When Liz joins her boyfriend Jim’s family for Thanksgiving, she’s charmed by their warmth and quirky traditions, until an innocent dive into family photo albums takes a creepy turn. A mysterious woman appears in the background of decades-old pictures, sending the family into a supernatural panic. But just as chaos peaks, Jim drops a bombshell…
Thanksgiving at Jim’s family home felt like stepping into a holiday movie. You know, the kind with twinkling lights, a crackling fireplace, and the scent of homemade pie wafting through the air.
A cozy living room | Source: Midjourney
His mom, Eleanor, buzzed around the kitchen with effortless grace, pulling out a golden-brown turkey and buttery rolls. His dad, Harold, delivered groan-worthy dad jokes at regular intervals, while his younger brother, Max, showed me the quirky traditions that made this family unforgettable.
“Here,” Max said, handing me a ridiculous turkey hat with googly eyes. “It’s mandatory for the family photo.”
I laughed as Jim slipped one on too, rolling his eyes in mock despair.
A woman wearing a turkey hat | Source: Midjourney
“Yeah, welcome to the clan, Lizzie,” he said. “We’re all prisoners to Mom’s traditions.”
I didn’t feel like a prisoner at all. This was the kind of family dynamic I’d always dreamed of. It was the laughter, the warmth, and everyone working in sync, even if it was chaotic. I loved it all.
After dinner, as we settled into the cozy living room, Eleanor clapped her hands.
“Now, Liz, since you’re new to the fold, it’s time for the tradition!”
A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
Jim visibly stiffened next to me.
“Mom, no, let’s skip it this year. We don’t need to do that every time I bring someone home!”
“Oh, don’t be silly, honey!” she said, waving him off. “You’ll love this, Liz! We always show Jim’s baby photos, and let me tell you, darling, it’s a hoot!”
Jim groaned.
A man sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
“Brace yourself, babe,” he muttered to me, picking up his glass of whiskey.
Eleanor emerged from the hall with a gigantic, worn photo album. She flipped it open with gusto, and the room lit up with laughter.
This. I loved this. My family hadn’t been very close. My parents tried when we were younger, but at some point, they realized that they didn’t want to do the close parenting thing. For Thanksgiving this year, my brother was with his friends and my parents were in China.
A glass of whiskey on a coffee table | Source: Midjourney
“Oh! I love this one!” Eleanor said.
It was a photo of baby Jim, and he was undeniably adorable. He was sitting in a high chair, covered in spaghetti. Then there was another one of him as a toddler wearing an oversized Spiderman costume. The captions, written in Eleanor’s cheerful scrawl, were as embarrassing as promised.
“Look at this one!” Max howled. “Jim in the tub with rubber ducks!”
A little boy in a bathtub with rubber ducks | Source: Midjourney
Jim buried his face in his hands while everyone laughed.
“I hate this tradition,” he mumbled, though I could see a hint of a smile.
Then Eleanor turned a page, and the atmosphere shifted.
My eyes landed on a photo of the family posing in their front yard. It was a charming scene—little Jim holding Max’s hand, Eleanor smiling brightly, and Harold standing proudly behind them.
A woman looking at an album | Source: Midjourney
But in the background, blurred yet unmistakable, was a woman. She wasn’t smiling, and something about her felt… off.
“Who’s that?” I asked, pointing to the figure.
Eleanor frowned.
“Who’s who, dear?”
A woman looking concerned | Source: Midjourney
“There,” I said, leaning closer. “Behind you all. The woman.”
The room grew quiet. Everyone leaned in, and Harold’s face went pale.
“I… I don’t remember anyone being there,” Eleanor said, her voice trembling slightly.
“Maybe it’s a neighbor?” Max suggested, but his tone was uncertain.
A close up of an older man | Source: Midjourney
He turned the page, and my stomach dropped.
There she was again!
This time, she was standing under a tree in the background, her face partially obscured by shadows.
Eleanor clutched her chest.
“What is happening? Who is she? Why is she in our photos? Max, pass me my rosary!”
A rosary on a table | Source: Midjourney
“This… this doesn’t make sense. These pictures are years apart. How could the same woman be in different places?” Harold muttered.
“I need to call Father Thomas,” Eleanor said, pacing the living room. “This is not normal!”
Jim, sitting silently beside me, started shaking slightly. At first, I thought he was overwhelmed. Then I realized he was holding back laughter.
A panicked older woman | Source: Midjourney
“Oh my goodness,” Eleanor whispered, her eyes wide. “Is she a ghost? Has she been following us all these years? I told you, Harold! That house we lived in before this one wasn’t right! I told you something felt off…”
Max flipped through the album frantically. The mysterious woman appeared in photo after photo—at the park, behind a picnic table, peering through a window.
