Mailman

U.S.P.S

Jimmy had been expecting a letter in the mailbox, but when he pulled the tin lid down he stared into a dark, empty black hole, encumbered with spiderwebs. He slammed the lid shut and the mailbox shook loosely. There was never any mail. A ways down the road Jimmy could make out the mailman in his truck, silhouetted against the setting sun. He didn't even stop. He hasn't stopped in months. He frowned at the truck speeding away and threw a rock in the direction of the mailman, as if he perpetrated the lack of the mail. Everyday that truck drove by, sometimes he stopped in front of the driveway, maybe he thought there was some mail for us, but there never was and then he'd continued down the road. Everyday, except for Sunday, everyday Jimmy got to watch this giant machine speed down the desolate road past his house. Amazing that there was actually a person inside!

The mailman stopped at the last house on Jimmy's road, about a half mile away, and then turned around. Jimmy stood in the dirt and weeds, leaning against the thousand year old rotting fence. He watched as the mailman made his way slowly up the street. Then Jimmy came up with an idea. 

Jimmy crouched down beside the decomposing mail box and gathered a handful of rocks. He singled out the bigger ones and scooped them into his cupped hands. The mailman was driving back towards the highway, and he was nearing Jimmy. The sound of the rugged motor echoed in the thin air and he positioned himself next to the mailbox, rocks ready. The truck was ten feet away, and Jimmy knew he had to throw the rocks early if he wanted to hit the truck. If he wanted to punish the mailman for his lack of mail. Jimmy threw his arm back and launched the rocks at the truck. A perfect hit, right on the windshield. There were a series of loud noises as each rock made contact with a different part of the truck, but most of them smacked the dirty windshield.

Jimmy was satisfied that he had hit the truck, but a little upset that there was no mail.

Jimmy was almost late to the mailbox. Mother sent him out everyday to see if there was some mail. He didn't understand why she kept sending him out to get the mail when there never was any. Jimmy agreed only because he wanted to watch the mailman. And when there wasn't any mail, Jimmy would have to punish the mailman. Mother would get upset when there was no mail, so Jimmy had to throw rocks at the mailman because he made Mother upset.  When Dad was here, there was mail all the time; but Dad isn't here, Jimmy thought. Dad hasn't been home in months.

Jimmy was halfway down the long driveway. He laughed and smiled and jumped with overwhelming glee when he saw the mailman stop in front of his mailbox. Jimmy ran and ran because he wanted to thank the mailman for the mail. But the mailman had already started off down the road.

At the end of the driveway Jimmy was out of breath and he leaned against the mailbox, loosely planted in the ground, and marveled at the possible wonders that were hidden inside. He caught his breath and watched the mailman stop at the last house down the road and turn around. He saw the blue smoke cloud behind the truck and then Jimmy pulled open the lid. Nothing. It was empty. Nothing except for the spiderwebs.

The mailman was nearing Jimmy, clouds of dirt flowing out behind the truck, and Jimmy slowly stepped out into the road. He leaned down and picked up a rock and waited for the truck to near. The truck was twenty feet away and its horn was screaming. Jimmy heard the whine of brakes being put to use and the grill of the truck stopped a foot away from Jimmy's face. The mailman jumped out of the truck (there were no doors) and stomped his way over to Jimmy. A cloud of dirt and exhaust engulfed the two of them. The mailman put his hands on his hips and glared down at Jimmy. Jimmy looked up at the mailman, and at the stars scattered across the purple sky. The mailman had a thick black beard and black eyes.

“What the hell are you thinking, son?” the mailman said in a exasperated tone.

Jimmy clutched the rock in his small palm. He frowned up at the mailman. 

“You could have been ran over, kid! Its getting dark, and I can't see good in the dark.”

Jimmy did not reply, yet held his ground. Instead he threw the rock at the mailman and it hit him in the stomach. It bounced off into the dirt pathetically. The mailman threw his hands up and turned and got back into his door-less mail truck. Jimmy noticed cracks in the windshield, like spiderwebs. The mailman started the truck and shouted, “I don't have any mail for you today. I thought I did but I don't.”  He started down the road and Jimmy chucked the rock at the back of the truck and it hit the license plate. Dirt blew into his face and into his eyes and he winced at the stinging pain. 

Jimmy turned and trotted down the half mile long dirt road towards his house. He thought of the mailman. He thought of all the hair growing out if his face, like black spiderwebs. He thought of the  cracks in the mailman's truck, like spiderwebs. He thought of the empty mailbox. Sleep and sadness blanketed his mind, and the sun was gone by the time Jimmy opened his front door.

The next day Jimmy was in his front yard and he heard the sound of a motor, but not that of a car or truck. It wasn't the mailman, Jimmy thought. Its Sunday. Jimmy took off down the driveway, kicking his small feet into the air and off the ground over and over until he neared the road and the sound of the motor became louder. He made it to the road, stood on the side in the dirt and stared down the road, the heat of the sun blurring the far away horizon. A black figure was making is way towards Jimmy, and the sound of the motor grew more intense. Jimmy ran to the road.

The sounds of the motor made it seem like it was choking, it heaved and then echoed and stopped and choked and all the while it grew louder. Louder. LOUDER. Then Jimmy saw the man. He wasn't on a car. It  wasn't anything he had ever seen before. It was like his bicycle, but it was bigger, it was heavier and thicker and louder. The bike grew closer, a cloud of blue smoke issuing behind the speeding bike. Jimmy stood in the middle of the road, and he heard the loud motor choke again, it was quieting, calming. The man on the bike slowed and stopped in front of Jimmy. They stared at each other for a moment. The man was wearing a helmet and his face was hidden. Jimmy winced at the man with the bright sun behind him. 

“What is that?” Jimmy pointed to the small machine the man sat upon.

The man on the bike took off his helmet, scarred and aged, set it on the handlebars, and turned the ignition off. The man had a thick black beard, black eyes, and tanned skin. He took an envelope out of his jacket pocket and handed it to the kid. “Here's your mail, kid. Sorry I couldn't get it to you yesterday, it fell behind my seat.”

Jimmy took the letter in his small hand, and the mailman started his bike up. He turned around the way he had came and drove towards the sun. Jimmy looked at the letter in his hand. There was something hard inside. It was definitely not paper. It was addressed to him. He opened it and a revealed a small rock. He studied it for a second and then dropped it in his pocket, amused. He looked in the envelope and saw a folded up piece of paper and took it out and unfolded it. Stop throwing rocks at me, please. 

It was the first letter in months, and it was for Jimmy.

Reviews

[C. Lee Battaglia]

It was awesome! good job! I am so glad you entered it into my contest!
It has lots of potential. Really funny!
Keep on writing!

C. Lee Battaglia

[Marie]

I took your suggestion and checked this story out. It's pretty good. I knew you had potential.

[Chadvonswan]

Thank you very much!

[FlatLineBeauty]

Very cute and creative write! xo Winter

[Naraly Godinez]

Cutest story ever! And don't think that means it's pathetic it had so much anticipation and the ending was fantastic. Even though I know the story isn't about the mailman and jimmy is the greater character if like to see more elaboration on the mailman's appearance before we find out the guy in the bike is him. I imagine dark tan and leathery.. you know something that build the idea that this man is some legend