When animal bones started appearing on our doorstep, my husband thought it was a prank. But they kept coming—arranged in strange circles—filling me with dread. Our kids were scared, claiming to hear whispers and scratching in the walls. My daughter even started collecting the bones, thinking they were from a dinosaur.
We tried asking the neighbors, but most avoided us—until we met Hilton, who ominously warned us about the house being “not right” and told us to leave before it “claimed” us. The next day, we found bones in our fireplace. That was the final straw—we installed hidden cameras.
The footage revealed the shocking truth: Hilton himself was sneaking onto our property at night, planting bones—even dropping some down our chimney. He was arrested, and his wife confessed he was obsessed with a rumored treasure the previous owner mentioned before dying.
Curious, we searched the basement and found an old chest under the floorboards. It contained vintage jewelry and copper candlesticks—family heirlooms, not treasure.
With Hilton gone, peace returned. Our kids slept soundly again, and we finally felt at home. One night, we discovered the source of the mysterious scratching: a neighbor’s orange tabby cat sneaking in through the window.
Now, I still check the doorstep every morning out of habit—but all I see is a house that once scared me, now truly our home.