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Bluebeard's Mail

        After they married, he told her "There is just one rule. You must never open my mail."
        But why not? And what did he do with it? What did he do with his mail, down in the basement with the strange machines? Was he getting drugs, counterfeit currency, child pornography? She thought she could forgive him anything. But she had to know. What, after all, did she really know about this most secretive of men, a man who seemed to have neither friends nor family?
        On the first day of the fifth year of their marriage, his car was hit by a truck, and he ended up in hospital under observation for suspected concussion. The mail came as usual. As sometimes happened, one item was a package. Bulky. Heavy.
        "He's not hear," she said. "It makes a difference. I have a duty."
        And opened the heavy package, and was thrown back, and briefly tried to name the redness in the darkness, then died, blown apart by the bomb.

the end


"If you don't oil this part there will be big trouble."


"Ryan." There was a note of warning in Maple's voice, so Ryan switched off the dzela. Home life. The company believed in it. He'd been told so as the job interview.

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BLUEBEARD'S MAIL first posted 2003 June 18 Wednesday. Copyright © 2003 Hugh Cook - all rights reserved.