Seven months pregnant, I agreed to house-sit for my brother and his wife while they vacationed. One afternoon, I stumbled across three mysterious trash bags in the basement. What I found inside made me run for my life and haunts me to this day.
“Run, faster, faster, Celina,” a voice screamed in my head as I stumbled through the dense woods behind my brother’s mansion. Seven months pregnant, I gasped for air, one hand clutching my swollen belly, the other pushing away branches that scratched at my face…
A woman running in the woods | Source: Midjourney
The next bus stop was just beyond these trees. How could I have been so blind? So trusting?
I glanced down at my trembling hands, sticky with drying blood. Wiping them on my dress, I whispered, “We’re safe, my baby. We’re safe. Someone will get us home.”
It all started two weeks ago…
I was curled up on the couch, scrolling through my phone when it buzzed with an incoming call. My brother Victor’s name flashed on the screen.
A smartphone with the screen flashing with an incoming call | Source: Midjourney
“Hey, big bro! What’s up?” I answered, trying to sound cheerful despite the tension that had been building between us lately.
“Celina! How’s my favorite sister?” Victor’s voice boomed through the speaker. “Listen, I’ve got a huge favor to ask. Anne and I are heading out of town for a week. A friend’s wedding plus a little vacation. Any chance you or Paul could house-sit for us?”
Before I could respond, I heard rustling and then my sister-in-law Anne’s voice came on the line.
“Oh, Celina, you’ll love staying here! Don’t worry about a thing, sweetie. The house practically runs itself.”
A woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
I hesitated, thinking about the cold shoulder Anne had been giving me lately.
Our relationship had become increasingly strained over the past year, ever since Paul’s business took off and our financial situation improved dramatically.
Meanwhile, Victor had faced a string of failed ventures, and I could see the toll it was taking on him and Anne.
Portrait of an upset couple | Source: Midjourney
The last straw seemed to be my pregnancy announcement. While the rest of the family had been overjoyed, Anne’s reaction was lukewarm at best.
She didn’t even bother to show up for the gender reveal party, citing being “too busy” when I called to ask why she’d missed it.
I knew it was a lie. Anne and Victor had been trying for years to conceive, with no success due to some health issues she faced. My easy pregnancy seemed to be salt in her wounds.
A gender reveal party | Source: Midjourney
There was also the incident last month when Anne hosted a party to celebrate Victor finally landing a big contract. Paul and I weren’t invited, and when I politely confronted her about it later, she brushed it off with a flimsy excuse about “limited space.”
The hurt and confusion I felt then still lingered.
But now, here she was, asking me to house-sit. Was this her way of extending an olive branch? Maybe she was finally ready to move past her jealousy and resentment.
A woman lost in deep thought | Source: Midjourney
Despite my reservations, I found myself wanting to believe that this could be a turning point in our relationship.
“Sure, I’d be happy to,” I said, hope creeping into my voice. “When do you need me?”
“Morning, eight, yeah?”
“Alright, I’ll be there.”
As I hung up, my husband Paul walked in, his brow furrowing as he took in my expression.
“What’s wrong, honey?”
A concerned man smiling | Source: Midjourney
I explained the situation, watching as concern clouded his features.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” he asked gently. “Things have been tense with Anne lately.”
I sighed, rubbing my belly absently. “I know, but maybe this is her way of trying to patch things up? Besides, it might be nice to get away for a bit before the baby comes.”
Paul didn’t look convinced, his brow furrowing with worry.
A worried man sitting on the couch | Source: Midjourney
“I wish I could join you, but I’ve got those crucial client meetings all week,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Are you absolutely sure about this, darling?”
I nodded, trying to project more confidence than I felt. “It’ll be fine, honey. I can handle it.”
Paul didn’t look convinced, but he nodded. “Alright, if you’re sure. Just promise me you’ll be careful, okay?”
I leaned in, kissing him softly. “I promise. I’ll be fine.”
