Driving alone on a foggy night, a mother spots a young girl in a tattered dress, silent and familiar. As she pulls closer, she notices that the girl’s haunted eyes hold secrets that might be better left hidden.
It was late, and the night felt thicker than usual. The fog wrapped around the car like a heavy blanket, swallowing up everything beyond the headlights. I squinted ahead, gripping the wheel tighter than usual.
Driving through the fog | Source: Pexels
“Just get home,” I muttered, rubbing my tired eyes. It had been such a long day at work, and all I wanted was my bed.
I hated this road. I’d always hated it. I usually took the main highway, but tonight, I had thought: Just a quick shortcut. It’ll save me time.
A woman driving through the fog | Source: Midjourney
Then, something caught my eye. A shadow, right in the middle of the road. I slammed on the brakes, heart pounding, and stared. The figure was barely visible, just an outline in the mist.
“Please just be a tree or a mailbox or something,” I whispered, even though I knew it wasn’t. As I rolled forward slowly, the shadow appeared to be a girl. She was thin, and her white dress seemed to cling to her in tatters.
A girl on a figgy road | Source: Midjourney
I felt an instinctual chill crawl up my spine. Everything in me screamed to turn around, to get out of there. But something stronger kept me rooted in place.
I rolled down the window a crack, my voice shaky. “Are you okay?”
Slowly, I opened the door and stepped out, flashlight in hand. I aimed it at her face, and the beam caught her features for the first time. I gasped, stumbling back. I knew that face. The pale skin, the wide eyes, the mouth parted slightly in confusion.
A woman stepping out from her car | Source: Midjourney
“Emily?” My voice was barely a whisper, but she seemed to hear me. She looked up, her eyes locking onto mine, empty and wide.
“Mommy?” Her voice was soft, barely there.
Shock and relief crashed over me. It was her. My Emily, my daughter who’d been gone for five years. She’d vanished without a trace, no sign of where she’d gone or who might have taken her. The police and search parties had all come up with nothing.
A search party going through the woods | Source: Pexels
“Emily, oh my God… it’s really you,” I stammered, taking a step closer. “Where have you been? Are you hurt?”
She blinked, her face blank. “I… don’t know,” she murmured. Her voice sounded small. It was like it hadn’t been used in years.
I swallowed, my mind racing. Trauma, maybe. I had been warned that if we ever found her, she might not remember because kids could block out things that were too painful.
A shy girl looking down | Source: Midjourney
I knelt in front of her, heart racing. “It’s okay, honey. It’s me. It’s Mom. We’re gonna go home, okay?” My hand trembled as I reached out.
I wrapped my coat around her shoulders, feeling her icy skin through the fabric. “Let’s get you out of here,” I said, guiding her to the car. She sat silently in the passenger seat, staring out the window, her expression distant.
A woman hugging her daughter | Source: Midjourney
The drive home was quiet, her gaze never leaving the foggy darkness outside. I glanced over, trying to read her face, but there was nothing, just a blank stare, as though she was somewhere else entirely.
“Emily,” I tried gently, “do you remember anything? Anything at all?”
She didn’t look at me. “A room. It was… dark. And… there was someone. I think. I think he brought food, but… I don’t remember his face.”
A sad girl in the backseat of the car | Source: Midjourney
My throat tightened. “It’s okay, honey. You’re safe now. We’re going home.”
She didn’t respond; she stared into the fog as we left the dark road behind.
As we pulled into the driveway, I felt a pang of relief. The familiar porch light, the sight of home, everything safe. But as I opened the door and led her inside, a new unease settled over me.
A house at night | Source: Pexels
Emily sat stiffly on the couch, looking around like she didn’t recognize anything. Her movements were slow, almost robotic.
“Do you… remember this place?” I asked.
She shrugged, her eyes blank. “I think so.”
Her voice was so flat, so empty. I sat beside her, reaching out, but stopped, unsure if she wanted comfort or space.
A woman talking to her mother | Source: Midjourney
“Mom,” she whispered, her voice barely there, “I’m… cold.”
I wrapped a blanket around her and sat there watching her, unsure of what to do or say.
The days that followed were a blur of quiet tension. Emily barely spoke, answering my questions in monosyllables, her gaze always elsewhere. I only heard her voice when she sang an old lullaby that I used to sing to her as a baby. I knew she couldn’t have remembered that, but I didn’t want to pry either.
A girl covering her face with her hands | Source: Pexels
One evening, I found her sitting on the floor, surrounded by old photo albums I’d stored in a closet. She had one open on her lap, her fingers tracing a picture of Mark, her father. He’d passed away when she was just a baby, so young she couldn’t possibly remember him.
“Mom?” she whispered, her brow furrowed. “I know him.”
