Miranda's Diary [COMPLETE]

Chapter One - The Quirky Ones

A house in the Mini Ranch Street had a scribbling done on its front fences saying, "Beware, People in the house aren't normal." Maybe, they weren't 'normal' because they never took a step to erase the note. People passing by the road had regularly heard slapping and hammering noises coming out of the four walls.

It was first of the March and a milkman was standing outside the house.

Knock! Knock!

He banged the door at early six in the morning. In the fresh early morning, the bird chirping was clear, as there was no traffic on the front road. The two-storey house in the Mini Ranch Street had a milkman waiting outside. He had come to collect the price for the milk he delivered every day to that household. As it was first of the month, the Gorgoyle family must pay wages to the milkman.

Knock! Knock!

Again, he rapped, now with more strength. No answer came, no clattering of rushing feet, no whispers, no noises. "Anyone inside?" he shouted. The milkman put his right hand on his waist and sighed, "This family." He sat on a nearby bench, waiting for someone to come, and murmured, "This happens every time. I don't understand where she will spend all the wealth?"

The scenic beauty and the cool breeze of a spring morning didn't cheer up the milkman. The flowers of Gorgoyle's garden smiled at him but even they couldn't appease his weary mood.

The clock now showed six thirty. He had waited for half an hour. It seemed that he had done with all other deliveries and collections, and chose that house for the end. In past few months, he had accustomed this waiting. No other family did like that.

Meanwhile, he wandered his eyes around on the house that needed mending. The half-broken fence was too old to stop trespassing. The chimney had one brick missing. Cement peeped from few absent tiles. However, letters in the mailbox looked fresh and new; they were a lot in number. He assumed that it might be a special day for them. The milkman tempted to snoop, but was aware that he was being watched, from the keyhole maybe. He had acquired in knowledge that no one was sleeping in the house, besides, everyone was doing his or her deeds, as quietly as possible, on orders of the house's leader.

As the minute hand climbed up towards nine, the milkman's hopes rose. Mr. George used to depart for work at six forty-five, and the milkman sat at the only exit of the home. Now and then, the door would open, and she could not escape.

The milkman smiled when the door lock clicked.

A woman peeped out and gave a grin, "Oh, what are you doing here, come inside and have some tea."

The milkman refused at once and straightened his palm to her, asking for money. She again requested for tea, but he refused.

He denied for a good reason, as he had learned from the mistake he had once committed. Last time when he accepted the tea on the day of collection, the woman directly demanded to lower the milk's price in return of the tea he had.

On that day, the quarrel between them lasted an hour, in which milkman lost.

This time, he was stubborn to take the exact amount. The more stubborn was the woman haggling for it. Both had time to quarrel, which wasted their hour once again. Eventually, the woman won. After all, she had mastery in bargaining technique. She jumped to her feet out of joy, on the other hand, the milkman left murmuring curses.

The first of each month started as such. Every time the milkman and the woman fought as kids, regardless if the neighbors were watching.

The woman went inside her home and locked the door. "Why you do this all the time, Angelina?" said George as he emerged into the living room down the wooden stairs, which creaked with his every step.