Fiction logo

The Package from the People in the Yellow House

From Nowhere Close yet Somewhere Far

By Lawrence McCaskillPublished 3 years ago 7 min read
Like
The Package from the People in the Yellow House
Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

Boom Boom Boom, a loud banging on my apartment door interrupting my sleep. I could just ignore them since who it could be and I need to get to bed; my family will be in early in the morning for the holiday. Boom boom boom, the impatient stranger bangs again, this time more frantically. I throw on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt and walk over to the door. As usual I peek through the peephole and don’t see anyone standing there.

“It must be next door,” I say to myself and walk back to bed.

BOOM BOOM BOOM, not even five steps later the stranger returns with slow consecutive bangs that nearly made my heart fly out of my chest. I sneak to the door and look through the peephole again but see no one. People in their thirties with kids live on this floor; I can’t see a grown man or woman playing an aggressive game of ding dong ditch in an apartment building.

Just as a precaution I grab my grandfather’s old .45, I hate this thing but someone could be waiting for me out of view of the peephole. I let the door open slowly with a creek and peer outside aiming around the right corner trying my best not to expose too much of myself through the doorway, in a split second I snapped around the opposite corner and came face to face with an older woman who looked like she had just seen a ghost.

“Mrs. Grayson,” I quickly switched the safety on and tucked the weapon beneath my waistband, “I’m so sorry I thought you were banging on my door.”

“Me?” Mrs. Grayson let the color return to her face, “I thought your family had arrived early.”

“No ma’am, they’re not supposed to be in for another eight hours along with a two hour drive from the airport.”

“Ah, I see. Then maybe you have a secret admirer.”

“Mrs. Grayson,” I couldn’t help but laugh, “I barely have time for sleep, much less dating. What would give you such an idea?”

She gave me a worried look. “Shawn, didn’t you notice the brown paper box right at your doorway?”

I nearly broke my neck turning around to look at the mysterious package I must have stepped over. I reached down and picked it up, the package was indeed a brown paper box but it felt too light to be holding anything important. Who would’ve sent this?

“Then who would’ve sent it?” Mrs. Grayson asked.

“I was wondering the same thing myself.” I looked around and couldn’t find a return address anywhere on the box.

“There’s just a note on here saying, ‘from the people in the yellow house.”

“What could that mean? There isn’t a yellow house anywhere near here.”

“My parents lived in a yellow house but that was years ago, back when I moved here to go to college. We never met the people who bought the house, Dad’s agent dealt with them.”

“That’s quite curious. Well I should be heading back to bed before my husband wakes up, he’s not the most pleasant person to be around when you’ve interrupted his sleep.”

“Alrighty then, have a good night Mrs. Grayson.”

“You too, and I thought I told you to call me Penelope.”

“Sorry, my parents raised me right, force of habit.”

“And of course I can’t fault you for that, goodnight.”

After she walked away, I took the package back into my apartment and studied it closely. I wanted to open it, but every time I grabbed the seam I would get an abysmal feeling in the pit of my stomach; as if it was saying, “don’t you dare open this, you WILL regret it.”

I set it on the kitchen counter and just looked at it. 7:23 AM, the clock on my microwave read; more questions than answers or ideas where to start. I turned the light off and sat on my bed tossing ideas through my mind, googling "mysterious package" and before I knew it my alarm was blaring and my phone rang. "Mother of Mine" appeared on the screen and I had to collect myself before I answered.

"Hey sweetie," Mom sounded tired but excited as she loved flying. "We're outside your apartment right now."

"Ok, I'll be down in a moment Mom."

"Ok take your time I heard you had a rough night."

I froze for a moment. I hadn't said anything to her about last night yet.

"How did you know that?"

"One of your neighbors told us, an older gentleman with black hair and gray on the sides. He was still wearing his mask so I guess he hasn't been vaccinated yet."

I met all of my neighbors, none of them fit that description. I look at the brown paper box again and get the same feeling I got last night. Don’t open it, never open it. I push the thought to the back of my head.

“Shawn, is everything okay?”

“Yeah Mom,” I cleared my throat, “I was just trying to remember who you were talking about.”

“Okay, well don’t break your brain on it. We’ll be down here when you’re ready.”

“Okay, see you guys in a few.”

I was already pretty much dressed, food and everything had been prepped the night before, and my apartment was clean for a young man in his early 20’s. I closed the door, ran downstairs, and awaiting me was my family. Unfortunately, at least for me, I got caught in a group hug.

“Guys,” I struggled, “being squeezed, can’t breathe.”

They let go and I was breathing like I had gotten saved from being drowned.

“Jeez,” my sister said sarcastically, “fresh off the plane and he already wants nothing to do with us.”

“You’re right,” I retorted, “I just came to pay the rent and head back upstairs. Who are you people again?” That earned me a punch in the shoulder from Janette and a few laughs from our parents. It’s insane how much you don’t realize you’ve missed someone until you see them again. We went back up to my apartment and, before I could even get a word out, the inspection began. Everybody disbursed in separate directions and passed their judgements along.

“Damn son,” from Dad, “not bad at your age.”

“Shawn,” from Mom, “you actually cleaned the kitchen?”

The sound of a toilet flushing caught my attention and I saw my sister coming out of the bathroom but she froze.

“I washed my hands,” she said, holding her two wet hands up,” I just couldn’t find the towels.”

I put my face in my hand, “kitchen counter.” She bolted off. After a series of comments I decided to run to my room to check my phone and everyone was quiet all of a sudden. Shit, I thought, I must have left the .45 out. I made a b-line for the kitchen to see everyone staring at the counter.

“Sweetheart,” Mom said cautiously, “how long has this been sitting here?”

The box.

“It came in last night. No return address or anything on it, just a note.”

“From the people in the yellow house?” Dad asked.

“Yeah, how do you know-”

“I thought we dealt with them.”

“Maybe they sent it to Shawn by mistake.”

“Wait a second,” Janette interrupted, “what are you guys talking about?”

“It was before you were born Jan, we used to live in a yellow house. The people we sold it to were sketchy. I thought it was just them being friendly after the first package but they kept coming. Every one was a brown paper bag with a note saying, ‘from the people in the yellow house’ “

“What was in them,” I asked.

“Inside the boxes was-”

As if on cue, the power went out, interrupting our conversation.

“Don’t move guys,” I reassured my family, “the generators should be kicking on any-”

The lights blared back to life but something was wrong.

“Why are you guys looking at me like that.”

“It’s not you they’re looking at,” a deep voice said from behind me.

I turned around slowly and there stood a man wearing a brown trench coat with black hair greying on the sides, wearing a blue surgical mask.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“One of the people from the yellow house,” the man replied, “and you, Mr. Johnson nearly broke one of our rules.”

“And what rule was that?” Dad asked carefully.

“You don’t remember? Never reveal the contents of the brown paper box to anyone.”

Tension filled the air and no one made a move to break it.

“Relax everyone, I’m merely a messenger but consider this a warning. If you tell anyone about this interaction or that box, we will know. Happy holidays everyone.”

The power went out again but when it came back on the man was gone.

Short Story
Like

About the Creator

Lawrence McCaskill

A pen-less author. I typically enjoy writing fictional stories that aim to the highest reaches of their genre's. As of now I'm a published author on Amazon's Kindle Direct Publishing and hoping to expand my ability to write books.

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.