And at every page turn, Eleanor’s face paled even further.
A stack of albums on a table | Source: Midjourney
“This is why I always told you to sage the house, Harold! You never listen to me, do you? Look now! I don’t know whether to laugh or cry!”
Jim finally lost it, doubling over with laughter.
“Mom, stop! Stop!” he gasped, tears streaming down his face.
Eleanor spun around, suddenly furious.
A woman holding a large bundle of sage | Source: Midjourney
“Why are you laughing, Jim?” she asked. “This isn’t funny! Not at all!”
My boyfriend wiped his eyes, barely able to speak through his laughter.
“Because… because I know who she is.”
Everyone froze, myself included. What was this man on about?
A laughing man | Source: Midjourney
“What? You what?” Eleanor shrieked, throwing a cushion at him.
Jim grinned, holding up his hands.
“Okay, okay! Calm down! It’s just a prank.”
“It’s a what?” Harold gasped.
“Excuse me, what?” Eleanor said, holding her chest.
A woman holding a cushion | Source: Midjourney
“It’s Photoshop,” he admitted, still grinning. “I learned it for my design certification course. They said that the edits needed to be convincing to pass. So, I used our family photos as practice.”
Eleanor’s jaw dropped.
“You Photoshopped a creepy woman into our family photos? Why on earth would you do that? Where are the originals?”
“Relax, they’re tucked behind the edited photos.”
A man using his laptop | Source: Midjourney
“Don’t you tell me to relax,” Eleanor said, but we could all see that she had calmed down.
Jim smirked, leaning back on the couch.
“Because you take out these albums every single year and humiliate me in front of whoever I’m dating or family that’s visiting. Every. Single. Time. I told you to stop, and you didn’t. So, I decided to get even with you and Dad.”
A man sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
Max doubled over laughing. “This is the best thing you’ve ever done, bro!”
Harold, who’d been silent for most of the reveal, finally let out a chuckle.
“Well, you’ve got to admit, Eleanor, this is memorable!”
Her face was a mix of horror and reluctant amusement.
A laughing man | Source: Midjourney
“You scared us half to death, Jim! I thought we were being haunted.”
“Oh, come on, Mom,” my boyfriend laughed. “Admit it, this is way more entertaining than baby Jim in a bathtub.”
For a moment, Eleanor just stared at him, her lips pressed tight. Then, to everyone’s relief, she started laughing. It was the kind of laughter that shook her shoulders and made her wipe tears from her eyes.
“All right, all right,” she said, holding up her hands. “You win. But you’re sorting out that entire album tomorrow!”
A laughing older woman | Source: Midjourney
“Deal,” Jim said, still grinning.
As the laughter died down, Jim turned to me, his expression sheepish.
“So, Lizzie, welcome to the family?” he said.
I couldn’t stop laughing. It was ridiculous, yes, but it also showed me something about Jim. He wasn’t just clever. He knew how to stand up for himself in the funniest, most unexpected ways.
A smiling woman holding a mug | Source: Midjourney
This family wasn’t perfect, but they were wholesome, and they were real. And I adored that.
“Come on, it’s time for ice cream cones with all the toppings,” Harold said. “Jim, for pranking us, you do the scooping!”
That night, as we said our goodbyes, Eleanor gave me a warm hug.
“I hope you’ll come back for Christmas, my dear,” she said, her eyes shining.
A tub of ice cream and toppings | Source: Midjourney
I glanced at Jim and smirked.
“I will,” I said. “But only if the photos are ghost-free.”
Eleanor laughed, and Jim groaned. “You’ll never let me live this down, will you?”
A woman standing in a doorway and laughing | Source: Midjourney
“Never,” I said, slipping my hand into his.
“But I think I’ll sage the house, just in case,” Eleanor said seriously.
As we drove home, turkey hats tucked into the backseat, I couldn’t help but think—I love this goofy, chaotic family already.
A couple sitting in a car | Source: Midjourney
What would you have done?
If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you |
Priest Conducting Funeral Service for Wealthy Woman Leaned over Her Coffin – He Was Stunned to the Core by What He Saw
When Father Michael is conducting a funeral service for a woman, he notices an oddly shaped birthmark on her neck, exactly like his own. What comes next is a journey of self-discovery through the grieving process. Will Father Michael get the answers he so desperately wants to find?
The cathedral was silent, veiled in the heavy air of loss. Shadows from towering candles flickered along the marble floor as mourners dressed in black filled the pews, their heads bowed in reverence.
