By Caitlin O’Halloran

To the person who stole my package,

I’m sure that you were surprised to find the set of human teeth wrapped in yesterday’s newspaper. You see, the thing about other people’s mail is that you never know what you’ll stumble upon. In addition to the teeth, you’ll find that you are now the proud owner of a diary written by a man whom I hope you never have the chance to meet. A true psychopath. The kind of person who got kicked out of multiple schools for putting thumbtacks on chairs, broke up at least a dozen marriages by starting rumors of illicit affairs, and who ultimately was the cause of numerous deaths.

Your acceptance of this package constitutes a promise, a contract, if you will, that ensures your compliance. Or so help you God, I’ll tell that man where to find you. (I know you still live in your parents’ house on Main Street, the one with the peeling paint that your mother has been begging you to paint for over a year now.)

Your mission is to find the body of the person whose teeth are in this box. They’re buried somewhere inside St. Mary’s Cemetery. Don’t ask me how I know. Once you’ve exhumed the body, you must fill the coffin with every item you’ve stolen in the past three months (Yes, even the 14K gold bracelet you gave to your girlfriend as a gift for your anniversary, the one she said was “so thoughtful” because the charms included a dog and a coffee mug, and of course she, along with most human beings, loves both dogs and coffee.)

As for the body, I’m afraid you must find a new place to bury it, since there will likely not be enough room for it between all the cell phones, video games, office chairs, packages of boxer briefs, hardcover books, and that treasure trove of skincare products and perfume bottles from Sephora. Find somewhere deep in the woods and make sure to dig a deep enough hole. 

If you complete the tasks as requested, I’ll be sure to tell the man to cross you off his kill list. He fancies himself as some kind of vigilante, but it’s really an excuse to satisfy his bloodlust. All this is to say, let this be a lesson for you. You’re still young and therefore capable of change, or so some might say. And don’t even think about knocking on my door or trying to return the package. No takesies-backsies, my dear, because I’m a forgiving person, but not that forgiving.

---

Caitlin O’Halloran is a biracial Filipino-American writer living in Rochester, New York. Her poetry and fiction have been published in literary magazines including Frozen Sea, The Metaworker, Lost Balloon, Gone Lawn, and Twin Bird Review. http://www.caitlinohalloran.com