When Joshua buys an old couch at a garage sale, he’s expecting nothing more than a cheap addition to his garage. But when his dog uncovers a hidden package in the couch, his life takes a dramatic turn…
A couple of weeks ago, I decided my garage needed a bit of sprucing up. I’d been turning it into a cozy guest room, nothing extravagant, just a spot for family or friends to crash.
All I needed was a cheap couch, something sturdy, functional, and, ideally, dirt cheap.
The interior of a garage | Source: Midjourney
That’s how I ended up at a garage sale on a quiet Saturday morning.
The couch caught my eye immediately. It had faded floral upholstery, scuffed wooden legs, and the faint smell of lavender. It was perfect.
The seller, a tired-looking woman in her early forties, smiled as I approached.
A couch at a garage sale | Source: Midjourney
“You’ve got a good eye,” she said. “I’m Kristen. This belonged to my mom. She adored this old thing. I don’t know where she got it from, but it’s been around my entire life.”
“I’m Joshua. It’s got character,” I replied, running my hand over the worn fabric. “How much are you asking for it?”
“Twenty bucks,” she said quickly. “We’re clearing out her house. She passed away six months ago.”
A tired older woman | Source: Midjourney
Her voice softened as she looked over at the house.
“It’s been hard, but we need the money for my daughter’s treatments. She’s been unwell for a while now, leukemia. We’re going to miss the garden here.”
I nodded, suddenly unsure of what to say.
A man at a garage sale | Source: Midjourney
“You know what, Kristen, I’ll take it.”
She waved over her teenage son to help load it onto my truck, and as I drove away, I couldn’t help but think I’d scored a great deal. Sure, it was just an old couch that needed a re-upholstery soon, but $20 was something.
But…I wasn’t prepared for what happened next.
A couch on the back of a pick-up truck | Source: Midjourney
The moment I set the couch in the garage, my dog, Wasabi, lost his mind. He barked like a lunatic, darting around the room before zeroing in on one specific spot on the couch.
“What’s gotten into you?” I laughed, watching as he scratched at the fabric with wild determination.
Wasabi wasn’t letting up. He was practically digging into the couch with his tiny paws, and that’s when it hit me: stories about people finding hidden treasures in old furniture.
A dog sitting outside | Source: Midjourney
Could it really happen to me?
“Alright, alright,” I muttered, grabbing a knife. “Let’s see what’s got you so worked up.”
I made a small cut in the area Wasabi had been attacking, my hands trembling as I peeled back the fabric.
And there it was.
Bundles of cash.
A package of cash | Source: Midjourney
“Holy…” I whispered, staring at the wads of bills stuffed inside the couch. My heart raced as I pulled out stack after stack, laying them on the floor.
By the time I was done, there was over $20,000 sitting in front of me.
Wasabi barked triumphantly, wagging his tail like he’d just won the lottery.
“Good job, buddy,” I said, ruffling his fur.
A barking dog | Source: Midjourney
For a moment, I just stared at the money, my mind spinning. This could change everything.
Like everything.
Bills, savings, maybe even a dream vacation, every scenario ran through my head. But then I thought about the woman at the garage sale. Her daughter. The treatments.
A close up of a woman | Source: Midjourney
This wasn’t my money to use. This wasn’t my money to spend.
I drove back to the garage sale, the cash stuffed in my gym bag on the passenger seat. Kristen looked surprised to see me again.
“Hi! Do you remember me? I bought the couch earlier,” I said, trying to sound casual.
A bag on a car seat | Source: Midjourney
“Is there something wrong with it?” she asked, tilting her head.
“No, nothing at all,” I said. “I was just curious about it. Who did the couch belong to?”
Her expression softened.
“It was my mom’s, Joshua,” she said, remembering my name. “Like the house, she had it for decades. We found so many family photos with that couch in the background. Letting it go was hard, but we need the money, you know? My daughter’s very sick, I think I told you?”
A sick teenage girl | Source: Midjourney
I nodded.
“Anyway, it was either this or sell the house.”
I shifted on my feet, uneasy.
“Your mom never mentioned saving money, did she?” I asked.
Kristen hesitated, then nodded.
The exterior of a house | Source: Midjourney
“Actually, she did. She said she’d hidden some savings, but she couldn’t remember where. We searched everywhere. And I mean everywhere. All the drawers, closets, under floorboards, but never found anything. Why do you ask?”
“I… I think I know what happened to it,” I said carefully. “Can we talk privately?”
“Come to the kitchen,” she said. “Let’s have a glass of lemonade.”
An empty chest of drawers | Source: Midjourney
In her kitchen, I placed the bag onto the table, while Kristen set a glass of lemonade down.
“Kristen, I found this inside the couch,” I said, unzipping the bag.
She peered inside and gasped.
