| General Fiction posted September 6, 2020 |
  |
Mysterious Package Contest Entry
The Box
by DragonSkulls
It was Saturday, May 14th of 1953 when I got the package. It was a small, four-inch square box wrapped in brown paper. It had no return address so I didn't know where it came from or who sent it. I used my pocket knife to cut the string that secured it. Inside the box was something wrapped in a white handkerchief, with what looked to be bloodstains on the edge. I was in shock when I unwrapped the cloth. It was a woman's finger, the ring finger to be exact. A wedding band was still attached. It had a well manicured, half-inch nail that was painted red. I tore the box apart looking for any kind of note or letter but there was none.
Frantically, my mind started reeling. Whose finger was this? Who sent it to me? And why? What did it mean? Numerous questions filled my mind. No matter how much I thought about it, I couldn't come up with any answer. I thought about going to the police, but what could I say? How could I give them answers that I don't have myself? I was going to have to figure this out on my own.
I ran upstairs to a window facing the front of my house, slowly raised a slat on the venetian blinds and tried spotting anybody watching my home, watching me. There was no one.
For the next few days I watched everyone's eyes and their expresssions. Everywhere I went, I searched for any hint of a clue as to where this mysterious finger came from. No one at work gave me a second look and all the women had all thier fingers intact. Weeks went by, then months. I hadn't received another package or anything. No phone calls, no knocks at my door, absolutely nothing.
Sixty-seven years later, I still don't know the reasoning for any of it. But on that day, when I received the package, my life had clearly changed forever. I never once had to pick my own nose again.
Mysterious package writing prompt entry
It was Saturday, May 14th of 1953 when I got the package. It was a small, four-inch square box wrapped in brown paper. It had no return address so I didn't know where it came from or who sent it. I used my pocket knife to cut the string that secured it. Inside the box was something wrapped in a white handkerchief, with what looked to be bloodstains on the edge. I was in shock when I unwrapped the cloth. It was a woman's finger, the ring finger to be exact. A wedding band was still attached. It had a well manicured, half-inch nail that was painted red. I tore the box apart looking for any kind of note or letter but there was none.
Frantically, my mind started reeling. Whose finger was this? Who sent it to me? And why? What did it mean? Numerous questions filled my mind. No matter how much I thought about it, I couldn't come up with any answer. I thought about going to the police, but what could I say? How could I give them answers that I don't have myself? I was going to have to figure this out on my own.
I ran upstairs to a window facing the front of my house, slowly raised a slat on the venetian blinds and tried spotting anybody watching my home, watching me. There was no one.
For the next few days I watched everyone's eyes and their expresssions. Everywhere I went, I searched for any hint of a clue as to where this mysterious finger came from. No one at work gave me a second look and all the women had all thier fingers intact. Weeks went by, then months. I hadn't received another package or anything. No phone calls, no knocks at my door, absolutely nothing.
Sixty-seven years later, I still don't know the reasoning for any of it. But on that day, when I received the package, my life had clearly changed forever. I never once had to pick my own nose again.
|
Writing Prompt a package arrives in the mail with no return address, just your name and address. the contents chang your life forever. |
You need to login or register to write reviews. It's quick! We only ask four questions to new members.
© Copyright 2024. DragonSkulls All rights reserved.
DragonSkulls has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
