Be Careful What You Wish For

The delivery of the package took place seven days ago. I was on vacation for the first five days. But as it waited on the front porch, I looked in on it every day using the security camera. Day one started with a quick glance at the security camera on my front porch while I hurriedly skimmed through the several messages that flooded into my inbox after connecting to Wi-Fi at Heathrow. I assumed that, as has happened countless times previously, I had placed an order and forgotten about it. With only a passing worry that it might be stolen while I was away, I went about my day and settled into my hotel. I didn't anticipate receiving any parcels, and I didn't know anyone in my I didn't ask anyone to pick up my mail for me because I was in a new area.

Regular-sized mail is dropped into my new home through a postal slot, where it is collected in a lovely wicker basket that I bought on my most recent Target run. The mail slot was a major selling element for me because I travel a lot for work. I valued the freedom it gave me to let the mail pile up inside without alerting others that I wasn't home. Prior to my recent move, no one had lived in my house for a long, so I was hoping that the parcel, which was conspicuously displayed on my front doormat, wouldn't draw any attention and that my neighbours would pass by and ignore the house as usual. It was a dilapidated home that was listed as city-owned historical site. I was able to buy it without needing to set aside money for upgrades because the previous owners had renovated it to modern specifications. I was smitten. It belonged to me, and me alone.

I slept in on day two, which was wonderful. I hadn't had an opportunity in a very long time to truly sleep in. My sleep was greatly improved by the thick blankets and blackout curtains, and I didn't open one eye until almost noon to check the time. I grabbed my phone, began looking through my alerts, and made the decision to check to see if the item was still there. It was. In order to see who delivered it, I slightly rewind the video.

If UPS or the mailman had delivered it, I could very simply trace it back to its source if I so desired. But neither of those was it. In order to make sure my eyes weren't playing tricks on me, I had to go back and watch it several times.

Of all things, a drone had dropped it off.

I decided to check my account to see whether I had any unfulfilled orders because I had heard that Amazon was looking into these kinds of deliveries. Perhaps my address was used as part of a delivery pilot test to see if drones could be relied upon to deliver to any location. I couldn't recall placing any orders, although it has happened before that I have done so after a difficult or long day at work. No, every order on my list has already been received. Something else, this. After a restful night's sleep, I made the decision to enjoy my day and not think about it again. I was in London, it was bright, and I had reservations for a high tea at the Ritz after a VIP behind-the-scenes tour of the British Museum.I was going to do everything I wanted because it was my vacation. My previous journey to London had not been on my terms, but this trip would erase that memory and give me a new beginning in my life.

A third day I didn't check on the parcel until after the West End matinee performance of Les Miserables. The idea of the box came to mind once more when I was sipping a pint at the neighborhood bar where I was staying. Although it had some leaves on the top from an overnight windstorm, the package was still there when I checked the live feed. I observed that the top didn't appear to have any writing or an address label. I tried to get a close-up look at the package, but it appeared to be blank. A simple brown box. The address might have been at the bottom. That would seem strange, yet. I couldn't comprehend why the drone would feel the need to lay it down with the label on top since it had been delivered by a drone. I pondered whether the package was a present while I placed my order for a second pint. Perhaps a strange new neighbor sent a drone-delivered welcome present. I hope it didn't come off as unfriendly not to bring it in. They would have assumed I wasn't home by that point, which made me a little uneasy.

It couldn't have been a present from someone I knew. I hadn't yet given anyone my address. I was not prepared to be located.

Fourth day Early in the morning, a nightmare jolted me awake. I had been having dreams about enormous drones dropping enormous boxes filled with various terrifying creatures onto people's doorsteps while pursuing me through the streets of London. Even in my sleep, this drone delivery of a mysterious item was having such an impact on me that I laughed. When I checked again with my phone, I discovered that the gift was still there, anxiously awaiting my return. I curled up once again in my thick blanket and slept late before spending my final full day in London seeing all the sights and seeing a performance at Shakespeare's Globe.

Week five Before boarding, I used my time at the airport to study any local drone delivery projects or ongoing research. I was glued to my live feed for a very long time. A stray cat crossed the porch and briefly sat close to the mail box before the mailman scared it away. He deposited the mail into the slot as usual and went straight past the parcel. I questioned his opinion of the box. He wondered if it was strange to find a box in the middle of a doorway without an address. Most likely not.