“Oh my goodness,” she whispered, tears brimming in her eyes.
A glass of lemonade on a kitchen table | Source: Midjourney
“Is this… Is this… Mom’s?”
“I think it’s the money your mom mentioned. I can’t keep it. It belongs to you and your child for her treatment.”
Her hands flew to her mouth as the first tear slipped down her cheek.
A woman in a kitchen with her hand on her mouth | Source: Midjourney
“This can pay for her treatment,” she said, her voice trembling. “You’ve saved her life. Mackenzie can… Mackenzie can get better. Thank you… thank you so much.”
She reached for my hands, squeezing them tightly.
“Joshua, please, let me take a picture of you. I want to remember this moment forever.”
A smiling man | Source: Midjourney
“Sure, I guess,” I said, smiling faintly.
She snapped a photo, her hands still shaking.
“You have no idea how much this means to us. Thank you.”
When I got home, I found my fiancée in the kitchen, chopping up vegetables to add to the roast chicken she was preparing. I told her everything.
A tray of food | Source: Midjourney
She listened, her expression a mix of disbelief and pride.
“You did the right thing,” Nicole said, wrapping her arms around me. “I’m so proud of you.”
The next morning, Kristen shared the entire story on social media. She described how a stranger had returned her late mother’s hidden savings, ensuring her daughter could get the care she needed.
The post went viral quickly.
A woman using her phone | Source: Midjourney
Within hours, the comments and shares exploded. Local news outlets picked it up, and people from across the country were calling me a hero.
It felt surreal.
Then, the ripple effects began.
A few days later, I got a knock on my door. A lawyer handed me a check for $20,000 from an anonymous donor who’d been moved by the story.
A new reporter at a studio | Source: Midjourney
“You gave it up willingly,” she said. “So, here you go. Use it wisely.”
A few days later at work, my boss called me into his office. He’d seen the post too.
“I wish we had more people like you on the team,” he said. “We need leaders with your integrity, Josh.”
By the end of the meeting, I had a promotion and a raise.
A smiling man | Source: Midjourney
But the moment that hit me the hardest came weeks later. I received a card in the mail from Kristen. Inside was a photo of Mackenzie smiling.
Because of you, my child gets to have a future. Endless appreciation for you, Josh.
That $20 couch didn’t just change my life. It reminded me of the kind of person I want to be: someone my kids can look up to, someone who does the right thing.
A smiling teenage girl | Source: Midjourney
Every time I sat on the couch in the garage, usually with Wasabi curled up beside me, I knew I made the right choice.
A month later, Nicole and I sat together on the couch in the garage, a large bowl of popcorn and a sprawled Wasabi between us. The black-and-white movie I’d picked was playing in the background, but neither of us were really watching it.
My mind kept drifting back to Kristen’s card and the picture of her daughter.
A dog sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
“I still can’t believe this all started with the couch,” I said, running my fingers along the couch.
Nicole turned to me, her face glowing in the dim light.
“I can,” she said softly.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
She smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
“This is who you are, Josh,” she said. “You’ve always put others first. When we met it was us volunteering as elves for the orphanage’s Christmas party. Remember how you stayed late that one time at the senior citizens’ home? To build a second wheelchair ramp?”
“That was different,” I said, shrugging.
A wheelchair ramp | Source: Midjourney
“No, it wasn’t,” she insisted. “It’s who you are. You see people or animals… and they need help. And you just do the right thing without thinking about it. It’s what I love most about you.”
Her words hit me hard, and for a moment, I couldn’t say anything. I reached for her hand, lacing my fingers through hers.
“Now, we have a wedding to plan.”
A smiling bride | Source: Midjourney
If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you |
Twenty years ago, a stormy night and a split-second decision to help a stranger changed both their lives forever. Celia offered James, a man at rock bottom, a warm meal, dry clothes, and hope when he needed it most. She never expected to see him again. But when James knocks on her door decades later… everything changes.
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 Was Upset That My Grandfather Only Left Me an Old Apiary until I Looked into the Beehives — Story of the Day
My Grandpa, the man who spun tales of buried treasure and promised me the millions. But when his time came, lawyer called me.
“Your grandfather wanted to divide evenly his money between your siblings. But he wanted you to know – he loved you the most, Robyn. That’s why you’ll get his apiary”. – he said.
That was the biggest letdown: a dusty, old apiary. Who leaves their grandchild an insect-infested shack? This cruel joke of an inheritance was a slap in the face until the day I peered into the beehives.
It all started with a regular morning. Aunt Daphne peered over her glasses at the mess on my bed. “Robyn, have you packed your bag yet?”
“I’m texting Chloe,” I groaned, hiding my phone.
“It’s almost bus time! Get ready!” Aunt Daphne said, stuffing books into my bag.
