Older Man Never Lets Anyone into His House, Only after His Death Neighbor Steps inside — Story of the Day

Old Jared lived a secluded life and never let anyone in his home. But one night, a neighbor rushed to his house after hearing his scream and a loud crash and found the poor, older man dead inside. The neighbor then discovered something shocking in Jared's basement and had no idea it would land him in prison.

It was already night. Chuck returned home after a long tiring day at work, and as he got down from his car, he saw his neighbor, Jared, struggling to carry a heavy bag home.

"Hey, Jared!" Chuck called out, locking his car door. "Wait a minute. I'll give you a hand!"

The older man dropped the bag and looked up, huffing. "Did I ask ya to help me out, boy? No need!" he said and got back to dragging the bag up the stairs.

Chuck shook his head, ignoring the older man's modesty, and ran over to help him. But the bag turned out to be quite heavy, and Chuck could barely carry it himself.

As they reached Jared's porch, the man opened the door, and Chuck was about to head inside when Jared took the bag from his hands. "That's enough, boy. I think I can carry it further alone," he said, trying to close the door, but Chuck stopped him...

"C'mon, Jared! Let me at least have a look inside, will you?" he laughed. "The whole neighborhood probably knows that you might as well refuse the President if he wanted to see your home. What's inside that I can't see, huh?"

"Billions, boy, billions!" joked Jared. "And I don't want anyone to get a hand on my billions. So thanks for the help."

"Well then, Jared, how about getting yourself a new car? Because you will soon need to harness horses to drive this one!" laughed Chuck, pointing to Jared's old car. "Anyway, Good night!" Chuck added and went home.

A couple of hours later, Chuck came out for a smoke. He was in the front yard when he suddenly heard a loud crash and a scream from Jared's bedroom window. Chuck dashed to Jared's front door and knocked several times, but no one answered.

"Hey, Jared! It's me! Chuck! Open the door!" Chuck called out. Still, there were no replies.

Chuck dashed to the man's backyard and noticed the open backyard window. "Jared! I'm here! Right under your window!" he called out to Jared again, but the man never replied.

Sensing something was off, Chuck crept into Jared's house through the window. As he entered, he discovered an open hatch in the center of Jared's bedroom.

"Jared, are you there?!" he called out, kneeling beside the hatch. No replies again.

Chuck finally climbed down the ladder that led him to Jared's basement and was shocked to find the older man in a pool of blood on the floor.

"Oh no…Ja…Jared!" Chuck pulled out his phone with trembling hands and switched the flashlight on, causing the space to be illuminated. Within seconds Chuck's gaze ran across the basement, and he couldn't believe his eyes. There was a collection of golden antiques on one of the shelves.

Chuck's eyes widened in disbelief. He had never seen something like that before.

Chuck took one more look at dead Jared, then, without any hesitation, he quickly grabbed a duffel bag lying in a corner and stuffed it with everything he found in the basement. Then he climbed out of Jared's window, ran to his garage, and hid everything there, deciding not to mention the loot to his wife.

Jared spent the whole night looking up antique stores online. He found one in the neighboring town and decided to visit it.

The next morning, Chuck sat at the kitchen table, sipping his morning coffee. He glanced at his wife, who was busy in the kitchen.

"Honey, I'm heading to work now. It's going to be a busy day," Chuck said, grabbing his work bag.

"Alright, have a good day, babe," his wife replied.

Chuck forced a smile, concealing the nervousness that churned within him. He grabbed his car keys and made his way to the garage. Once inside his vehicle, he dialed his partner's number and asked him to cover for him. Then he ended the call and drove away from his house, taking the route that would lead him to the antique shop.

A bell on the door chimed as Jared entered the antique shop, holding two bags in his hand. He noticed a man, probably in his late 70s, standing behind the counter.

"Hey, hi. I, um, would like to get my stuff appraised. I have like a collection of the old, vintage things," he told the man, approaching him.

"Sure, sir. That's what I am here for," grinned the man, lowering his glasses. "May I have a look? Please have a seat. Also, would you like a coffee?"

"No, thanks. I'm in a bit of a hurry," Chuck replied, his heart racing. He was nervous and wanted to get rid of the antiques as soon as possible. The man was quick to notice Chuck's panicked expression.

"If I may ask you, sir, where exactly did you get them?" asked the man, looking at the antiques with bare eyes. "Interesting exhibits, I must say!"

"Uh, well," Chuck stammered. "My…yeah, my granddad…Actually, he was a wealthy man, and this collection was passed from him to my dad and then to me. You know, like a generational thing."

