The first time it happened, I didn't think much of it.
I had left my house for work in the morning, just as I always did, and when I got home that night... my yucca plant was gone.
The second time it happened, I honestly assumed it was my wife.
Again, I had left my house for work in the morning, and when I got home that night... my umbrella was gone.
But then I remembered, that my wife had left the house earlier than me that day, and got home after me. In addition to the fact that, it wasn't even supposed to rain.
The third time it happened, well... is when I started to get suspicious of the bizarre disappearances, and began to wonder whether something... else was going on inside my home.
Yet again, I had left my house for work in the morning, and when I got home that night, lo and behold... my record player was gone.
In all three instances, no matter where I looked for the lost items around the house, no matter how hard I tried to find them, they were nowhere to be found.
This continued happening enough times, that I eventually decided to keep a log, to track everything that was disappearing.
And so, I vowed that after a month of logging the missing possessions, I would scour the list, for some sort of common denominator. Some sort of motivation for why this was happening.
But just a day before the end of the month, I left my house for work in the morning, and when I got home that night... the log, itself, was gone.
That's when I realized, that anything I wanted to keep, I'd better take with me when I left my house for work in the morning, lest it be swept away to wherever all of the missing things had been swept away to.
So, that's exactly what I did, creating an itemized list of only the things I couldn't live without, by auditing every material object that I owned.
And, in the process, I was incredibly surprised, by both the amount of stuff that I'd accumulated over the years, and the relatively small amount of stuff that I really needed.
Once the list was complete, I would run through the same meticulous routine every morning, placing the most cherished of my personal belongings into a combination of my pockets, and a backpack, that I had bought for this very purpose.
But one day, I left my house for work in the morning and forgot the backpack, and when I got home that night... it, too, was gone.
After this had gone on for about two months, so many household items had disappeared, that my wife had assumed that I had been decluttering the home, purging it of my unwanted things.
This was, of course, not the case, but I was too afraid to tell her the truth, too afraid that she'd think it was all... preposterous. So I just played along.
However, I was so disappointed with myself for lying to my wife, and at the same time, so frustrated with the disappearing items, that I swore to put an end to the situation, once and for all.
So I ordered a surveillance camera, and as soon as it arrived, I installed it, before leaving my house for work in the morning.
But when I got home that night... sure enough, the camera was gone.
That's when I realized, that whoever, or whatever, was taking my things, was aware that I was aware of it, and was actively thwarting my attempts to thwart it.
But that only made me want to thwart it even more.
The next week, I faked being sick, calling out from work each day, for the sole purpose of
coming up with a plan for how to stop the mysterious disappearances, or find out who, or what, was behind them, or both.
That's when I had the realization, that nothing seemed to disappear when my wife left the house, and only when I did.
Since I'd been married to her for eight years, and was fairly certain she wasn't the one hiding my things, I grew confident that there was someone, or something, else, in the house, who was specifically taking my things, whenever I left.
So, I reached out to my company's HR contact, requesting to work remotely, and less than a month later, the request got approved, and I started working from home.
Sure enough, a month went by, and nothing was stolen.
Which led me to wonder, whether it had actually been my wife's doing, after all. Rationalizing that even though she did tend to leave the house before me and get back after me every day, she could easily come home during her lunch break.
It took me a week to gather the courage to confront her about it, and I finally accused my wife of eight years and trusted confidant, of something completely outlandish. And just as I had feared, she thought it was all... preposterous.
And, as to be expected, she could not have been more offended. We had the worst fight of our marriage that night, and both went to bed upset.
And so, the next day, I decided to sacrifice a physical possession, in order to make it up to Sarah, leaving my house for work in the morning, with the sole purpose of buying her flowers.
But when I got home that night... gift in hand, and ready to apologize, this time...
...Sarah, herself, was gone.
I should have known that she, too, had been taken away, but I was so obsessed with understanding the situation, that I convinced myself that Sarah, still angry at me from the night before, must have up and left.
And with Sarah gone, I could finally know for sure, whether she was the one behind everything.
Once again, I left my house for work in the morning, and when I got home that night... the flowers that I had bought for Sarah the day before were gone... and she had still not returned.
But rather than accept the truth, I remembered that she still had the keys to the house.
So, the next day, I hired a locksmith to change every lock in the home, before leaving my house for work in the morning.
But when I got home that night... my coffee table was gone.
And that's when I knew, for certain, that Sarah wasn't the one behind the strange disappearances. That's when I knew, that she was actually the victim of them, and that something... else was undoubtedly in the house.
My wife now missing, I cried myself to sleep hard that night, clenching at the very sheets, that she once slept upon beside me.
The next morning, I thought about calling the police, but I knew that the tale would sound so far-fetched, that they'd never believe me.
My sadness quickly turned to rage, and I proceeded to tear my home apart, searching under every bed, inside every closet, behind every curtain, and around every corner, for any sign of the culprit, or the missing items, or both, leaving no stone unturned.
But ultimately, I found... nothing.
That's when I remembered...
...The basement...
...Or lack thereof.
The truth is, when we first bought the home, we were told that there had once been a basement, but at some point over the years, one of its previous owners had sealed it off, leaving no trace of a stairway downstairs.
If I could just find such a stairway, or secret passage to the cellar, I just might be able to find the culprit, who I imagined would be sitting there: surrounded by a heaping pile of everything that had gone missing... including my wife.
But no matter where I looked, I found... nothing.
Defeated, depressed, and terrified, all at the same time, I strongly considered moving to an entirely new house, but ultimately, I couldn't bring myself to leave the place that I'd called home for the past eight years of marriage.
Instead, my obsession with figuring out who, or what, had taken my wife, and to where, consumed me, and led me to drastic measures.
And so, I started clearing out the house, selling off anything anyone would buy, and giving away anything left over. Until my once cluttered home... was reduced to an empty shell of its former self.
When I finally got rid of the last item, I collapsed onto the rugless floor of the now barren living room, and sat there in silence, exhausted from what I'd just done, but at the same time, satisfied with the fact that whoever, or whatever, had been stealing my things, had nothing left to steal.
That is... until I started to doubt myself, questioning every decision that I had made, and thereby, my very grasp on reality.
I must have sat there in silence for thirty minutes, internally beating myself up about it, until I heard a rattling noise below me...
...Suddenly, in the middle of the empty living room... a trap door popped open. The very trap door, to the basement, that I had been previously looking for.
Sitting on the floor, directly behind the now upright door, and out of the line of sight of whoever, or whatever, opened it...
...I suddenly saw a disfigured hand, slowly reach out for something on the floor nearby...
...It was a pencil, that I must have overlooked during the cleanse, the last object left to steal...
...Before I heard it speak.
"I'll be back for you tomorrow." Whatever it was, called out from behind the trap door.
And like that...
...It took the pencil.
I then heard it climb back into the basement, and saw the trap door shut behind it, as I still sat there on the floor, quietly cowering in fear.
That was today...
...And tomorrow, my only hope...
...Is that it doesn't take me too.
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