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I was driving home one day from work. I had to leave early due to a phone call I had received from the police. They said that my uncle had recently gone missing, and there was no evidence to the cause of his disappearance. I had to go home to find out what had happened to him. I loved my uncle a lot, and we were very close. I had to get home as soon as possible. There was no telling where my uncle could be, and I wanted to search for him before something bad happened to him.

I was almost home when a car cut me off. It was an old, grey KIA with mud crusted onto the tires and rims. The car began to slow down, and I became angry. I honked at him impatiently. A few minuets later, the car began to sway in and out of the lanes. I was very angry at this point. Not only was this car driving incredibly slow, but now he was driving recklessly. I decided to pick up my phone so that I could snap a picture of his license plate when suddenly, the car just stopped. I slammed the breaks down and held my breath, praying that I wouldn't collide with the car in front of me. I stopped just inches from his hubcap.

"Christ..."

I said as I wiped the beads of sweat from my brow. I looked down to find where I dropped my phone so that I could take a picture or the drivers license plate. But, when I looked up, the car was already driving away in the distance. I quietly swore under my breath as I threw my phone in anger. That driver was just going to get away with what he did? I stepped out of my car to catch my breath when I spotted a small cardboard box in front of my car. The driver must have put it there before he left. I picked the box up and took it with me to the car.

As I pulled up into my driveway, I noticed a paper hung on my door knob. I stepped out of the car and went to go pick it up. I squinted at the fine text. It read:

"Dear Mark,

We are sorry to inform you that your uncle's body has been found. The body was found laying in the EverYellow City Dump. A shotgun was found near the body. (Model: Remington M870 Pump Action) We believe that your uncle killed himself with this shotgun due to the bullet wounds in his head and the fingerprints found on the gun.

We are currently undergoing further investigation to find out the reason behind your uncle's suicide. If you have any questions or need to talk to someone, please call xxx-xxx-xxxx or email us at xxxxxxxxxx@everyellowpolice.com. Thank you.

~EverYellow Police Station"

"Oh my God, he... killed himself?"

I read over the paper again to make certain I understood everything. I was shocked. My uncle was not the kind of guy that would do this. Though, I hadn't talked to him or even seen him since I was about 18. I remember going out onto his farm to shoot targets. He let me shoot his shotgun and taught me how to use it properly. The same shotgun that he... shot himself with.

I couldn't think about it anymore. I had to take a break from all the drama. I placed the box down on my desk and went to pour myself some Jack Daniels. I slowly slumped into my chair and picked up the box. It was small, about the size of cigar box. It had no labels or stickers on the surface. It wasn't creased or stained or even scratched. It was in perfect condition. I pulled the cardboard flaps open to see what was inside.

Nothing.

Not a single speck of dust to be found. I wondered why that driver had this box, and why he put it in front of my car. I shook my head thinking that it was nothing. I placed the box back on my desk and slowly stood up. I took a sip of my good ole' Jack Daniels and started to walk away when I heard something. I turned around to see what the cause of the noise was, and was surprised to find that it was the box. The box was shaking vigorously with no probable cause. Then, just as quickly as it started, it stopped. I walked over to the box and quickly opened it, thinking there was some sort of hidden gadget inside that was to blame for the vibration. But there was no gadget. There was no motor, or battery, or anything. I put the box down and sighed. I was so tired, I couldn't even comprehend how strange all these events were. I just took another sip and walked away. Then I heard a crash. I grunted in frustration as I turned around to see that the box had fallen on the ground. I picked it up and opened it again to try and find the cause. This time, there was a small sheet of paper in the box. I pulled it out to see what it said, but it was blank. It was perfectly white, and seemed to be just a small sheet of printer paper. I was speechless. I didn't see the paper in there before! I went and dumped out my Jack Daniels, thinking to myself that I must have been intoxicated. I put the glass down and walked back to my desk. I placed the paper down and picked up the box. I crumpled it up and tore it into pieces before throwing it away. I walked to my room, tired and frustrated. I lied down on my bed to sleep, but as tired as I was I could not fall asleep. I slowly crept back to my desk and slumped down into my chair. I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed, when...

There it was. The Box.