"Inheritance, you mean?" asked the man with a smile as he pressed the security call button under the counter. A shrill buzzing sound rang across the room, and all the doors and windows were automatically locked.

"What…what just happened?" Chuck jumped to his feet in shock, looking around. "What did you do?! Open the door! I don't want to get my things appraised here any longer!"

"Well, sir, the doors will now open only when the police arrive, and while they are on their way, let me tell you the true story behind the collection you brought here," the man calmly said, sitting on a chair with a cup of coffee.

"This story took place 38 years ago in the estate of a wealthy man named Arnold…" said the antiquarian as he began narrating the fateful incident three decades ago.

It was a bright, sunny day. Arnold smiled as he entered the kitchen of his massive estate on the outskirts of town. "Good afternoon, Jared," he told his servant.

Arnold was the son of a renowned antiquarian, and he was carrying his father's legacy forward by presiding over his business. The then 43-year-old Jared worked for Arnold's family and had been serving them for nine years.

"Good day, sir," Jared wished his boss. "Catherine has made you an omelet with cheese and jalapeños for breakfast today. Your favorite, sir," he added. "It'll be ready in two minutes, and in the meantime, you can read the news," Jared said, handing over the newspaper to his boss.

"Thank you, Jared," Arnold smiled as he opened the newspaper to read. "By the way, please tell me, didn't you hear any strange noises at night?"

"Noises? No, sir," Jared shook his head, setting his boss' breakfast on the table. "Perhaps it was the dogs? I'll let them out tonight. I didn't want those poor things to stay out in the cold, so I brought them in last night."

"Maybe I heard them," Arnold frowned, nodding his head as he began reading the newspaper. "Oh, also, Jared," he added. "An old friend of mine is coming to visit us today. Please prepare the guest bedroom for him. I'm not sure if he'll be staying over, but I want everything to be ready," Arnold said and began eating breakfast.

That afternoon, Arnold's 57-year-old friend Edward arrived at the mansion after lunch. "Oh, look at you! It's been a long time, hasn't it?" Arnold beamed as he hugged his mate after all these years.

Edward was always close to Arnold's family—to the extent that even Arnold's late father knew him. The two mates freshened up and got together for dinner. As Jared served them, he was eavesdropping on their conversation.

"You won't believe what I got my hands on, pal," Arnold chuckled, slicing his steak. "I managed to find a collection of dishes from the 18th century on the black market. You might not know it, but that's exactly what my father was looking for back in his days!"

"How long have we known each other for, Arnold?" Edward smiled, sipping his wine. "Probably since your childhood? Still, pal, I don't believe what you tell me until I get to see it with my own eyes!"

Arnold nodded, smiling and chewing his steak. "Okay, okay, Edward," he said cheerfully, slicing the meat again. "Let's go upstairs to my room after dinner, and you'll know your pal ain't lying."

Jared was caught off-guard when Arnold suddenly looked up at him. "You are still here, Jared?" he asked. "Please go to the kitchen and decide on tomorrow's breakfast menu with Catherine. I'll let you know if you are needed here."

"My apologies. Of course, sir!" Jared understood that Arnold didn't want him to know anything more about the antique collection, but he couldn't contain his curiosity. He nodded to his boss and headed to the kitchen, but when nobody noticed him, he dashed upstairs and sneaked into Arnold's room, hiding in his boss' closet.

Minutes after that, Arnold entered the room but alone. He rushed to his bed, kneeled down, and removed a tile next to the bed with a knife. Having pulled out a key, Arnold returned the tile to its place, jumped to his feet, and called out to Edward. "You can come in, pal!" he exclaimed.

Edward was confused as he looked around the room.

"Sorry, buddy, but security can't be compromised!" Arnold laughed.

"Well, you are no different from your father, are you?" Edward chuckled.

"Now close the door," Arnold whispered as he walked over to his vault and unlocked it.

Edward peeped over Arnold's shoulder and gasped. "Jesus Christ!" he exclaimed. "I…I don't believe this! Boy, I'm ready to give you $800,000 tomorrow for this collection. What do you say, huh? Deal?"

"With all due respect, pal, my answer is no. You know how long it took my father to find this collection and how he dreamed that one day the collection of his mother's genus would find its home in a museum. So, I can't even discuss it," Arnold said as he closed the safe.

Jared's eyes widened in shock as he overheard the conversation. It was at that exact moment that he came up with a plan for the perfect heist.

