Since I was a kid I’ve been receiving Christmas gifts from someone named ‘Uncle Gabe’, it’s always been a mystery to me and my family because I have no uncle that goes by that name. The presents aren’t anything sinister or nefarious; it’s just a normal gift than anyone would receive. It first happened when I was about 8 years old, there we were; me and my family sitting around the Christmas tree early in the morning, everyone all to eager to unravel their gifts. Nothing was out of the ordinary, me and my brothers received the usual, presents from each other and of course our parents. Envelopes passed out to each one of us with money inside a special treat given to us by our grandparents. By this point we were all playing with our new items thinking our annual ceremony was over but that’s when my brother Peter pointed out the extra gift, it was shoved behind the back of the tree.
We all turned to see what my little brother was pointing out and sure enough there was indeed one more gift, me and my brothers looked at each other, all pondering the premise of who the gift was for. I remember my mother jabbing my dad in his side asking with befuddlement of where it came from, my father had no answers and he displayed as much bewilderment as the rest of us. My father approached cautiously and reached his arm underneath the tree, he pulled out the gift it being a medium size rectangular box. My father gestured to my mom for her to hand him his reading glasses, me and my brothers remained silent waiting anxiously to see who would receive the extra gift.
My father then rushed over to my mother while holding the present, quietly he whispered something into her ear only for her to shake her head in disagreement. I remember in that moment crossing my fingers hoping the gift was for me, I was a bit selfish when I was little nothing more would of satisfied me like having one more present to open in front my brothers. My dad then cleared his throat and with a bit of shaky tone lifted the box and handed to me, telling me it was from ‘uncle Gabe’.
“Who’s that?” I remember asking.
“I’m not sure son, maybe it’s from one of your mothers brothers?” my father told me, though right away I heard my mother protest the notion.
I think my parents were concerned that something inappropriate might of been in the mystery box, but I think they didn’t want to alarm any of us so they reluctantly told me to open it. Being young I didn’t see anything wrong, all I knew there was another gift for me to open and better yet the envious faces from my brothers was the icing on the cake. I tore into the perfectly wrapped gift with such a jovial spirit, the sounds of paper shredding fluttering into my ears as my intrigue morphed into pure wonderment. My eyes were fixated on every movement my small hands were making while my entire family circled around me; their eyes penetrating through the back of my head. Sharp gasps awed out of the mouths of my brothers because to all of our astonishment the gift was a brand new Nintendo, the original and back then it was a present that was usually reserved for families that had money; which we didn’t. It was the whole kit, it came with the NES Zapper and the combo game ‘Duck Hunt’ and ‘Mario’. A small note was attached inside, the hand writing was poetic, beautifully written, something you would see done by some master calligrapher.
“Enjoy Duck Hunt, it’s quite the game, Uncle Gabe” it read.
I was all too enthralled with the present to notice the argument that was unfolding behind me, my parents debated if this were some mistake maybe the gift was for some other family, that something this expensive couldn’t have been for us. Right away my brothers tried to wrestle the box away from me and quickly we all got into a bit of scuffle trying to claim ownership over the game system. Finally my father intervened and told us that we had to share it, he came to conclusion that this mistake was something his family would benefit from, especially on Christmas. I quickly fell in love with the game ‘Duck Hunt’, something about holding the small gun in my hand felt natural, I would aim at the screen at ease and take down several ducks without a blink.
This was only the start when it came to receiving gifts from ‘uncle Gabe’, the next year I was sent several nerf guns, the most expensive ones on the market; the kind that were fully automatic. I was sent several, enough for me my brothers to play together, as the year prior it too came with a small note,
“Practice makes perfect, uncle Gabe”.
It remained a mystery but my father took the gifts thinking it was some error done by a delivery service, or in his mind better; it was a mistake by some entitled rich person; he had a bit of disdain for the wealthy always thinking it was their fault that he had made the wrong life choices.
