Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-26286557-20160427094802

It was a normal Monday morning, when the package arrived at my doorstep. As a professional food critic I expected fan mail, but there was something specifically unusual. The box was completely covered with ten coats of duct tape, with what I assumed was the sender's address, written with a bold black marker. It didn't have the post office's logo on it, so I knew it had to be hand delivered. That was the strangest. How did he get my address? And why didn't he just hand it to the post office?

I called my friend, who I will call Seth, to accompany me while I open the box. This was just in case anything happens, you can't really trust a box covered in duct tape, let alone delivered by the sender. But there was another part of me, who was just saying that it could just simply be fan mail, and probably the post office gave him or her my address. I hoped that would've been the case.

Nevertheless, I slit open the ten rounds of duct tape with a box cutter. This process may sound simple and basic, but to me it felt like an eternity. Once I finished the flaps of the box busts open. I stared into the dark abyss. What I discovered was a plastic container that has five pieces of sushi, and six thin slices of daikon.

It looked surprisingly fresh. It looked like it was made a few minutes ago. But one lesson I’ve learnt from this, is to never judge a book by its cover. I micro waved it for a few seconds, just to kill any sort of bacteria while keeping the freshness. I have to say, it was one of the worst sushi I’ve ever tasted. The seaweed was sour, the rice tasted like it wasn't cooked, and the "fish" was really crunchy. It felt like sandpaper scratching my tongue back and forth. Seth and I could only take two pieces before throwing the rest away. And the daikon? Is there really anything to say about it?

I expected to just write an extremely negative review about the sushi and carry on with my day. I had a reservation letter that day, which could help me at least digest the disgusting sushi. Now keep in mind, I never had a sick day in five months, I had never smoked before, I exercise everyday and I had never experienced a single asthma attack. But suddenly, my lungs felt like they were crushed by eighteen kilograms of bricks. I felt like I was breathing in an air tight plastic bag. The only things I can only grab onto were my chest and the couch. My heads were getting tighter as I became more air tight. I was completely paralyzed. I felt like I was getting possessed. I rushed to the bathroom; I coughed out tiny fragments of blood and phlegm. This was when my curiosity got the better of me.

I decided to show up at the sender's house, to meet him or her in person. To ask him or her what the hell was in the sushi. I traced the address on foot, which directed me to the woods. Many thoughts were going through my head. I was getting more nervous as I started to over think. It took some time before I was able to walk into the woods. It was getting darker and more isolated, as I dug deeper and deeper. I felt more closed in and unprepared.

I found a plastic apron, crushed up in dirt and soaked in blood. Right next to it was a neatly stacked pile of tools. Tools you can only find in operation rooms of hospitals. They all have traces of blood and small fragments of flesh. I stood completely still. I wasn't sure what was going to happen next, my hands were shaking violently. But it was at that moment. I knew something bad was going to happen, I knew it. I heard the sounds you can make when you snap your neck. That was followed by sounds of gurgling. I could feel hands stumping onto the ground. I turned around, slowly as I stood in fear. It was a shirtless man, crawling away from a torn-up garbage bag. His fingers were covered in duct tape, the same type of duct tape that covered the box. He tried to wave his hand in front of my face, yelling for help. It was like he was meeting God. His tongue was cut off, so he could only talk in vowels. I should've called for help, but I couldn't handle this. I turned away, I ran and I never looked back. My fear suddenly turned into adrenaline. I didn't know what to do, expect to just run out of there.

Now, come to think about it. The daikon did look a lot like skin. Thin, human skin... <ac_metadata title="Sushi- Would you give me some feedback on my first creepy pasta?"> </ac_metadata>