery foods — another thing that can make me forget things apart from books. The aroma of the breads invades my smelling lobes, making me close my eyes just momentarily. 

"Ah... you smell that irresistible scent?" I ask, lost into my own world where my brain has sent me.

"I baked it, so yes I've smelled it from its starting point, till finish breach." He replies, rather nonchalantly speaking. How does he do it that he's able to always conceive his expressions?

Anyway, his words does not get under my skin. Inside the cart, brown wheat bread beams at me, and Mr. Robertson takes two out of the many, and outstretch it to me. No delay, I take it from his hands. He remains stern, while I'm just smirking. Then, he unwraps a cloth, and take a box out. There is my packet of sweet.

"Thanks." 

He says nothing, leaving us in silence. God, how much I wish I can knock that sternness off his lined face. Mr. Robertson is in his late forties, having brownish black hair that's very short. He's wearing a green loose shirt, his brown leather belt outside, holding both his black trousers, and loose shirt at his waist. Coupled with black, dirty-mudded boots.

He climbs back onto his cart, and nudges the straps against the horses, causing them to neigh again.

"You haven't collected your money?" I ask rather, confused. Is he going to give me for free? The thought comes so sharp, I almost didn't know it crosses my mind.

"Greet your father for me." Is that smile on his face?

After he's gone, I pack all the things I've gotten and will be needing for today, and direct my legs to take me home. Father must be hungry now, unless if he's working with his inventions, where he wouldn't have felt hunger even when he stomach rumbles every now and then. 

"Pfft. What a long morning." I say, beginning a track to the bridge, where afterwards lies my home.