I wasn't able to check once more till I touched down on day six's morning. I was so excited to see this box. I pondered what it might appear like in reality as I was traveling to my new address in the back of an Uber. My mind was racing with speculations about what it might contain. Was the person who left packages with millions of dollars on arbitrary doorsteps a compassionate philanthropist? I began planning out what I would do with millions of money in my new life. I could get a brand-new automobile. Or I could pay it forward and settle the debt of unrelated strangers. But should I report it if it contained a box of millions of dollars? the cops about it? Maybe I could delete the video from my security camera to completely erase any evidence of the package delivery. Maybe if I did that, I could keep it hidden from prying eyes and only use cash to make purchases. That wouldn't work, obviously. The drone must have been flown by someone. Someone was aware that a parcel had been left there. Perhaps it didn't contain much cash. What then could it be, though?

When I got home, the gift was waiting for me. It had cat prints all over it and was resting on the doorway covered in leaves and a thin layer of dust. I picked up my bag after setting it down to look for the address tag on the bottom. None. It didn't feel like a bunch of dollars because it was hefty and sturdy. I unlocked the door and set the item on the entryway table before returning outside to get my bags. I shut and locked the door after placing my bags inside and turned on the lights. Even though I was virtually shaking with excitement, I made the decision to put my luggage in its place and return to the package later.

I returned to the package in the entryway and brought it into the dining room, setting it on the table after using the restroom, beginning a load of washing, and putting my luggage away. I got up and poured myself a lovely glass of wine since I felt that opening it would call for some sort of ceremony. I still haven't been able to get myself to open it though. I chose to pour the mail out on the table next to the package instead of walking over to the mail slot and lifting up the basket full of mail. I took my time going through my junk mail, opening the bills and other critical stuff that was buried in the pile, and categorizing it. I opened what required opening threw the used paper in the kitchen's recycle bin. I felt very exhausted after finishing the glass of wine. I so went upstairs to take a nap but ended up sleeping all night.

Seven days have passed since the product was delivered. Today I took a very long shower before I even allowed myself to open the package. I then prepared some hot coffee and a bagel after getting ready, and I'm currently seated at my dining room table all set to open my package.

I'm concerned that I'm making a mountain out of a molehill as I start to rip the paper. What if I've inflated myself only to find it to be nothing more than a giant furniture catalogue? I swiftly open the box's lid and remove the brown paper.

A finely carved wooden box, the same dark brown color as a sheet cake made of chocolate, is located inside. It is roughly three inches thick and joins the top and bottom with a lovely brass lock. The carvings aren't particularly impressive, but they appear to be quite old. The hardwood has been expertly decorated with roses, ivy, cherubs, hearts, and other Baroque-style elements. The wood has a deep, musty aroma that suggests that it has only lately been exposed to fresh air after being kept covered for a while. My heart starts to beat quickly as I remove the box's top clasp from its base. I pause before opening the box.

The secret is to sit on a purple velvet pillow. The key is a skeleton key made of solid iron, just like the ones offered for sale in the Tower of London gift shop. The card simply says, "Welcome home," and is attached to the key with an extremely tattered ribbon in the style of an Alice in Wonderland label.

I get a chill down my spine. I had absolutely no idea this would happen. This is much scarier. Welcome back home, My logical mind returns to my initial hypothesis due to the unsettling atmosphere of the scenario, and I wonder whether one of my strange neighbors is pulling a trick on me.

I walk up to the enormous picture window and take a peek out, travelling the length of my street. I selected this street because of its lovely antique charm and the canopy of mature trees that they had created over the pavement. Each home is immaculately maintained and obviously cherished as a piece of the city's history. Other than the fact that it was built in 1915, this house had no history when I bought it. According to what I've been told, there are no local myths. In the crisp early fall, the only activity on my street is the swaying of the trees as their leaves change from green to yellow to orange to red.

Since moving in, I had only sometimes observed a neighbor walking their dogs while ostensibly ignoring my presence. On my first night, smoke may have been seen pouring from the chimney, but there hadn't been enough time to leave a lasting impression.

I return to the table and get the key, my plate, and coffee mug before returning to the kitchen. I put the key down, wash my plate, and add more coffee to my mug. I then take the key back up and begin pacing the house in search of a keyhole.