Special Delivery- Short Story

Special Delivery

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"Good evening, and welcome to channel one news. I am Mariska Benson and I sure do hope everyone is having a good night. Which, unfortunately, cannot be said for the Amaro family. As Mr. Danny Amaro's body was discovered earlier today by a pass-byer, strolling along...".

Mr. Amaro, from a couple of blocks down?

Ah yes, I knew him. A very polite middle-aged man he was.

His body was found...

"...the father of three and husband to Sarah Amaro has been missing a total of two days, only to be found dead in a ditch under the Wildermount bridge. Police and investigators are on the hunt for whoever is behind this unfortunate event, and rest assured, justice will be served..."

So, an investigation?

Hm, let's hope they find the person capable of such a devilish act before more innocent lives are lost in this small town of ours.

It is a shame to think that at any moment, your life can be snatched away by another human being. A person. An equal.

Makes you wary of the people around you, dun'it?

That's a scary thought.

Does a life mean anything anymore?

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--

Midnight fell, and I still lay awake in bed. Unable to get a shut eye.

It was the Mr. Amaro case. Everything about it seemed...off. For the life of me, I could not wrap my head around the reason for his murder.

A middle-aged, suburban man. A father and a husband.

Who on earth could have it in for him? Jon, from accounting because he mistakenly left the sugar open for the third time? Absurd.

Although, it could be that perhaps he was involved in some sort of shadey happenings...

Ah, but I doubt that. Nothing about him stood out as a cause for worry.

Nope, not a thing.

Oh, but I do remember his smile, mhm. He had the most beautiful smile and it stood out for sure. So genuine and bright. And he wore it proudly, yes. Never seen him without it. Not a day in my life of knowing him.

Now, I'll never see it again. No one ever will.

--
--

I glance over to the clock situated on my night-stand.

6:00 a.m

Exactly nine hours I've been awake. Not once was I able to drift off into a brief sleep. No, not even once.

Guess it's time to get up then...

I sluggishly make my way downstairs to the kitchen, exhaustion evident in my every step.

Its been a while since I've been up this early.

I was fired from my job just a couple of weeks ago. Maybe, say...around a month, month and a half.

Said they couldn't work with me no more. Said I was costing 'em.
Whatever that means.

"Shoot. Out of milk."

All that's left in this old fridge of mine is some left over take-out, and chunks of meat deep down in my freezer.

I always buy in bulk so I only have to go out a few times a month. I hardly ever want to leave the safety of my own home nowadays. I mean, look at what happened to Mr. Amaro. Who's to say he wasn't on his way to the grocery store when...

"Whatever, I'll make a round at the store later."

My eyes, without force from me, browse across my living room, and land on the television set.

I suppose with having nothing to do at this time in the morning, TV is the only option.

I tread over to the setti and drop my bottom into the plush surface. Hmm, better than my bed I always say.

I switch from channel to channel. Every station mentioning something about Mr. Danny Amaro.

"Our condolences go-", next. "Justice will be ser-", next. "Prayers from-", urgh, next.

Click, click, click

"The story behind how he was mur-", next.

Wait

Back

"The story behind how Mr. Amaro was murdered, is what specialist describe as seventeen stab wounds to the chest and apparently chunks of his body is missing-"

Hm

"Apparently the weapon used to deliver those seventeen, horrific stab wounds is a 12 inch dagger, cut and crafted by the very finest of craftsman down in East India.

"Well it seems our murderer had expensive taste and no humanity."

"So true Jon. Let's all just hope the police can solve this very particular case before it's too late."

Well, at least they have something. I hope it's enough.

But nevermind that. It's been exactly two days since I sent in my package for cleaning. Still nothing has shown up.

This, this is what my life has come to. Waiting on packages like a lowlife without a job.

Oh wait.

I start my way back to the kitchen, trying to forget about all the television had to offer for the morning, and probably the rest of the day.

Pacing up and down, opening and closing the freezer door. Breathe in, breathe out. Sigh.

Sigh again.

Ding dong

What was that?

Oh...

I hesitantly make my way over to the front door. My left eyes goes shut as my right eye peeks through the peephole to see who it could be.

Looks like a delivery ma-

My package!

"Good morning, delivery for Ms, Rollins?"

"That's me, thanks."

"Have a good one."

"I will now."

Shutting the door, I practically fly over to the counter, excited to see what I had already seen before. Excited to see what I knew I sent in.

"Ah, look at you."

I reach into the bottom of the box to hold her once again.

My 12 inch, steel pressed dagger, cut and crafted by the finest of craftsman from East India.

This dagger and the chunks of meat, his flesh, I have stored in my freezer...is all I'll ever need.