That's right, talkin' voice! Should be some letters somewhere on the stuff. That way it's all easier for those lazy-ass mailhouse jerks to throw everything back to the dogs, errr, "kind townspeople."
A couple of the rings got engravings in 'em. "To my lovin' wife, Gloria"; "Yer always in our hearts 'n' such" etcetery etcetery. Same with the watches, couple of initials an' the like. The black diary, it's made out of somethin' nice, like leather but better. Feels smooth an' supple, like a soft behind. You try to open it, but goddammit, it's got a lock. You turn it around and see somethin' carved in the back of the smooth material: "C. W. M."
The doll.... The hell? The doll, with its short black hair, deep green eyes, rugged facial hair, slightly crooked nose, dark brown duster with a dirty white button-up shirt... Looks awfully like, well, you.
"Jesus Christ," you manage to mutter. "How horrifying."
Now what do you do?