I felt a strange chill. “Honey, that’s your dad. Remember? I told you about him.”
A sad girl hugging herself | Source: Pexels
“No,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “I know him. From… the place.” Her eyes filled with confusion, and she stared at the picture as if trying to make sense of a dream.
My throat went dry. “What place, Emily?”
Her hands trembled, and she shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t remember… but he was there.”
A concerned woman talking to her scared child | Source: Midjourney
My mind raced. Emily couldn’t have known Mark. She was just a baby when he died. But someone who looked like him… my thoughts shifted sharply. Mark’s brother, Jake.
He looked so much like Mark that they could’ve been twins. He’d even stayed with us a few times after Mark’s death. He’d been there when I sang Emily her lullabies. A memory rushed back of Jake standing in the doorway, listening to me sing her to sleep.
Bothers posing for a photo | Source: Midjourney
I couldn’t ignore the thought any longer. I had to know the truth.
The next morning, I drove out to the old family cabin, an isolated place nestled deep in the woods on the edge of town. I hadn’t been there since Mark died.
After his passing, the cabin became a hollow shell of memories I couldn’t bear to face. And no one ever had a reason to visit it. The police hadn’t even searched there when Emily disappeared; they’d assumed it was abandoned, unimportant.
A shack in the woods | Source: Pexels
I parked the car and stepped out, the silence of the forest pressing in around me. The cabin looked just as I remembered, except more rundown. But something was off.
As I moved closer, I saw one of the windows was covered with a piece of heavy cloth. I felt a surge of unease. Why would someone cover the window?
A window covered with a peace of cloth | Source: Pexels
The door creaked as I pushed it open, and stale air hit me in a wave. Dust lay thick over everything except for a narrow trail leading toward a door in the back. My pulse quickened. I followed the trail, my shoes stirring up the dust in the silent cabin.
When I opened the back door, my stomach clenched. It was a small, dim room. And unlike the rest of the cabin, this room was eerily clean. On the floor lay a few scattered toys, faded but well-loved, as though they’d been played with often. A shiver ran through me.
A dim room with a small window | Source: Pexels
This was where she’d been.
I backed out of the room, heart pounding, and reached for my phone. Within minutes, the police were on their way.
Hours later, I sat with Emily in the living room as the officers worked at the cabin. She was quiet, her fingers clutching the edge of her blanket. When I took her hand, she looked up at me, her eyes filled with a sadness that broke my heart.
The police searching a cabin in the woods | Source: Midjourney
“Mommy… I remember now,” she whispered, her voice quivering. “I remember the man.”
I swallowed hard. “Who was it, sweetheart?”
Her voice shook. “It was Uncle Jake. He… he looked like Daddy, but different. He… he would bring me food, but he never spoke. He just sat there, outside the door. He… he used to hum that song.”
A sad girl | Source: Pexels
The police confirmed it that evening. They had enough evidence in the cabin to make an arrest. When they found Jake, he confessed, claiming he had taken Emily to “protect” her, that he’d wanted to be the one she depended on.
It was twisted and sick, and knowing he’d been that close to us all those years made my skin crawl.
A sad man covering his face with his hands | Source: Pexels
When they told Emily, she broke down, sobbing, the weight of years of silence finally releasing. I held her close, rocking her as she cried, whispering over and over, “You’re safe now. No one will ever take you away again.”
The days that followed were quiet, but a warmth was beginning to bloom again between us. Emily started to talk more, little by little, and she would hum that old lullaby at night, almost as if testing if it was safe to hear it again.
A woman drawing with her daughter | Source: Pexels
One evening, as we sat by the window, she leaned into me, resting her head on my shoulder. I began to hum the lullaby softly, how I used to when she was little. She looked up at me, and for the first time, I saw a spark of peace in her eyes.
“I love you, Mommy,” she whispered.
I held her close, tears slipping down my cheeks. “I love you too, sweetheart. Forever.”
A girl kissing her mother | Source: Freepik
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
I Returned Early to Surprise My Husband Only to Find Him Burying a Large Black Egg in Our Garden – Its Mystery Brought Us Closer
I came home early from my business trip to surprise my husband. But instead of a warm welcome, I found him in the garden, drenched in sweat and burying a large black egg. He wouldn’t tell me the truth, so I dug deeper myself. What I found sent my heart racing.
I hadn’t slept in days. The Chicago business conference had dragged on, each presentation blending into the next until I couldn’t take it anymore. Three years of marriage, and lately, Ben and I had been like ships passing in the night, him with his investment banking and me with my consulting work. When my last meeting finished early, I decided to surprise him with an early return.
