Time Ghost

Chapter 5

A white van roams the city of Dona in low speed as its driver browse around the corner side of the road. Chuck holds an extended list of names and their address to follow. Bottles of milk were placed in a carton box and stacked on top of each other in a close-fitting fashion. Inside them, Chuck compiled 12 bottles of milk, all in a small-sized 250 ml container and has been sterilised to the brim.

Chuck, or Damien in that regard, switched the radio station as soon as it plays country music on the background. He wants to listen classic rock type of music for mood booster of the day. The old man’s young blood boils in adrenaline rush once high-pitched voice of a male singer drops by.

‘For you, boys in love with childhood friend. I’ve got a song to remember your silly ambition. Yeah, pity me, you’ve fallen to a pit of never-ending malice, and there’s no way back, as in the end....”

Chuck quickly spun the volume to the right. The old man then lowers the bass knob and heighten up its treble afterwards. No better sound of music than a well-balanced tempo of the melody against the drum’s rhythm, and it is never a walk in the park for putting those two in equilibrium for some reason.

Too much bass in the tone, the music will be ruined with low-pitched volume of the speech. Conversely, loads of treble will make beastly-slammed drum beat went chirping in agony.

The old man looked upon the list once more,”First customer of Wednesday, and it’s located far south of the town.” Chuck spoke his mind out loud as He missed another perfect mix of bass and treble on the radio. Subsequently, many colors of red carried his curiosity, as most of the names written were covered under red-brushed marker.

”Hmm, I wonder why there’s so much spots on the paper. Did this old man blacklisted everyone?”

~din-din~

In about five minutes of travel, Chuck arrived to the first address stated on the list. Another deliverymen has dropped their package at the front gate, apparently, and it is always mounded in ruckus. No clear signs of someone living behind the blue-tinted door. Bushes awaited to be trimmed on their lawn. Their front-yard lightbulbs were shuttered down and several of them has been out of order already, seemingly a clear hint that the house was abandoned for good.

Until the door itself spread out from within. One middle-aged female in sweater drifts out on a wheelchair. She appears in trouble to driving her automated props over the line of red bricks beneath. It was hindered by the brick’s checkered pattern and goes trapped in between the lower-level gaps as a result.

Damien’s youth-driven instinct clashes against the wall of timeworn. An old feather should have no fire left within the heart. His vessel’s chiseled torso, however, speaks in sync towards the soul’s commandment for a burst of empathy. To link in the park and serving others in the end, Damien was more than eager to aid another old feathers in need.

“Let me help you, Safina!”

The old man leaps over the fence, caught brown-handed and rolled up a dirt on his back. No tear on his shirt due to sharp-knitted edge on the top of arrow-shaped bar. Athletic-bodied and finely-tuned, Damien was flabbergasted with Chuck’s indomitable agility in such a late bloomer period that the old man has expressed,”Okay, now it needs just a little push upwards...” Chuck swiftly jumps behind the woman’s wheelchair and grasped both handles in subsequent manner. Safina, on the other hand, only has herself nodded against such dexterous man and gazing upon him in silence.

~kriek-kriek~

Eventually, as the woman fell into her reserved nature awhile back, Safina gradually turns her head to face the incredible gesture of Chuck and his gentleman nature. Her expression estimates exhilaration and surprise for sparks of delight painted either eyes around.

“For real, Chuck. I’ve never been treated this way.... You’re....” She withered,” It’s so fast... I can’t.”

“Ugh, my stomach!”

Grim situations, indeed. Safina was overwhelmed with reflexes of youthful vigor and fallen ill shortly afterwards. Chuck sees nobody else in the house to ask for support. He was alone at the moment, now having himself to make amends in an instant and vacated himself away from his regular duty at the most.

What to do next? I have no room for her wheelchair...

Ah, I suppose it is far too disastrous to think about issues like this. I have to make room somehow!

~prang~

The old man dashes towards the door fence and barged out with extreme force from his sturdy arms. A bless for him, truly, because Safina forgot to lock the gate yesterday. Engine screams and roaring in haste. A quarter of milk boxes was thrown out to make space for Safina’s wheelchair. Five minutes to the nearest hospital, easily shortened to three in sixty kilometers of velocity.

No time to waste.