A pregnant woman sitting on the couch | Source: Midjourney
The following morning, I stood outside Victor and Anne’s mansion, waving goodbye to Paul as he drove away after dropping me.
My brother and sister-in-law emerged, suitcases in hand.
“Celina!” Victor swept me into a gentle hug, keeping a distance from my bulging belly. “Thanks again for doing this. We really appreciate it.”
Silhouette of a woman standing outside a mansion | Source: Midjourney
Anne’s smile seemed forced as she air-kissed my cheek.
“Yes, thank you,” she said, her voice overly sweet. “Everything you need is inside. We’ve got to run to the airport. Have a great week, darling!”
And just like that, they were gone, leaving me alone in the massive house.
A worried woman in a mansion | Source: Midjourney
I wandered from room to room, feeling oddly out of place.
My phone buzzed with a text from Paul: “Miss you already. Call if you need anything. Love you both. 😘“
I smiled, replying quickly before settling onto the couch. As night fell, the house seemed to grow larger and emptier.
The taxidermied animals on the walls seemed to stare back at me, intensifying the feeling that I was being watched.
A pregnant woman sitting amid an eerie display of taxidermied animals | Source: Midjourney
Three days passed in a blur of Netflix binges and long naps.
On the fourth morning, I decided to be a little productive. After my daily call with Paul, I cleaned the kitchen and headed to the basement to check on the furnace.
As I reached the bottom of the stairs, my eyes fell on three large garbage bags tucked in a corner.
“Weird,” I muttered. “Anne must’ve forgotten to take these out.”
Three fully-loaded trash bags in a basement | Source: Midjourney
I snapped a quick picture, sending it to her with a joking message: “Forgot something? Don’t worry, I’ve got trash duty covered!😉”
Seconds later, my phone exploded with notifications. A text from Anne read: “DON’T TOUCH THEM! SERIOUSLY, GET OUT OF OUR BASEMENT! NOW.”
Before I could process her reaction, she called.
I answered, confused. “Anne? What’s wrong?”
“Celina, listen to me,” she hissed. “Get out of the basement. Now. Don’t look in those bags. Just go upstairs and pretend you never saw them.”
A woman gaping in shock as she holds her phone | Source: Midjourney
“But—”
“Just Go. Please.”
“Okay, okay,” I said, backing away. “I’m leaving now.”
I hung up, my heart pounding. What could possibly be in those bags that would make Anne react like that?
Despite every instinct screaming at me to run, curiosity won out.
An alarmed pregnant woman standing against the backdrop of trash bags in a basement | Source: Midjourney
I approached the nearest bag, my hands shaking as I untied the knot.
As I pulled it open, the bag tore and the contents spilled out onto the floor. The moment my eyes registered what lay before me, my blood turned to ice in my veins.
Ritual tools. Decayed chicken bones and feathers. And voodoo dolls. Dozens of crude, handmade dolls, each bearing a photo of MY FACE. Many were stained with a dark, reddish-brown substance and reeked of rot. The stench of decay filled the air, making my stomach churn.
“Oh my God,” I whispered, stumbling backward. “Oh my God, oh my God. This can’t be—”
A voodoo doll with a woman’s picture on it | Source: Midjourney
I fumbled for my phone, dialing Paul with trembling fingers.
“Baby,” I choked out when he answered. “I need you to come get me. Now.”
“Celina, breathe,” Paul’s voice crackled through the speaker. “What happened?”
A terrified woman gaping in shock | Source: Midjourney
I tried to explain between gasps, my words tumbling out in a panicked jumble.
“Bags in the basement… voodoo dolls with my face… blood… Paul, I think Anne’s been trying to curse our baby!”
“Jesus Christ,” Paul muttered. “Okay, listen to me. Get out of that house right now. Don’t wait for me, just go to the bus stop on the main road. I’m on my way.”
I didn’t need to be told twice. I raced up the stairs, pausing only to grab my purse before bolting out the front door. The woods behind the house offered a shortcut to the road, and I plunged in without hesitation.
