Peculiar Packages
Brown paper packages tied up with string...
Melody logged off of her computer and headed to the elevator in her office. Being a mortgage broker these days was quite lucrative and she loved her job. She worked for a company that knew how to take care of its employees. The company was making money hand-over-fist due to the housing boom and had plenty of money to throw around.
She walked to her car and drove to a little cafe off of third street to meet a friend. This wasn’t just any friend, this was her best friend. Her name was Anna and they had been college roommates for all four years. Anna was a film major and Melody chose marketing. Melody knew if anyone would understand what she had been going through it would be Anna.
“Thanks for meeting me on such short notice,” Melody said as she took her seat in a wingback armchair near the fireplace.
“Anytime,” Anna replied, seated next to her sipping a latte. “I already got you an Americano with cream.”
“Thanks,” she smiled.
“So what’s up?”
“Something very strange has been happening. I’ve been getting packages.”
“Like Amazon?”
“No. I haven’t ordered anything but stuff keeps showing up on my doorstep.”
“What kind of stuff?” Anna asked, leaning forward in her chair.
Melody took a deep breath, “First it was a harmonica.”
“Uh... okay???” Anna laughed a little.
“The weird thing is that I used to play the harmonica as a kid. It came in a brown paper package tied shut with string and no postage so whoever it came from delivered it to my door personally.”
“That’s definitely strange. Maybe it was an accident?”
“I didn’t know what to think but then the next day another package showed up.”
“What was in it?”
“A first edition of Pride and Prejudice.”
“Wow!”
“I know! I looked it up, it’s worth like three hundred dollars! Jane Austen has always been my favorite author.”
“Did it say who it was from?”
“No and the next day another package wrapped just the same way came and you’ll never believe what was in it?”
Anna looked over at her sideways, “Girl, you better tell me.”
“Earrings. Teardrop cut sapphire and diamond earrings. They look real and they are huge.”
Anna taunted Melody now, “Someone has a secret admirer! Or... at the very least a rich stalker.”
Melody began to blush, “What do you think it means?”
“Well it’s obviously someone who knows you very well. How long has it been since you played the harmonica?”
“Not since junior high.”
“Well it’s very sweet - kind of creepy - but still, very sweet. Who do you think it is? Are you secretly crushin’ on someone that I don’t know about?” Anna looked at Melody suspiciously.
“Not anyone with money like that. I don’t even remember the last time a guy asked me for my number.”
“Hmmm. Well it’s someone rich. Someone who knows a lot about you and knows where you live,” Anna surmised, leaning back in her chair and staring dreamily at the ceiling.
“Yeah, that’s the scary thought. What if they’re dangerous?”
“It’s possible, but you would think there would have been a note or something. Is there someone you want it to be?”
Melody got a far away look in her eyes. She sipped her coffee before responding, exhaling as she replied, “I don’t know...”
“Well, think about it. I gotta go and get my kids to soccer but we’ll meet up again soon. Let me know if you get any more packages.”
They hugged goodbye and Melody drove home in a somber mood. She let her imagination get the better of her that these mysterious packages could be the beginning of a new whirlwind romance. Just then “I Knew You Were Trouble When You Walked In” by Taylor Swift came on the radio and she had to laugh. She pulled into the driveway and walked up to her stoop at number 25 Port au Prince Lane.. She saw it immediately: a 14X12 inch box wrapped in brown paper and tied shut with string. Her heart began to race. What is it this time? She thought to herself as she picked up the package and walked inside.
She laid the box on her kitchen table and opened it. Inside she found a size eight, lilac, halter-top, mermaid-cut ball gown with matching dancing shoes. This time there was a note:
“Wear this and meet me at La Chateau Blanche. Our reservation is at 7:00pm. I’ll be wearing a black tux with a fleur-de-lis pin on my lapel." -V
Melody read the note and smiled because she knew. She walked to her bathroom and tried the dress on. It couldn’t have fit better if she had bought it from a tailor herself. She took a deep breath and looked in the mirror, letting her hair down and shaking out her curls. She added the earrings to complete the ensemble. This is it, she thought to herself smiling. She put on her new shoes and walked out the front door.
About the Creator
Katherine Nesbitt
I write social commentary in the forms of novels, poetry, short stories, satire, speeches, and will be releasing a poetry audiobook.
Keep reading
More stories from Katherine Nesbitt and writers in Fiction and other communities.
