My house had strange things happen to it for weeks. Things people loved disappeared, and furniture moved on its own. I started to doubt my sanity and wonder if my sadness had finally worn me down. But I refused to give up and let doubt win.
At age 62, I was used to being alone because I lived alone. Still, the strange events scared me. I started taking notes on each room before going to bed, and the next morning I compared the pictures. The proof shocked me: the furniture had moved.
I put security cams all over my house because I was determined to find the truth. As the days went by, nothing strange was caught on tape. Then, on the sixth day, I saw a vision that made my blood freeze.
On my living room camera, a person in black clothing showed up. With their faces covered, they moved carefully, as if they were aware of the cameras. It broke my heart.
The video showed that the person was doing something bad: moving things around and sometimes just standing there and watching. When I called the cops, they sent more officers on patrol.
I came up with a plan with the officer’s help. While pretending to run chores, I’d watch live video from a nearby café. I would call the cops as soon as the intruder came into my house.
The wait seemed to last forever. The door then creaked open, and the figure came back in. When I called the police officer, my voice was barely above a whisper.
“This is it. “He’s inside.”
While the cops were coming to help me, the intruder looked through my things and entered my private areas. Things were different this time, though.
They were mean and made fun of me while handling my personal things. When the police rushed in, the figure ran away. They caught the bad guy in my garden.
When they took off the mask, my whole world fell apart.
Trevor, my son, called.
After twenty years apart, he came back with a strange plan. He tried to make me crazy so he could take over my money and land.
Trevor’s words hurt a lot: “You left me… I needed money.” His evil plans really scared me to my core.
He was taken away by cops, but the wound was still there. I thought losing my husband was painful, but this hurt like nothing else.
After that, I paid off Trevor’s bills to end the nightmare, but I also got a restraining order.
“Trevor, you’re no longer my son,” I said in our last chat. Please do not call me again.”
When I hung up, I felt more empty than ever. Grief, which I used to understand, seemed weak in comparison to the pain of deception.
What this situation taught me is
Never forget how strong desire can be.
It’s okay for the truth to shock and break your heart.
Tell others this story to serve as a warning: sometimes, the most surprising secrets are right in front of you.
