My Short Stories

Pelican Express

Soaring through the air, the wind rushes through our hair as we fly. We were all delivering packages throughout the city of Topanga. Topanga is a run down and very sketchy city, with its only clean and wealthy area surrounded by walls set in the middle of the city. My other coworkers had deliveries for this pseudo-capital, while I had a package for just outside the walls. It was a fairly large box. It shook every few seconds and it wasn't from the flight. One could only imagine its contents. 

I looked down, watching as the city zoomed under me. The box shook again, almost falling off. I tried peering into the holes in the box, but I couldn't see. It was pitch black inside. Once the box was settled, I said my goodbyes and dove downs into the city. My pelican navigated through windy roads and I clutched the box tightly to my chest. Suddenly, my pelican stopped in front of an old shack. It's paint was peeling, the windows were covered, and there was a repulsive smell exuding from somewhere inside. I slid to the ground, box in hand, and made my way to the door.

 Hesitantly, I knocked on the door. The door creaked open, providing a view inside. It was even worse than the outside. The wallpaper was missing in the corners and was rose printed. The floor was a thin layer of rotting wood planks that absolutely shrieked as they were stepped on. The old man standing in front of me towered over like a hawk seeking a mouse. He didn't speak, but rather gestured me inside. I set the box on the ground and stood up to a trail of smoke leading outside. The man left through the back door and came back with something burning on the plate he held out for me. I politely declined, wishing he would just pay and let me leave. At my decline, he shrugged and dropped the plate, letting it shatter. Walking over to the crate, he pried the lid open with his bare hands. Little chirps cam up from the box and he smiled down at them. He grabbed some loose change from the table next to the door and shoved it into my hands. He then took the box of ducklings out back. I left as quickly as I could. Once I got back into the air, I could see more smoke coming up from the house. Upon closer inspection, I could see he was crouched devilishly over the box. It was on fire. I could faintly hear little chirps floating through the air. I hurried my pelican away and left without questioning it.

 I really need a new job.