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…
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.
“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.”
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.
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.
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.
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?”
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.
“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.”
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.”
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.
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.
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.”
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.”
“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.
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—”
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?”
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.
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?”
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.”
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.
“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.”
“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.
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.”
My daughter and Son In Law shamed me for getting a tattoo at 75. I decided to give them a lesson
Elis, 75, made the audacious and surprising decision to do something on a bright morning in New Orleans. She’d been thinking about getting a tattoo for a long now. She desired to relive her youth and greet life with renewed energy. Thus, she entered a tattoo parlor, selected a delicate pattern that represented her strength and passion for life, and had herself inked. She was so happy with the artwork on her arm that she experienced a surge of joy. She declared to the world that age was merely a number.
The Unexpected Reaction
Elis threw a modest party for her family, excited to show off her new tattoo. She hoped they would respond favorably, imagining their astonishment. Nevertheless, her daughter’s face contorted in disapproval the moment she saw the tattoo.”What in the world were you thinking, Mom?” she cried out. “Getting a tattoo at your age is not only inappropriate—it’s also embarrassing. Not some disobedient adolescent, but a respectable grandmother is what you’re meant to be. People will make fun of you because it seems stupid.Just For Illustrative UseA twinge of pain shot through Elis, but worse was to come. She laughed uncontrollably at her son-in-law, who she had always loved like her own son. He laughed till he was almost unsteady on his feet, tears rolling down his cheeks.”Mom, that’s hilarious! Between chuckles, he managed to ask, “Really, a tattoo at your age?” Elis’s heart fell. The thing that stung more than the words was the vile mockery. Their responses hurt her profoundly and made her feel ashamed.
Organizing the Ideal Refund
Elis made the decision to take her grief and use it as fuel, refusing to allow their mocking remarks and harsh comments define her. She remembered how badly her son-in-law had hurt her; a man who relied solely on her daughter and dreamed of becoming a millionaire. This was the last straw. Elis decided to impart to him a knowledge that he would never forget.Elis spent the next two days carefully organizing her retaliation. She made the decision to reveal her son-in-law’s apathy and lack of drive in a way that would shock and enlighten him. She made contact with some of her acquaintances who were talented in other fields, one of them being an outstanding actor.
The Day of Judgment
Elis carried out her plan two days later. This time, she pretended to need assistance with some home maintenance when she extended an invitation to her relatives. Reluctant to face the real world of employment, her son-in-law finally consented to attend.Elis was waiting for them when they got there, carrying a toolbox and a list of things that needed to get done. She gave her son-in-law the list, and his expression was puzzled.He was perplexed and questioned, “What’s this?”Elis remarked kindly, “I thought you could help out with these tasks.” “After all, you constantly boast about your handyness.”Just For Illustrative UseHe took a quick look at the list, which included jobs like rewiring a lamp, replacing a broken fence, and repairing the leaky faucet. Glancing around, he realized that he was incapable of doing any of these responsibilities.Elis was about to object when the actor, who was dressed like a professional contractor, showed there. After introducing himself, he started by making each task appear simple as he demonstrated how to complete it. The son-in-law, unable to keep up, watched, looking uncomfortable and ashamed as he fumbled with the tools.
An Acquired Knowledge
As the day went on, it became evident that the son-in-law was completely unable to finish even the most basic responsibilities. Elis observed with a conflicted sense of relief and sympathy. As her daughter witnessed her husband’s incapacity, she started to see how much she had been supporting his sloth.Elis’s strategy was a complete success. Her son-in-law was worn out, ashamed, and forced to face his lack of practical abilities by the end of the day. With a composed yet assertive tone, Elis drew him aside and remarked, “You laughed at me for wanting to feel young and vibrant again. But now look at you. Perhaps it’s time you matured and began accepting accountability for your actions in life.Her remarks had an impact. The incident humbled the son-in-law, who expressed regret for his actions. He committed to working hard to get better and more independent. Elis took his apology and told him that she would not put up with any more mistreatment.
Going Forward: Elis observed a shift in her son-in-law during the ensuing weeks. He started to actively work on improving himself and took on greater duties. Her daughter also began to value her mother’s fortitude and self-reliance.Elis, on the other hand, kept living her life with the same carefree attitude that inspired her to get the tattoo. She resumed going to social gatherings, took up a local fitness class, and even started dating once more. She demonstrated to herself and everyone around her that living life to the fullest was possible at any age.Elis’s audacious move had not only lifted her spirits but also resulted in a much-needed shift inside her family. She smiled every time she saw her tattoo, being reminded of the bravery and strength it took to defend herself and impart an important lesson in the process.
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