The mystery gift:
The mystery gift arrived on her doorstep a week before Christmas. It was in a plain, red box; a perfect cube with a big gold bow adorning the top.
There was no card attached and no one had rung the doorbell when it was delivered because she’d been home all day and not heard a thing.
She stepped around cautiously and examined it from every angle before squatting down and staring intently at it as though it were an egg about to hatch.
She’d seen stories on TV, where people had found bombs disguised as presents and lost their limbs. For some reason though, she didn’t think this was one of them.
Finally, she picked it up carefully, shook it lightly and put her ear up to the box to listen for any ticking.
Taking it inside, she placed it on her kitchen table and pulled at one edge of the bow.
She lifted the lid and peered in to find…
A pair of eyes looking back at hers.
Real, human eyes, perfectly nestled in a tiny glass box.
She covered her mouth in horror and stepped away to avoid seeing them, but her curiosity drew her back.
They weren’t just anybody’s eyes; they were the eyes of someone she knew.
Someone had sent her ex-boyfriend’s eyes to her in a box.
They looked much the same as always, but perhaps more surprised than usual.
No wonder, she thought. Someone had ripped them out of his head.
“I wish it had been me,” she said out loud as an afterthought.
She wondered if he was dead or still alive somewhere. She hoped he was still alive and bleeding to death excruciatingly slowly and painfully.
Was there a note inside the box?
She reached in tentatively and pulled out a single strip of white paper.
“He isn’t going to be, ‘looking,’ to hurt you again anytime soon,” it began. “Maybe now he’ll, ‘see,’ that being a cunt to women always ends with karma.”
Someone with a sense of humour, she thought, and someone who obviously cares a lot for me. Enough to hurt him, or hopefully kill him, anyway.
It was perhaps the best gift she’d ever received.
It was definitely a sight for sore eyes.