I saw the time. 7:58 A.M. “Ugh, fine,” I sighed, getting up from the bed.
She held out a shirt for me, ironed and ready. “This isn’t what your Grandpa hoped for you, you know. He believed you’d be strong, independent. And those beehives he left? They’re not going to tend to themselves.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Getty Images
I recalled the times with Grandpa, the honey, the bees. But now, my mind was on the upcoming school dance and my crush, Scott.
“I’ll check them, maybe tomorrow,” I said, fixing my hair.
“Tomorrow never comes for you. Grandpa believed in you, Robyn. He wanted you to take care of the apiary,” she insisted.
“Look, Aunt Daphne,” I said sharply. “I’ve got better things to do than take care of Grandpa’s bees!”
I saw Aunt Daphne’s face fall and tears spring in her eyes. But the school bus honked right then, and I rushed out, ignoring her sad expression.
On the bus, my thoughts were focused on Scott, not the apiary I inherited from Grandpa Archie. “Who wants an apiary?” I thought, annoyed at the responsibility.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
But the next day, Aunt Daphne brought it up again. She scolded me for neglecting chores and spending too much time on my phone.
“You’re grounded, young lady!” she declared suddenly, and it was then I finally looked up from my phone.
“Grounded? For what?” I protested.
“For shirking responsibility,” she replied, mentioning the neglected apiary.
“The apiary? That useless bee farm?” I scoffed.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“It’s about responsibility, Robyn. It’s what Grandpa wanted for you,” Aunt Daphne said, her voice strained with emotion.
“Look, Aunt Daphne,” I protested, “I’m scared of getting stung!”
“You’ll be wearing protective gear,” she countered. “A little fear is normal, but you can’t let it stop you.”
Reluctantly, I headed to the apiary. As I approached the hive, I was both scared and curious. Donning heavy gloves, I opened the hive and began harvesting honey, my heart pounding.
Suddenly, a bee stung my glove. I nearly gave up, but a surge of determination hit me. I had to finish this. I had to prove to Aunt Daphne that I wasn’t the reckless, irresponsible 14-year-old she thought I was.
While harvesting honey, I discovered a weather-beaten plastic bag inside the hive containing a faded map with strange markings. It seemed like a treasure map left by Grandpa Archie.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Excited, I tucked the map into my pocket and pedaled home. Leaving the half-filled jar of honey on the kitchen counter, I sneaked out and followed the map into the woods.
Navigating the familiar woods, I remembered Grandpa’s stories and laughed about his encounters.
As I stepped into a clearing that seemed to leap straight out of Grandpa’s stories, I couldn’t help but shiver. This was the exact place he’d talk about the legendary White Walker of the forest, making my imagination run wild as a kid.
And there it was, just like in his tales – the old gamekeeper’s house, looking forgotten by time with its chipped paint and sagging porch. “Grandpa used to sit us down here, munching on sandwiches and pie after collecting honey, and weave his incredible stories,” I thought, a bittersweet nostalgia washing over me.
Touching the ancient dwarf tree near the porch, I could almost hear Grandpa’s playful warning, “Watch out, kiddo. Let’s not disturb the grouchy little gnomes,” as if we were back in those carefree afternoons.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
I found the hidden old key and unlocked the cabin, stepping into a world that time had forgotten. The air was heavy with a musty smell, and specks of dust glimmered in the stray beams of sunlight.
There, catching my eye, was a beautifully carved metal box on a dusty table. Inside was a note from Grandpa, just for me:
“To my dear Robyn, inside this box is a special treasure for you, but it’s not to be opened until your journey’s true end. You’ll know when the time is right. All my love, Grandpa.”
I was dying to see what was inside, but Grandpa’s last instruction echoed in my head, “Only at the end of your journey.”
I couldn’t just ignore his last wish.
I continued my journey through the forest, but after a while, I felt like I was lost.
“This map is no good,” I realized, not being able to spot a way out of the woods. I didn’t know when I started crying.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
But then, I remembered something important. “Grandpa always said to stay calm,” I told myself. “I can’t give up.”
Then, I heard a sound like a small branch breaking far off, and it made me think of scary stories from when I was little. “Maybe Aunt Daphne was right to warn me,” I thought, looking around at the huge forest. But thinking of Grandpa’s advice made me brave enough to keep going, guiding me through the enveloping wilderness.
I took a big, nervous breath and tried to think clearly. Going back seemed like a good idea, but it would be hard to see clearly in the forest when it got dark. There was a bridge, the one Grandpa always talked about… that might help, I thought.
Wiping away a tear, I straightened my backpack. “Okay, Robyn,” I whispered to myself. “Let’s find that bridge.”