A smiling woman holding a cup of coffee | Source: Midjourney
“You’re really skipping the closing ceremony?” my colleague Linda asked, watching me pack my laptop. “The VP’s giving the keynote. Could be good for your promotion.”
I zipped my bag with finality. “For once, my marriage comes first. Ben and I haven’t had a real conversation in weeks.”
“Regina, putting love before career?” she smiled. “Must be serious.”
“It is.” I checked my phone, calculating times. “If I leave now, I can catch the 6 p.m. flight and surprise my hubby.”
A cheerful woman holding her phone | Source: Midjourney
“Go get your man,” Linda winked. “But text me when you land. These surprise returns don’t always go as planned.”
If only she knew how right she’d be.
The setting sun cast long shadows across our front lawn as I wearily pulled into the driveway after a long, exhausting flight. My hands trembled slightly as I killed the engine. The house stood quiet, warm lights glowing behind drawn curtains.
Something felt off the moment I stepped inside. The house was eerily quiet. Through the kitchen window, I could see dirty dishes in the sink — so unlike my usually meticulous husband.
A startled woman in the kitchen | Source: Midjourney
“Ben?” I called softly, letting myself in. No answer.
The house felt different somehow. Mail was scattered across the coffee table, including several official-looking envelopes marked “URGENT.”
A half-empty cup of coffee with a lipstick-like ring of dried coffee around its rim sat beside Ben’s laptop.
A cup of coffee near a laptop on a table | Source: Midjourney
Assuming he was holed up in his office as usual, I decided to check on my garden first. The tomatoes should have ripened by now, and tending to them would help me unwind after the flight.
But as I approached the garden doors and stepped into the backyard, I FROZE.
Ben stood in the middle of our vegetable garden, between the tomato plants he’d been so proud of just weeks ago. His shirt was stained dark with sweat and his sleeves rolled up as he dug into the earth like a man possessed.
But it wasn’t his frantic movements that made my blood run cold. It was the LARGE, OBSIDIAN-BLACK EGG sitting beside him.
A man holding a large black egg | Source: Midjourney
The thing was enormous, at least two feet tall, its surface gleaming like polished glass under the evening light. As I watched, frozen, Ben kept glancing at it between shovel loads, his movements growing more desperate.
“Just a little deeper,” I heard him mutter. “Has to be deep enough to bury this thing.”
My hand flew to my mouth. Was this really happening? I blinked hard, convinced I was hallucinating from travel exhaustion. But the scene remained unchanged — my husband, digging what looked like a grave for some alien artifact in our backyard.
“Ben?” I called out softly, careful not to startle him.
A woman gaping in shock | Source: Midjourney
He whirled around, shovel clattering against something metal in the hole. His face, usually so composed, was pale with panic. A streak of dirt ran across his cheek, and I noticed his hands were shaking.
“REGINA?” He shrieked, his voice trembling and loud. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?”
“I came home early to surprise you.” I took a step closer, gravel crunching under my feet. The egg seemed to pulse in the lamplight, drawing my eyes. “Though I think I’m the one who’s surprised. What is THAT thing?”
“It’s NOTHING.” His words came too fast, too sharp. He moved to stand between me and the egg. “Reggie, just go inside, honey. You shouldn’t be here.”
A startled man holding a big black egg | Source: Midjourney
“Nothing? Ben, I don’t think that’s ‘NOTHING.’ What is it? What’s going on?”
“I’ll explain later. Please go inside.”
“Later?” I gestured at the hole he’d been digging. “You’re burying something that looks like it came from a sci-fi movie in our garden at sunset, and you want me to wait for an explanation?”
Ben ran his fingers through his hair, leaving streaks of dirt across his forehead. His eyes darted between me and the street as if expecting someone.
“Please, Regina. Trust me on this. I’m just doing what needs to be done. I’m handling it.”
An anxious man holding his head | Source: Midjourney
“Handling what exactly?” My voice rose. “Because from where I’m standing, my husband is either having some kind of breakdown or—”
“I said I’m handling it!” The force in his voice made me step back. In three years of marriage, I’d never heard him shout.
“Fine.” I turned toward the house, tears stinging my eyes. “Handle it yourself. Just like you’ve been handling everything else lately.”
“Reggie, wait—” He reached for me, but I pulled away.
“Don’t. Just… don’t.”
A furious woman | Source: Midjourney
Sleep evaded me that night. Ben never came to bed, and the couch creaked periodically with his restless movements. Around 3 a.m., I heard the back door open and close. Through the bedroom window, I watched him check on the place where he’d buried the mysterious egg, pacing around it like a sentry.
What’s wrong with him? What is he hiding from me?
Morning came too quickly. I waited until Ben’s car disappeared down the street before grabbing the garden shovel. My hands trembled as I approached the freshly turned earth. I HAD TO DIG UP THAT THING!
