Maliks & Millennials

Week 1 Saturday, 8.40 p.m. (Unedited)

The house stilled following the first crashing sound. 

It'll suffice to say that the entire household was fixated on hearing the series of banging and crashing sounds that followed; each person feeling a tad bit overwhelmed with curiosity yet none attempting to investigate the cause for the commotion. Shock, is what they call it.

Nonetheless, the period of stupor passed and the adults began gaining their senses.

Only to create yet another commotion - this one of their own - as they panicked and shuffled around in no particular direction, really. The kids - apparently - considered this the perfect opportunity to put their immaculate creativity to use. 

'A ghost,' said the oldest of them - a tall, thin boy of fourteen who absolutely knew that ghosts did not exist but simply rejoiced in sending the younger kids scurrying to hide behind their mamas.

'Alright, cut it out,' Amaar called out as one of the little boys actually started getting teary-eyed.

Although, truth be told, there might have been a tiny, measly, truly insignificant part of him that actually pondered over the possibility of there being a ghost. It'll suffice to say that his actions were not merely ones of chivalry; he rather preferred living in the bliss of ignorance than contemplating meeting a (potentially vengeful) ghost. Amaar could not help but glare at Abbu, thinking, I told you not to move into grandpa's room. I bet it's his restless soul lingering about his wardrobe - searching for the comforting presence of his special pair of socks. Why - oh why did you have to chuck 'em away? Congratulations, we are now doomed to a lifetime of vengeful ghost-haunting - jee thanks, Abbu. 

On a side note, the pair of socks was in fact cherished by the late man given that the very pair was passed down generations over generations; each sock hole and tear re-sewn with every year. It was only until a couple of years ago when Abbu was in fact clearing out the room, that he came across the ill-fated pieces of cloth that merely resembled rags held together by flimsy pieces of weathering thread. Staring at the allegedly ethereal pair of socks, Abbu thought back to how this flimsy item resonated with his father, and his father, and his father on end. He felt a gushing sense of importance associated with the socks. 

Naturally, he chucked them in the bin.

In the present, though, a panicking Amaar was cursing Abbu with all his might while he came to terms with the idea of death at the hands of a vengeful, dead relative. Of course, it was Ada who snapped him out of this state when they heard her calm (yet amused) voice echo through the halls.

'The graceful jerk tripped,' was what she said.

Realisation snubbed the flames of curiosity and worry that had lit up in the Maliks. How anticlimactic, was what everyone thought. Also, it is not interesting that no one needed a clarification on who the jerk in question was. Irfan Malik's reputation preceded him. Although, the more understanding adults liked to refer to him as, "Experiencing Difficulty in the Grand Scheme of Things."

Short short short chapter because I haven't update in soooo long.