The Stop List
by Tobias · 12 July 2026 · Horror
Tobias Kirchner, a parcel delivery driver in Leipzig, discovers a thirteenth stop in his app leading to an address where no building exists, and the app confirms a delivery he never made. The entry reappears weekly, and after reinstalling the app, a countdown of eleven weeks appears. Tobias avoids Tuesday night shifts ever since, but quietly keeps counting down the weeks.
Tobias Kirchner had been delivering parcels for two years, in Leipzig's northeast district, always the same route, and he knew the app so well he could describe its quirks the way you'd describe a person's: it hated construction sites, it loved round numbers, and it never displayed more than twelve stops at once, no matter how many parcels sat in the van.
One Tuesday in February, it showed thirteen.
He assumed a glitch at first, scrolled, counted again. Twelve regular addresses, all familiar, all plausible. And, at the very bottom, a thirteenth: Kickerlingstraße 4, no recipient name, no tracking number, just a time — "22:47" — even though his shift officially ended at 8 p.m., and the system, by its own logic, shouldn't have been able to display such a thing at all.
He ran his twelve regular stops as usual, expecting the thing to vanish once he restarted the app. It didn't. When he finished at 8 p.m., Kickerlingstraße 4 was still there, now marked with a red dot he'd never seen before, the time no longer changing: 22:47.
Kickerlingstraße was real. He knew the area, a seventies apartment block, unremarkable. Number 4 existed on the map too. But when he actually drove there at 10:40, out of a mix of duty and a curiosity he couldn't explain afterward, carrying a parcel he didn't have — he had none left, all delivered — he found, where number 4 should have stood, a gap between two other buildings. No construction site. No demolished lot. Just a narrow, dark space, exactly wide enough for a house that must once have stood there and no longer did, with nothing to indicate when or why.
As he stood in front of it, the app suddenly displayed: "Delivery successful — 22:47." He had delivered nothing. It was 10:39.
Tobias drove home and told no one, knowing how it would sound — a philosophy student who reads Hegel on his bike now claiming his delivery app sent him to a house that doesn't exist. But the following Tuesday, at the exact same time, in the exact same week, the thirteenth address appeared again. This time he didn't go. This time he deleted the app, reinstalled it, logged in with a new account.
On first login, before a single regular route had loaded, the empty screen flashed, for a fraction of a second, a single line: Kickerlingstraße 4 — 22:47 — eleven weeks remaining.
He hasn't taken a Tuesday night shift since. But every week since that February, he's counted, silently, telling no one. The number keeps getting smaller.
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