The Red Postbox

There’s a story about a dedicated mailman who delivers letters to everyone in town. He would take them from a bright red post box and carefully put the letters in his large leather bag. Then he’ll walk down street after street, hand-delivering the missives to their intended recipients. It wasn’t until his mysterious death a few months later into the new year that people stopped getting their mail delivered by him. 

One sunny afternoon, a new postman came to collect the letters from the red post box. He was a strapping young man fresh out of high school. Figuring he could earn a few bucks during the summer holidays, he applied for a position at the local post office. The young man opened the post box with a master key that the post office had given him. When he unlocked it, he was shocked to find it empty.

I’m the only person that has the key to the post box. He thought, trying to deduce what happened. Unless someone broke into the post box, there’s no way for them to get the letters inside. Closing the door of the post box, the young postman left the town to head back to the post office to see what else he could do before his shift is over.

The same thing happened over the next few days. The postman would discover that the post box is empty and he still had no idea who’s responsible for taking the letters. “I have to get to the bottom of this or else I would lose my job.” The young man decided after shutting the post box door. As he made the journey back to the post office, a plan began to form in his mind.

That night, while everyone had gone home, the young postman quietly walked down the sidewalk along his designated route. He then stopped dead in his tracks and hid behind a wall, slowly peering out to see what’s going on. There, opening the post box is another mailman. It was too dark to see what he looked like but the encounter made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. The young man then waited until the other postman had gone before emerging from his hiding spot and walked in the direction of home.

When he told his supervisor what he saw last night, the supervisor then proceeded to tell the young postman the story of his precursor. “It is said that after he passed away he still comes back to town delivering letters to all the residents like he did when he was alive.” A chill ran down the young man’s spine as the supervisor went off to deal with other important things. Still frozen from the shock, the young postman held on to his letter bag as if his life depended on it, thinking to himself that he will never work at the post office ever again.

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