Maya decides to move away from the city, settling for a quiet neighborhood just outside the hustle and bustle. When she gets there, she plans to get into the quiet life, but soon, that life is disrupted when she notices that the woman across the road is up to something.When I moved to the outskirts of the city, I was searching for peace. After 32 years of city noise, suffocating crowds, and the endless hustle for more, I was done. I wanted quiet. I wanted serenity. A place where I could breathe. But also, a place where I could just sit down and write all the stories that were waiting to come out of me.So, I found a charming little house on the edge of a small neighborhood. The kind of place where everyone knew everyone, where time sort of seemed to slow down.\n
But what I got was something else entirely. \u201cWell, you\u2019re in it now, Maya,\u201d I said to myself, making myself a cup of tea.My closest neighbor was a woman in her 60s named Mrs. Harrington, who lived in an old house that had seen better days. The paint was peeling, the shutters hung crookedly, and the lawn was overgrown with weeds.\u201cMaybe she\u2019s just old and doesn\u2019t have the energy to maintain the house?\u201d my mother said on the phone. \u201cYeah, maybe,\u201d I said. \u201cHer house just looks a bit out of place.\u201d But that wasn\u2019t what caught my attention. What really intrigued me was the little shack about 20 feet away from Mrs. Harrington\u2019s house. It was small, barely more than a shed, with a rusty tin roof and walls that looked anything but steady. \u201cWhy would anyone have that?\u201d I muttered as I sat on my couch, looking out the window. The more I wanted to sit down and write my collection of stories, the more obsessed I got with Mrs. Harrington. Because it wasn\u2019t the shack that was a mystery. It was the woman herself. From the moment I moved in, she had been distant, almost to the point of being rude.\n
\u201cI\u2019m Maya,\u201d I said on the first day when I was inspecting my new backyard.I expected her to at least say hello and introduce herself. But she avoided eye contact, brushed off any attempts at conversation, and made it clear that she wasn\u2019t interested in neighborly chats. I only discovered her name because I heard one of the neighborhood kids calling her on his newspaper round. But still, the strangest thing about her was her routine.Every day, like clockwork, the old woman would head to that shack at 9 a.m. and again at 9 p.m. She always had two shopping bags in hand, and she would go into the shack for about 20 minutes before returning to her house. \u201cWhat are you doing in there, Mrs. Harrington?\u201d I asked myself in the living room. \u201cWhat\u2019s in there? Who\u2019s in there?\u201dSuddenly, I was a detective trying to figure out what the woman from next door was up to. I couldn\u2019t for the life of me figure out what she was doing in there. Was she storing something? Hiding something?For three days, I watched her from my window, my curiosity only growing stronger. What could possibly be so important? One afternoon, I decided to find out for myself. I waited until I saw her step outside with her bags, then casually strolled over, pretending to be out for a walk. But the moment old Mrs. Harrington saw me approaching the shack, she bolted out of the door, her eyes wide with fury.\n
\u201cStay away! I\u2019ll call the cops!\u201d she screamed, her voice high-pitched and frantic. I stopped dead in my tracks. Despite my wild imagination, I wasn\u2019t expecting that kind of reaction. \u201cI\u2019m sorry!\u201d I stammered. \u201cI just\u2026\u201d \u201cJust what? Stay away from here! Mind your own business, girl!\u201d she yelled. \u201cOkay, I\u2019m going!\u201d I said. \u201cI didn\u2019t mean to intrude, ma\u2019am.\u201dShe stood there, glaring at me until I turned around and walked back to my house. I could feel her eyes boring into my back the entire way. What was in that shack that she was so desperate to keep secret? \u201cI\u2019m not giving up,\u201d I said as I let myself into my home. \u201cI will find out what\u2019s in there.\u201d I tried to shake it off, telling myself that it was none of my business. But over the next few days, I couldn\u2019t stop thinking about the shack.I tossed and turned at night, trying to figure out what could be in there. The way Mrs. Harrington screamed at me, the panic in her eyes, didn\u2019t sit right.I needed to know what she was hiding. One night, after I saw her make her usual 9 p.m. trip to the shack, I decided that it was time to investigate again. I waited until I was sure she was back inside her house and all the lights were off before slipping out of my front door.\u201cWhy are you being so stupid, Maya?\u201d I asked myself as I walked down the driveway. \u201cYou could have just let it go.\u201d When I reached the shack, I noticed something I hadn\u2019t seen before. There was a large padlock on the door. Whatever was in there, Mrs. Harrington was determined to keep it secure.But then, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a small gap in the wooden door, just big enough to peek through. I hesitated for a moment, my breath catching in my throat.\n
