All hell broke loose when Thomas and Sienna uploaded a photo on social media to commemorate their tenth wedding anniversary. A creepy face appeared in the image, triggering a chain of events that brought the happy couple face-to-face with a horrifying truth.
Thomas quickly set the camera timer and joined Sienna in front of the fireplace, saying, “Ten years.”
Sienna responded, “Ten years of us.”
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As the camera’s timer counted down, Sienna thought she heard a soft sound in the hallway behind her. Her attention flickered, but she quickly dismissed it and focused instead on their anniversary photo, another one of the pictures that captured their lives.
Their home had more than enough littered around and adorning the walls.
Thomas sighed, nostalgic all of a sudden. “I remember when we first moved in here… We spent two nights sleeping on the floor,” he said, wrinkles forming in the corners of his eyes.
Sienna added, “And now, every nook and cranny holds a piece of our story. And we also get to share these pieces with others…on social media.” She laughed, clicking on her phone and putting it away to enjoy the rest of the night.
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In the morning, the sun woke her up, but as she blinked into the light, Sienna realized that something else was also disturbing their peace.
“Check that, hon,” Thomas said, his voice thick with sleep. “It’s been pinging for a while now.”
Sienna reached for her nightstand, her eyes half-closed, and brought the phone to her face. Too many social media notifications had appeared. She checked them, rising a bit on the bed to get comfortable.
“People are saying there’s something weird in our photo,” she said, frowning. “I have several missed calls, too.”
Thomas moved his body over to see her phone. “Weird? Like what?”
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Sienna’s brow creased as she read some comments. “A strange face is in the background, they say. But that’s impossible, right?”
He sighed, grabbing the phone and studying the photo. “Probably just shadows or something. Don’t let it bother you.” He shook his head and gave her the phone back, then rose from the bed for the day. But Sienna continued reading.
There was one comment with a screenshot highlighting a creepy childlike face near her shoulder in their photo. “Thomas… What the hell is that?” she whispered in dread, her finger touching the screen.
Thomas, who had been brushing his teeth by then, came back and peered over. “It’s gotta be a prank.”
But Sienna was terrified, remembering the noise she had heard as the camera took the photo. So, she searched on her phone until she found the original picture in the gallery app.
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“This isn’t a glitch. It’s too defined, too real. Look at its expression,” she argued, her eyes wide and wild.
Thomas still wasn’t convinced, but Sienna wouldn’t let it go. She went through the pictures. “Look. In every photo, there’s this strange, hazy presence,” she pointed out. “I think… it could be a ghost. Maybe our house is haunted.”
“We’ve lived here for a decade. We would’ve noticed,” he scoffed, but it was a broken sound. Sienna could tell that he was confused, if not entirely worried.
As they contemplated the eerie discovery, Sienna went to the spot where the camera had been and began taking photos, searching for a logical explanation. But the experiment was cut short as she screamed in fright when hands closed over her shoulders.
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“Relax, love. It’s me,” her husband said, chuckling a bit. “Forget about that photo. We’ve got lunch reservations, remember?”
Sienna agreed and got ready but apprehensively looked around the house before leaving. She continued to stare intently around as Thomas opened the car door for her and later walked to the driver’s seat.
A movement made her focus on the window. The same eerie face had appeared, making her yelp. “Stop the car!” she insisted, pointing at the house. Thomas squinted but couldn’t see anything. It was gone, but Sienna was sure of what she had seen.
***
That night, Sienna was awakened by a mournful cry and footsteps in their house. “Darling, wake up. Do you hear that?” she whispered, hearing sobs from the hallway.
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Thomas woke and heard the noise, too. He immediately grabbed the phone.
“We can’t call 911 for a ghost!” Sienna argued, but he insisted on protecting them from a real-life threat. After finishing the call, he grabbed his gun and went to check things out.
Sienna refused to stay behind, saying, “I’m going with you!”
They cautiously approached the source of the mysterious sounds in their home. Thomas checked the guest bedroom, but footsteps echoed downstairs. They took each step carefully, hearing more noise–another language—coming from the kitchen.
Sienna jumped a little and yelped again after finally seeing the truth about their home intruder. This was no ghost. Instead, they discovered the unsettling presence of a malnourished boy — the same one from their photo. He was crying, his pale, bony face completely covered in tears and snot.
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“Freeze!” Thomas shouted, but the boy sobbed and shook his head. Her husband focused on the intruder and lowered his arm, realizing there was no danger. “Hey there, it’s okay. We won’t hurt you.”
“Help?” The child’s eyes widened with hope.
Despite her racing heart, Sienna’s fear turned to sympathy at his pleas. “You’re hungry, right?” she asked, grinning tenderly.
“Hungry, yes.” The boy nodded.
“What’s your name?”
“Nikolai.”
As Sienna prepared a sandwich for Nikolai, the couple realized the boy had not meant to break in. He needed real help. “Where did you come from?” she asked gently.
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Nikolai remained silent, revealing that he had run from a “bad place.”
“Where’s your mother now?” she probed.
That perked him up a little. “You will help Mama?” he asked, sniffing.
Sienna stuttered for a second but nodded, “Of course we will, sweetheart. Just tell us how we can find her.”
“I see bear on wall and flowers in garden… flowers like sky. I run to wire wall, but big dog is there,” Nikolai sobbed again. “I bad son. I run, and now Mama alone.”
A knock interrupted them. It was the police answering Thomas’s earlier call. Nikolai panicked and tried to escape through a window, despite Sienna saying, “It’s okay, it’s the police. They’ll help us find your mom!”
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But the frightened boy bolted, eluding both Sienna and the police. The next day, she and Thomas took the initiative to search for Nikolai themselves. They distributed his photo around the neighborhood, encountering various reactions but no solid leads.
