TC-512 All is Well

Excerpt

The note was creased and worn from many opening and refoldings. The printing was childish and the spelling atrocious, but I knew that no child had conceived such a frightening thing:

DERE ROBBER. THIS HERE IS A WARNING. YOU ARE GOING TO DIE. YOR A WIKID AND TERIBEL MAN. YOU HURT PEEPLE. YOR WIFE HATES YOR GUTS AND THE GIRLS AND YOR SUN ALSO. BUT I HATE YOR MORE. YOU DESERV TO DIE AND IF GOD DONT GIT YOU I WIL.

PS. YOR SUN IS A QUEER IF YOU DONT NO THAT ALL READY. IF YOU THING I AM FOOLING ASK JERY ASHBY. SO HA HA. THE JOKE IS ON YOU.

SINED YOU NO WHO

My hands were shaking as I angrily folded the note. I wanted to rip it to shreds, or crumple and burn it—get rid of it, forget it! What a blessed relief it would be just to get it out of my mind, if only for a couple of hours, or even a few minutes! Instead, I opened and read it again. The action had become a new habit—reading it, refolding it, unfolding it to read it again… Just two weeks ago it had come in the mail—two weeks that were now beginning to seem like two years.

It had been lying innocently on my bed (where Kate always put the mail addressed specifically to me—fortunately) along with the telephone bill and a real estate brochure, addressed to MR ROBBER THORNE.

I’d laughed at first, muttering, “Some idiot doesn’t know how to spell Robert.” Then I’d opened the evil thing!

PS. YOR SUN IS A QUEER…

I pressed my hands hard against my legs, trying to stop them from trembling.