Deep Waters (Christian Short Stories)

The mysterious post truck (fiction)

It was raining heavily and the wind blew strongly yet here you were in the middle of the street delivering the daily mail on your fifty-year-old motorcycle. You were shivering, wet and cold.

The raincoat you had put on was not helping you at all. Of all the days it had to rain, it had to be today, the day when you had the most mail to deliver. You sighed heavily as you were delivering the mail to the tenth house today.

'Ten down, fifty houses more to go,' you thought to yourself.

You got on your motorcycle and put the key into the ignition but when you turned it, it wouldn't't start. You groaned, frustrated with the fact that your bike had decided to stop working in the middle of the storm. You wanted to cry, the neighborhood where you're at was miles away from the nearest town.

You tried to start your motorcycle again but it gave out an ugly sound and you knew that it had broken down for good. You sat on your motorcycle in the rain, not knowing what to do when suddenly a post truck came into view. That was weird, you thought you were the only postman that was assigned to these parts.

Despite what was going on in your brain, you quickly raised your thumb in front of you, indicating for the truck to stop. Thankfully it did, you quickly got off your bike and knocked on the window of the driver's seat. It rolled down to reveal a postman in his late twenties.

You asked him for help in driving you to the nearest town to get a mechanic. He asked you what had happened and you told him of your problem with the mail and your motorcycle. He then offered to be your chauffeur while you deliver the mail. You told him that you weren't comfortable with leaving your motorcycle behind and so he phoned the tow truck to come pick it up.

You were a bit skeptical about trusting strangers but something about this guy seemed...trustworthy and so after transferring all the mail from your bike to his truck, you got in and you both were on your way to deliver the mail.

In between deliveries, you had gotten to know that his name was Michael and that he had finished delivering the mail and was on his way to headquarters when he had met you. You learned that he had been in rhe postal business for ten years and that he had always worked in the headquarters. That explained why you had never seen him before, you had been working for the small post office for fifteen years and you had never gone to headquarters. After hours on the road, you had begun to warm up to the guy.

After the last house, both of you were on your way to the mechanic shop. He dropped you off and you thanked him. He told you it was his pleasure helping someone in need. He then drove off and disappeared down the road.

You smiled to yourself, grateful for making such a lovely friend. The mechanic told you that your motorcycle was fixed and you could head home. You thanked the mechanic and was about to pay him for his services when he stopped you. You were surprised when he told you that Michael had already paid him for it. You made a mental note to go to headquarters to thanked Michael for his kindness.

You thanked the mechanic again and instead of going back to your small post office, you drove to headquarters instead. When you were there, you asked the receptionist for Michael. But she told you that there wasn't anybody named Michael working there. You became puzzled, and you described to her how he looked like but again she denied him working there. You slowly went out of the place and thought to yourself,

'Who was that man?'

After that day, you never saw him again and you finally came to the conclusion that Michael was a miracle. For you had recalled that his car plate number was,

"GOD 777".