Old Man Red's Barn
Edith and Rozelynne were two ordinary girls, living in the very ordinary town of Woodbury, Tennessee, where the leading cause of death among adolescents was boredom. As summer faded into a distant memory, the girls prepared to start junior high at the local middle school. They were neighbors on Hillcrest Lane, a quiet street tucked away in their sleepy little town. They loved to walk to the Five and Dime, wade in the creek, and watch movies at the cinema; the only place they were forbidden to go was Old Man Red’s barn.
By Katherine Nesbitt3 years ago in Fiction
Peanuts and Crackerjack
Bottom of the ninth inning. The game is tied with two outs, two strikes and a man on second. I tap the bat on home plate. The rigid vibrations it creates reminds my aching digits that this isn't over. The practice swing only adds to the heft of mental burnout... Man on second, willing to chance it. Pitcher eyes him but doesn't give in to the dangerous bluff. I kick up dust, readying the peculiar stance I've had since the days of little league. The bat lays stiff upon my cramping shoulder. Pain has no reason to be acknowledged; it's a fleeting afterthought. The sun sits passed high noon, but the stadium lights are on anyway. They trick my brain into believing they are the cause of this sweltering heat. Sporadic clouds are motionless, they too, don't want to miss this exhilarating predicament. Anticipating the next pitch, intensifying roars from the crowd rumble the stadium... Behind me, the crafty catcher adjusts his stance and spits to the dry dirt. Behind him, the staunch umpire doesn't flinch or even blink; he knows how important his call will be. The pitcher winds up, his grip tells me its gonna curve. The release is fierce! Beads of sweat from his hair and face disperse in every direction as the force of his might is unfailing. My left leg lifts—an instinctual move that will increase the power of my swing. It's all down to my two, bloodshot eyes. They lock onto the speeding, white dot as it instantly becomes the target I intend to destroy. The swing is late, but I manage a solid tip. The ball is taking a fast bounce toward the pitcher who is recovering from the almighty throw! Man on second leaves in a desperate rush! I fling the bat to the side with a sense of urgency and make a mad sprint to the only destination I have—first base. Three defenders race inward to be the first to retrieve the skidding ball. Man is almost on third! I watch the open glove of my adversary, wondering if I’ve done enough to win this race. I switch my attention to his eyes, looking for a clue, some kind of reaction that tells me the ball is in the air and heading his way. All I see is frustration. The deafening roar of the crowd spikes! Something happens that I can’t see! My opponent abandons his post right as my left stride touches the bag. I waste no time turning my head to see the pitcher laying on his stomach, pounding the mound with an open glove. He misses the opportunity to out me and the ball has quickly bounced past him. Excitement grows! This isn’t over yet... It's become an imperative fight to tag out the runner heading homeward. The catcher falls to his knees in obvious despair as he watches my teammate make the run of his life. He knows it’s going to be close when he sees the shortstop fumble the ball a second too long. I jump up and down with no plans on leaving first base. All my chips are on the speed and agility of the active runner. His cleats dig into the dirt, trailing a dust-filled cyclone from the rapid and strenuous strides. With a thrusting dive and an outstretched arm, he lands on his chest to begin the crucial slide to home plate. The shortstop fires the ball to the catcher! It immediately begins closing the gap! Nail-biting doesn't begin to describe the anxious vibe permeating the stadium. The bench begins to celebrate even before he reaches the plate. Forty thousand cheering fans reach maximum crescendo, filling the air with a glorious sound. Everyone knows how this story will end… My teammate is met by the entire bench as his fingers inch across home plate, instantly followed by the unmistakable motion of the catcher's glove attempting to tag him out—its milliseconds too late. The ump swings his arms outward, officially calling him safe.
By Lamar Wiggins6 days ago in Fiction
Strutting
Ace, amazing, awesome. I am the dog’s bollocks. There’s nothing wrong in admitting what’s true. Confidence is sexy anyway. Not that I need help in that department. Look at me. Ha! You can’t NOT, can you? Look at me look at me look at me! You want a little side action? A little shimmy? Wait, check this out. Watching? I said are you watching? Oh yes. Did you see? I can do it again, watch. Yeah, it’s like I vibrate everything. I mean everything. You like that? You want to find out? Where are you going? Where are you…..
By Hannah Moore4 days ago in Fiction
My To Be Read List
I have been taking some time away from writing. I haven't forgotten about Vocal, the truth is I just have been too busy pursuing other things to write online and honestly, my little family and I just had a really hard month between the flu and a weird eye infection/cold circulating our house. I'm currently sipping some warm peppermint tea because my throat is sore.
By Chloe Rose Violet 🌹7 days ago in BookClub
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.