As the years passed the gifts piled up, each one out doing the last, at least in cost value; much to my fathers delight. All the gifts were accompanied by a small note written by ‘uncle Gabe’ himself. By the time I had reached my teen years I had a collection of video games and nerf guns, all with every accessory you could imagine. When I turned fifteen I received my first BB gun and if you don’t know what that is, it’s a a rifle that uses pressure to shoot out small BB’s, something that could be considered dangerous if used with malevolent intent. The note that was slithered in between the wrapping paper and box was a bit more ominous than usual,
“Here is when the real fun begins, uncle Gabe”.
This is where my father drew the line, the presents went from harmless to mischievous, he didn’t want to take any chances at his boys hurting each other. To be honest I was disappointed, I was all too enthralled in the nature of guns, practicing with virtual weapons and nerf ones no longer satiated my hunger, though I dare not argue with my father, instead I remember waiting for him to throw out my new rifle in the dumpster only for me to retrieve once everyone was asleep.
This went on for the next incoming years, the present from uncle Gabe would be under the tree, only showing up on the morning of Christmas. I remember seeing how frustrated my father was, I could practically see the small veins leading up to his eyes burst from anger; no longer was it a simple mistake now it was an intrusion; one my old man didn’t appreciate. He once again threw away the present before I even had a chance to open it, my brothers at this point lost all interest in the mystifying puzzle, it really only came down to my parents and me. Like the year before I had to wait for my parents to fall asleep and then I went to retrieve the gift from the dumpster, this time it was heavy, I knew right away that this was going to be a good one. As I tore into the gift I had the odd sensation of being watched, the hairs on the back of my neck stood firm and I turned in all directions thinking I had been caught; but there was no one. This time it was a welding kit, something that took me by surprise, it was for beginners all the essentials were there; a small booth with a welding kit and a few metals. I didn’t know what to think, I had never shown any interest in crafting my own metals so as usual I opened the small note that came attached,
“Remember things aren’t always available, uncle Gabe”.
I lived with my parents for a few more years before moving to a new city because of work, I remember having to hide the gift from uncle Gabe before my parents would see it and much to their thrill the mysterious gifts had halted and all reassurance of any sinister unraveling was unbeknownst to them.
As I grew into the man I would become the presents kept coming and I remember pondering if there would ever be an end, would the gifts still arrive long after my own demise, would my kids then receive them? These were questions I wanted answered, I needed to communicate with whomever was ‘uncle Gabe’. I left multiple notes under the tree as if the man himself was Santa, just wanting some explanation of who he was, it was obvious he was not my uncle but what did he expect of me?
I never got a response, I just continued receiving gifts from the man, some years it were knives with a sharpening kit and other times it were a bow and arrow. At my age I was already too engulfed in the idea of weaponry and even without uncle Gabe’s gifts I built up quite an artillery. I owned several hand guns along with plenty of rifles, if anything, it was because of uncle Gabe did my fascination with weapons grow.
This Christmas was a bit different than normal, as usual I received uncle Gabe’s gift underneath the tree, I opened it without any hesitation but the box was empty nothing was inside, nothing other than the usual note and this one left me a bit perturbed,
“It’s almost time, uncle Gabe”.
What did he mean by it was almost time? Was it almost time to meet him? Why wasn’t there no actual gift? The questions almost drove me insane and a sense of uneasiness invaded every fiber of my body, I didn’t know if my family was in danger, though if so I had plenty of ammo to protect them. That’s what brings me to today, me sitting here writing this letter to the outside world if there is still one, I received one more present from my uncle Gabe, it wrapped as beautiful as the first one I had received; it shining brighter than the moon itself, but this time there was no tree, it was no longer Christmas, instead it was New Years day. I found it carefully placed on my dining room table, my curiosity bursting through my mind understanding this was something new. I was a bit hung over from New Years eve, my heading throbbing and my throat dry. My wife was still asleep, there was no one to stop me from opening it, this present that was more mysterious than the first one I had received. I tore into the wrapping shredding it without any concern, per usual a small note laid inside. Before reading it I opened the box, the scent of metal inundating my nostrils, I couldn’t believe my eyes, it couldn’t be what I thought it was. I then turned my attentions to the small note, the words sending chills down my spine, it was simple; it was menacing, it read
“Survive, uncle Gabe”.