The box was there again. It just 're-appeared'. I quickly picked it up and examined it. Yes, it was the same box. It was perfect, with no tears or creases. I opened it up to find that the paper was inside the box again. This time, the paper was not blank. On the paper was a smiley face, painted on with a deep black ink. Underneath the smiley face there was a word finely painted on with a neon red ink. It said:

Sleep

I shuttered as I crumpled up the paper and threw it into the trash can. I took the cardboard box and threw it outside. I walked into my room and lied down in my bed.

"Christ man, what just happened?"

I thought to myself. Why did the box re-appear? How did it re-appear? How did the paper just appear and then draw on itself? As these thoughts rushed through my head, I began to fall asleep.

I had a very vivid dream. I dreamed that I was sitting down in my office chair, with that box sitting in front of me. I couldn't move, or even look away from the box. I just sat there, staring for what seemed to be hours upon end. Then, I woke up.

I woke up outside, in the middle of my driveway. I sat up and looked around. It was the middle of the night, and there was no one outside. I heard police sirens in the distance. I looked in my lap and saw... the box. It was there again. I opened it up and looked inside. The paper was now blank. I chucked the box into my neighbors yard and walked back inside. I lied down on my couch and fell asleep. I was so tired that I didn't have time to think about what happened. I just needed to sleep. Desperately. I had another dream, but it was pitch black. I couldn't see anything. I could only feel movement. It felt like I was in a car or a bicycle. I felt slow turns and almost constant forward movement. Then, I woke up.

I was lying down in the middle of a heap of garbage. I sat up, and immediately looked down at my lap. The box was there. I reached out a hand to pick it up, but I stopped. My hand was covered in blood. Both of my hand were covered in blood. I gasped, realizing that it was not my blood. I looked at the box and saw bloodstains covering it. I opened it up and looked at the paper. It had names written on it.

Lisa Michelle

Ray Frank

Robert Levinson

Sara Nichole

Amy Lynn

Each name seemed to be written in a sloppier fashion than the last. I flipped the paper over, and saw the letter M painted on there with a deep black ink. I flipped it back over to re-read the names, but the names were gone. Instead, there was the letter A. I flipped it over again, and again, and again.

M

A

R

K

My name. The page had written my name. I quickly pulled out my phone to try and look up the names that I re-called the paper listing out. I soon realized that each person was missing. They were on the FBI 'Missing or Kidnapped People' list. I gasped as I realized something. Each person on that paper was missing, and the paper just wrote out my name. I shoved the paper back into the box and stood up. I looked around frantically. I was in some sort of dump. I had to get out of here. I looked for my car, but it was no where to be found. There were several other cars lined up, ready to be crushed. There was one dirty gray car that had its doors open. I dashed over and quickly sat down in the car. The keys were already in the car. I closed the doors, started the car, and started to drive.

I drove down the highway, sweating bullets as I breathed. I tried to call my parents, but they didn't pick up. I put my phone down, and gripped the steering wheel hard. I was almost home when my head started to hurt. I looked in the passenger seat, and saw the box. I must have taken it with me or something. Though, I didn't remember doing so. I started to slow down as my head began to spin. A wave of heat rushed over me as I became increasingly dizzy. The car behind me started to honk.

I was scared.

I needed to get rid of this box. I was sure that the box had done this to me. Whatever the box was, it wanted me. It wanted me missing. It wanted me dead. I began to sway from side to side. I tried to stay in the lanes, but I just couldn't. I decided I had had enough. I stopped the car and opened the door. I walked out with the box, placed the box down, and started driving again. I didn't know what I was doing anymore. I was scared. I just drove. And drove.

And drove.

"File 387-2,

Mark Willmer, age 31, 6"1, tall male with blue eyes and long brown hair. Mark's body was found in the EverYelow City Dump next to a gray KIA. We suspect he committed suicide by drinking large amounts of bleach. We found his body near an empty bottle of bleach.

Mark's uncle died 3 days prior by committing suicide, too. We suspect that Mark fell into a state of depression and couldn't handle the emotional stress. The actual cause has yet to be determined. Further investigation is required.

~EverYellow Police Station"

~JBWU2

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