A frightened woman running in the woods | Source: Midjourney
Branches whipped at my face as I ran, my pregnant belly making it hard to maneuver. I could hear my ragged breathing, punctuated by the snapping of twigs beneath my feet.
Finally, I burst out onto the road, the bus stop just a few yards away. I collapsed onto the bench, gulping in air, my hands and clothes smeared with dirt and blood from my frantic flight through the woods.
Paul’s car screeched to a halt in front of me minutes later. He leapt out, rushing to my side. “Celina! Are you okay? The baby?”
A startled man gaping in shock | Source: Midjourney
I nodded weakly, allowing him to help me into the car. As we sped away, I recounted everything I’d seen in a shaky voice.
Paul’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel. “I knew we shouldn’t have trusted them,” he muttered. “Especially not Anne. The way she’s been acting lately…”
“I can’t believe she’d do this,” I whispered, tears streaming down my face. “My own sister-in-law… how could she hate me this much?”
Paul reached over, squeezing my hand. “We’ll figure this out, I promise. For now, let’s just get you home and safe.”
A shocked woman holding her face | Source: Midjourney
The next few days passed in a haze of fear and disbelief.
Anne called repeatedly, but Paul insisted I shouldn’t speak to her until Victor returned. When they finally got back from their trip, I steeled myself for the confrontation.
We met at a neutral location, a quiet café downtown. Victor looked confused and concerned as I recounted what I’d found, while Anne’s face cycled through shock, anger, and finally, defeat.
A shocked young man | Source: Midjourney
“Is this true?” Victor demanded, turning to his wife. “Have you been… what, practicing witchcraft against my sister?”
Anne’s shoulders slumped. “I… I was jealous,” she whispered. “Your sister got everything so easily… the perfect husband, the thriving business, the baby. I just wanted what she had.”
Victor recoiled in horror. “This is insane, Anne. You need help.”
An alarmed woman looking at a man | Source: Midjourney
“I’m so sorry,” Anne sobbed, reaching for my hand. I pulled away, shaking my head.
“Sorry isn’t enough. You tried to hurt my baby. I can never forgive that.”
In the weeks that followed, our family splintered. Victor filed for divorce, unable to reconcile with Anne’s actions. My parents were devastated, torn between their children and the shocking betrayal.
As for me, I struggled to shake off the fear and paranoia that had taken root. Every unexplained noise, every twinge in my belly sent me into a panic.
Paul was my rock, holding me through tearful nights and accompanying me to every doctor’s appointment to ensure our baby was healthy.
A sad woman sitting on the couch | Source: Midjourney
Slowly, life began to normalize. But as I sat in our nursery, folding tiny onesies and dreaming of the future, I couldn’t help but feel a lingering sense of unease.
My phone buzzed with a text from a friend: “How are you holding up?”
I typed out a response, trying to put my jumbled thoughts into words: “Still processing everything. It’s hard to believe someone so close could betray us like that. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: don’t blindly trust someone just because you know them. Terror can strike from unexpected places, even from those closest to you. Stay safe out there.🙏🏻“
I set down my phone, resting a hand on my belly. Our daughter kicked, strong and healthy despite everything. “We’re okay, little one,” I whispered. “We always will be.”
A woman holding her baby bump | Source: Midjourney
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
Poor Man Wakes up One Morning and Finds His Late Father’s Old Trailer in His Backyard
One morning, a poor man is stunned to wake up and find his father’s old trailer in his yard with a note from his older brother — but the despised inheritance ends up making his fortune.
When Mark Kendrick’d first married, it looked as if life would run smoothly. He and his wife Sally had a good job. But then back in 2008, his wife lost her job as a chef when the restaurant she worked in closed down.
Left with a huge mortgage, two children, and one salary, the Kendricks had struggled. In 2019 when Mark’s father pa::ssed away, his estate — which was substantial — had all gone to his brother, Jim. It seemed that Mark just couldn’t catch a break.
Mark never told anyone, even Sally, but the conditions of his father’s will had hurt him deeply. Mark was the younger brother by nearly 20 years and the child of his father’s second marriage.
