Killer Mail nosleep

Pulling into the driveway, Paul slowed to a silent stop and turned off his car as he proceeded inside. It was his lunch break and he was starving after the first half of the eight-hour shift he had that day. Stepping out of the car in his black suit and tie, he grabbed his jacket and bowler hat before walking to the front door. His shoes squeaked with each step across the asphalt as his tie swayed back and forth; his outfit was barely a week old.

Sliding the key into the lock on his front door, he could hear his dog barking on the other side. As he pushed through the door, he greeted his two-year old German shepherd, and then placed his briefcase down. Hanging his jacket on a hook, and hat on top of it, he made his way over to the refrigerator. Contemplating what to eat, he eventually chose to settle for a basic spaghetti pasta lunch.

He was not someone who typically ate left-overs for a meal, but today he was in a rush. His heartbeat was accelerating as he sat and thought about the events of that week. He had received some news that he was to be in contact with a certain client before the end of the week. He was not sure who the person was as they had opted to remain anonymous. Although he did not know what to expect, he was both curious and cautious as to how he would be contacted and what the message would be regarding. In the modern day of technology, there were countless methods that someone could use to contact him and so he had been consistently checking his email and phone for the past couple of days.

The microwave beeped as he was brought back into the moment, and realized that only a mere ninety seconds had passed. His dog barked, perhaps because it thought that the beep was the doorbell or just because it wanted food. Either way, Paul retrieved his plate of food and went over to sit down at the table.

He managed to finish his meal, but only because he was so nervous about his mysterious contact. With small pieces of tomatoes scattered around his plate, he rinsed it off in the sink and then placed it in the dishwasher. With his email’s Inbox empty, and no pending notifications on his phone, he became increasingly flustered at the fact that nobody had contacted him.
He made progress towards the door as he brushed his hand across the top of his dog. Grabbing his bowler hat and jacket he placed the jacket on his shoulder and the hat on his head. Grabbing his briefcase, he slid the deadbolt to the left and turned the door handle, taking a step outside. Not looking back, he made way towards his car, seeing his reflection in the black color which matched his suit. Turning the key to start the ignition, he shifted the car into reverse and slowly rolled back down the driveway. As he rolled backwards, the moments of his life slowly counted down.

Before backing out into the road, his eye caught sight of the mailbox that he had managed to overlook in his search for any form of communication. Braking heavily, he opened the door and stepped over to the mailbox, he opened the door and, to his amazement, there sat a small cardboard box. He slid the box out, and noticed that there was no return address. The moments that followed were quick and harsh. In the end, there was an explosion, a flaming black sedan-sized car, and numerous pieces of spaghetti littered in the road.

Submitted February 06, 2016 at 10:29PM by lfc220 http://ift.tt/1RddunX nosleep