Mystery box

Awakened by the persistent sound of the doorbell, he walks up to the door. Rubbing his groggy eyes, he fiddles with the latch. After a few attempts, the door clicks open and he finds a carton box, laid down by the doormat. Puzzled, he steps out to look if anyone is there; he turns either side only to find the dim lit corridor completely empty. Anxious, he picks up the parcel; ‘No name, address or number.’ Wondering that it might be another prank by the boys in the apartment, he picks up the parcel and takes it inside.

He drops the box on his study table, and walks to his messy bed. His eyes scream for sleep and he feels the gravity of the bed pulling him towards it. He strains his eyes to see the old Quartz alarm clock on the table; its hands show the time as four in the morning. Having worked till late the night before, he succumbs to the tiredness of his body and goes back to sleep. Though his eyes droop immediately, his mind struggles to shut down. Turning about restlessly, he tries to catch a glimpse of the parcel by the table. He feels it calling out to him, like a siren at the sea.

His body reluctant, his mind forces him to sit up straight. Reaching out to the table, he drags the parcel across, and finds it surprisingly light. Sitting cross-legged, slightly shivering due to both the cold and anxiety that has now overcome him, he lifts up the parcel. He tries shaking it; the room remains as silent. Not able to contain his curiosity anymore, he rips open the brown duct tape covering the cardboard parcel. The tape protests a bit, sticks to his fingers, but eventually comes off. He lifts the flaps of the box, and peers inside.

Dark space stares back at him. He lets his hands in, quite cautiously to feel the inside. He traces the neatly folded corners, the downward flaps and the jagged edges of the cardboard. As he moves around, he finds a strangely folded piece of paper at one of the corners. He picks up the paper, unfolds it to find something written in scribbled handwriting. He isn’t able to read out the few blurry lines on the paper. He gropes around the table and finds his spectacles lying inside the book that he was working on, the previous night. He peers through his rim framed glasses, and tries reading it; however, the writing appears the same. In fact, there aren’t any words at all. ‘Dot, dot, dash, dot, dot…..’ a series of dots and dashes continue. When was the last time he had seen something like this? It seemed eerily similar to the recent science fiction movie he had watched.

Immediately recognizing that the message is written in Morse code, he quickly opens up his laptop to search for the translation. His curses his slow wifi, as he waits for the website to load. International Morse code Translator, it reads at the corner. Carefully, he types down the sequence of dots and dashes and clicks submit, impatiently staring at the rotating symbol, waiting for the translated message. “I have finally come for you. Let’s meet.” The immensity of the words throws him off for a couple of minutes before he comes back to reality. On the back of the paper he notices some ruled lines and the name of a school. It must be a prank, he thinks. Remember Mr. Prakash’s son, who is a science geek? The boys in the apartment must’ve gotten his help this time. They’re surely getting more creative by the day. Frustrated by the disturbed sleep from the night, he vows to teach a lesson to the pranksters once and for all the next day.

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This short story was written in December 2019 for a college creative writing assignment titled "Spring Tides."