The Midnight Delivery

It was a night like any other, or so I thought as I set out on my delivery route from the pizza place where I worked. The clock ticked past midnight as I drove down dark, winding roads, the glow of the dashboard casting eerie shadows in the car. A delivery had come through—an order for four large pies, destined for a remote address deep in the heart of the forest.

As I navigated the familiar dirt roads, my mind wandered to the promise of a bigger tip from what I assumed was a party gathering. But as the minutes turned into what felt like hours, the sense of unease began to settle in. The building at the given address loomed before me—an old, dilapidated structure nestled amidst the trees, its windows dark and foreboding.

I hesitated for a moment, my hand hovering over the door handle as doubts gnawed at the edges of my mind. But the thought of facing my boss's wrath for returning with undelivered pizzas spurred me on, and with a resigned sigh, I stepped out into the cold night air.

There was no doorbell, no welcoming light to guide me—just the oppressive silence of the forest and the rustling of leaves in the wind. I knocked on the door, my knuckles rapping against weathered wood, but there was no response, only the echo of my own heartbeat in the stillness.

A sense of disappointment washed over me as I realized the futility of my efforts. I had been foolish to expect anything but emptiness from this desolate place. But just as I turned to leave, a faint sound reached my ears—a soft, almost imperceptible rustling from within the building.

Heart pounding, I knocked again, louder this time, and called out that I was the pizza delivery guy. For a moment, there was nothing but silence, and then I saw her—a figure at the window, her eyes wide and unblinking, fixed on me with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine.

I stumbled backward, the pizzas slipping from my grasp as I fumbled for the safety of my car. With trembling hands, I fumbled for my keys, the engine sputtering to life on the third try. But as I pulled away from the building, a sharp scraping sound filled the air, the car lurching to a halt as if dragged back by invisible hands.

Panic surged through me as I realized the truth—my tires had been slashed, all four of them, rendering the car immobile. With nowhere to run, I locked the doors and dialed 911, my voice trembling as I recounted the events to the operator on the other end of the line.

As I waited for help to arrive, a sense of dread settled over me like a suffocating blanket. I was trapped, alone in the darkness with only my fear for company. And then I saw her—the woman from the window, her eyes boring into mine with a chilling intensity.

Without hesitation, I flung open the door and fled into the forest, heedless of the branches that clawed at my skin as I ran. I stumbled and fell, the ground rushing up to meet me as I gasped for breath, my lungs burning with exertion.

But even as I cowered behind a fallen log, the echo of her gaze lingered in my mind, a silent promise of untold horrors yet to come. And as the distant wail of sirens pierced the night, I knew that my ordeal was far from over.

The arrival of the police brought a fleeting sense of relief, but as they combed the area for clues, the truth began to dawn on me—a truth too terrifying to comprehend. The couple who had orchestrated this nightmare remained at large, their twisted game far from over.

With a heavy heart, I quit my job at the pizza place, the memory of that night a specter haunting my every waking moment. And though I tried to move on, to bury the memory of those wide, unblinking eyes, I knew that they would haunt me forever, a reminder of the darkness that lurks just beyond the edge of our perception.