\u201cCome on, Maya, it\u2019s not too late to run away,\u201d I muttered. But of course, I was too stubborn to do that. At first, I couldn\u2019t quite make out what I was seeing. The interior was dark, but as my eyes adjusted, I nearly fainted at what I saw. Inside the shack were dogs, about a dozen of them. Some were lying down, others were curled up in corners, and a few were pacing restlessly.\u201cOh, you poor babies,\u201d I said. They were all different breeds, shapes, and sizes, but they all looked weary and thin. \u201cWhat the hell?\u201d I exclaimed. What was going on here? Was she hoarding these animals? Were they being mistreated by her? I didn\u2019t think. I just acted.I started pulling at the lock, trying to force it open. \u201cHang on, I\u2019ll get you all out!\u201d I said. But the lock just wouldn\u2019t budge, so I began banging on the door with my fists, hoping to break it down.Suddenly, a light flicked on inside Mrs. Harrington\u2019s house. I froze, realizing too late that I\u2019d woken her up. Seconds later, I heard her front door slam open, and her footsteps hurried across the lawn.\u201cWhat are you doing?\u201d she shouted, her voice cutting through the night. \u201cGet away!\u201d \u201cWhat am I doing? What are you doing keeping all these dogs here? And locked up like this? This is cruelty! I\u2019m calling the police!\u201d Mrs. Harrington reached me, her breath all over my face. But instead of the anger I expected, I saw something else in her eyes. Desperation. \u201cNo, please,\u201d she pleaded, grabbing my arm.\n
\u201cYou don\u2019t understand. Calm down, and I\u2019ll tell you.\u201d\u201cCalm down? You\u2019re keeping animals locked up in there! How can I calm down?\u201d \u201cIt\u2019s not what you think, Maya,\u201d she said. \u201cPlease, just listen.\u201d \u201cYou have two minutes,\u201d I said. \u201cAnd then I\u2019m calling the police.\u201d \u201cI\u2019m not hurting them,\u201d she said. \u201cI\u2019m saving them. I\u2019m feeding them.\u201d \u201cWhat?\u201d I asked, confused.\u201cI take in strays,\u201d she explained. \u201cThese dogs are here because I\u2019ve found them abandoned or mistreated. I bring them here because I know they\u2019ll be safe with me. It started with one, but now there\u2019s about ten of them.\u201d \u201cBut why keep them in there?\u201d I demanded. \u201cThere are too many! And I\u2019m allergic to one or two of the breeds. If I brought them inside, I\u2019d end up in the hospital. But I couldn\u2019t stand by and do nothing while they suffered. Here, I can make sure that they have food and water.\u201d My anger melted away immediately.\u201cWhy didn\u2019t you just tell me?\u201d I asked.\u201cBecause I\u2019ve seen what happens when people take animals away to shelters. They put them down, or they just end up on the streets again.\u201d I was silent for a moment, taking in everything she said. I\u2019d heard about those places too.\n
\u201cI can help,\u201d I said. \u201cHelp me?\u201d she asked.\u201cYes,\u201d I said firmly. \u201cWe can\u2019t keep them all here, but maybe I can take some to my house. And between the two of us, we can find good homes for them. My brother-in-law is a vet; he\u2019ll know what to do.\u201d In the end, I took most of the dogs over to my place, allowing them to roam free in the yard. We set up bowls of food and water all over, and I set up a few mats and blankets.The next day, my brother-in-law came over with his team and took most of the malnourished dogs away.\u201cI promise, Maya,\u201d he said. \u201cI\u2019ll treat these sweet little things, and I\u2019ll find them a place to stay.\u201d I ended up keeping two of the puppies with me because there was nothing better than having furry friends to love.What would you have done?If you enjoyed this story, here\u2019s another one for you\n
My Elderly Neighbor Visited an Old Shack Every Day at the Same Time \u2013 I Nearly Fainted When I Checked inside One Day Maya decides to move away from the city, settling for a quiet neighborhood just outside the hustle and bustle. When she gets there, she plans to get into the quiet life, but\n","protected":false},"author":10,"featured_media":86011,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_seopress_robots_primary_cat":"none","_seopress_titles_title":"","_seopress_titles_desc":"","_seopress_robots_index":"","_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[855],"tags":[],"class_list":{"0":"post-86006","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-story"},"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/lorevista.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/08\/185.jpg","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/lorevista.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/86006","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/lorevista.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/lorevista.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lorevista.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/10"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lorevista.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=86006"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/lorevista.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/86006\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":86012,"href":"https:\/\/lorevista.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/86006\/revisions\/86012"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lorevista.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/86011"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/lorevista.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=86006"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lorevista.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=86006"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lorevista.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=86006"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}