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The Chad Solass Chronicles, Page 2

Stuart Jones

Early morning brought with it a choir of song as a trio of birds cheeped and tweeted their way through that days’ story which in turn signalled the start of a new day. As the local milkman began his early morning rounds a tip of his cap and a polite “good morning” welcomed those who were already up, while the silent distribution of fruit juices, breads and various dairy products continued for those that, as of yet, weren’t!

  The familiar ‘clickety-clack’ of the paperboys’ bike wheels danced along the street as he alternated between the road and the pavement between deliveries, all in perfect harmony to the milkman and his near silent milk float. The gentle thud of rolled newspapers wrapped in their protective plastic coverings served hitting the ground served to break the peace ever so gently every few seconds as the town slowly began to awaken!

  The (still rising) sun sprayed its golden glow over the tops of the nearby buildings, down alleyways, across fields, between nooks and crannies and through open windows and curtains.

  Early risers were bathed in a warm blanket as they collected their mail or signed for the deliveries needed to re-stock their shops before opening for the morning trade.

  The streets, that had been so bare not long before, became a crisscrossing of caffeine fuelled, sun energized, bodies as the residents began their busy days.

  Dogs were walked and shutters opened whilst neighbours chatted about what they had watched on the television the night before, what they had planned for the day ahead and who was doing what with whom and who else knew about it! The power of gossip was stronger than that of the morning coffee and many early morning friendships thrived on it.

  The clean coastal air and gentle sea breeze that swept through the town, from one end to the next, up and down the streets and into open doors and windows, cleansed the minds of the local community.

  ‘HoneyVille’ was awake and vibrant!

  Except for one man!

 

  Chad rolled over in his bed, a generous lump of cotton wool, placed in each nostril the night before, for protection, fell from one of its assigned residences and rolled down the pillow, dropping onto the floor silently.

  He failed to notice and continued in his slumber.

  Mere seconds passed before the daily smell of dead animals infiltrated and burnt his nasal passages.

  His eyes flashed open as his brain instantly registered the odour, relaying the announcement to his dormant body.

  Sitting up onto one elbow he peered around the all too brilliantly lit room. He was confused. ‘Surely he hadn’t forgotten to close them again?’ he puzzled to himself, glancing at the window and source of the disturbance.

  The previously closed curtains had been blown open ever so slightly from the early morning breeze and were now taking great pleasure in allowing the full beam of the sunlight through as it had now arrived at the perfect angle in the sky!

  Looking towards the window where the curtain flapped gently back and forth he sighed that it was already morning but took a moment to smile to himself that it was a nice day just as the back and forth movement allowed a beam of light to shoot straight into his eyes, sizzling as it bounced off his retinas!

  “Aaahhhhhh!” he screamed, throwing his arms upwards in an instant as the crazed flapping of his hands failed in their attempt to block it out!

  A glass of water which stood silently on the bedside table next to him throughout that, and every, night tipped over onto the alarm clock also occupying the space as Chad flailed wildly.

  Sparks flew wildly into the air as he painfully opened one, sun seared, eye in its direction.

  Cracking and fizzing as the water passed through its super charged circuits, the clock spat flames indiscriminately out at the room as it unleashed its fury during its final moments of life.

  As tiny flecks of fire shot into the air in all directions one landed on the bed next to Chad and slowly smoldered for a second. A sudden flash of light signalled its ignition on one corner of the sheets!

  Sitting silently he watched in horror, through one very sore eye, as the remaining piece of cotton wool stayed wedged deep into his nose he remained frozen to the spot while the drama unfolded in front of him!

  In a flash the scorch mark had become a party of flames that smothered his pillows and one half of the duvet before continuing their now ravenous feeding by gorging on the sheets as they devoured the cotton mix material.

  A furrowed brow separated the bald head and puzzled face of its owner as Chad, now out from under the sheets and safely at the bottom of the bed, observed the fire working its way down his previously occupied spot as he silently sat on the end of it, watching curiously.

  As the yellow and orange flames finally reached him Chad slowly stood with no real appreciation of the seriousness of what was happening. Apart from a childlike inquisitiveness at the events playing out in front of him he was happy to watch in amazement whilst his brain tried impotently to register what was happening.

  His hands ran over the smooth skin on his hairless head as he pondered what to do now.

  His other eye, the one not burnt by the suns’ wicked sense of playfulness moments before, had now opened and served only to intensify the image in front of him.

  The bed was a space saving design that lifted up into a recess in the wall behind it which, upon closing of the double doors, took on the appearance not unlike that of a wardrobe or cupboard.

  Eyeing the bed and then the space behind it, Chad calmly used his foot to kick the end up, pushing it into the wall whilst looking around the room as if someone might have seen him do so.

  Closing the doors almost serenely he gently leant against them, cautiously listening for any further signs of activity. As he stood silently listening, he noticed the room was now beginning to fill with smoke as the golden glow and warmth from the combination of an early morning sunrise and the flames had been replaced with a fogginess.

  Stepping back from the doors he watched and waited for the source of the pollution to begin its escape between any cracks in the frame.

  A thought slowly occurred to him as he looked around unsure as to why no flames nor smoke were bursting towards him from the doors as he waited for the them to show their guilt.

  It was coming from the floor!

  Looking down, almost as if in slow motion, he instantly discovered the source.

  “Humph!” he chuckled to himself, watching the flames steadily gain a proper footing as they climbed up his leg.

  A few, peaceful, seconds passed before he began lurching frantically around the room as the fire licked at his pajama bottoms. Clawing their way up the material they became like an invading army!

  His foot was on fire and he now began to panic as he had no idea what to do!

  Diving into his bathroom he scrambled into the shower, knocking items onto the floor and into the cubicle as he turned on the water.

  Freezing cold it stung and numbed his head and body in unison as he tried desperately to ignore the dual pain, one from the cold of the water, the other from the heat of the fire that scratched and gnawed at his skin, all the while wrestling with the temperature control!

  Fighting a losing battle, and freezing cold, he turned the shower off with an angry slap of the handle. With the fire now safely out and one leg of his trousers turned into blackened shorts he stood shivering as the ice cold water dripped off his almost fully clothed body.

  Now, he too, like the rest of the town, was wide awake and he was not best impressed.

  This was not how he had planned to spend his only day off this week!

  Chapter 3.