Going Postal

Gregory had turned twenty-nine three days ago. Not a single birthday card was received; no mail at all, actually. Each day, he would watch the mailman go by. The mailman was a creepy fellow. Enormously tall and skinny, he was. Wearing a blue uniform, only his hands and face were visible. His skin was wrinkled and yellow like piss in snow. There was something peculiar about his eyes. Peculiar? More like wicked, as Gregory concluded when he stared at the mailman from his window. His dog, Bason, began barking wildly at the mailman. The mailman jumped, startled. Gregory chuckled as he turned to make himself coffee. Bason yelped, then went silent. Gregory turned back to the window. There the mailman was, kneeling over the dog, stabbing at it continuously with a steak knife.

Gregory dropped his coffee and ran to his phone. Just three minutes later, a police car showed up. The officer took Gregory to the police station, which was just two blocks away. It seemed they captured the mailman already. Gregory identified him through a one way mirror. The mailman, splattered with dog’s blood, was sitting at a table surrounded by four officers. It seemed the mailman was wanted for more than just a dog murder.

The men in the interrogation room opened the door and let the mailman walk free. Gregory was furious. He went to the lobby, following the mailman and the officers escorting him. “Again, we’re sorry for your inconvenience sir,” one of the officers said to the mailman calmly.

“This is outrageous!” Gregory exclaimed, then kicked a small trash can on the ground. Everyone present stared at him. The station went quiet as a library at midnight. “This is the man I saw kill my dog! He’s covered in blood, what evidence do you need? This man is a nutcase!”

The mailman walked away, everyone else went about their business. Gregory realized everyone, most surprisingly the police officers, looked similar to the mailman. Women and men alike had had wrinkled skin the color of piss in snow. Each and of them looking through wicked eyes, just like his. Gregory was terrified, but wouldn’t stay quiet.

“The mailman must have hypnotized all of you,” Gregory said. “That’s it. He made you all his mindless servants.”

“Sir,” a wrinkled officer interrupted. “Please leave. Otherwise, we’ll have to place you under arrest.”

Gregory was still frightened, but managed to make quiet. He merely nodded and left. The following days were hectic. His friends, his mother and father, even his girlfriend wore wrinkled skin the color of piss snow. They all acted so strange, praising a mysterious messenger god. It was obvious to Gregory who they were referring to.

On Monday, the mailman came, as usual. As soon as he was in sight, Gregory ran to him. The mailman stopped turned around, and stared at Gregory. “I want to be like you,” Gregory said in a whisper. “I hate being different from everyone else. It’s not right, being free, not when everyone else is a prisoner.”

The mailman nodded in agreement. “Very well.”