The sound of a plane flying overhead woke me up. I stumbled to my feet and checked the clock – 9:23. I put a pot of water on the stove to make my tea and walked out the front door to get the mail.
Looks like it rained last night. The air was humid and stuck to me like a spider web. A couple pieces of junk mail and a plain white envelope were all I found. I threw the junk mail in the can to be shredded. I opened the plain white envelope and read the simple message inside:
“When you’re needed, you’ll see the red sign”
I looked for a return address – there was none. I tried to read the postmark but the humidity and rain must have gotten to it and was unreadable. I read it again:
“When you’re needed, you’ll see the red sign”
The pot of water began to whistle so I made my tea and got on with the rest of my Saturday. I ran some errands, did some shopping and walked around the mall. In the back of my mind I kept looking for this red sign but never saw it.
I went out with some friends that night. We had dinner at a very nice restaurant. I wore a suit and tie. The warm light glowed on everyone’s faces. I still couldn’t see the red sign.
Monday night I turned into my driveway and saw the mailbox stuffed with letters, each one in a plain white envelope. Thirty-five of the 36 letters all said the same thing:
“When you’re needed, you’ll see the red sign”
The last one read: “If you look for the red sign you’ll never see it”.
This continued for the next few days. Each time I checked the mailbox there were between 5 and 40 letters with these two messages only. Each one had no return address and each one had an obscured postmark.
I tried to notice anything significant about the envelope itself or the way the letters were addressed. Each one had my address printed on them, not a label. They were safety envelopes… you know, the ones that have a busy pattern inside so you can’t read through. The stamps were self-adhesive as were the envelopes – peel and stick. No trace of DNA to be found. No finger prints to be analyzed.
As the days went by, I ended up banding the envelopes together and writing the date on which they were received on a small slip of paper, which I neatly tucked in front. After a month there were enough of them to cover my dining room table.
“Okay, I get it” I kept saying to myself that when I’m needed, I’d see a red sign. But each day the letters kept coming. I tried to search the Internet to see if anyone else was getting letters like this but never found anything of value.
I was afraid to ask my neighbors or co-workers about it because I thought they would think I’m crazy. I could show them the letters but they could say I printed and sent them myself.
It was almost getting funny: I would pull up in my driveway and see the letters sticking out of the mailbox. I’d get a bill or two, some junk mail and 10 plain white envelopes asking me to wait for a sign.
I spent hours trying to analyze and rationalize what was going on. “Who would need me?” “Where is this red sign?”, “Why should I not look for it?”. Each day a growing puzzle.
It was a Thursday. I pulled into my driveway but the mailbox was empty. I walked up to it and peered inside but there wasn’t a letter of any kind to be found. I went on with the rest of my night but now wondering why they had stopped.
The next day, Friday, I came home for lunch and the white envelopes had returned. There were so many this time that the post office had put them in a box and left them on the stoop just under my mailbox. There were 632 of them this time. Again with the same message:
“When you’re needed, you’ll see the red sign”
Of course, I saw red everywhere. There’s a bumper sticker on that stop sign… is that it? The truck in the next lane at the stoplight has a big red dot on it, is that what I’ve been waiting for? The lettering on that woman’s t-shirt is red – should I ask her what she needs me for?
I try to keep this under control but it’s wearing on me a little. After two months of this my dining room is piled high with letters – 8,621 of them are telling me that I’ll see a red sign when I’m needed and 1 of them telling me that I’ll never see the red sign if I look for it. If I don’t look for it, how am I supposed to see it?
It’s another Saturday morning. I’m awake but still lying in bed. There’s a knock on the door.
“Hold on” I shout from the bedroom “I’m coming”. I’m trying to get down the hallway and put some shorts on at the same time. They knock at the door again.
“Hold on!” I yell louder. I look out the peephole but the glass is fogged up from the humidity. I open the door to find a very attractive young lady standing there. She is wearing a short-sleeve dress that looks like a raincoat because of the thick belt around her waist. She is holding a large yellow envelope, the kind you might see in a typical office to send letters without folding the paper.
“Can I help you?” I ask. She hands me the envelope she’s holding.
“What is this?” I ask. She smiles and says, “Read it”. As I open it, she is walking away.
“Is this the red sign?”
She turns around and stops. “The what?”
“The red sign” I tell her.
“I’m sorry,” she says, “I don’t know what that is”.
“Who are you?” I shout as she gets further away.
“I’m just a messenger” she says and then disappears around the corner.
I open the large envelope out on the stoop. The morning light makes it easy to read the letters on the piece of paper. I look over at my empty mailbox, smile and shake my head in disbelief.
My next-door neighbor has wandered out his front door when he sees me standing on the stoop.
“Hey neighbor” he yells to me “have you seen my newspaper?”
“No” I tell him. As he walks over to me, he enquires about the paper and envelope I’m holding. I want to tell him about the letters I’ve been receiving but he’d never believe me.
“What does it say?” he asks me. I hold up the letter to show him. As I do, I hear a horn honk. It’s the young lady that delivered the envelope to me. She drives away in her little red car. My neighbor reads the page aloud:
“’When you’re needed, you’ll see the red sign’. What the hell does that mean?” he asks.
“I don’t know” I say to him with a smile “I don’t know”.
“Nice talkin’ to ‘ya” he says quietly as I walk back inside my house and close the door. I stood there a moment with my back to the door and I heard my neighbor exclaim:
“I found my newspaper!!”
