The Unboxing

It has been tough without my wife, but over the past two years, we learned to celebrate Christmas without her. That is my three kids and I. Ben, Kelly, and Rebecca, they were so much work, and so much fun.

I woke up on the Christmas morning and walked right downstairs, expecting to see my kids unwrapping the presents. It was oddly quiet and when I got to the living room, they were not there. One thing struck me though, three large boxes under the tree. I did not put those boxes there. Must be gifts from my kids. They are such good kids.

I decided not to open them until my kids were up, so they could see my reaction. I was excited, I must say. It was almost 9 am, and they were still asleep. I figured they stayed up late to prepare and wrap my three big gifts. I wondered what they were. I sat down on the couch and enjoyed the excitement of waiting. I had not felt like that in years, since I was a kid myself.

Slowly, more information from my surroundings started to sink in. The cookies we had left for Santa the night before, the kids must have eaten them. And they drunk the milk. I smiled.

Then I noticed a black piece of fabric flung over one of the chairs. I walked over and picked it up. It was a lace glove or sleeve, or whatever you call it. The kind some women wear. The kind my wife used to wear.

I decided to go upstairs and check on the kids. My heart was pounding as I was climbing the stairs, something telling me everything was all wrong. I checked all three rooms one by one. They were empty. The beds were made.

I checked the whole house and the garage. I frantically ran down the basement stairs and turned all the lights on. I checked every corner. Nothing.

I checked the snowy backyard. The front. No sign of them. Although their shoes and jackets and hats and gloves were all there by the door. They could not have left the house.

I went back into the living room. Before I made any phone calls, I had to check. I had to make sure for myself that my worst fears were unfounded. I had to open the three large boxes.

The wrapping was perfect, straight lines, single layer, no tape, and a beautifully tied ribbon. Not the work of little children. I tried to pick up one of the boxes, but it was heavy, so I dropped it back. Not too heavy for me, just much heavier than I expected. “Oh God! No, please don’t,” I thought and kept repeating the same words in my head over and over.

”Please don’t. Please don’t. Please don’t.”

It was true. When I opened the first box, I began to cry, scream, gag. I opened the remaining two boxes. They were wrapped up inside. Ben, Kelly, and Rebecca. My three beautiful children. Slaughtered and wrapped up in Christmas themed paper with snowmen and Santa’s reindeer.

I took them out. Put them on the carpet next to one another. Closed their little eyes. And cried, cried, cried.

I do not know how much time had passed when my cell phone began to vibrate and ring on the kitchen counter. I was weeping silently by then, rocking back and forward. I let it ring a few times before I realized I should pick it up.

It was an unknown number.

”Hello?” I said, barely able to make a sound.

”Mr. Winston?"

"Yes."

"I’m calling from the sheriff’s department. We thought you should know that your wife had escaped the mental institution. We will send someone over to your house to make sure everything is okay, if you want. Hello? Mr. Winston? Hello?”

Posted by: Paweł Kowaluk