But that confidence didn’t last long. The sun was setting, making the woods menacing. Exhausted, I slumped under a tree, longing for Aunt Daphne’s cozy kitchen.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
My backpack offered no comfort, just reminders of my unpreparedness. Desperately searching for food, I found nothing but stale cracker crumbs. “Focus, Robyn. Find the bridge. Find water,” I urged myself, ignoring the hunger.
Then, remembering Grandpa’s advice again, I used heal-all leaves for my wounds and pushed on, driven by the sound of rushing water. But the river wasn’t the gentle stream I remembered; it was a dangerous, fast-moving torrent.
Ignoring the treacherous path, I scrambled down the rocky bank, driven by a desperate thirst. Reaching the water’s edge, I knelt, cupping my hands to scoop up the cool liquid. It tasted faintly metallic, but it was life-giving nectar at that moment.
As I rose, the precarious footing betrayed me. Slipping, I tumbled into the icy current, screaming for help. My backpack dragged me down. “Grandpa,” I whispered helplessly. Thinking of him, a sliver of clarity cut through the panic. He wouldn’t have wanted me to give up. He’d taught me to fight, to be brave.
I decided to ditch the backpack but kept Grandpa’s metal box. Fighting the current, I struggled towards the shore, refusing to give up.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock
My fingers brushed a solid log, a lifeline in the churning chaos. I clung to it with every ounce of strength, the current tossing me like a ragdoll. Then, with a final shove, it deposited me, sputtering and bruised, onto the muddy bank.
I peeled off my soaking clothes and hung them up on a tree to dry. My eyes then fell on a metal box that might help me find my way back.
Grandpa had told me to wait until the end of my journey to open it, but I just couldn’t wait any longer. Inside, I found no treasure, just a jar of honey and a photo of us together. It hit me then—this journey and the real treasure was about the value of hard work, just like Grandpa always said.
Tears welled up as I thought about how I’d ignored all the wisdom Grandpa had shared with me. I’d been chasing adventures, forgetting the important things he’d tried to teach me.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock
Wiping my snotty nose, I told myself it was time to get moving, to make Grandpa proud. I started building a shelter from branches and leaves under a big oak tree. It was rough, but it was enough for the night.
The next morning, the bright sun woke me up. I pushed through the woods, holding onto that metal box like a lifeline, thinking about Grandpa.
Remembering the times we went fishing together warmed me up a bit. “Slow and steady,” I could almost hear him say. I even started humming one of his favorite tunes, feeling like he was right there with me.
When I saw a bridge in the distance, hope bubbled up inside me. With Grandpa’s lessons in my heart, I wasn’t alone. But then, the forest turned into a confusing maze, and I started to panic. Just when I thought I couldn’t go on, I stumbled into a clearing and collapsed, totally exhausted.
That’s when a dog found me, and I heard a chorus of muffled voices: “There she is!”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock
Waking up in a hospital bed, I saw Aunt Daphne by my side. “I’m sorry,” I managed, overwhelmed by regret. “I’m so sorry, Aunt Daphne.”
“Hush, dear. You’re safe now,” she said softly.
“I messed up,” I cried out. “Grandpa was right about everything!”
Aunt Daphne held my hand and smiled. “He always loved you, sweetie. Even when you were mad at him, even when you didn’t get why. Remember how upset you were about not getting that smartwatch just weeks before he passed?”
“I never appreciated him or anything he did for me. He was always there for me. Grandpa was both my Mom and Dad after their passing. But I—”
“He knew you’d come around, sweetie. He always believed in you, even when you didn’t believe in yourself.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Getty Images
At that point, she reached into a bag beside her chair, pulling out a brightly colored box. My breath hitched as I recognized the familiar blue wrapping paper: the same kind Grandpa always used for gifts.
“This is for you,” Aunt Daphne said gently, placing the box on my lap. The Xbox I wanted.
“Grandpa wanted you to have this,” Aunt Daphne continued. “He said when you learned the value of hard work and understood the importance of patience and perseverance, it would be yours.”
“I’ll be good, Aunt Daphne,” I promised. “I don’t need this anymore. I have learned my lesson.”
Aunt Daphne’s smile, this time brighter and filled with genuine joy, was all the reassurance I needed. Reaching to the bedside, I pulled out the small honey jar.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“Would you like some honey, Aunt Daphne?” I asked, offering the sticky jar.
Taking the jar, she dipped a finger in and tasted the honey. “It’s sweet,” she said, her voice soft. “Just like you, Robyn. Just like you!”
Years have flown by since then. Now, at 28, a million miles from that grumbling teenager to a bee boss with two little terrors of my own (who thankfully love honey!), I learned a thing or two about responsibility.
Thanks, Grandpa! Thank you for everything you taught me! I whisper every single time I see the happiness on my kids’ faces when they enjoy honey.
That delicious honey is a reminder of the beautiful bond Grandpa and I shared.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Getty Images
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This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
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