121. Surprise Package

The morning at the office unfolded with a kind of predictable rhythm: the gentle staccato of fingers tapping keyboards, the steady hum of the air conditioning, and the murmurs of idle conversations spilling over cubicle walls. Nothing in the air hinted at what was coming—no tremor, no omen. Just a Monday like any other.

Then, the glass doors at the lobby slid open, and a delivery man stepped inside. He carried a box wrapped in pale pink paper and tied with a gleaming satin ribbon—a package so meticulously adorned, it felt more like a gift for a wedding than something dropped off during business hours.

He scanned the room until he spotted an employee passing by.

"Excuse me," he said, polite but firm. "Can you show me where to find Ashley Song? I delivered a package for her."

The employee, taken slightly aback, pointed toward the far end of the room. "There—corner cubicle. Miss Song, you’ve got a package!" He shouted a little.

Ashley, mid-keystroke, paused. Her eyes flicked over her monitor, then peered around the side of her cubicle wall. With a nod, she stood. The delivery man approached, gently placing the medium-sized box onto her desk and handing her a delivery slip.

She signed quickly. "Thanks," she murmured.

Then he was gone, as quickly and quietly as he had appeared.

Ashley stared at the box. It was too beautiful, too perfectly wrapped, and it bore no markings to suggest who had sent it. Her friends back in New Zealand knew she'd moved to LA, but none were the type to send lavish surprises, especially not unannounced.

"Wow. Someone’s lucky today. That’s one hell of a wrapping. Who’s it from?" Nancy, her cubicle neighbor, leaned over the divider, eyebrows raised.

Nicholas appeared next, sauntering in from the hallway. "Don't you want to open it right away, Miss Song? Aren’t you curious?”

"You look more curious than she does," Nancy laughed at Nicholas.

“Yeah, yeah,” Nicholas rolled his eyes, “I’m dying to know what’s inside."

Their chuckles drew in Kiera from across the floor.

"Didn’t you say Ashley’s married? Maybe it’s from her husband."

"That would make sense," Nancy chimed in.

Ashley offered a half-smile, though her mind rebelled against the idea. Josh? No. He was not the type to send anything this extravagant. Their relationship is too complicated to send and receive these kinds of gifts to each other. But—

Maybe? Could he have changed? A moment of weakness, a surprise meant to make amends?

"Open it," Nicholas urged, his grin infectious.

Ashley reached for her scissors. "Alright, alright."

Carefully, she snipped the corners, peeled away the soft pink paper, and uncovered a smooth ivory box beneath. Her fingers hesitated on the lid.

Then, she lifted it.

But time seemed to stop.

A foul stench burst forth like a slap—rotting meat, iron-heavy blood, decay. The kind of smell that carved itself into memory.

Nancy screamed.

Kiera cried, "Oh my God!" stumbling back.

Nicholas suddenly went silent, his face draining of color. He clamped a hand over his mouth, fighting the bile rising in his throat.

Meanwhile Ashley froze. Then she staggered back, gagging behind her hand.

Inside the box, nestled in clear plastic, lay a dead bird. Its body was mangled, half-decomposed. Its neck was nearly severed, the feathers matted with dried blood.

Silence shattered into chaos. Gasps and murmurs swept across the office floor. Chairs scraped against linoleum. Someone cursed under their breath.

Claire rushed toward the scene, trailed by several others. She stopped short at the smell. Her face twisted. "Whose package is this?" she snapped.

"Ashley’s," Kiera whispered.

Claire’s eyes narrowed. Ashley stood rooted to the floor, pale, trembling.

"Everyone back off. Give them space," Claire ordered. "Ashley, come with me. You too, Nancy, Nicholas, Kiera. Let’s step into the pantry. Now."

Claire looped an arm around Ashley’s shoulders. Her steps were automatic, legs numb beneath her. The others followed.

"Becky," Claire called to her secretary, "bring hot tea. Now."

They gathered in the pantry, the fluorescent lights too bright, too clinical. Ashley cradled the warm mug between trembling fingers.

Claire turned to Nancy. "Can you tell me what happened?"

Nancy swallowed. Her voice came thin. "Courier asked for Ashley. She got the box. We thought it was a gift. Then... that."

Claire then left them briefly, returning to Ashley’s desk.

She rifled through paperwork until she found the delivery slip, tucked beneath a stack of reports. No sender listed. Only Ashley’s name. She exhaled sharply and kept it for evidence. 

Claire examined the box again—no notes, no hints. Just the bird. The grotesque offering.

Becky came to her. "Ashley’s still in shock. She’s barely speaking."

"Has Mr. Jang arrived?" Claire asked.

“Mr. Jang won't come to the office today. He’s in Riverside for a meeting with Mr. Holm," Becky answered.

Claire clenched her jaw. She pulled out her phone, snapped photos of the contents, then instructed Becky to call the office boy to clean up all this mess and get rid of the box that was like a disaster in the early morning. She thought that the box really had to go as soon as possible.

Then Claire returned to the pantry. Ashley hadn’t moved. She was still sitting frozen on the sofa holding her mug. His eyes were not blinking, just staring forward but without focus. As if her eyes stared at something only she could see.

Claire sat beside her, wrapped an arm gently around her. "Are you hurt?"

Ashley shook her head, but tears slipped down.

"There was no name. Just yours. Do you have any idea who could have sent it?"

Ashley whispered, "I don’t know anyone here. No one."

"No enemies? No one who might want to scare you?"

"I’ve only been here a few months. I keep to myself. No fights, no drama."

Claire nodded, but Ashley’s face changed—her eyes flicked up. Suddenly her mind started working a little and she remembered what happened last night.

"Last night," she said quietly. "There was a taxi driver who took me home. Something about him felt wrong. He stared at me the whole time. Took me through back roads. I was scared. I thought he might—" she broke off.

Claire leaned in. "Do you recognize him? Ever seen him before?"

"No. It was the first time."

Claire sighed. "We can’t jump to conclusions, but we’ll report it. Everything."

Ashley’s hands tightened on her mug.

"You’re not staying here today," Claire said gently but firmly. "You’re going home. I’ll drive you myself."

Ashley blinked. "I’m fine. I can keep working."

"You can’t even hold your tea without shaking. That’s not fine. No arguments. We’re leaving."

Ashley nodded, defeated.

Claire helped her gather her things. Outside, the office had quieted to an eerie hush. Eyes followed them, whispers trailed behind.

The day had begun in the glow of routine.

Now, it had collapsed into dread.

Somewhere among the humming computers and echoing chatter, one question lingered like smoke between the employees: who was trying to terrify Ashley, and why?