Gina Heslop
After cutting our vacation short because my wife wasn’t feeling well, we came home earlier than planned. While my wife rested, I decided to check around the house and yard to make sure everything was fine.
When I stepped into the backyard, I was shocked. Right in the middle of the yard was a massive hole, surrounded by piles of dirt. There were tools scattered around and a fresh bottle of water nearby.
My first thought was that someone had trespassed on our property, and I considered calling the police. Then a more disturbing idea hit me—what if the person digging the hole wasn’t finished? What if they planned to return, thinking we were still on vacation?
To stay unnoticed, I parked the car in the garage, turned off all the lights, and waited. Later that night, I saw a shadowy figure climb over the fence and head straight for the hole. My heart pounded as I watched them pull on gloves and jump into the pit.
I grabbed a flashlight and stepped outside. My voice was steady but loud as I yelled, “Hey!” The figure froze, then turned slowly toward me. To my disbelief, it was my neighbor, Paul.
“Paul? What are you doing in my backyard?” I demanded. He looked panicked and stammered, “I can explain!” “Start explaining,” I said, crossing my arms.
Paul climbed out of the hole, brushing dirt off his clothes. He hesitated before saying, “I think there’s something buried here—something valuable.”
Confused, I asked what he meant. He explained that his grandfather had told him a story about an old homestead that once stood on our land.
Supposedly, the family buried a chest of gold before fleeing during the war. Paul admitted he didn’t think I’d believe him, so he decided to dig while we were away, promising to split anything he found.
I was furious but also slightly sympathetic when he confessed he was desperate because he was behind on his mortgage. I told him he needed to fill the hole immediately and warned him never to cross my boundaries again.
The next morning, Paul filled the hole and apologized. While I couldn’t help but wonder if the treasure was real, I knew some things were better left buried—especially when trust was at stake.
