That morning, Elderlake was as usual, with the usual hustle and bustle. The streets of the city center were filled with the sound of footsteps of office workers rushing towards the skyscrapers where they worked. They wore dark coats, carried bags, and most were too busy with their cell phones to notice the world around them. A thick fog still shrouds the city, camouflaging the outlines of the towering buildings. Traffic lights flickered, regulating the slow-moving flow of vehicles with the incessant honking of horns.
On the side of the road, street vendors prepare their wares. The smell of coffee and toast mixes with the odor of vehicle fumes, creating an unpleasant harmony that has become part of Elderlake's morning routine. A janitor, Jack, pushed his garbage cart across the dew-slicked sidewalk. He took a deep breath, wiping the sweat from his forehead despite the chilly morning air.
Jack worked in this area for almost a decade. He knows every street corner, every face that passes by. But this morning, as he approached the small park near the city's famous fountain, his eyes caught something unusual.
Near the fountain, under one of the weathered wooden benches, was a cardboard box. It wasn't an unusual sight-Elderlake was a big city, and trash was often left unattended. But the position of the box, half-hidden in the shadow of the bench and covered in tape, intrigued Jack.
He pushed his cart closer, stopping his steps a few meters from the box. It was quite large, with the top tightly covered by tape. The box looked heavy, and there was a dark stain on one side. Jack furrowed his brow. “What is this?” he muttered, talking to himself.
Curiosity burned within her, prompting her to take a closer look at the suspicious object. Carefully, she bent down, her fingers trembling as she reached for the tip of her cleaning tool to slip it under the tape sealing the box. A soft tearing sound could be heard as the tape opened.
As the lid slowly lifted, the cold morning air seemed to stop moving. Time seemed to slow down. Jack froze, his eyes widened, his mouth opened wide, but not a word escaped his lips. What was inside the box was completely unexpected.
Before him, lay a horrifying pile. Pieces of human bodies, each wrapped in a white cloth that was no longer white. Dark red stains seeped out, forming irregular patterns. Hands with stiff fingers sticking out of the cloth, as if trying to reach for something before being tragically ended. Legs with bones that seemed to be sticking out in places were unnaturally folded, and the cloth-wrapped head showed a vague shape, with matted hair poking out between the folds.
The smell of blood filled the air, so thick that every breath brought in a sharp metallic taste. He smelled iron, mixed with something rotting, making his stomach queasy. The horror was not just in the sight, but also in the sensation that accompanied it. His hands began to shake violently, trying hard to keep his balance despite his weak knees. His breathing was short, like someone who had just run a long distance, chest rising and falling in an irregular rhythm.
He backed away with unsteady steps, his shoes squeaking, almost tripping over his own feet. His vision began to blur, whether it was because of the stagnant tears or his brain refusing to process what he was seeing, he didn't know. The world around her seemed to narrow, the sound of her heartbeat echoing in her ears, the only thing she could hear amidst the horrific silence.
“Oh God... oh God...” she whispered repeatedly, almost like a mantra begging for forgiveness or help. Her cleaning tool slipped from her grasp and fell with a loud clatter, rolling across the garden path. He continued to pace backwards without direction, almost tripping over his own cart.
Finally, the stifled sound exploded. A shrill scream escaped from his throat, breaking the quiet morning silence and echoing between the buildings. People passing by on the sidewalk suddenly stopped, their heads turning in unison towards Jack. Confusion turned to curiosity mixed with horror.
One of the men in a gray suit, looking like an office worker on his way to work, stopped his steps. Hesitantly, he approached Jack, his eyes looking at the box, as if to ascertain what had frightened the man so.
“What happened?” the man asked in a slightly shaky voice. But Jack just shook his head, his lips trembling, and his gaze remained fixed on the terrifying box. But as he approached the box and saw its contents, his face turned pale. “Call the police! Quick!” he called out to whoever heard him.
Within minutes, a crowd began to form around the fountain. People whispered amongst themselves, trying to make sense of what was happening. Some people took out their cell phones, photographing or recording the incident, while others looked away, too shaken to look any longer.
Jack, who was still standing by his cart, looked at the box with a blank stare. He couldn't get the horrifying image out of his mind. The smell of blood seemed to still cling to his nose, even though he had moved away.
Amidst the crowd, a middle-aged woman in a bright yellow jacket suddenly shouted, pointing towards the road near the fountain. “Look! There's a trail of blood!” she said in a panicked tone.
Everyone turned their heads, following the direction of her finger. And there, faintly on the wet pavement, was a trail of blood extending from where the box had been found. The trail wasn't very clear, but it was enough to give a clue that the box didn't come from here.
The police arrived shortly after, with the sound of sirens breaking up the crowd. Two patrol cars pulled up near the crowd, and several officers got out with serious faces. One of them, a man in a neat uniform, immediately approached the box. He waved his hands, asking people to stand back.
“Everyone stand back! Do not approach this place!” he ordered sternly.
The crowd slowly moved back, though many were still trying to see what was happening. Two other officers began to set up a yellow perimeter, forming a perimeter around the fountain.
A detective arrived a few minutes later. With his long dark coat and cold expression, he stared at the box without saying anything. Then, he approached Jack, who was still trembling in place.
“Did you find this?” he asked.
Jack nodded, his voice hoarse when he finally spoke. “Yeah... I just... I just saw the box and was curious... I don't know...” He shook his head, trying hard to compose himself.
“Well, we'll ask for more information later,” the detective said, his voice calm but firm. “For now, try to take a deep breath. We'll handle this.”
Meanwhile, forensic officers began to arrive. They donned gloves and began examining the box and the surrounding area. One of them followed an elongated trail of blood, trying to determine where the box had come from.
Amidst this chaos, Elderlake kept moving. Cars kept moving, pedestrians who didn't want to get involved chose other routes, and the thick fog seemed to grow heavier, as if it was hiding more secrets behind it.
However, for the people who were there that morning, the discovery at the fountain became a lasting horror.And amidst the frenzy, elsewhere in the city, there was someone-perhaps smiling smugly-seeing what he had created.
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