Gemotions

The delivery person had just left. The package sat on the porch, a dark rectangle against the worn wooden floorboards. "For: Bartholomew Grey," the label announced. He hadn't heard of a "Bartholomew Grey" ever.

He remained inside for several minutes, watching the package through the window, an overwhelming sense of unease washing over him. The wind picked up, and he heard a mournful howl.

He slowly opened the door, his heart pounding against his ribs. He picked up the package. It felt surprisingly heavy. He had to know what was inside, but he was reluctant to even move.