In the evening, Jared asked his boss if he could head home for the night. "I haven't cleaned my home in days, to be honest, sir. The trash needs to be taken care of, and I have to get rid of the dried leaves in the backyard…burn them. It would be really kind of you if you excuse me for just one night. I'll be back in the morning."

"Sure, Jared. No problem," Arnold smiled and agreed.

But Jared didn't head home that night. Instead, he pulled over at the local morgue, ready to carry out the first part of his plan.

He climbed over the fence and jumped inside the building's compound, breathing heavily, his heart racing. A shrill cry of crickets pierced the surrounding silence, and Jared looked around, trying to figure out a way to enter the building quickly.

It was late at night, so he knew all the morgue workers had already left for their homes. Suddenly, Jared's gaze drifted to the half-closed window on the second floor of the building and then to the tree growing right next to the building wall.

Jared braced one foot against the rough area of the tree trunk, pushing himself up. As he reached the branch close to the window, he swung one leg up and over the branch. Then he carefully tiptoed on the stem to the window and eventually jumped inside the building.

Scanning the entire facility, Jared found a hall filled with rows of gurneys carrying dead bodies. He marched along one of the rows, reading out their labels. "Alfred…Nylon…Wait a minute!" He stopped at the gurney on the extreme end.

"John Doe. Homeless," read the label dangling from the corpse's toe. Nobody knew who this person was. This was it! Jared looked around the hall, thinking how he'd carry the body out of the building, and noticed a doctor's uniform hanging on a wall hook.

He disguised himself in the uniform and began pushing the gurney out of the building. He took the back exit so he could quickly get to his car behind the fence.

Huffing and puffing, Jared dumped the body inside his car's trunk and dashed to the driver's seat. He disappeared down the street without anyone knowing he had stolen a body from the morgue.

As he arrived home, Jared carried the body upstairs to his bedroom and positioned it on his bed. Then he dashed to the garage, where he stored gasoline cans. Jared poured the flammable liquid into every nook and cranny of his house. Then he lit a matchstick, tossed it on the gasoline-stained floor, and rushed out the front door.

As Jared watched his house reduce to nothing but burnt remains from 500 feet away, he smiled with contentment that the first part of his plan was successfully completed. He had the best alibi for the upcoming heist because, in the eyes of the world, he was a dead man now.

Several weeks went by. Jared carefully planned his next move, perfecting his heist. One night, he stood before Arnold's mansion, disguised as a policeman and donning a fake mustache. He looked around and marched to the switchboard that supplied the entire district with electricity.

"Well, let's get started," he grinned to himself as he pushed down the lever, shutting off the electricity supply in the entire area. Then he walked toward Arnold's estate.

The entire area was drowned in darkness. Jared used a flashlight to guide himself along the way. He could hear the dogs barking in the backyard and the crunch of leaves under his foot as he crossed Arnold's yard.

Standing on the front porch, he knocked on the door several times, but there was no answer. He was about to knock again when the door flung open, and a man who looked no younger than 35 appeared in the doorway.

Jared quickly shone the flashlight on his face, obstructing his own identity, and recognized the young lad as Arnold's new servant.

Jared knew his ex-boss wasn't home. In fact, Arnold flew out of state at this time of the year to visit his sister. He never missed her birthday.

"Good evening, officer. Can I help you with something?" the young man asked Arnold, shielding his eyes from the light and interrupting the eerie silence between them. Jared lowered the flashlight a bit, but he made sure his own face was invisible.

"Good evening, sir. We received a call that someone intentionally turned off the power supply at this address," he said. "My chief happens to be a good friend of your boss, and he asked me to stay here for the night. You know, it's not entirely safe. It's even weird that the power supply would be cut off like this."

"That's very considerate of you, Officer..." The man looked at Jared's uniform and could see his fake name badge. "Officer Graham. Thank you. My boss isn't home right now, so I was a little scared when the electricity went off. Can I get you some coffee?" he offered kindly.

"Yes, sir, that would be great!" Jared said. "By the way, is there anyone else in the house besides you? You know, uh, I need to give an update to my boss about the entire situation."

"Understandable, sir," said the man kindly. "It's just me in the house right now. Catherine—the cook—lives in the staff quarters about a hundred feet away. Anyway, please come in."

"Thank you," Jared said, and as the man turned his back to him, Jared struck him hard on the head with his stick. As soon as the man plopped to the floor, Jared gagged him and tied his hands and feet. Finally, Jared rushed upstairs to Arnold's room.

