This choice: The mysterious package is delivered • Go Back... A free afternoon, no classes, or at least none that he couldn't blow off, and no homework, at least none he intended to do, found Rick sprawled on the sofa in the dorm room, a Mountain Dew in one hand and an open bag of chips in the other. He had just eaten a handful of chips when someone knocked at the door. He got off the couch, brushed a few crumbs out of his chest hair, and walked to the door.
"Delivery for Zack Smith," a man in a postal uniform announced, holding a small package in his right hand, a clipboard in the other.
"Oh, right," Rick said. "He's expecting that."
"You're not Zack?"
"I room here with him," Rick said.
"I guess you can sign for it then," the man said and handed Rick the clipboard and nodded to the pen attached.
Rick scrawled a signature on the form held in place by the clipboard, and the man handed over the small cardboard box.
"Have a good day," the man said.
Rick grunted and closed the door. He wandered back toward the couch, box in hand. Before seating himself, he held the box to his ear and gave it a gentle shake. Nothing rattled.
"Wonder what the hell Zack's getting this time?"
Inside the box, a tiny man only a fourth of an inch tall, tried to crawl deeper into a handkerchief field's many crumpled folds to prevent himself from being ping-ponged around the box by a neck-jolting, vigorous shake.
"Fuck!" Bryan Smith screamed in terror.
He had spent the last 23 hours regretting his impulsive action. From the time that his teenaged neighbor had arrived and picked up the package for mailing, the tiny man had been subject to the harrowing and bruising movements that he would never have noticed at normal size.
He was hungry and thirsty. Constant motion had scattered his supplies in the warehouse-sized box, and he had been too scared to venture out to search for them. Worst of all, he had lost the precious glass vial that contained the antidote. Otherwise, he would certainly have used it to get back to normal. He wasn't worried. He could always find it when he finally arrived in his nephew's hands. Until then, he tried to ignore the nausea resulting from another flurry of shocking, unpredictable motion.
"Well, it's not a car," Rick said, staring at the small box. "Not a pair of sneakers."
He continued to run through the list of cool gifts Zack's uncle and benefactor had sent to him. "Lucky bastard," Rick said, working himself into an envious state. "All I ever get is a damn birthday check from Uncle Ray for ten lousy bucks or new socks and underwear from mom."
He knew it was wrong, but he wanted to discover what waited for Zack inside the box. Nothing else at hand, he tore at the tape with the sharp edge of the pop tab from his can of Mountain Dew. When he shredded the tape sufficiently, he pulled back the flaps on the small box.
Bryan Smith was sure he would throw up if he had to endure much more shaking. Then, he heard a raspy, grating noise and with an extremely loud roar, the flaps of the box were drawn back and he looked up to see an enormous face staring down at him.
Not Zack's face, as it so happened.
Rick plucked the handkerchief out of the box. He then looked through the box. The only contents he saw consisted of a few crumbs and tiny scraps of cloth. "The fuck?"
He had entirely missed the tiny speck that plummeted from the handkerchief as he lifted it from the box. "Makes no sense," he said, scratching his head at discovering Zack's surprise was nothing. Literally, nothing; the damn box was empty.
"Fuck! He'll blame me." Rick leaped off the sofa, box still in hand, and went to his desk. He took several long pieces of tape and reassembled the package. It looked a little battered, but he figured that Zack would dismiss that as normal wear and tear from the shipping process.
He then put the package on the counter in their kitchenette. Next to the bowl for keys and phones, Zack would see that his "surprise" had arrived as soon as he returned from class.
Resuming his sprawled, carefree position on the sofa, he reached for his Mountain Dew and chips.
  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
| Members who added to this interactive story also contributed to these: |
<<-- Previous · Outline  · Recent Additions © Copyright 2024 Small1 (UN: small1 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Speck has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work within this interactive story. Poster accepts all responsibility, legal and otherwise, for the content uploaded, submitted to and posted on Writing.Com. |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author