“What are you hiding, Ben?” I whispered, pushing the shovel into the soft dirt.
A woman holding a shovel | Source: Midjourney
It took 20 minutes of digging before I hit something solid. The egg was surprisingly light when I unearthed it, though my arms shook with the effort.
Up close, its surface felt wrong — not like shell, but like… plastic? I twisted it slightly, and to my shock, it separated in the middle like some oversized Easter egg.
Empty. Completely empty except for more layers of black plastic.
“Regina?” Someone called out from behind.
I jumped, nearly dropping the egg. Our elderly neighbor, Mr. Chen, peered over the fence, his eyes fixed on the object in my hands.
A shocked woman holding a big black egg | Source: Midjourney
“I saw someone in your garden late last night,” he said slowly. “Everything okay?”
“Fine,” I said quickly, hiding the egg behind me. “Just… gardening.”
His expression said he didn’t believe me, but he nodded politely and disappeared. I waited until I heard his door close before examining the egg more closely. The craftsmanship was impressive, but it was definitely artificial. What had Ben gotten himself into?
My mind raced through possibilities. This wasn’t just about a buried object. It was about Ben’s bizarre behavior and the way he was terrified when he saw me home early.
Something bigger was happening. Something that made my usually steady-handed husband dig like a madman in our backyard.
A puzzled woman holding a big glossy black egg | Source: Midjourney
With trembling fingers, I wrapped the egg in an old blanket and tucked it behind the lawn equipment in our garage. It was out of sight, but not out of mind.
“Think, Regina, think,” I muttered, pacing the concrete floor. “Maybe this was some elaborate joke? A midlife crisis? Or something far more sinister?”
I dragged myself to the car, hoping work might distract me from this madness.
The radio clicked on automatically as I started the engine. The news anchor’s voice cut through my fog of exhaustion, making my blood run cold:
“Breaking news: Local authorities have uncovered a massive counterfeit operation targeting antique collectors. The scammers sold fake antiques, including unique black egg-shaped plastic containers, to unsuspecting buyers. Total losses are estimated in the millions…”
A shocked woman driving a car | Source: Midjourney
My coffee cup slipped from my fingers, splashing across the dashboard. The pieces started falling into place. That evening, I placed the egg on our kitchen table and waited. When Ben walked in, his briefcase hit the floor with a thud.
“Reggie, I-I can explain—”
“How much did you pay for this thing?” I cut him off.
He sank into a chair, his shoulders slumped. “Fifteen thousand.”
“Jesus, Ben.”
A nervous man | Source: Midjourney
“I wanted to surprise you.” His voice cracked. “This guy at work, he said he knew someone selling rare artifacts. Said the egg was some ancient fertility symbol that would triple in value within a year.”
He pressed his palms against his eyes. “I used our savings. I was going to sell it and take you on that European trip you’ve always wanted.”
“The trip we’ve been saving for? That we’ve talked about for years?” My voice quavered. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“Because I’m an idiot who got scammed like some naive teenager. I was so ashamed.” He looked up, eyes red-rimmed. “Things have been so tight lately, with your mom’s medical bills and the house repairs. I just wanted to fix everything.”
An upset man sitting on the couch | Source: Midjourney
“By gambling our savings on some stranger’s promise?”
“I know, I know.” He slumped forward. “When I realized it was fake, I couldn’t face you. Couldn’t admit I’d thrown away our money on a plastic egg.”
“We’ll figure this out,” I said, moving around the table to take his hand. “But no more secrets, okay? We’re supposed to be partners.”
“I filed a police report this morning,” Ben added. “They said we’re not the only ones. Apparently, this guy’s been targeting young professionals and antique collectors, playing on their financial stress.”
An anxious man sitting on the couch | Source: Midjourney
I squeezed his fingers. “I don’t need expensive trips or ancient artifacts. I just need my husband to talk to me, even when things get hard. Especially when things get hard.”
“What should we do with it?” Ben gestured at the egg, still gleaming mockingly in the kitchen light.
I studied it for a moment. “Maybe we’ll plant it in the garden for real. Right next to those tomatoes you’ve been trying to grow.”
A smiling woman holding a big black egg | Source: Midjourney
“As a reminder of what not to do?” A ghost of a smile crossed his face.
“As a reminder that the only thing we need to grow is our trust in each other.” I leaned against him. “And maybe as a conversation piece. ‘Hey, want to hear about the time my husband buried a fake artifact in our backyard?!’”
Ben’s laugh was shaky but real. “I love you, Reggie. Even when I’m an idiot.”
“Lucky for you, I love idiots.” I kissed his forehead. “Now, let’s figure out how to get our money back. Together this time.”
A man laughing | Source: Midjourney
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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