Sheep happens.

Friday, October 27, 2006

The Delivery.

A man appeared on Kingston Street one winter's night. He was a fairly lanky man of about six feet tall, apparelled in a dreary ashen suit, matched with an equally cinereous pair of long pants. He wore a carroty, tattered shawl about his neck, along with a tawny hat (apparently made from some sort of animal) which entirely failed to conceal his inky hair. On his heavily scarred face was a set of eyes which glared menacingly onto the well-lit pavement, accompanied with a crooked smile which revealed a set of yellowish teeth. I could almost see holes materializing on the spot of pavement at which he was staring so viciously at. What was most unsettling was that he was holding something in his arms, and it was covered with a huge piece of jet-black cloth.

I had been living there at Kingston Street ever since I could remember. Nothing bizarre had ever occured there, if my memories serve me well. The apartment had been mine since Dad and Mom got caught in a freak accident, in which they were trampled to death by the elephant in the local zoo. Curse that humongous snouted creature- my parents had to be literally scraped off the floor after the elephant was done with them. I was only ten at that time. Goodness knows what they were doing up there, sitting on top of the elephant cage. Ever since then, I led a solitary life in the enclosure of my childhood home, rarely speaking to anyone or making any acquaintances. The wounds which scarred me were too deep, leaving me a pretty much highly paranoid individual.

My mind tried to come out with some logical reasoning to explain why that man was approaching my abode, but nothing came.

The eerie sound of his footsteps over the snow reverberated through the alleyway. His shadow extended itself ominously across the length of the pavement as he trod unhurriedly down the alley. It was as if he was here to carry out some evil plan, I thought as I observed him timidly through a gap in my cerulean curtains. Was it me, or did that crooked smile on his face just grow wider? The whole scene was beginning to unsettle me. In the subtle warmth of my room, a trickle of cold sweat appeared on my brow. I instantaneously wiped it away. What was this feeling? Fear? I have never feared anything in my life. Why would I be afraid of some man walking down my alley?

The questions were left unanswered as they buzzed around in my head.

My mind was swirling, trying to find a reason for the appearance of that man. Nothing came. I had no enemies, nor had I offended anyone in recent times, and there was certainly no reason for anyone to want to hurt me.

Why? Why?

He came nearer and nearer with every passing moment, his features slowly becoming more distinct. My mind told me to run, to hide in a place where that man would not be able to find me, but my body would not budge. I was helplessly rooted to the sofa, my unwilling eyes transfixed on the man.

Before I knew it, he was knocking at my door.

I jolted up from my sofa. Should I run, or should I open the door? I could not think straight at that moment, for I felt as if I was being gripped by a metal vice.

The knocking grew more impatient with every passing second, increasing in amplitude and adding to my discomfort. I started shivering.

Get it over and done with, you useless sack of potato! My mind screamed at my stiff body.

I ran over and pulled the door wide open. A gust of chilly wind swept in through the doorway. Those horrendous-looking eyes were boring holes into me, I was about to take flight before he articulated in a peculiar, croaky voice.

"Good evening sir! Fedex delivery!" The man exclaimed as a glint of purple shone through his black suit.

Phew.