After the premature end of our stay, I expected to return to the serenity of home. But my garden held a stunning surprise: an inexplicable excavation, abandoned instruments, and a disturbing enigma to solve.
A big surprise upon returning home
After a long day on the road, I expected to return to the peace and quiet of home. But the sight that awaited me was more like a crime scene than a peaceful homecoming: a gaping crater in the middle of my lawn, tools scattered everywhere, and a half-empty water bottle , still damp with condensation. The shock was complete.
My first instinct was to dial 17. However, a disturbing thought stopped me: what if the intruder thought the property was unoccupied? What if he planned to return?
A dramatic nighttime manhunt
I then made a risky decision: to feign a prolonged absence. Car hidden, all lights off, house plunged into complete darkness. The waiting began. As the shadows of night enveloped the garden, a human figure quietly climbed the fence. Methodical. Precise in its movements. It headed straight for the excavation.
Breathless, I grabbed my flashlight and approached silently. "What are you doing here?" I yelled, illuminating the scene. The figure turned abruptly... revealing a perfectly familiar face : that of Paul, my next-door neighbor.
A buried family legacy
Caught red-handed—shovel still in hand—Paul struggled to explain himself. “I can tell you everything ,” he stammered. His story could have inspired an adventure novel. Literally.
According to his grandfather's recollections, our housing estate had been built on the ruins of an old farm. An oral tradition spoke of a hoard – hidden gold coins – hastily buried by the owners fleeing the fighting.
Struggling financially, Paul saw it as his ticket to a better life. He assured me that if the loot was discovered, it would be shared. But his unilateral action, without prior consultation, was the real problem.
The invisible boundaries of the neighborhood
Even though it yielded no results, Paul's act had broken a fundamental barrier: that of respecting private boundaries and mutual trust. His frankness spared me a call to the police station… but not a heated confrontation .
I imposed three immediate conditions on him: fill in the pit, offer a formal apology, and above all, never do it again. The police station would remain in my phone's quick memory .
The true riches of the land
The following day, Paul carried out his instructions meticulously: painstakingly filling in the holes, restoring the garden, even helping to reseed the lawn. Yet, in the days that followed, my mind kept returning to this strange adventure. What if the legend contained a grain of truth?
A more valuable thought than gold ultimately prevails: good neighborly relations are as fragile as glass. Perhaps some mysteries deserve to remain… where time has placed them.
The moral of the story
A simple excavation can reveal far more than geological layers: it exposes human failings, hidden hopes, and miscalculations. What Paul hoped to unearth was a miracle cure. What I discovered is a simple truth: an untouched garden is worth more than a hypothetical fortune.
