Delivery | Microfiction

Delivery truck illustration - "Delivery" microfiction

“Just through here, mate,” I say, gesturing to the bedroom. “Good job I live in a bungalow – you’d have had a hard time getting it upstairs.”

The delivery guy nods as he wheels the bulky package down the corridor. “Aye, my back’s done in. I had to get a washing machine up to a third floor flat this morning. No lift, either. Would have been no problem for me ten years ago but my age is catching up with me.”

I nod sympathetically and watch as he slides the package off the trolley and lays it down on the floor.

“You paid for removal of packaging, didn’t you?”

“I did, yeah. Cheers mate.”

He retrieves a box cutter from his pocket and gets to work slicing at plastic strapping and parcel tape.

“I’ve got a friend who’s a chiropractor,” I say. “He would do wonders for your back. He’s down on Main Street.”

“Yeah? I’ll bear that in mind. Is he the one with the skeleton in the window? I thought that was a Halloween shop when it first opened.”

“I’ve told him that the skeleton’s bad for business but he insists it stays. He calls it Kel. Kel Skeleton.”

The delivery guy chuckles, but as he opens up the cardboard box and removes a layer of polystyrene, his face falls. He frowns as he inspects the glossy chestnut surface of my brand new coffin.

“Uh… sorry for your loss, pal,” he says quietly.

Now I’m the one to chuckle. “No, don’t be daft! It’s a happy coffin delivery, honestly. This is my new bed.”

I flash him a smile and offer him a glimpse of my fangs. He drops his box cutter and starts to back away.

Perfect. I like my fresh blood with a hint of fear.

Stories That Sing

I write one new story each week inspired by a random song from my Spotify library. This week it was Nail In My Coffin by The Kills.

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