He wondered if other people in town had received letters like these. If everyone in town had received letters like these.
He stared down at the mail.
Inside the envelope addressed to him, something squirmed.
He dropped all three envelopes on the ground and involuntarily jumped back. He was about to stomp on them, to kill and crush whatever was enclosed within the black paper, but he had a better idea and ran as quickly as he could back up the drive to the car. Pulling open the driver's door, he leaned across the seat and opened the glove compartment. He dug down under the flashlight, the repair receipts, theHandi -Wipes, and the AAA maps until he found what he was looking for.
A book of matches.
He ran back down the drive to where the three envelopes lay in the dirt.
Gingerly, he picked up the two marked with Tritia 's and Billy's names and placed them atop his own. He struck a match, but it blew immediately out. He tried again, cupping his hand around the timid flame, and was rewarded when the fire grew. He bent down, holding the match to the edge of the top envelope, hoping it would catch on fire.
It did, and he watched as the strange multicolored flames, now blue, now red, spread over the thick slimy paper. He had half-hoped to see what was inside once the fire had eaten away the envelope, but at the last second he looked away. Something told him it was not knowledge he wanted to have.
The envelopes burned quickly, brightly, and when the fire had done its work, there was only a small pile of smoldering ashes left. Doug kicked the pile, and blackened flakes scattered in the road, the light breeze sending the burned dust skittering across the dirt, fanning out in all directions. He watched the ashes dance into the ditch, under the brush, over the groundcover, mingling with the elements of the forest until all trace of them had disappeared.
He stood there for a moment, staring at the spot where the letters had been. Looking over at the empty open mail-box, he realized that this was the first time since the beginning of the summer that he was not afraid of it.
He was free.
The town was free.
The mailman was gone.
He breathed deeply. Lunch was waiting for him. He smelled hot dogs on the breeze. And macaroni and cheese. From the house he heard the welcome sounds of Billy's voice and Tritia 's voice and a television laugh track.
He had things to do. He had a storage shed to build. Smiling, feeling happy, feeling good, he closed the mailbox door and walked back up the drive toward home.