It was another hectic evening. My kids were running around the living room, their laughter filling the house, while I sat on the couch, exhausted after a long day at work. Cooking dinner was the last thing on my mind, so I did what I often did on nights like this—I ordered food delivery from our usual spot.
The delivery guy, Matt, had become a familiar face over the past few months. He was friendly, always cheerful, and my kids adored him. He’d always take a moment to chat, exchange jokes, and even give the kids high-fives before heading off to his next delivery. But tonight was different.
When Matt arrived, I immediately noticed something was off. He didn’t greet us with his usual smile or playful banter. Instead, he seemed distracted, almost nervous. He barely made eye contact as he handed over the food bag, and his hands trembled slightly. Before I could ask if everything was okay, he muttered a quick goodbye and hurried back to his car, not even glancing back as he drove away.
Puzzled, I stood in the doorway, watching his taillights disappear down the street. I shrugged it off, figuring he must be having a rough day, and headed to the kitchen to unpack the food.
As I set the bag on the counter, something unusual caught my eye. There was a note scribbled on the back of the bag in shaky handwriting. My heart skipped a beat as I read the message:
*"Check your trash can in the backyard. Be careful."*
A cold shiver ran down my spine. My hands trembled as I reread the note, trying to make sense of it. Why would Matt leave such a cryptic message? And why was he telling me to check my trash can?
Without thinking, I dashed to the back door, flung it open, and rushed to the trash can. My heart pounded in my chest as I threw open the lid, expecting to find… I wasn’t sure what. But what I saw made my blood run cold.
Inside the trash can, among the usual garbage, was a small black bag. It looked out of place—too clean and too deliberately placed. My hands shook as I gingerly reached in and pulled it out. The bag was surprisingly heavy for its size.
I hesitated for a moment before opening it, and when I did, I felt the color drain from my face. Inside was a collection of tools—a crowbar, gloves, a flashlight, and what looked like a small bottle of some kind of chemical. My mind raced, piecing together what this could mean. Someone had been planning something. Something sinister.
I quickly put the bag back and slammed the trash can lid shut, my heart hammering in my chest. I needed to act fast. My kids were still inside, completely unaware of the danger that could have been lurking around our home.
I rushed back inside, grabbed my phone, and called the police. I explained everything, from Matt’s strange behavior to the note and the contents of the trash can. They assured me they would send someone over immediately and advised me to lock all the doors and windows until they arrived.
While I waited, I sat in the living room, trying to keep my cool for the sake of the kids, who were still playing without a care in the world. But my mind was racing. Who had been planning to break into our home? And why?
The police arrived within minutes, and after a thorough search of the property, they confirmed my worst fears. It appeared someone had been watching our house, possibly for weeks, and had stashed the tools in the trash can in preparation for a break-in. The officers praised Matt’s quick thinking and the note that likely prevented a serious crime.
I couldn’t sleep that night. The thought that my family had been targeted, that someone had been lurking around our home, filled me with dread. But one thing was clear: I needed to take extra precautions to keep my kids safe.
The very next day, I installed security cameras around the house. I placed them at every possible entry point, ensuring that nothing would go unnoticed again. I also updated all the locks and installed motion-sensor lights in the backyard.
A few days later, I called the restaurant to thank Matt for his help. He told me that he’d noticed a suspicious figure near our house a few times during his deliveries and had a bad feeling. He’d wanted to warn me without alarming the kids, so he left the note.
I’ll forever be grateful to Matt. His vigilance and quick thinking saved us from what could have been a terrifying ordeal. Thanks to him, I took the necessary steps to protect my family, and I’ll never take our safety for granted again.
The delivery guy, Matt, had become a familiar face over the past few months. He was friendly, always cheerful, and my kids adored him. He’d always take a moment to chat, exchange jokes, and even give the kids high-fives before heading off to his next delivery. But tonight was different.
When Matt arrived, I immediately noticed something was off. He didn’t greet us with his usual smile or playful banter. Instead, he seemed distracted, almost nervous. He barely made eye contact as he handed over the food bag, and his hands trembled slightly. Before I could ask if everything was okay, he muttered a quick goodbye and hurried back to his car, not even glancing back as he drove away.
Puzzled, I stood in the doorway, watching his taillights disappear down the street. I shrugged it off, figuring he must be having a rough day, and headed to the kitchen to unpack the food.
As I set the bag on the counter, something unusual caught my eye. There was a note scribbled on the back of the bag in shaky handwriting. My heart skipped a beat as I read the message:
*"Check your trash can in the backyard. Be careful."*
A cold shiver ran down my spine. My hands trembled as I reread the note, trying to make sense of it. Why would Matt leave such a cryptic message? And why was he telling me to check my trash can?
Without thinking, I dashed to the back door, flung it open, and rushed to the trash can. My heart pounded in my chest as I threw open the lid, expecting to find… I wasn’t sure what. But what I saw made my blood run cold.
Inside the trash can, among the usual garbage, was a small black bag. It looked out of place—too clean and too deliberately placed. My hands shook as I gingerly reached in and pulled it out. The bag was surprisingly heavy for its size.
I hesitated for a moment before opening it, and when I did, I felt the color drain from my face. Inside was a collection of tools—a crowbar, gloves, a flashlight, and what looked like a small bottle of some kind of chemical. My mind raced, piecing together what this could mean. Someone had been planning something. Something sinister.
I quickly put the bag back and slammed the trash can lid shut, my heart hammering in my chest. I needed to act fast. My kids were still inside, completely unaware of the danger that could have been lurking around our home.
I rushed back inside, grabbed my phone, and called the police. I explained everything, from Matt’s strange behavior to the note and the contents of the trash can. They assured me they would send someone over immediately and advised me to lock all the doors and windows until they arrived.
While I waited, I sat in the living room, trying to keep my cool for the sake of the kids, who were still playing without a care in the world. But my mind was racing. Who had been planning to break into our home? And why?
The police arrived within minutes, and after a thorough search of the property, they confirmed my worst fears. It appeared someone had been watching our house, possibly for weeks, and had stashed the tools in the trash can in preparation for a break-in. The officers praised Matt’s quick thinking and the note that likely prevented a serious crime.
I couldn’t sleep that night. The thought that my family had been targeted, that someone had been lurking around our home, filled me with dread. But one thing was clear: I needed to take extra precautions to keep my kids safe.
The very next day, I installed security cameras around the house. I placed them at every possible entry point, ensuring that nothing would go unnoticed again. I also updated all the locks and installed motion-sensor lights in the backyard.
A few days later, I called the restaurant to thank Matt for his help. He told me that he’d noticed a suspicious figure near our house a few times during his deliveries and had a bad feeling. He’d wanted to warn me without alarming the kids, so he left the note.
I’ll forever be grateful to Matt. His vigilance and quick thinking saved us from what could have been a terrifying ordeal. Thanks to him, I took the necessary steps to protect my family, and I’ll never take our safety for granted again.
