Melancholic Compendium

/16/ Newspaper Boy

Story # 16

Every morning, I deliver newspapers in bakeries, water stations, offices, convenience stores, houses— almost in every establishment your eyes can land on inside our village.

As I roam my daily route and put down newspapers in front of doors, I've had to spend 100 pesos for three meals first. It's not for me though.

At the end of my route is a small pink single-storey house. The house has a flat roof and a small veranda. Inside that home, is an old woman living alone. Each day, I drop a newspaper and next to it, I place the meal I have bought.

One Saturday morning, she waited for me to come. She has prepared a cup of warm chocolate drink with three large marshmallows swimming on top of it, and some pieces of sweet-smelling buttered cookies that she baked.

The old woman offered me warm chocolate drink and biscuits for a week. "It will help you see the reality." She says each time I was about to eat what she have given me.

Many days have passed, and I still do the usual thing— my job. I continued delivering newspapers on every establishments in the village and made sure everyone knew about the news.

One Sunday morning, I noticed a pile of newspapers in front of the pink house of the old lady. Her home looked dull than the last time I saw it. It felt strange. Her windows are all closed and the plants outside are dry.

I noticed that the entrance door was open, so I tried peeking inside. From there, my nose was welcomed by gazillions of dusts, causing me to sneeze multiple times than I could ever imagine. I wonder where did the woman go?

I walked through the old wooden floorboards of the house, aware of how weird and noisy the creak of my footsteps sounded. I can't imagine how the old lady managed to live here for years with this kind of dirt in her home. This could have affected her health so bad.

I entered the first room I came upon, and realized that it was the kitchen. The kitchen looked neat, except the dusts and spiderwebs across the ceiling. There is a counter in the middle of the whole kitchen, where some decorative plates are stacked. This is heaven for those who love cooking. The kitchen is big and complete enough to cook what your stomach craves for.

I went near the sink and saw a plate with soil on top of it, and a cup of a smelly liquid I'm not familiar with. It all looked familiar as I walk through the kitchen, not until I accidentally stepped on something hard.

As I looked at what I came upon, I saw a yellowish femur of a human. I was in great shock to see this in this place. In a house of an old woman. I gasped for air, because I was panicking. I walked my way out, but before I could even leave half of the kitchen, I saw the full skeletal system of a human, without its femur, which was on the other side of the kitchen. I think I was traumatized. Whose body was it? Where's the old woman? I ran far from that house. I ran as fast and far as I could ever get, up until I can't see the silhouette of the house anymore. I never knew what kind of disaster had happened in there. I would also not like to know it by myself.

——

I was bothered and worried for the old woman. I skipped work for three days, and spent it mostly by walking outside, breathing fresh air.

I came across my fellow worker, who was on duty. I followed him as we chitchat through his route.

I came upon asking him if he ever heard about the old woman in that pink house, and he said "She was living alone in that house, and was murdered several years ago. Her house was not touched by anyone but the police. They were searching for evidence and a possible lead. It was a tough case for them."

I froze.

My fellow worker waved me goodbye as I stood in horror. How come I have talked to her? She even gave me snacks. What have I eaten? How did all those happen to me? How come I've only seen and known it by now?

I was so confused that my legs gave up. I knelt down in the middle of the road as tears start to form in my eye.

The next thing I knew, there were noisy sirens coming near me. The sound of sirens grew louder and louder and louder, enough to drive my eardrums crazy. My eyes were filled with tears. I can see shades of red and blue, alternately blinking in front of my watery eyes. What is happening?

I felt a cold metal pointing on my nape. My wrists were held, and a policeman said,

"You're arrested for committing murder."