We live a peaceful life in the countryside — my husband, our five-year-old daughter, our loyal dog Buster, and me. 🏡🌾 Our days are simple but fulfilling: tending the garden, preparing meals, helping our daughter with schoolwork. My husband works at the nearby farm, and I care for the home. Far from the noise of the city, we’ve created a small world of quiet joy.
But all of that changed the week my mother-in-law came to stay. 😟
She lives in the city with my husband’s younger brother. From the start, she never accepted me. Even at our wedding, I remember the way she looked at me — not with joy, but with judgment. Her eyes always seemed to scan for flaws, and her voice, when directed at me, often dripped with sarcasm. Still, I bit my tongue, for the sake of peace… and for my husband. We rarely saw her, and that made things easier.
Until one day, she called and said she needed a break from city life. 🧳
“I miss you all so much,” she claimed. “I’d love to spend a week in the countryside.”
Though I smiled politely on the phone, I felt a knot in my stomach. Something didn’t feel right. But my husband was excited and insisted we welcome her warmly. Against my better judgment, I agreed.
From the moment she arrived, the tension was heavy. 🥴 Nothing pleased her. My soup was too salty. The living room was “dusty.” The curtains weren’t ironed properly. But her worst jabs were about my parenting. She often rolled her eyes when I spoke to my daughter, claiming I was “too soft” and “spoiling her.” She’d whisper things to my husband that made him distance himself from me — even just a little.
One night, after a particularly difficult day, I cried silently in bed. 😢 I just wanted her to leave. Her presence felt suffocating.
Finally, the week ended. As her taxi disappeared down the road, I exhaled deeply. Peace, at last.
But peace did not return.
The next morning, our dog Buster — usually calm and friendly — began acting strangely. 🐕 He growled at the vegetable garden, something he’d never done before. His ears were pinned back, and he paced nervously. Then, without warning, he began digging furiously at the base of a flower bed, barking sharply. I called him away, but he refused to listen. He kept staring at me, then digging, over and over.
At first, I thought it was a buried animal or maybe a scent trail. But when he returned the next day and did the same thing, I grew uneasy. Something inside me whispered, “Check.” So I grabbed a shovel and approached the spot.
I began to dig. The soil was loose — recently disturbed. My heart pounded in my ears. 💓 A few inches down, my shovel hit something. A strange texture. I knelt and brushed the dirt away with my hands… until I saw it.
A black trash bag, tied tightly at the top. 🖤🪦
I hesitated. The air around me felt cold. But I needed to know.
I pulled the bag out, opened it slowly… and recoiled.
Inside was a collection of bizarre and terrifying items: clumps of dark hair tied with string, a faded child’s dress that didn’t belong to my daughter, a broken porcelain doll with one eye missing, and worst of all — a cloth bundle containing photos. 📷🧩
Photos of me, my husband, and our daughter.
Every photo had the eyes scratched out.
My hands shook. My breath caught in my throat. It felt evil. I knew this wasn’t a joke. This was something dark, something meant to harm. Some kind of curse — or worse.
And then it hit me.
Only one person had been in that garden recently. Only one person had a reason to hide something. Only one person carried with her so much silent hatred — my mother-in-law. 😨
She could’ve buried that bag when I was distracted — cooking, hanging laundry, putting my daughter to bed. The pieces clicked into place. Her coldness, her stares, her visit. It wasn’t just a vacation — it was planned.
I didn’t know what to do, but I couldn’t leave it there. I took the bag to the church. ⛪
The local priest examined its contents, his face pale. “This is a curse,” he said softly. “A spell to destroy harmony in a home.”
I’m not a superstitious woman. But how could I ignore the signs? Buster’s behavior, her visit, the objects… everything aligned too perfectly. I let the priest burn the contents while praying over my family.
That evening, I told my husband everything. At first, he was defensive, unwilling to believe his own mother would go that far. But when I showed him the photos, the doll, the hair, he grew quiet.
He stood there for several minutes, staring at the evidence in silence.
Finally, he said, “She’s never coming back here.”
Since that day, Buster has taken to sleeping at the front door, like a guardian. 🐶🚪 He rarely leaves our side, always alert, always watching. I believe he knew something none of us could sense.
As for my mother-in-law, she has tried to reach out — calls, messages, even letters. But I’ve blocked every attempt. I don’t care about apologies or explanations.
There are things that cross the line. And that day in the garden, I saw how far she was willing to go. 😔
Was I overreacting?
Or did I trust my instincts just in time?
