When my son, Jake, came home with a mysterious box from our creepy neighbor, Mr. Carson, I was uneasy. But nothing could have prepared me for the horror that emerged when Jake opened the box! As Jake’s health was threatened, I realized we had to confront Mr. Carson and flee for our safety. You ever have one of those days where you just know something is off? That was me last Friday.The sun was setting, casting long shadows over our quiet suburban neighborhood. The air was cool, almost too perfect, like the calm before a storm. Then Jake, my ten-year-old son, burst through the front door, his face lit up like he’d won the lottery.

“Mom! Look at the gift Mr. Carson gave me!” He held up a small wooden box, grinning from ear to ear. Now, let me tell you about Mr. Carson. He’s our elderly neighbor who always seemed to have a dark cloud hanging over him.He’s lived alone ever since I moved in, and his glare could make a thunderstorm seem like a sunny day. So, seeing my son with something from Mr. Carson set off alarm bells in my head. “Jake, honey, did Mr. Carson say what’s in that box?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. “It’s a treasure box! Mr. Carson said it’s a special surprise and that I should open it as soon as I get home,” Jake said, bouncing on his heels.Every instinct screamed at me to throw that box away, but the joy in Jake’s eyes held me back. I didn’t want to dampen his excitement.