A Strange Package

Jerome Sanderson had a problem with his mail service. Every few days a white mail truck would come barreling down Maudlin Avenue and screech to a stop outside his weather-beaten house. The mailman would then unceremoniously toss his packages all over the front lawn and speed away. It was an infuriating routine but after six successive complaints and two threats of legal action nothing had ever been done. So Jerome grit his teeth and bided his time until he could move into a new place, hopefully one with a better package delivery service.

It was the first week of August and outside the rain was coming down in buckets. Lightening flashed and thunder echoed across the night sky. Inside the house Jerome’s 17-year-old Border collie Samuel was whimpering in fear on the couch. Jerome sat next to him with a pain pill wrapped in a slice of cheddar cheese.

Sam was an old boy now, and hip dysplasia was only one among the numerous hurts he was experiencing. He’d have to go on that peaceful journey to Doggy Heaven soon, but Jerome still needed time to say goodbye. Sam had been there for him through so many tough times; just the thought of parting ways broke his heart to pieces.

“Come on Sammy Boy,” he said, gently caressing the silky black ears. “You eat up. Nothing to be scared of. It’s just a little rain, buddy.” Samuel whimpered but took the snack willingly enough. “That’s right, you’ll fall asleep and feel better in the morning.”

Jerome waited for his dog to start snoring before he got up and stretched. He headed for the kitchen to rustle up some dinner when the lights flickered and went out. “Damn!” he said quietly, not wanting to disturb his pet. He stood by the kitchen window and peered out into the street. There, in the middle of the road was a mail truck. What’s he doing out there so late? Jerome wondered. His stove clock read 9:30 pm.

Jerome couldn’t make out any logo on the white paneling but he watched as the driver, a very short person in a coat so long it looked like the robes of a monk, got out in the downpour. They took up a good-sized package and pitched it straight into a puddle on the leaky porch of the house across the street.

That house, number 333 Maudlin Avenue, had been vacant for as long as Jerome had lived there. A bright yellow “Condemned” sign was taped to the front door, and more “No Trespassing” signs were taped to the boarded windows and garage door. The unkempt grass was nearly as tall as Jerome’s waist and stalks of goldenrod towered over the mailman like full grown trees. Anyone could tell the house was abandoned and the package most assuredly did not belong there.

“Oh man, that had better not be for me,” Jerome said, beginning to get angry. He pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and pointed it at the scene across the street, zooming his camera all the way in. Was it just him, or was the little delivery person waiting on something? They made no motion to re-enter the truck; only stood still and faced the house for a spell.

Jerome waited too. He didn’t see the point in going out to confront the driver. He knew it would do no good. But he needed proof of the incident or he, or whoever that package was for, would be out the money to replace it. It wasn’t until another massive bolt of lightening lit up the sky that he snapped a quick stream of photos.

And much to his shock, while the driver appeared to be facing the derelict house there was another face; bulbous, horned and all manner of ugly; on the other side of his head. It was staring right at Jerome. The face was smiling with a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth. Short tusks like that of a warthog protruded from either side of the monstrous grin.

“What the hell?!” Jerome cried out in surprise. The figure made a little wave towards him before finally shuffling back to the truck and speeding off into the night.

Samuel whined from his place on the couch, then with some effort got down on the floor and made his way over to the front door. He started scratching to be let out. “Sorry Sammy boy,” Jerome said, bending to pat his head. “I don’t know what that was about but let’s go out and get the mail.” He threw on a raincoat and rubber boots, grabbed an umbrella and Samuel’s leash then headed out into the rain.

Twenty minutes later Jerome sat at the kitchen table sipping a cold beer with the strange package before him. It was a large, flat, rectangular box covered in now sopping wet brown paper tied with red twine. There was a red stamp in the top right corner; a winged- logo that read the letters “J.S.F.G.” Yet there was no other discernable mark on the packaging at all.

Jerome was unsure of how to proceed. The package did not have his name or address on it, but there was no return address either. He decided to open it.

Inside the package was a black wooden box. To his surprise his name was embossed on the cover. “Maybe it’s an early birthday present from Mom,” he said, stroking the rich wood with the palm of his hand. The box felt warm and it was vibrating, giving off a faint hum like a living thing.

“Just great,” he sighed. “It’s electronic and they threw it out in the rain.” He opened the cover and found a 16” tablet encased in black. Luckily, the screen was intact. Jerome pulled it from the protective case and pressed his thumb against the front power key. It lit up straight away and began playing cheerful music like that of a gameshow.

IS THIS JEROME KYLE SANDERSON? YES/NO? The screen read. Jerome tapped the “YES” key.

DID YOU VOLUNTARILY RETRIEVE THIS PACKAGE FROM 333 MAUDLIN AVENUE? YES/NO?

