The Package

The package a box was wrapped in stained brown paper, it had been placed on the park bench. It was torn, and hastily tied with string, old and odd looking.The girl sitting on the bench felt inclined to look inside, had someone left their lunch package just sitting there and walked away. It seemed slightly too big for a lunch box. Maybe a tied up bundle of books waiting to be read full of mysteries, there was a small red mark expanding on the lower right corner, the girl was intrigued warily surveying the park.

The park was empty and early and the girl was lost in her own demon thoughts, was today the day she would finally leave walk away, The bench was beneath some trees , there were crows resting above. Judging her.

She looked down at her ripped fishnets at the pointed black heels she was wearing, her chipped black nails, her disguise to feel more empowered in this weird world. She pulled her worn leather biker jacket around her. It was her armour and had been with her a long time it could tell many stories.

The package seemed to move, was it the wind, was there a rat inside. Many times she had encountered rats jumping out of garbage cans, it was a New York right of passage. She really hoped she was not about to be attacked by a rat.

Just take a look inside her brain said ..

No it is dangerous, her other brain said..

She looked around. It was a peaceful autumn day and she had been sitting for a while looking at this package. She was meant to be at work soon.

She worked as a dominatrix and her world was hard, dark, often dangerous and cruel. It was a world she wanted to escape from, at first she had felt powerful in her role, lately things had shifted and it no longer felt safe.crime had increased and girls were disappearing.

A man walked by, he with long grey hair and a beard. He nodded at her and looked at the package.

Please do not look in the package old man her brain said.

“Its mine” it screamed inside.

She now felt a connection to the package, it felt comforting like a friend sitting on the bench with her.

She looked again and the bearded man was gone , lost in the trees. Perhaps taken by the crows who seemed to be getting agitated.

She felt tired and wanted to sleep

Work, work, work ..

She remembered her session at the dungeon from last night had been disturbing. She did not want to go to work, Her outfit she had worn, black leather dress and 8 heels her mistress disguise did not feel powerful any longer.

The bag moved.What was she doing?

Frozen not wanting to leave the safety of the bench and the unknown package.

The role playing session was for an older man , religious she knew and he had talked about some alarming things he had done and he wanted to be punished for them. A proper “English caning” is what he had requested, but the Mistress was feeling anger toward him, it worried her that she may cross the line.

The girl sat so still on the park bench her eyes closed. Was this her session from last night or was she dreaming it, had she relapsed and was she in a drug induced trance.

A fly landed on the package and crawled along the brown twine that had tied it closed, “no it’s mine” she heard herself say out loud..

“It’s mine “ she yelled at the fly, The fly did not care and kept investigating the brown paper package.

She knew she was not going to work,should she find a payphone and call in sick , should she just not show up, would anyone care, would she be missed.

She looked again at the package. Its top was folded over twice, like the wrapping of a gift, maybe a present for someone. Maybe it was a bundle of newspapers, old news she thought. Or a package of discarded clothing on the way to a charity shop. The girl felt discarded sitting alone on the bench. Everything that holds any importance in her world would fit in that small package.

She looked at the ants crawling around the bench where they were heading towards the package, decaying food perhaps.

“Things you find in a brown paper package?” sounded like a clue in a crossword puzzle. The girl liked the guessing game it felt safe and passed the time.

Maybe it was a night's take from a local restaurant and had been dropped by mistake. Or a treasure so rare, or rusty jewels or a forgotten box of love letters.

A woman with dyed blond hair in a bouffant updo from another era was walking her dog, lit a cigarette and glanced over with disapproval. She looked tired and angry but had put her face on to walk the dog. Her mouth crimson red, looked upside down and pinched.

The girl tried to smile , the woman kept walking as the dog pulled towards the brown paper bag ..

I bet it’s food in the package, the girl thought.

“It’s mine” again she tried to mouth the words, imagining her face scowling at the dog, he whimpered and was pulled away.

Just take a look her brain said again

But then the game would end and she would have to get up and walk away. To face another day. To go to work and back to the reality of her life. How long could she sit looking at the package.

The blond woman had looked at the girl like she was a homeless junkie, probably assuming her works were in the package, or her belongings like she had just been released from prison. To soon to judge.

A crow landed on the bench, she did not want it to go near the package ,but she was too tired to shoo it away, or even yell.

It’s mine it’s mine

The crow pulled at the string , pecking at the paper it started to tear. Another crow appeared and together they started to attack the package.

“Go away, it's mine”, she tried to yell at the crows that were multiplying and attacking the package, but she could not move, it did not untie easily. Eventually the paper was ripped and the girl was convinced there was food inside or a dead animal. The crows were frantic and the paper was shredded.

The red stain had seemed to get bigger.

What if it is dead animal , that would be so gross, someone’s dead cat. Opening this package could shape the rest of her day. but still she sat. Leave it for the crows just walk away.

Maybe it's money ,stolen , lost..

She started to stare angrily at the string

It’s mine, it’s mine.

The paper gone a brown box with a lid was revealed

The lid fell off as the crows aggressively flapped there wings.the girl felt herself screaming. But no sound came out.

She looked down at the box inside a bloody head, the eyes glazed staring back at her , “it’s mine” she said.

As the head in the box was hers and she was gone. Her headless body slumped on the bench. Frozen for hours in death.

A newspaper lying nearby unraveling in the wind , the headline read “the box killer strikes again”