I tried to throw it away.
I tried to throw the box away, I knew there was nothing good in it. I tossed it in the recycling bin and then pushed it to the curb, then I sat by my bedroom window and watched for the garbage truck. All I had to do was wait.
It was so easy. Too easy, I should have realized.
Eventually, the garbage truck arrived, right on schedule too. I watched as the garbage men meticulously dumped the contents of the recycle bin into their truck for what felt like an eternity. When they drove off, I finally breathed a sigh a relief. It was over, almost, I would still have to do the same with the box that I had buried yesterday, the one with me in it. But for now, I was safe, I could finally return to my normal life and forget this ever happened.
Then I heard a knock at my door.
No.
No one outside, package on the doorstep.
My mind immediately went into panic mode, everything turned into a blur as I stomped on the damn box on my porch until my foot hurt and it was nothing but a crumpled piece of junk. I even threw it in my fireplace just to be safe.
There was a knock at my door. My heart sank.
This time the box had writing on it, big black letters, written in sharpie.
DON'T
At least this mystery person didn't forget the apostrophe.
…
Fine, fucking fine.
I relented, albeit apprehensively, there was clearly no point in fighting… whatever this was supposed to be. I figured I would get whatever my stalker wanted me to take out of the box and then I would turn it in to the police for evidence. I should've just gone to the police to begin with, but given what happened later, I doubt it would've made much of a difference.
Anyway, I tore off the masking tape, opened the lids, you know the drill. Inside was…
A phone.
Thank Christ, at least this isn't like the last one.
Anyway yeah, there was a phone in the box, a flip phone to be more specific, like the ones from the early 2000s. Some sort of drop phone, I initially thought, like on those crime shows on TV. Maybe this person wanted to get in contact with me?
I turned the phone on, immediately the phone buzzed, there was a pop-up notification indicating that I had received a text.
I opened the text, it was a photo of the local burger place I like to eat at. That's it, just the restaurant, it seemed to be fairly packed at the moment. I could see people enjoying their food through the windows of the establishment, none of them paying any mind to the photographer taking a picture of them outside.
At first, I thought my stalker wanted to meet up with me there, but I wasn't going anywhere unless I knew who I was talking to first.
I replied to the photo with a simple, "Who are you?"
No response.
Figures, I thought. I took a closer look at the picture, it seemed to be normal, but there was something off about it, I couldn't quite place my finger on it.
That's when I saw it, a figure in the reflection of one of the windows. It was a person wearing some kind of dark robe, and maybe a hood too. The figure was hard to make out, especially given that the photo had a black and white filter over it for some reason.
That's when I received another image, in color this time.
It was the local supermarket, again, nothing out of the ordinary at first glance. But this time I knew what to look for.
I found it fairly quickly this time, the robed figure was peeking out from behind a support beam inside the store. None of the other people in the photograph seemed to notice its presence, even those who were practically right next to it as they passed its hiding place.
I also had a better view of it this time around, the figure seemed to be wearing some kind of white mask over its face. Again, it was hard to make out, given how far it was from the camera. However, judging by the height of the people around it, I could, at the very least, estimate that it was taller than me by at least a few inches.
I closed the photo and sent the stranger another text, "Why are you sending me these?"
It replied with another photo, sepia tone.
I recoiled and damn near threw up when I saw what it sent me, the figure was practically right next to the camera now, the background of the photo showing what looked to be the highway I took to work every morning. From this view I could clearly see that what I originally thought was a mask was actually some kind of rotting dog skull, with two marble white eyes in its sockets, and that what I thought was a black hood was actually the thing's hair and ears.
"This isn't funny, are you the one sending me the packages?" I hit send.
Yet another photo in response, it was of the park that was about a block from my house. The photo was color again and the figure was still in the foreground but to the side of the image. Oddly, it had its arm stretched out toward the camera, almost like it was taking a selfie.
I didn't even have time to reply before it sent me yet another photo, this time of my street, color. The figure was, again, in the foreground, in the center of the shot.
It was getting closer.
"Fuck off, asshole. You know this counts as stalking right?" I sent. (I know it's stupid to think something like that would scare them off, but I would've said anything at that point if it meant I was left alone.)
Another photo, a wide shot of my house, black and white again. The figure was sitting on the curb next to the recycling bin, casting an aside glance at it.
I shuddered, "Please just leave me alone," I texted.
Another photo, my doorstep, I didn't even bother looking for the figure in the image this time, I just ran to the front door and flung it open, ready to beat the everloving crap out of whatever was on the other side.
Nothing.
There was a buzz in my pocket, another photo…
It was of me from behind, looking out the front door. The figure was casually leaning over my shoulder, apparently trying to see what I was looking at as well.
I spun around, there was no one behind me.
The phone buzzed again; I didn't look at it.
I ran.
I ran out the door and to my car and I drove and drove until I ran out of gas, then I filled up my tank and kept driving, all without looking back, I must have been 60 miles from my house by the time I decided to stop and take a rest at a hotel. The hotel was sleazy, and the mattress was a little hard, but good lord was I tired.
I didn't know what to do at that point, how the hell would I explain this to the police? They'd probably think I was a psychopath no matter how I spun it.
Would I ever see my home again? Did I even want to see my home again? Probably not, but where would I live from now on? I briefly considered couch surfing, then I remembered you need friends to couch surf.
Eventually, I decided to think about the answers to those questions in the morning, at that point I just wanted to go to sleep and never wake up again.
Sadly, I woke up a few hours later. But I wasn't on the firm hotel mattress, I was on my mattress, in my room, in my house, the same one I had left 60 miles behind me last night.
I was, understandably, freaked the hell out. Already I was making all sorts of rationalizations in my head, I even began to trying to trick myself into believing that the entirety of yesterday had been some kind of fucked up dream...
Then I noticed the writing on my bedroom wall.
I screamed, both in fear and frustration.
The word DON'T was written on the wall in large, black letters.
Inspired by SCP-1471