A funeral in a cathedral | Source: Midjourney
Eleanor, known throughout the community as a generous but reserved woman, had left behind both a sizable fortune and an enduring mystery.
Father Michael took a deep breath, the weight of yet another funeral pressing on him as he approached her casket. He’d never met Eleanor in person, yet something about her presence had always seemed familiar, almost hauntingly so.
As he moved closer, a strange compulsion stopped him. It was something that he couldn’t explain.
A priest in a cathedral | Source: Midjourney
He paused, then leaned in, bowing his head to begin the prayer. But as he did, his gaze drifted to her neck, and he froze.
Just behind her ear, a small, purplish birthmark stood out against her pale skin. It was almost shaped like a plum, the same shape and color as the one he had carried his whole life.
“How?” he muttered. “What does this mean?”
A woman in a casket | Source: Midjourney
A chill shot through him, his hand reaching up to press against his neck. He was well aware that everyone was looking at him, but still, he couldn’t help himself.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
Granddad Forbids Anyone from Touching His Old Mattress, Girl Finds Stash There after His Death – Story of the Day
Inside her late grandfather’s mattress, Brooke uncovers a stash that shatters everything she thought she knew about her parents’ death. But this hidden secret doesn’t just affect her; it threatens to destroy the entire town.
Brooke stood in the doorway of her grandfather’s bedroom, her nose prickling as memories flooded her mind. Her breath came in unevenly as she remembered all the times she had visited him, almost hearing Granddad Charles’s hearty laugh echoing through the halls.
“I can’t believe he’s truly gone,” she whispered, running her hand along the old oak dresser.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
The room smelled of old books and the faint scent of Granddad’s favorite pipe tobacco and his signature Aqua Velva aftershave.
After a moment, Brooke’s eyes fell on a framed photo of her parents on the nightstand. She was truly alone in this world now, as they had died years ago in a freak car accident.
As she began the daunting task of sorting through Granddad’s belongings, her mind wandered to how Granddad had never allowed anyone to touch his bed.
“Don’t you ever touch that mattress, young lady,” Granddad would say whenever Brooke jumped and bounced on the surface as a child. “It’s got more secrets than you can imagine.”
Now, standing before that very bed, Brooke felt an irresistible pull. She lifted one corner of the mattress, figuring that any secret would be hidden beneath.
She didn’t actually expect to find anything, much less something that would change everything. Beneath the mattress lay a small leather-bound book, yellowed newspaper clippings, and a stack of photographs.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
“Oh, Granddad,” Brooke breathed, “what were you hiding?”
She took the items and sifted through the papers. As she read, her eyebrows raised in surprise. For some reason, Granddad had meticulously documented the investigation into her parents’ “accident.”
He had been obsessed with it, claiming the police officers were corrupt, despite having served as a cop for decades himself. He had insisted that something was wrong.
Brooke hadn’t believed him then, but now, with the evidence before her, she felt compelled to dig deeper. Investigating this matter suddenly became her entire focus.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
“Mr. Johnson was seen leaving the Starlight Lounge, visibly intoxicated,” she read aloud. “Officer Parker waved him through a checkpoint.”
Brooke’s hands trembled as she pieced together the truth that her granddad had uncovered: the police had covered up the drunk driving of a wealthy person in town who run into her parents.
Hot, angry tears streamed down her face, but she refused to break down from the unfairness and frustration. She knew she had to do something about this information.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“I’ll finish what you started, Granddad,” Brooke vowed. “They won’t get away with this.”
***
The next day, Brooke marched into the offices of the local newspaper, her granddad’s evidence tucked safely in her bag.
The bustling newsroom barely noticed her arrival, but she didn’t care.
Brooke walked straight to an editor’s office and blurted out, “I’ve got a story you need to hear!”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
The gruff man sitting behind the desk looked up from his reading and leaned back in his chair, eyeing Brooke warily. “Hello, young lady. I’m Frank, and I have to tell you, we get a lot of people in here claiming to have the next big scoop. What makes yours special?”
Brooke took a deep breath, sat in the chair opposite the editor, and began to lay out the facts. As she spoke, Frank’s expression changed from doubt to intrigue.
After a few minutes, he leaned forward, resting his head on his linked hands, clearly captivated by the story unfolding before him.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pixabay
“This is explosive stuff, Ms. Taylor,” he said when she finished. “Are you sure you want to go public with this? There could be serious consequences.”
