Hey everyone! Wow, three years. I didn’t even notice it was almost my Cake Day until fairly late last night. In truth, I’ve had this account for three years but didn’t really use it for much up until a little over a month ago when I started talking to you fine folk. I’m so thankful for the chance to be a part of this community and to read everyone’s experiences. It’s really dragged me out of a dark place to know I’m not alone.
You’ve all been kind to me and I can’t thank you everyone enough for the kind words they’ve offered me on my Cake Day. That being said I do have just one small request. When I woke up this morning and went to check the mail I found a small unmarked box on my porch. When I looked up the street I could see the mail truck a block away, heading towards my house. On the box was etched “Happy Cake Day AuthorJoJo.”
The words were literally scratched into the box, the only way I was really able to read it was by dragging a marker over it. Like how you would put a piece of paper on a tree and run a crayon across it to reveal the grooves in middle-school. I thought it was odd but kind none-the-less and it fit the theme of boards I typically visit. When I peeled back the poorly applied clear tape to reveal it’s contents I have to admit I was a little disappointed.
On the box’s interior were hard pressed lines of black like a madman had taken a piece of charcoal and went to town on it. I dismissed this initially although I did wonder why whoever had done it didn’t use the writing utensil they had to write the message instead of scratching the box. As I finished inspecting the box I heard a small thunk at my front door, I figured it was the mailman. Getting to my porch I saw another box but this time the mail truck was nowhere to be seen. Bewildered I bent over and picked the new box up.
The new box had scratches running all over the exterior and while I did trace every face of it, there were no messages to be found. I quickly shook the box and hear a small pittering inside like there were pebbles inside. And there were. Three small gray rocks resting inside the box surrounded by a whole lot of nothing. This box was devoid of interior scribbling. After this box, I became a little concerned but there was nothing to really go off of. So instead of taking any drastic measures I headed back upstairs and began my morning routine.
When I turned off the water from my shower I could hear a distant knocking, as I stood in silence I came to the realization that it was my front door. Quickly getting dressed I ran down to the front door hoping to confront whoever it was but on arrival, I was met with another box. This one was different, it actually had red wrapping paper with a white polka-dot pattern and a tidy white bow. Lifting it up I read the small paper attached to the bow that stated: “From your closest fan.”
I, of course, thought ‘closest’ was an odd word to use but thought it might have been a friend or family member. The box certainly seemed more legit than the other two I had received so I placed it on the kitchen counter. There was something of a foul smell eeping from this box, when I looked at the bottom of it I could see the paper was damp and warping. Perhaps something broke so foolishly I hurried to unwrap the present.
When the folds of the box split open I observed thick and dark lines scratched into the box’s interior, a collection of small gray rocks and the unmoving body of a crow. It’s dark brown eyes stared up at me as a silky red liquid poured from under its beak. I don’t want to be too aggressive here but I did have to alert the authorities after the contents of the third box. They took all three boxes and told me they’d follow up with me. Also for the next 24 hours, they will have patrol cars sweeping by my house to make sure there’s no suspicious activity.
After talking to the police I began to let my nerves calm again and started to go about my day once more. I figured I’dI’d sit down and write but when I heard a knock my chest tightened up but I thought it might just be the police. Heading to my front door I looked through the peep-hole only to find a barren porch. My heart nearly broke my ribs when I heard the knock again and that I was coming from behind me, from my basement door. Turning to face the door I saw a large present sitting in front of the door. It was a huge box, the type that fridges are delivered in and it was wrapped with the same paper that was on the other box.
I stood frozen as I wondered what was inside the box and who was on the other end of the basement door. When I saw the box move, just a little bit like the contents inside had just started to settle I turned right back around and headed ran out of my front door. The hairs on my arms could pierce through diamond as I heard a soft moaning come from the box right before I swung my front door shut. And I’m sorry but I called the cops, I was already halfway to the motel I plan to stay the night in as I talked to the officer.
Once again they told me they would check my place out and that I was right to vacate the area as if anyone would stick around. I’m still in the hotel and the last thing I heard from the police is that they checked my home out but found nothing. Like before they would continue to check the surrounding area but that I should stay in the hotel for the night just to be safe. I don’t think staying here is enough though.
Since I’ve gotten here every so often there’s a thud coming from the hotel room’s front door, not like someone is knocking, it’s the sound of cardboard swiftly meeting the thin door. I haven’t gotten up to check and I refuse to but I know there’s a small pile of boxes outside the door, I can see their faint shadow on my drawn curtains. Whoever is sending me the boxes is clearly a fan of mine so I wanted to make my plea here. I appreciate the thought but please, I don’t want any more presents.