Delivering Parcels
“I was around 10 or 11 years old when this happened, and I was home alone. The doorbell rang while I was watching TV, so I hastily moved my bowl of cereal and got up to answer the door. It was the mailman, who said we had gotten a package. But it was so big that he needed help carrying it in. Something felt off about him, as he wasn’t wearing a uniform, but a dirty white shirt and jeans.
I asked him where his truck was, because I didn’t see it parked out front. He said it was around the corner, and that I should just follow him out to grab my parcel. He kept telling me to go with him, but I politely said I wasn’t feeling well and that we would just get our mail from the post office. He said that would be a big hassle, and that I should just go out and get it then and there.
I said I had to get my shoes on from upstairs and he waited outside. I locked the door and bolted upstairs, closing all the windows. I called my mom and asked her to come home, explaining everything. The man was still outside and he shouted at me, asking if I’d gotten my shoes. I replied that my mom was coming because she’s much stronger and could help carry the package.
Once I’d said that, he was quick to run away. And I never saw him again. They never caught him and I hope that he never lured any other kids or tricked them into going near that van.”