One second I’m lying in bed, thinking it’s just another Thursday morning, and the next I hear this weird dragging noise outside—like metal scraping wood. I figured maybe the garbage bins tipped over again or something.
But when I stepped into the kitchen, I froze.
The bottom half of our back door was gone. Not opened. Gone. Smashed inward, with splintered wood everywhere and the latch half-hanging by a screw. And right there, standing in the middle of the patio like he owned the place, was Oscar—our horse.
Yeah. Horse.
We’ve got a small plot of land, nothing fancy, and Oscar’s usually in the little paddock out back. He’s calm, older, not the kind to act out unless something’s seriously wrong. But there he was, chest heaving, covered in dirt and sweat. And around his neck—I’m not joking—was the bottom part of the door, still looped like a messed-up collar, as if he’d crashed straight through and just kept going.
I didn’t know what to do first.
I checked for blood. None. Thank God. But his eyes were wide, like he’d seen something. Like he was still running from it.
And the weirdest part? The latch to his paddock was still locked.
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I haven’t even told Sam yet. He’s still at work. And the neighbors already think we’re barely holding it together out here.
I just stood there, barefoot in the kitchen, staring at Oscar with a piece of our door hanging off his neck like some kind of warning.
And then I noticed something way out near the tree line—
a bit of movement. Subtle, like someone ducking.
My heart kicked up. We don’t get a lot of foot traffic out here. The nearest neighbor is half a mile up the road, and there’s no reason for anyone to be in our woods unless they’re hunting illegally… or hiding
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I slid open the drawer by the fridge, grabbed the flashlight, and walked slowly onto the patio. Oscar didn’t even flinch. He just stood there like he’d done his job.
And that’s when it hit me—he had done something on purpose. He wasn’t trying to escape. He was trying to get to me.
I whispered, “What were you trying to tell me, old man?” and gave him a pat, then turned toward the tree line.
I wasn’t planning to go into the woods alone, not without calling Sam or the sheriff first. But curiosity can be louder than fear sometimes. I stayed at the edge of the yard, scanned the trees with the flashlight, and finally spotted it.
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A little backpack. Just barely sticking out from behind a fallen log. And next to it, a kid.