Faith

A story about time, faith, and love

CHAPTER Three

“Charles.” His crying grew louder. “It’s about Grandpa. He...he’s gone.” 

The shock hit me like I had just gotten run over by a bus. Yet, even that couldn't justify it. My stomach started quivering. My hands, and then my fingers. I could feel my cheek bones widening. I felt like my nose had just been shocked.

“Wha…”

“That’s why I came home so early.” I ran over to Abba and hugged him. Tears started balling out of my eyes.

“Wha..why?! Why did he have to go?” My grieving was following by a long string of unrecognizable words. My throat hurt. My eyes hurt. My heart hurt. It felt like it had just bursted into four pieces.

Images flashed in front of me, like a camera in motion. The hospital, the waiting room, the continuous beeping of the heart rate monitor. Beep. Beep. Beep. I couldn’t picture it dead. Dead in the way that it wasn’t full of life. Just a continuous sound. Heartless.

I moved my head back from inside Abba’s jacket and wiped my face. “He could do so much more…” The middle 20 years of his life were probably the best for him. He lived more in those 20 years than any other. The monotonous tone of the heart beat counter rang silent in my ears.

*****

That afternoon was one of grief, sadness, and pain, from both the job incident and Grandpa. I trudged upstairs and jumped flat on my bed. It was late - around 7 o’clock. We were yet to have dinner. My mind raced back to all those years ago when the loan was taken. Why?! Why did we have to take that loan? Then I thought for a second. What happened to the camera I took those photos with? I got up and searched around my room for it. Hastily opened drawers and cupboards until I found it.

It was black and had dust blanketing it on all of its sides. The lens was protruding from the rectangular base, with buttons spread across the body. I pressed the ‘ON’ button, and to my surprise, it still had charge left in it. I pressed another button and the gallery came up. The first image I saw was of Grandpa.

I hushed past it, not wanting to bring his memory back. The next image I saw was one of Dad cutting the cake at his 49th birthday. It was so clear to me as if it just happened. It was only us two that time. Just us two, living off each other. Happiness was out of the equation.

I passed through a few more photos, mainly misclicks. Ah, there it is. The Boulevard’s construction images. It looked so life-like. The same colours, the same surroun- I stopped. I looked down at the camera. What the... I blinked a few times. It was still there.

“Charles…” Abba’s voice sounded husky, hoarse even. “Come and have dinner.”

I carefully placed the camera on my desk and walked off.

*****

I didn’t like Mondays. They were so tiresome: having to wake up earlier than usual, trudging down the stairs, sleepily eating your cereal, and then ‘running’ for the bus. You would then come into school and wherever you would sit down you would feel like simply dropping your head onto the table and sleeping. They don’t call it the best place to sleep for no reason.

Hearing the recess bell ring, I packed my stuff and walked through the decked hallways to reach my place. Once there, I opened the door and plopped my bag down on a table. ‘My place’ was just the library. But to me, it was so much more. The library was the place where everywhere you looked there were books. It was the place where there was some sense of serenity. I liked the quiet. It was so mysterious, yet so plain.

I heard the machine in front of me whirr up. The monitor light flickered on and a blue screen came up. God darn it. This one doesn’t work either. Now I would have to walk all the way to the god darn local library to complete my god-darn history homework. I felt the air escape from my mouth like fire from a dragon. I was clearly annoyed about something. The weird thing was that - I simply didn’t know what it was.

The school bell rang. It almost sounded like an old BIOS error. I rushed out of school in front of the drove. The library closes at 6, and it takes 30 minutes to get there. I did all these calculations in my head while slipping off one of the shoulder straps on my bag. I dived into the pocket, reaching in for my diary. Hmm...history...that thing for science...Oh, that god-darned English assignment. It wasn’t too much. I had been forced to do more in the past. And not just by teachers, either.

*****

As my mouth extended into a yawn, I started to get up out of my seat to go back home. And all I could think of was the walk back. It was so long. Eh, you’re gonna have to endure it. Man up. As I was walking between the electronic scanners, a dash of blue caught my eye. I walked over to it, and my jaw instantly dropped.

‘THE 1900’s: A TOUR OF LONDON.’ But it wasn’t the title that caught my eye. It was one of the images below it. A blue...I’m not sure what it was. I walked over to the counter and got ready to talk.

“Umm, excuse me, Miss?” I didn’t want her to think I was stupid if it was something completely obvious.

“Yes, honey?” She had one of those voices. Those voices which stick in your head. High-pitched, soft and quiet.

“What exactly...what exactly is this?” I gestured to the blue box on the poster.

“Ah, that’s a police box, child. They were used back in the times when I was little, to call the police. Nowadays people just have phones.” Her voice resonated in my mind.

“Right, thank you!” I walked out, stunned. I heard a faint, “No problem, kiddo,” behind me, but I didn’t pay attention. 

Okay, let me get this straight. There is a thing called a police box, which people used in the 1900’s to call the police.

Then what is it doing on my photograph?