There are some jobs in the world that are crucial to never mess up. Some jobs, if done wrong, could leave with the end results being disturbing, sometimes even deadly. But sometimes it's all too common for a mistake to be made, to the point where it's almost expected. Take my mail for example. I live in a duplex, sharing the building with someone I've ended up becoming good friends with, James.
James and I have the same address, only his is apartment A, while mine is B. And it's more common than you might believe for the mail carrier to get us mixed up. We're used to it at this point though. We will typically let each other know if we got their mail.
There was one day, however, when a common mistake became one of the biggest I'd ever faced in my life.
I woke up to a knock at the door. I got out of bed, slipped on my shoes, and opened the front door. There laying on the porch was a package. I picked it up, confused. "I didn't order anything." I thought aloud.
I stepped inside with the package to give it a lookover before tearing it open. The box was clearly made of cardboard, but it looked old. The cardboard felt very thin, some spots were faded, other spots were slightly darker and warped, as if having some kind of water damage.
I sat the package down on my kitchen counter and ripped the tape off. I peered inside and stared in shock. Inside the package was a steak knife with an old looking wooden handle. The blade was covered almost completely with a red substance. Realizing the red substance was also on the white cloth beneath the knife, I could only assume it was blood. I picked up the knife and rolled it around in my hand.
At that moment, I felt truly paranoid. What if someone came and looked through the window and saw me holding a knife?
I dropped the knife back into the package and quickly resealed it. I had no idea who had sent it to me, nor why they would. I know I order thing online from time to time, but never something like this. Then a darker thought creeped into my mind, what if this was a murder weapon?
Just then I heard a knock at the door. Was it the mail carrier coming back to get the package from me, saying he delivered it to the wrong house? Or perhaps it was the police someone had called on me after looking through my window and seeing me wielding a blood soaked knife?
I made my way to the door and opened it slowly. The person standing on the other side was none other than my neighbor James.
"Hey buddy, did you happen to get my package by mistake?" Oh, so it was his?
I nodded.
"You didn't open it up, did you?" he asked. There was no way I could say yes. What if I didn't know him as well as I thought? What if he planned to use this knife to kill me?
"No, I'd never open someone else's package," I replied. "Hold on, I'll get it for you."
I stepped back to the kitchen and grabbed the package. As I did, I felt what I could only assume was a notch at the bottom of the box. Was that there before? I didn't care, I only wanted it gone.
I made my way back to the door with the box and handed it to him.
"What's in the box anyway?" I asked, seeing whether or not he'd lie about it.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he replied.
"Try me," I said.
"Okay. Well, in this box, there holds a cursed object. A knife. It's said that whoever wields the knife, it can never leave their hand. Even if you think you dropped it or gave it to someone, the knife would return to the person's hand. The only way to end the curse is to remove the hand the knife returns to."
"Why would you ever want something like that?" I asked.
"Because it's going to be my new thing now, to collect supposedly cursed items." he said.
"Just don't curse me with anything," I joked.
"Wouldn't dream of it," he said. "You have a good day." He walked back over to his side of the duplex and I shut the door.
I couldn't help but laugh. There's no way that the knife was cursed. It does explain all the blood, they had to remove someone's hand with it. I continued to laugh until I looked down at my hand and felt the notch that was under the box still imprinted in my hand. The knife was still in my hand.
James and I have the same address, only his is apartment A, while mine is B. And it's more common than you might believe for the mail carrier to get us mixed up. We're used to it at this point though. We will typically let each other know if we got their mail.
There was one day, however, when a common mistake became one of the biggest I'd ever faced in my life.
I woke up to a knock at the door. I got out of bed, slipped on my shoes, and opened the front door. There laying on the porch was a package. I picked it up, confused. "I didn't order anything." I thought aloud.
I stepped inside with the package to give it a lookover before tearing it open. The box was clearly made of cardboard, but it looked old. The cardboard felt very thin, some spots were faded, other spots were slightly darker and warped, as if having some kind of water damage.
I sat the package down on my kitchen counter and ripped the tape off. I peered inside and stared in shock. Inside the package was a steak knife with an old looking wooden handle. The blade was covered almost completely with a red substance. Realizing the red substance was also on the white cloth beneath the knife, I could only assume it was blood. I picked up the knife and rolled it around in my hand.
At that moment, I felt truly paranoid. What if someone came and looked through the window and saw me holding a knife?
I dropped the knife back into the package and quickly resealed it. I had no idea who had sent it to me, nor why they would. I know I order thing online from time to time, but never something like this. Then a darker thought creeped into my mind, what if this was a murder weapon?
Just then I heard a knock at the door. Was it the mail carrier coming back to get the package from me, saying he delivered it to the wrong house? Or perhaps it was the police someone had called on me after looking through my window and seeing me wielding a blood soaked knife?
I made my way to the door and opened it slowly. The person standing on the other side was none other than my neighbor James.
"Hey buddy, did you happen to get my package by mistake?" Oh, so it was his?
I nodded.
"You didn't open it up, did you?" he asked. There was no way I could say yes. What if I didn't know him as well as I thought? What if he planned to use this knife to kill me?
"No, I'd never open someone else's package," I replied. "Hold on, I'll get it for you."
I stepped back to the kitchen and grabbed the package. As I did, I felt what I could only assume was a notch at the bottom of the box. Was that there before? I didn't care, I only wanted it gone.
I made my way back to the door with the box and handed it to him.
"What's in the box anyway?" I asked, seeing whether or not he'd lie about it.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he replied.
"Try me," I said.
"Okay. Well, in this box, there holds a cursed object. A knife. It's said that whoever wields the knife, it can never leave their hand. Even if you think you dropped it or gave it to someone, the knife would return to the person's hand. The only way to end the curse is to remove the hand the knife returns to."
"Why would you ever want something like that?" I asked.
"Because it's going to be my new thing now, to collect supposedly cursed items." he said.
"Just don't curse me with anything," I joked.
"Wouldn't dream of it," he said. "You have a good day." He walked back over to his side of the duplex and I shut the door.
I couldn't help but laugh. There's no way that the knife was cursed. It does explain all the blood, they had to remove someone's hand with it. I continued to laugh until I looked down at my hand and felt the notch that was under the box still imprinted in my hand. The knife was still in my hand.
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