Surprise!

Day One

I often gaze out the window and imagine the sun’s warmth on my skin. I haven’t experienced sunshine in days… or has it been weeks? Months? I can’t go out there. Out into the harsh world? No. No, it isn’t for me. Or I am not for it. Either way, I stay safely behind these windowpanes.

The clock in the hallway comforts me with its methodical tick, tick, tick. It isn’t a grandfather clock or anything with a bell or chime. I don’t like loud sounds. I sometimes listen to the radio or watch TV, but I never set the volume too high.

I have a stuffed cat that I like to hold. I don’t think my nerves could handle a real cat. They tend to be moody and unpredictable. One minute, they are nuzzling you and purring. The next, they are scratching or biting you and speeding through your house. The very thought of such an unpredictable animal gives me the shakes. I don’t like surprises.

I used to be quite adventurous in my younger days. I was foolish. I laughed loudly and lived out there in the world. There were friends and parties. I even drove a car. I once ventured to fall in love. Once. I was what people referred to as “normal” even. That was before the accident. Now, I keep myself safely inside. I don’t need adventure any more than I need another hole in my head!

I don’t like thinking about the accident, but I can’t escape the memories. Days like this – sunshine, birds chirping, a gentle breeze blowing – bring that dreadful day back to my mind in raging technicolor. I was with Bruce. Ah, my Bruce. I loved him, and I’m sure he loved me. Why did we think a drive through the hills was a good idea? Maybe if I’d paid more attention to the curves of the road than I paid to Bruce’s smile and his hand on my thigh…

I woke up a couple of days later in the hospital. Bruce didn’t. He was gone forever, and he took a part of me with him. The scars that the accident left on my face are an ugly reminder each day of what I no longer have. Who I no longer am. I haven’t driven a car or really even left my home since then.

I can’t keep dwelling on this. A nice cup of tea will calm my nerves. I’ll just settle down and ignore the sunshine pouring relentlessly through my windows.

What is that sound? I hear a whirring sound right outside my front door. I open the door – only slightly – and see a… What do they call that? A drone! That’s it! There’s a drone hovering just above my stoop with a small box attached to it. How strange! The drone just drops the package with a little thud sound and whirs away.

I slam the door and slump my back against it as if the small box might contain a monster ready to devour me. For all I know, it might! What could it be? My weekly grocery delivery had already come, and it arrived in a few bags – not a small box. I didn’t order anything. Besides, I’d never received anything from a drone. I don’t like this. I absolutely do not like surprises!

I steady my breathing and turn to crack the door a bit. It’s still there. Why is it there?! I click the door closed and lock it. Then I engage the deadbolt. I stand staring at the door for a moment before hugging myself to ward off the chill that has invaded my bones.

My tea! I forgot my tea. I rush to the kitchen and grab the mug. Ouch! It’s too hot! I don’t usually burn myself with my tea mug. Could the box be to blame? Maybe it’s some sort of bad luck omen.

I’m being silly! That’s enough now. It’s just a box. A mysterious box. A surprise box. I really, really don’t like surprises.

Maybe a bath will clear my head. Yes, that is just what I need. I’ll have a nice bath and forget about the box. Can I forget about it? I have to, or I might just lose my mind. Everyone swears I’m crazy anyway!

It was about three weeks after the accident when my mother called to tell me that I was not mentally stable. She said it was unhealthy for me to stay cooped up. I needed to get back on the proverbial horse, she said. I don’t like horses either – real or proverbial.

I recently ventured out to the mailbox affixed to the side of my house. I wouldn’t have dared had I seen two neighbors walking by. The women wore cute little leggings and sweatshirts. I can’t remember their names. I heard them call me “that crazy lady” as they stared at me. I grabbed my mail and ran back in as fast as I could.

I don’t feel like that bath anymore. I feel like I might slip in the tub. I’m sort of convinced that the box is something bad. I can’t concentrate on silly things like tea and baths when evil is literally sitting on my doorstep!

I am going to sit right here by my door and wait. I have to take one more peek. I turn the deadbolt and unlock the door. Easy. Just a little crack… There it is! This box. This strange, bad box!

Wait. If it was sent to me, that means someone sent it. Who? I don’t have friends. I don’t want friends. My mother has never sent me more than a yearly birthday gift and Christmas gift, and she texts me first so that I won’t be surprised. She tells me when to expect it and exactly what it is. I do not like surprises! But it’s not my birthday or Christmas. Who just sends someone a random box by drone out of the blue?

Unless… someone is trying to hurt me! I can’t let them get to me. I am locking this door, and I will not open it for that box again! I’ll sit right here and wait. Maybe it’ll go away. Maybe someone will steal it! Yeah! I’ve heard of those “porch pirates” that always steal unattended packages. Please, pirates, please come steal this little omen of death!

It’s getting late. I didn’t realize I’d been sitting here for so long. I should sleep. But if I sleep, what will happen with the box? No. I have to stay vigilant. I can’t let the box beat me. I’m so tired, though. No. I will stay awake. I am not moving from this spot.

Day Two

I did it! I stayed awake the whole night. I’m kind of hungry now. The kitchen is all the way across the house. If I get up to get food, what will the box do? I can’t risk it. I’ll sit right here where I can hear the box. Did it move? I want to peek, but I dare not.

My brain feels itchy. I can hear that evil box laughing at me! It’s an ugly laugh, dry and coarse. Why are you taunting me?! What did I do to have you out there just waiting for me. Who sent you? Was it the devil himself?

Oh God! Did the devil send it? Is it here because I killed Bruce? Did Bruce send it? That's crazy talk. My dead boyfriend didn’t send me a box. It might be the devil, though. The devil knows I don’t like surprises. Death is pretty surprising. The box is death. I know it. I know it.

I can’t go out with my eyes closed. I will not let it just take me. I’ll stay here. When – if – that box opens, I’ll face what the devil sent me.

I’m hungry… and tired. I’m so tired.

Day Three

I’m not hungry anymore. I am thirsty, though. And so tired. I thought I heard my mother’s voice. She always berates me. She tells me that I am not healthy. I’m unstable. I’m the neighborhood crazy woman! My scars hurt. My skin feels dry. I’m so tired…

Wait. That’s not my mother. That’s you, isn’t it box? I am not listening to you. You say the ugliest things. I didn’t mean to kill Bruce. I loved him! You’re wrong! I’m not crazy. I’m not useless. I’m not a murderer.

I am useless. I can’t do anything right. I can’t stand up now. I feel weak. I’m so tired…

Day Four

Knocking on the door, the delivery man looks impatient. He holds the box in his hand. It’s obvious that no one is going to answer that door. He looks at the address on the box. He’d like to strangle the moron that programmed that drone. Sure, you might mistype the number, but a completely wrong street? That’s just ridiculous.

Tired of waiting for an answer, the man takes the little box and hops into his van. He pulls away from the curb taking the evil little package with him.

On the other side of the quiet front door, a body lay slumped against the wall.