(To be continued)
Looks like it rained last night. The air was humid and stuck to me like a spider web. A couple pieces of junk mail and a plain white envelope were all I found. I threw the junk mail in the can to be shredded. I opened the plain white envelope and read the simple message inside:
“When you’re needed, you’ll see the red sign”
I looked for a return address – there was none. I tried to read the postmark but the humidity and rain must have gotten to it and was unreadable. I read it again:
“When you’re needed, you’ll see the red sign”
The pot of water began to whistle so I made my tea and got on with the rest of my Saturday. I ran some errands, did some shopping and walked around the mall. In the back of my mind I kept looking for this red sign but never saw it.
I went out with some friends that night. We had dinner at a very nice restaurant. I wore a suit and tie. The warm light glowed on everyone’s faces. I still couldn’t see the red sign.
Monday night I turned into my driveway and saw the mailbox stuffed with letters, each one in a plain white envelope. Thirty-five of the 36 letters all said the same thing:
“When you’re needed, you’ll see the red sign”
The last one read: “If you look for the red sign you’ll never see it”.
This continued for the next few days. Each time I checked the mailbox there were between 5 and 40 letters with these two messages only. Each one had no return address and each one had an obscured postmark.
I tried to notice anything significant about the envelope itself or the way the letters were addressed. Each one had my address printed on them, not a label. They were safety envelopes… you know, the ones that have a busy pattern inside so you can’t read through. The stamps were self-adhesive as were the envelopes – peel and stick. No trace of DNA to be found. No finger prints to be analyzed.
As the days went by, I ended up banding the envelopes together and writing the date on which they were received on a small slip of paper, which I neatly tucked in front. After a month there were enough of them to cover my dining room table.
“Okay, I get it” I kept saying to myself that when I’m needed, I’d see a red sign. But each day the letters kept coming. I tried to search the Internet to see if anyone else was getting letters like this but never found anything of value.
I was afraid to ask my neighbors or co-workers about it because I thought they would think I’m crazy. I could show them the letters but they could say I printed and sent them myself.
It was almost getting funny: I would pull up in my driveway and see the letters sticking out of the mailbox. I’d get a bill or two, some junk mail and 10 plain white envelopes asking me to wait for a sign.
I spent hours trying to analyze and rationalize what was going on. “Who would need me?” “Where is this red sign?”, “Why should I not look for it?”. Each day a growing puzzle.
It was a Thursday. I pulled into my driveway but the mailbox was empty. I walked up to it and peered inside but there wasn’t a letter of any kind to be found. I went on with the rest of my night but now wondering why they had stopped.
The next day, Friday, I came home for lunch and the white envelopes had returned. There were so many this time that the post office had put them in a box and left them on the stoop just under my mailbox. There were 632 of them this time. Again with the same message:
“When you’re needed, you’ll see the red sign”
Of course, I saw red everywhere. There’s a bumper sticker on that stop sign… is that it? The truck in the next lane at the stoplight has a big red dot on it, is that what I’ve been waiting for? The lettering on that woman’s t-shirt is red – should I ask her what she needs me for?
I try to keep this under control but it’s wearing on me a little. After two months of this my dining room is piled high with letters – 8,621 of them are telling me that I’ll see a red sign when I’m needed and 1 of them telling me that I’ll never see the red sign if I look for it. If I don’t look for it, how am I supposed to see it?
It’s another Saturday morning. I’m awake but still lying in bed. There’s a knock on the door.
“Hold on” I shout from the bedroom “I’m coming”. I’m trying to get down the hallway and put some shorts on at the same time. They knock at the door again.
“Hold on!” I yell louder. I look out the peephole but the glass is fogged up from the humidity. I open the door to find a very attractive young lady standing there. She is wearing a short-sleeve dress that looks like a raincoat because of the thick belt around her waist. She is holding a large yellow envelope, the kind you might see in a typical office to send letters without folding the paper.
“Can I help you?” I ask. She hands me the envelope she’s holding.
“What is this?” I ask. She smiles and says, “Read it”. As I open it, she is walking away.
“Is this the red sign?”
She turns around and stops. “The what?”
“The red sign” I tell her.
“I’m sorry,” she says, “I don’t know what that is”.
“Who are you?” I shout as she gets further away.
“I’m just a messenger” she says and then disappears around the corner.
I open the large envelope out on the stoop. The morning light makes it easy to read the letters on the piece of paper. I look over at my empty mailbox, smile and shake my head in disbelief.
My next-door neighbor has wandered out his front door when he sees me standing on the stoop.
“Hey neighbor” he yells to me “have you seen my newspaper?”
“No” I tell him. As he walks over to me, he enquires about the paper and envelope I’m holding. I want to tell him about the letters I’ve been receiving but he’d never believe me.
“What does it say?” he asks me. I hold up the letter to show him. As I do, I hear a horn honk. It’s the young lady that delivered the envelope to me. She drives away in her little red car. My neighbor reads the page aloud:
“’When you’re needed, you’ll see the red sign’. What the hell does that mean?” he asks.
“I don’t know” I say to him with a smile “I don’t know”.
“Nice talkin’ to ‘ya” he says quietly as I walk back inside my house and close the door. I stood there a moment with my back to the door and I heard my neighbor exclaim:
“I found my newspaper!!”
(To be continued)