19 Stories - An Anthology

WEEK 7: "MAILBOX"

Boo! Did I scare you?

I'm back, definitely did NOT complete this over summer but who cares? I'm feeling inspired, so expect a few more updates soon. This week: the prompt was "I keep getting your mail so I decided to return it to you". I added a twist and made one character a spy... ooOoOoh. Comment if you like it! :D

Prompt: "I live in your old house and I keep getting your mail."

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A soft knock on the door.

I froze from my position in the study. I wasn't expecting anybody, was I?

They knocked again, more boldly this time. Who could be there? You'd think that the "No Visitors/Solicitors" sign would keep them away. I stood up and silently made my way to the front hall. No peephole in this house. The last house had one, along with a deadbolt, a cellar, and hidden bookcase. Much better suited for a spy than this suburban nightmare of a place.

I pressed my ear to the door, hoping to gain auditory insight on the person outside. They didn't make a sound.

DING.

The doorbell rang, and I jumped back. Real smooth, Andreas. I rubbed my temple, and decided to open the door, even though I knew it might compromise the mission.

It swung open, revealing a girl a bit younger than me with messy brown hair, piercing blue eyes, and paint-splattered sneakers. She wore a maroon-and-grey turtleneck sweater and ripped jeans. She didn't make a move as I opened the door.

"Hello," I said by way of greeting. I made eye contact to limit suspicion. "Is there anything you need from me?"

"No, I just came to randomly stand on your doorstep," the girl said bluntly.

"I see." I wasn't sure what to do in this situation. Was she potentially a rival? Or perhaps an ally. Letters from the agency had mysteriously stopped recently, and I was beginning to worry about what was happening at headquarters. Perhaps this girl was a messenger.

"I'm kidding. Jeez. Ever heard of sarcasm?"

"I'm familiar with the term," I muttered.

"I'm Erica," she said, crossing her arms. "Are you Matthew Collie?"

Matthew Collie was not my current name. I believe that I had this particular house under the name of Robert Goldsmith. However, if the girl knew my older alias, then she knew me. Perhaps it would have been smarter to deny the claim, but my curiosity got the better of me.

"Yes."

"Then I have something to return to you."

At this, my heart rate quickened. Was Erica possibly from the agency? Did she have news on the mission? She seemed kind of scrawny, but unassuming. Definitely agency material.

"I suppose you'd better come inside."

I opened the door wider to let the girl in. She hesitated for a moment, then steeled herself with a brave smile. The house wasn't exactly warm and friendly. It was a colonial farmhouse, but not the type that you'd see in a magazine. It was all narrow staircases, plaster walls, and soot-stained chimneys. I hadn't bothered cleaning the place up, so it was still relatively shabby.

"Come to the drawing room," I instructed her.

"The drawing room. What is this, Victorian England?" Erica snorted. If she was an agent, she wasn't as polite and dignified as the ones I'd met.

The drawing room was a hexagonal room located on the west side. The velvet curtains were drawn tightly shut, and overstuffed armchairs were pushed to the edge of the room. I pulled two out for us to sit on.