Brooke’s eyes flashed with determination. “Sir, I’ve spent years wondering why the universe took my parents. Every birthday, every holiday, every milestone in my life since they died has been overshadowed by this unanswered question. Now that I know it wasn’t just fate, but foul play, I can’t sit on it. This isn’t just about my family anymore. It’s about every person in this town who’s been told to accept injustice because that’s just how things are.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
Frank studied her for a moment, then nodded slowly. “Alright, Ms. Taylor. We’ll run the story. But I need you to understand something. This isn’t going to be easy. People are going to come after you, try to discredit you, and maybe even threaten you. Are you prepared for that?”
“My grandfather was a cop for thirty years,” Brooke responded. “He taught me that doing the right thing isn’t always easy, but it’s always necessary. I’m ready for whatever comes.”
Frank’s face softened slightly. “Your grandfather sounds like he was a good man. Alright, let’s get to work. We’ve got a lot to do if we’re going to break this story wide open.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
***
The story hit the front page the following week, and Brooke’s phone buzzed constantly with messages of support and outrage.
She also took to social media, sharing the link to the story and rallying people to demand justice.
“My parents deserved better,” she wrote in a viral post. “We all deserve better from those sworn to protect us.”
As public pressure mounted, the police department grudgingly reopened the case.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
Brooke watched with grim satisfaction as Officer Parker, the officer in charge of the original investigation, squirmed under questioning during a special press conference.
“We had no choice,” he finally admitted. “Mr. Johnson’s family has connections. We were told to make it go away.”
The Johnson family was indeed wealthy and influential, owning many businesses in the area and having funded the campaigns of several local government officials.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
The revelation sent shockwaves through the community, leading to protests outside the police station as citizens demanded accountability and transparency.
Protesters also gathered at Mr. Johnson’s and his family’s known properties in town. The Johnson family quickly lawyered up and hired PR representatives to try to discredit Brooke.
However, in this political climate, people were more inclined to believe the young woman who had lost everything. The community’s support for Brooke only grew stronger, and the pressure on the Johnson family and local officials intensified.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
While walking down the street one day, Brooke was suddenly surrounded by a swarm of reporters.
“Ms. Taylor, some people are saying you’re doing this for attention or financial gain. How do you respond to that?” one journalist asked.
Brooke’s eyes flashed with emotion, but she took a deep breath before responding. “I lost my parents when I was eight years old. Do you know what that’s like? I’m not doing this for fame or money. I’m doing it because for years, I’ve had a hole in my heart where my parents should be, and my granddad believed something was wrong. How could I possibly stay silent?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Her voice broke slightly, but she continued
“This isn’t just about me. It’s about every family who’s lost someone because people in power decided their lives were less important than protecting the wealthy and influential. It’s about making sure no other child has to grow up feeling like their parents’ lives didn’t matter. So no, I don’t care about attention or money. I care about justice, pure and simple.”
As the investigation progressed, more details emerged. It turned out that Mr. Johnson had a history of drunk driving incidents that had been swept under the rug, further fueling the community’s outrage and deepening the scandal.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
Other families came forward with similar stories of injustice, further exposing the depth of corruption in the town.
Months later, a trial was set, becoming a media circus. Each day, the courthouse steps were crowded with reporters and protesters.
Inside a cold courtroom, Brooke sat stoically as Mr. Johnson finally faced justice.
The prosecution presented a damning case, bolstered by the evidence her granddad had gathered. Brooke testified about the emotional and financial strains her small family suffered after her parents’ death, vividly describing the pain and loss they endured.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
But Brooke also added her own emotions, and the judge allowed her to speak. “My grandfather never stopped searching for the truth,” she said. “He knew something wasn’t right, and he refused to let it go. I’m here to finish what he started.”
As the trial neared its end, the Johnson family contacted the D.A.’s office, hoping for a settlement. The prosecutors consulted Brooke, but she refused any monetary offer.
“Money was always how the Johnsons solved things,” she thought. “Not anymore!”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
The case continued, and on the last day, Mr. Johnson stood and looked at Brooke. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I know it doesn’t change anything, but I truly am sorry.”
Brooke simply nodded.
The case concluded, and the jury took a couple of days to deliberate. The courtroom was hushed as they filed in.
“How do you find the defendant?” the judge asked.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“Guilty, Your Honor,” the jury foreman replied.
A collective gasp rippled through the room. Brooke closed her eyes and felt a wave of relief wash over her. We did it, Granddad!
The aftermath of the trial brought sweeping changes to the town. Several corrupt officers were fired, and new policies were implemented to ensure greater accountability.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
The case and her story were the talk of the town for a long time, but Brooke didn’t care about the attention. Justice had been served, and Mr. Johnson would spend several years in jail.
Now, it was time to look to the future, and perhaps… help others find justice too.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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