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Goodbye Jesus

A Mysterious Package

Purple Rhino

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This is from an assignment I had to do for a creative writing class I took.

The only prompt we had was: You come into possession of a mysterious package.

I tried to be overly descriptive in the 40'&50's gumshoe style.


I may tell you my grade later on in the thread LOL




It was one of those days, sleep just wouldn’t let loose my brain yet I was unable to find that magical pathway back to slumber.

Gray skies and brown snow greeted me as I stepped onto the cobblestone walk just outside my apartment into the wind tunnel

that is Charles St. It seemed that all of the damp cold air in New England had lay in wait for me that morning.


Pulling my coat tighter I made my way to the bakery for my morning coffee. As usual twenty or thirty people crowded into the tiny shop,

in various work costumes from suits to grease stained jeans, and none of them seemed to remember why they were there.

Twisting my way through the crowd I made it to the counter.


Chris, a young guy in an apron that was just too yellow and permanent smile, handed me a large paper cup and took my three dollars.


“Have a great day!” he chimed with more enthusiasm than necessary.

I mumbled an inaudible reply and turned back into the crowd to maneuver my way through to the chrome machine.


Having my wakeup juice I started back home to enjoy it with last nights paper in the quiet solitude of my studio apartment.

About halfway a city bus pulled to the curve with its telltale grumble and hiss. A small group of passengers poured onto the sidewalk and dispersed

in all directions barely looking where they were headed. I laughed to myself thinking of how similar commuters were to roaches when a light snap on.

No thoughts of what may be around them just scatter.


This thought had just evaporated and I was taking a tentative sip of hot coffee when she bumped into me. A woman dressed as if for a cocktail

party, hat and all, clutching a paper bag in her gloved hands. Catching my balance and splashing coffee onto my arm I started to curse at her

clumsiness. But before I had the chance she shoved the bag into my chest and fled onto the bus just as the doors closed.


Stunned that I had actually held onto the bag and the oddity of the situation I stood still looking after the departing bus for a second or two.

Suddenly I was concerned that someone had seen this strange transaction and felt guilty as though I were complicit in some manner.

Paranoia swiftly settling into my thought process I, all too casually, continued the short distance to my apartment. Cursing myself for not

paying more attention to people. Had I ever seen this woman before? Not that I could remember, but that didn’t mean anything unless someone were

actually involved in my ever shrinking social realm I just couldn’t be bothered.

Strangers were an inconvenience that had to be tolerated but never indulged.


Once inside I set the bag and my half-empty coffee cup down, onto the table/desk/TV stand that was cluttered with remnants of fast food

containers, beer cans and unopened mail. No markings or logos were on the bag to give any clues as to where it had come from or what might be

inside. Using the time honored technique of two finger lifting I raised the bag up to gauge its weight. Bobbing it a couple of times I concluded that it was about

a pound or two. Shaking it from side to side yielded little results as well.


“Just open the damn thing!” I chided myself, “You think it’s a bomb or a snake? Be serious, it probably is nothing more than some yuppie tofu

lunch that she thought better about and wanted to get rid of.”


No one was better at reasoning with me than me. I had been that way since childhood. Maybe because I never lied to myself by trying to sugar

coat things like others always tried to do. Parents, teachers, and other adults who try and convince you that something they want you to do is

actually ‘good for you’ or ‘fun’. When in reality as a kid it sucked and you find out too late that you were conned.


Money, it could be money or even jewels, maybe? No that’s just stupid! Why would some woman, anyone, just toss a bag of jewels or cash at

you and disappear? Reminding myself, that no one could bullshit me better either.


“Ok here goes.”


Carefully unrolling the top the crinkling of the paper echoed in my ears along with my heartbeat. Using both hands I carefully separated the final

fold and opened the bag. As if looking down a wishing well, squint-eyed I peer inside the bag.


A book, the anticlimax hit me like a bucket of water. It wasn’t even a secret diary or leather bound journal with mystical symbols embossed on

the cover. Just an ordinary paperback that, judging by the creases and worn edges, had been well read. Taking it from the bag to inspect it

further ‘Tomorrows Past’ by S. S. Ghoura titled the book in teal on a frosted white cover. Turning it over I was surprised to find nothing on the

back. No accolades were proclaiming the value of this book for society or even mention of the author.


“Ok enough fantasies of intrigue and espionage for today.” I proclaimed placing the book on top of a pile of mail. I grabbed my keys and headed

out to the bakery for another cup of coffee.

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