One of their curious neighbors, Nancy, recognized the ‘ghost’ from their anniversary photo. She joined the search, and others eventually did, too.
Finally, Sienna arrived at a neglected Victorian house and knocked. No response. She jumped at the sound of barking nearby. It was coming from behind a metal fence. “Wire wall,” she whispered, looking around, noting the chicory flowers as Nikolai’s words came to mind.
Investigating further, she found a boarded window and heard a woman’s plea for help from inside. She had her phone in her hand in a second to call the police. She then called Thomas. Soon, he arrived, and other neighbors gathered.
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The authorities got there and broke into the house, discovering Nikolai’s mother, who cried gratefully and explained her story. “I’m Asya. I came here with my boy to build new life. Marry man, but he… monster! He kept me prisoner,” she explained in broken English.
The search for Nikolai led to the basement, where he was found and quickly reunited with his mother. A police officer thanked Sienna for her role in the rescue. “Ma’am, thank you for alerting us to this situation. Your quick response helped these people.”
“What about the man who did this?’ Sienna asked, wrapping her arms around herself.
The officer reassured her, “We’ve already sent officers to arrest him at his job. Nikolai and Asya will be taken to a safe place. It seems she came here from Russia as some kind of mail-order bride. The legality of her immigrant status is unknown at this point, but we’ll ensure they get the help they need.”
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Nikolai saw them then and came over. He uttered, “Thank you. Mama and Nikolai safe now.” He went back to his mother, waving. They were then escorted by a kind social worker, who was taking them to a shelter.
After a while, Thomas and Sienna returned home. They sat back on the couch, sighing in disbelief that their picture led to all this. Thomas snapped his fingers as if he remembered something, and Sienna watched curiously, tilting her head as he reached for his briefcase.
“I believe the latest photo for the mantle deserves a special place,” he announced, holding up a framed print of the now-infamous photo the couple had posted on social media.
“It’s the best of the bunch,” Sienna quipped, and they both giggled.
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MY MOTHER-IN-LAW GOT A KITTEN AT 77 — AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO THINKS THIS IS A TERRIBLE IDEA?
The soft mewling sound echoed through the phone, a high-pitched, insistent cry that sent a fresh wave of frustration through me. “Isn’t she just the sweetest thing, darling?” my mother-in-law, Eleanor, cooed, her voice bubbling with an almost childlike delight.
I clenched my jaw, trying to keep my voice even. “She sounds… energetic,” I managed, picturing the tiny ball of fur wreaking havoc on Eleanor’s pristine living room.
Eleanor, at 77, had decided to adopt a kitten. A tiny, ginger terror named Clementine. And I, frankly, thought it was a terrible idea.
It wasn’t that I didn’t like cats. I did. But Eleanor was living alone, her health was… delicate, and the thought of her chasing after a hyperactive kitten filled me with dread.
“She’ll keep me active!” Eleanor had declared when she’d announced her new companion. “And I’ve been so lonely since Arthur passed.”
I’d tried to be diplomatic. “That’s wonderful, Eleanor,” I’d said, “but maybe a fish would be a better choice? Something a little less… demanding?”
She’d waved my suggestion away with a dismissive flick of her wrist. “Nonsense! Clementine is perfect. She’s my little companion.”
“Companion” was one word for it. “Chaos” was another.
Kittens were a whirlwind of claws and teeth, demanding constant attention, requiring frequent vet visits, and possessing an uncanny ability to find trouble. I could already envision Eleanor, her frail frame struggling to keep up with the kitten’s boundless energy, the inevitable accidents, the scratched furniture, the sleepless nights.
And then, there was the inevitable. What would happen when Eleanor’s health deteriorated? What would happen when she could no longer care for Clementine?
I knew the answer. I’d be the one left to pick up the pieces, to find a new home for the kitten, to deal with Eleanor’s heartbreak.
My husband, Michael, was no help. “She’s happy,” he’d said, shrugging. “Let her have her fun.”
“Fun?” I’d retorted. “She’s going to break a hip chasing that thing!”
But I was the only one who seemed to see the impending disaster. My friends, my family, even Eleanor’s bridge club, all thought it was a wonderful idea. “It’s keeping her young!” they’d chirp. “It’s giving her a purpose!”
I felt like I was living in a bizarre alternate reality, where everyone had lost their minds.
Weeks turned into months. Clementine grew into a mischievous young cat, a ginger blur that terrorized Eleanor’s houseplants and shredded her curtains. Eleanor, surprisingly, seemed to be thriving. She’d developed a newfound energy, a spring in her step that I hadn’t seen in years.
She’d joined an online cat forum, sharing photos and videos of Clementine’s antics. She’d even started taking her to a local cat café, where she’d made new friends.
One afternoon, I visited Eleanor, expecting to find chaos. Instead, I found her sitting on the sofa, Clementine curled up in her lap, purring contentedly. Eleanor looked radiant, her eyes sparkling with happiness.
“She’s been so good today,” she said, stroking Clementine’s soft fur. “We’ve been having a lovely afternoon.”
I watched them, a strange mix of emotions swirling within me. I’d been so convinced that this was a terrible idea, a recipe for disaster. But I’d been wrong.
Eleanor wasn’t just keeping Clementine; Clementine was keeping Eleanor. She was giving her a reason to get out of bed in the morning, a source of companionship, a spark of joy in her life.
I realized then that my concern, while well-intentioned, had been misplaced. I’d been so focused on the potential problems that I’d overlooked the simple truth: Eleanor was happy. And that, in the end, was all that mattered.
As I left her house, I smiled. Maybe, just maybe, I’d been the one who needed to learn a lesson. Sometimes, the best things in life are the ones we least expect.
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