He understood that the company and the big house his father had lived in had once belonged to Jim’s deceased mother and were his by right — but Mark had thought his dad would leave him some token of his esteem.
When Mark was still a child, his father had often played hide-and-seek games with him. The little boy would often find a little treat under his pillow with a note — chocolate or a piece of candy — and the note always said: ‘Daddy loves you, Mark.’
They’d go off on vacation — Mark, his mom, and his dad — on their old trailer. His half-brother, Jim, would never go. He’d always turn up his nose at their ‘trashy trailer’ and go off with his fancy college friends.
The trio would drive around the back roads of America stopping whenever they fancied a town’s name, and the first meal they made was always his dad’s spicy clam chowder.
For Mark, those vacations were his fondest memories of his childhood, and they had ended when his mother pass::ed away, a victim of can::cer when Mark was fifteen. After that, the trailer just sat in the backyard.
Our family’s memories and the good times we spent together are the most precious things we have.
Mark’s dad had withered away to a shadow of his former self and became almost a recluse. In his last years, he refused to see anyone at all, even his sons and grandchildren.
Then, two years after his dad’s pa:ssing, Mark woke up to find the old trailer parked in his driveway! He immediately phoned his brother. “Jim, what’s going on?” he asked. “You left the trailer here?”
His brother was abrupt. “The old man wanted you to have that piece of junk,” he said. “And it’s taking up space I need. So you take it and throw away your own trash!”
“Jim,” Mark asked quietly. “Why can’t we be friends?”
“You ask me why?” asked Jim bitterly. “He loved you more than he ever loved me, he spent more time with you on that stupid trailer than he ever did with me. Tha’s why!”
For illustrative purpose only. Source: Unsplash
Sad Mark hung up the phone, then he went outside and climbed into the old trailer. It was sadly neglected and would need a lot of work before it could be used again.
Mark sat on his old bed and tested the mattress. He’d have to get a new one. Then, out of old habit, he stuck his hand under the pillow. To his surprise, he felt something there!
There was an envelope under the pillow with his name on it! He opened it and found a bank book for an account with a balance of over $60,000! In the envelope was a recipe for his dad’s chowder, and a note.
The note read: “My dear Mark, this recipe and the memories of the good times we shared are all I have to leave you. I hope this money will come in handy. It’s not much, but it may help to smooth your way. Remember me. Daddy loves you, Mark.”
Mark had tears in his eyes. He took the bank book and showed it to Sally. “That’s not bad…” she said. “It’s not the millions that Jim got, but it will help. You can sell that old trailer too. That should bring in a little more money.”
Mark was in shoc::k. “I’m not selling my dad’s trailer!” he cried. “That’s out of the question!”
“Well I don’t want that piece of junk just sitting in the front yard!” cried Sally crossly.
Mark sat on the front porch looking at that trailer for hours. It certainly needed a lot of work… Then he pulled his dad’s recipe out of his pocket and stared at it. “Sally!” he cried. “Come here! I have an idea!”
“What is it, Mark?” she asked.
“You know how you always said you wanted your own restaurant?” he asked excitedly and pointed at the old trailer. “There it is!”
“Are you mad?” gasped Sally.
“No!” Mark said. “Listen, we transform that old trailer into a mobile restaurant/ food truck. We make that amazing clam chowder of my dad’s… We’ll paint it bright, happy colors and string up lights…”
“That could work,” said Sally thoughtfully. “If we can afford the licenses…”
They could and they did. Pretty soon, people were coming from all over the city to eat Pop’s Chowder, making Mark give up his job to help Sally. They started a franchise, and before long, there were Pop’s Chowder food trucks all over the state.
Mark was very happy. His father’s memory was honored every day, with every bite a satisfied customer took of that amazing clam chowder. And thanks to that legacy, he was taking good care of his family.
Mark called Jim and invited him and his family to join them for a family lunch at the old refurbished trailer. Jim came and ate the chowder and the two brothers made peace, just as their father would have wanted.
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