My young son’s hat was found in a dog’s mouth five hours after he went missing during a family trip. The sight of our son’s blue baseball cap hanging from the German Shepherd’s teeth made my heart halt. After hours of frantic searching, calling the authorities, and doubting our unusual hosts, I was unprepared for what happened next.
I never imagined that our yearly family holiday would become the most frightening day of my life.
Now, reflecting on it, I can laugh, but at that moment, I felt like my entire world was falling apart.
Being Tyler’s mother is the greatest happiness I’ve known.
Every morning, when I see him eagerly eating his chocolate chip pancakes or scrunch his nose while working on math problems, I realize how fortunate we are. With my supportive husband Jake beside me, I often wonder what I did to deserve such a wonderful life.
But, don’t misunderstand. Jake and I do have tough days.
We argue over trivial issues like whose turn it is to do the laundry or whether Tyler should go to bed later. Still, we always reconcile.
That’s what marriage is—about making it work.
Getting pregnant with Tyler was difficult. After three years of trying and many fertility treatments, we nearly lost hope.
I remember clearly the moment I saw those two pink lines on the pregnancy test.
Jake found me crying on the bathroom floor, clutching the test as if it were rare treasure.
Since that day, my life has been truly amazing. I feel so grateful to have such an intelligent boy like Tyler.
Last week at the park, Tyler asked me, “Mommy, why do birds fly in a V-shape?” His bright blue eyes focused on the geese above, his curiosity unending.
I smiled, adjusting his baseball cap—the same one that would later give me the worst scare of my life.
“Sweetie, it helps them save energy. The lead bird cuts through the air, making it easier for the others to follow.”
“Like when Daddy lets me ride on his shoulders at the mall?”
“Exactly, clever boy!”
These moments are precious to me. That’s probably why Jake and I try to take a family trip each year, no matter what.
This year, we picked a small seaside town.
Nothing fancy—just a week of beach walks and ice cream. We booked a modest hotel online, fitting our budget.
But upon arrival, exhausted after a four-hour drive, the hotel clerk stunned us.
“I’m very sorry, but there’s a problem with your reservation,” she said while typing rapidly on her computer.
Jake leaned in closer. “What kind of problem? We booked this room three months ago.”
“The system shows your booking was double-booked by mistake, and the other guest checked in earlier today,” she explained, avoiding eye contact. “It’s very busy due to the summer festival.”
“This is unacceptable!” I said, trying to speak calmly while Tyler played nearby with his toy cars. “We drove hours to get here. Where are we supposed to stay?”
She handed us a list of nearby hotels, but her apologetic look made it clear we wouldn’t have much luck.
As we exited, Tyler tugged at my sleeve. “Mommy, are we going home?”
“No, sweetie,” I said, forcing a smile. “We’re just going to find a better place to stay.”
We found a small diner and sat in a booth while Jake looked for other options on his phone.
“Any luck?” I asked as I helped Tyler color on his kids’ menu.
Jake ran his hand through his hair—his usual sign of stress.
“Everything’s either fully booked or too expensive. Wait… I think I found something. An Airbnb nearby, only ten minutes away. The price is fair.”
“Is there a catch?”
“No reviews yet, but the hosts seem friendly—Martha and Gary. They’re offering a bedroom in their house.”
I wasn’t excited about staying with strangers, but options were limited.
Jake booked the place, and half an hour later, our taxi arrived at a Victorian-style house that looked like it belonged in a horror film.
Peeling paint, squeaky shutters, overgrown bushes—everything.
“Jake,” I whispered, clutching his arm. “This place gives me chills. Maybe we should—”
“We don’t have many choices,” he replied gently. “Let’s just give it a shot.”
Before we could argue, the front door slowly opened.
A woman in her fifties appeared, her thin face set in what I can only call a grimace.
“Welcome,” she said sharply. “I’m Martha. Please come inside.”
Once inside, I saw that the house was just as dark and heavy as the exterior—dark wood, thick curtains.
Then, Martha’s husband Gary appeared from somewhere, his weathered face suddenly smiling strangely as he saw Tyler.
“What a lovely boy,” Martha cooed, reaching out to ruffle Tyler’s hair.
His gaze at him was unsettling.
While in the living room, a loud bark echoed from the backyard, making Tyler jump.
“That’s Max,” Gary explained. “Our German Shepherd. He stays outside in a kennel built into the garden wall. It’s quite roomy.”
After showing us to our room, Martha and Gary left. I closed the door and looked at Jake.
“This place feels creepy,” I whispered. “And did you see how they looked at Tyler?”
Jake pulled me close. “Katie, you’re overthinking. We’ll be out all day, exploring. It’s just a place to sleep.”
I wanted to believe him, but something didn’t feel right. Still, we had dinner in town and returned late, feeling uneasy.
The next morning seemed normal.
We ate breakfast in an empty kitchen. Martha and Gary weren’t around.
Back in our room, Jake and I prepared for a day at the beach. Tyler watched cartoons in the living room.
“Tyler, honey!” I called. “Time to get dressed!”
No reply.