Jerome tapped yes again. “Weird,” he muttered. On the couch Samuel buried his face in a blanket.

WOULD YOU LIKE TO PLAY JEROME SANDERSON’S FUTURE GAME? YES/NO?

Jerome thought about it for a moment. There were books waiting for him upstairs, shows he could be binging, and games to play on his phone and computer. But the storm was still raging, and the power was still out so he’d have to wait. Lucky me he thought, tapping “YES.”

The music played again, and Jerome stared at the avatar in the top right corner. It was a pixelated version of himself, accurate to the studs he wore in his ear to the navy cable-knit sweater he had on. “Now that’s just creepy,” Jerome said with a laugh, remembering the sweater was a gift from his mother too. “She’s psychic for sure.” The screen read

CHOOSE A CATEGORY:

HOME

FINANCE

LOVE

FAMILY

TRAVEL

CAREER

HEALTH

BONUS

Jerome tapped the “LOVE” key. The graphics changed and a big brightly colored spinning wheel appeared. The wheel was sectioned into parts and each segment had the name and picture of a different woman. Jerome knew each woman personally. SPIN? YES/ NO? came the prompt. Jerome tapped YES and the wheel began to spin, slowed down and finally settled on “Kelly Jackson.”

“Not Kelly!” Jerome groaned. Jerome had dated Kelly for a month in college. He’d caught her snooping through his phone and sending hurtful text messages to all the women in his life, including his sister. Then she showed up at his door for months after they broke up. She was a nightmare, insecure and controlling. Not to mention materialistic to the extreme.

The screen went back to the main menu. Jerome tried tapping the LOVE key again, but a notice popped up. It read "ALL OUTCOMES FINAL. SELECT NEW CATEGORY". “Fine,” Jerome muttered, this time choosing FINANCE. “I’d better be rich. If I end up with Kelly I’ll need to be.”

This time the wheel bore numbers. The grand prize read $100 000 000, but some of the other numbers were in the negative. Jerome spun the wheel, crossing his fingers for a jackpot. The arrow landed on $-500 000.00. “Well, it’s a good thing this is just a game,” Jerome laughed, “I don’t have a half a million to lose.”

He played out the rest of the categories in the dark kitchen. According to the game he would be living in a small, 2-bedroom apartment with Kelly and their 3 children. The furthest he would ever travel was New Jersey, and he’d be making his living as a stable hand shoveling horse manure at the local racetrack. This was a pretty hilarious outcome considering he already had a pretty decent job as a web designer and things were going swell at work. The game also said he’d die at the age of 46 from cardiac arrest stemming from obesity, which was strange because Jerome kept himself in tip-top shape and avoided fast food like the plague.

All that was left was the BONUS category. When Jerome selected it the wheel segments each showed a picture of Samuel and a series of negative numbers. He landed on -16. “Wonder what that means,” Jerome said.

BAM.BAM.BAM. Jerome stood up, startled. The rain had stopped outside and now someone was knocking at his front door. He got up to answer it, looking through the peek hole first. It was nearly midnight. A white truck was parked on his driveway and standing on his stoop was the little mail person with their face hidden beneath the hood of their robe.

“Yes?” Jerome called through the door.

“I am here to collect the game” the voice rasped. It was a guttural voice, deep and wet. Jerome’s skin broke out in goosebumps. “The game's for me. It had my name on it.”

“You are done playing. All outcomes are final. Return the game now.”

“How did you know I was-“

“RETURN IT NOW,” the person boomed. Jerome went back to the kitchen and slid the now dead tablet back into the wooden box. He pried his door open a very little, jamming his foot behind it incase the small person tried to force their way in. He slid the box through the gap. The delivery person took it with a black-gloved hand and slipped it under their arm.

Jerome watched the figure walk away towards the truck. Before getting in they lowered the hood to reveal the monstrous face Jerome had seen earlier. “Goodnight!” the second face called in a high sing-song voice. The head swiveled around on its neck. “GOODNIGHT!” the first face called with its deep voice.

Jerome fainted on the floor.

He awoke in a pool of golden sunlight the next morning. “Man, what a dream,” he said, getting up and stretching his legs. He picked up his phone from the kitchen table. He had 103 new text messages and 55 missed calls, all from Kelly Jackson. “I thought I blocked you a long time ago,” Jerome said, frowning.

Over the next few years Jerome’s life changed drastically. He’d misfiled his taxes over the last six years and now owed the government a half a million dollars. He was fired from his dream job and he had to move out of the house to avoid late fees on rent. The only place he could get was a small, two-bedroom apartment. Before he knew it he was working as a stable hand at a racetrack in New Jersey and after a moment of weakness he proposed to Kelly Jackson who was now pregnant with their first child.

“Well. At least one good thing came from playing that stupid game,” Jerome said looking down at Samuel. The puppy barked in agreement.