"Even the days and nights must be jealous of your predictability."
Sir Whipsonfreak had the most boring, yet safe life in the town of Bunsberry. But one day his grandson Richter complained about it and to prove him wrong Sir Whipson will do the unex...
As usual, after 6 pm, Sir Whipsonfreak slowly lifted himself from his seat. He took out his lunch box and his bag from the desk cupboard and made his way out of the building, but not before saying goodbye to his colleagues whom he barely knew. Then stifling his cough, he took out his metro card from the chest pocket of his dull and faded cotton shirt, made of 20% synthetic and 80% natural fabrics.
As usual, he took the ticket for the 6.30 train to his house. As usual, he sat down, looking at the big old clock, ticking mechanically just like his life. The other early boarders busily pleasuring their eyes or ears with the latest technology, while Sir Whipsonfreak sat down on his usual bench with his head bowed, resting his chin on his chest and folding his arms. He occasionally looked up at the clock, counting the minutes that passed like his boring yet safe life.
Just then the train arrived and he slowly made his way to it and sat on his usual seat. The distance taking him 41 steps, as usual, 20 right and 21 left.
Like every other time, he stared outside the window situated above the seat facing him. He stared at what you may not call a view and sighed loudly.
After a few minutes, the train stopped with a screeching halt. Sir Whipson huffed and lifted himself out of his seat, out of the station and towards his house.
As he passed his neighboring house, he was surprised by the crowd. "What has happened?" He asked Mr. Suspectre, one of his old friend who was crossing the building.
Mr. Suspectre stopped and putting his hands behind his back, looked down and played with the rock near his feet. He shook his head and tapped his walnut stick as he sadly looked at him-"Black day for the Bunnsberry's elderly. Miss Catluck's house got burnt down by a kitchen fire due to a stove fire left on. Fortunately, they contained the fire before the whole building could get burned down."
Sir Whipsonfreak nodded sadly and clicked his tongue. Just as he was about to get going, Mr. Rodger spoke again. "And Mr. Fallbook? Your neighbor? He too died today."
This surprised Sir Whipsonfreak, Mr.Fallbook being an old friend and a kind neighbor. "How?" He let his curiosity ask the question.
"He was carrying some books too heavy for him down the stairs. Stumbled and fell, getting crushed under the weight of those books! Always told him and don't read so much, its dangerous. You will end up like Don Quixote. He didn't listen, now see, ended up like him. Dead."
Sir Whipsonfreak pouted upon the demise of his friend. He stood still and mourned him in silence for a minute —since he was getting late for a two-minute silence— and then went on his way.
He huffed and puffed, climbing the stairs while rubbing his left knees which pained with old age. Finally, he once again reached his home without dying on the stairs. He smiled again at the achievement, having had an irrational fear that he would die one day by missing a few steps and falling.
He slipped the key out from under the rug that hasn't been changed since Genghis Khan and Hitler shared their views on the Incas over a cup of Tetley Green Tea. Then strengthening his arched back which caused his bones to creak like the old rocking chairs in almost all haunted movies, he opened the lock and stepped inside.
Crush
A crack under his foot, made him look down. It was a piece of his favorite vase. He sighed.
"Surprise!" Shrieked Richter, only to meet his grandpa's bored expression.
"I knew you were coming." He said, putting down his backpack and lunchbox on the table.
"But how?" Richter asked, following his grandpa, with a fallen face.
"Your mother called." His grandpa replied and seeing Richter form an 'O', gave a yet another heavy sigh. "And anyway, the fire, the books, and the vase did speak to me of your arrival beforehand."
"Huh? But this time the only accident I caused was the vase!" Richter insisted.
Sir Whipsonfreak chuckled. "Yeah. I know."
"Seriously!" Richter moaned only to get smacked by another chuckle.' Oh, why can't his grandpa believe for once that some things happen by coincidence and not everything is an accident caused by him!'
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What happens when two opposites meet? They become Richter and Sir Whipsonfreak.
Another FYI: I named this guy Richter after the Richter Scale which measures the intensity of earthquakes. Why? Well, cause the guy is like an earthquake, causing accidents wherever he goes.
Also, I decided to put quotes of the late Mrs. Whipsonfreak. Do tell how you think they are.
Anyways, did you like this chapter? If yes, don't forget to vote.
PS. Mister Suspectre will return in the third chapter.
