Back From the Future Bloghop

Today I'm taking part in two blogfests. On this blog, I'll be discussing what I'm hoping to send myself from the future. One the other blog, I'm counting my blessings for the Bloghop of Joy. So back to Back From the future.




You’re up before dawn on a Saturday when the doorbell rings. You haven’t brewed your coffee so you wonder if you imagined the sound. Plonking the half-filled carafe in the sink, you go to the front door and cautiously swing it open. No one there. As you cast your eyes to the ground, you see a parcel addressed to you … from you.

You scoop it up and haul it inside, sensing something legitimate despite the extreme oddness of the situation. Carefully, you pry it open. Inside is a shoebox — sent from ten years in the future – and it’s filled with items you have sent yourself.

What’s in it?

Since I'm on a bit of having-writing-fun kick (which I'll write about next week), I decided I'll do a short (very short) story of it. Hope you enjoy! In case you're wondering, I don't drink coffee. Hence its absence from the morning routine. 

The doorbell rings. No... please let that be my imagination. The dogs start in on their frenzied barking. Never could figure out their problem with the bell. Maybe they just don't like the tune. 

I growl and roll myself out of bed, landing on my feet in a show of much greater alertness than I'm currently feeling. Then I trudge up stairs. This better be worth the aggravation of waking up early on the first Saturday in weeks that I could sleep in. 

When I get to the door, there's no one. My black lab pelts past and starts sniffling the parcel on the welcome mat. It's addressed to me. Interesting. I pick it up and head back in, tearing at the wrapping as I go. 

A shoebox. Even more interesting. I sit down by the kitchen counter and investigate the outside of the box. Nothing strange pops out at me, so I pry the lid off. Inside lies only three things, although the third is obscured by a huge slab of dark chocolate and a piece of paper with a note on it. 

I pull out the note and stare, shock shooting through me. This is my own handwriting. Complete with ink splots, strikethroughs and just general chaos. Unable to help myself, I read it.

Hey there, kiddo, 

I know you don't really like knowing what the future holds, so on International Send Back a Capsule Day, I thought you might appreciate these. 

You're going to make it!!!

Love, 

Me. 

So that would be the piece of chocolate. What's the other thing? I check back inside the box and pull out a book. My own. I open the cover. 

6th edition. And, as my future humoristic self notes in my infamously sloppy handwriting: 

And counting.