Just over a couple of years ago, a strange and intriguing thing began to happen.
I began receiving messages.
The notes were personalised, and posted to a club which I have frequented for some time.
They were cryptic and often made up from cut-out pieces of paper.
Yet they were not threatening.
Instead, they were uplifting.
They would contain positive words and quotations.
All were signed with one, simple word:
At the time, I did not write about this. I told no-one except for a few friends and colleagues.
Then, one day, a book appeared.
Musty-smelling, it was an old copy of the Art of Living, by Andre Maurois.
Again, it was personalised. As with several other messages, my name had been cut out and made from single letters.
On the inside back cover was a signature.
Inside the front cover was written: P 14.
On turning to page fourteen, I began to see certain letters, underlined in red.
They made up a series of sentences, and by piecing the letters together, I began to make out;
“You are a great leader. Yet you have the capacity to be greater”
All of this, broken up over perhaps twenty pages.
As the book continued, so did the message.
Inside the back cover, a well-known symbol, drawn from a deck of cards.
The messages and the book fascinated me.
More than perhaps anything else I have ever been sent, they had me thinking.
To this day, I have absolutely no idea who sent the packages.
The mysterious sender has remained hidden.
Partly for this reason, I am keeping some of the details between us.
The exact messages, the symbols, the postmarks.
As a mark of respect. Because this post is not intended to spark a detective hunt.
In part, this is my only way to say thank you…
One day the notes stopped coming.
Perhaps the message had been relayed.
Had I done the wrong thing by telling somebody?
This, of course, is more than saying thank you to Nuncio.
Secretly, I am waiting for the next message.
Have I heard the last from this mysterious messenger?