Iron Echoes

A series of jagged, erratic hops carried me down the stone path to the open curbside mailbox. I thrust myself straight into the hollow galvanized cylinder, plunging into the dim shadow. Deep inside sat a crumpled coupon flyer with tiny printed stick mascots stamped along the margin. In one violent, snapping twitch, I slammed the sharpened edge of my paddle down between two of the miniature figures, pinning the paper flat against the curved floor. The impact rang out in a tight, tinny reverberation that bounced endlessly through the tube. I locked every limb rigid, jaw stretched wide in absolute silence, refusing to yield an inch.