He removed the tile near Arnold's bed, got the vault's key, and stuffed the entire collection he found in the vault into the bag he had carried. Then Jared crept out of the house, taking the backdoor to avoid unwanted attention. He noticed the dogs outside as he came out, but he was relieved they didn't bark because they recognized him.

Swiftly, Jared headed toward the dense forest that enveloped the mansion's surroundings. He had stashed a backpack there with a change of clothes. With a sense of urgency, Jared retrieved the backpack and changed his attire, discarding the police uniform in a pit he had prepared before the heist.

It was a cleverly crafted hideaway where he had planned to dispose of any evidence that could link him to the crime. Now, it served as the final resting place for the incriminating uniform.

So Jared stuffed the police uniform into the pit and tossed a burning log on the material. As he stood there waiting for the fabric to be reduced to ashes, his eyes briefly scanned the area, and he felt a mixture of relief and anxiety. Nobody had seen him escaping.

Then with his belongings in tow, Jared embarked on a journey through the depths of the forest, taking calculated and careful steps. He could hear the sounds of nature surrounding him—the shrill cries of crickets, the clicking of bats, and the scuttling of tiny creatures as he made his way through the forest.

The woods seemed alive with its nocturnal inhabitants as he crossed the dense foliage. Arriving at the outskirts, he got into his car, which was patiently waiting for him. The vehicle, carefully parked by Jared in a secluded spot, was his gateway to freedom.

He settled in the driver's seat, feeling a surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins. The engine roared to life, drowning out the sounds of nature, and he drove away, clutching the steering wheel tightly. But as the miles stretched before him, Jared's mind was plagued with several thoughts.

He thought about the risks he had taken, the evidence he had gotten rid of, and the other crimes he had committed just to get his hands on the collection. Lost in his thoughts, Jared drove along a stranded highway that night, the forest and its symphony of sounds growing distant. Luckily, fate was on his side, and he escaped the town at night, leaving no traces of his crime.

The next morning, when Catherine unlocked the front door and marched inside, she screamed, her hands held to her mouth in shock. The new servant was bound and gagged. They called the police, but he couldn't tell them anything because he hadn't seen Jared's face. And unfortunately, he barely recalled anything from the previous night owing to the blow to his head.

Jared was content with his life. He successfully arrived in another town. And for 14 months after the robbery, Jared lived a quiet life, making sure he didn't get noticed by anyone. Then one day, he got in touch with a man who was an expert in the black market.

The man introduced himself as Harry. He was a thief and swindler who offered Jared quite a hefty sum for the antique collection. They decided to meet at a bar a couple of nights later, but when Jared arrived at the bar, he didn't notice anyone at the table Harry had mentioned.

Jared took his seat, looking around carefully and ensuring it wasn't a plan to trap him after all this time. Suddenly, a man sat across from him. It was Harry.

"Sorry, got caught up with somethin'. So did you get it?" he asked, leaning closer to Jared.

"Yes, yes, I did," Jared answered, clearing his throat and looking around.

"Where?" the man asked hastily, rubbing his palms together. "I don't see it with you."

"Do you think I'm a fool to carry it all the way to a bar?" Jared fumed.

"Then why the hell did you call me here?!" Harry lost his cool. "Tell me what's going on, or—"

"Lower your voice, will you?" Jared hissed, rising to his feet. "Follow me!"

Jared and Harry left the bar together, but Harry didn't know Jared had hidden his collection of valuable items in a secure hatch located about a mile away from the bar.

While they were on their way to get the collection, Jared sensed something was wrong. He turned to his side and saw Arnold, who had a dreadful look on his face. Their eyes met, and a dread washed over Jared. He quickly turned into an alley and began running to save himself.

Arnold was not alone. He was accompanied by a series of policemen who were now pursuing Jared mercilessly. The sound of Jared's pounding footsteps reverberated through the narrow passage as he raced to escape the clutches of the approaching officers.

Jared had decided he was not going to succumb, and he had made a calculated decision. He had not brought the stolen collection of gold and antiques with him to the bar, knowing the risks involved.

Luckily, fate again played in Jared's favor, and the alley opened into a bustling market. The crowd swallowed him whole, and he escaped successfully. For hours police tried to look for him, but Jared was not found. They combed through the market, desperately trying to locate him, but it was all for naught. It seemed like he had vanished into thin air.

"That's how we lost track of him," the antiquarian told Chuck.

Chuck knew he could no longer avoid what he had done. It seemed like the collection was cursed. Anybody who stole it and tried to get away met with bad luck. He sank onto the floor, burying his face in his knees.

"How Jared's fate turned out is unknown to everyone except one person…and that's Jared himself," continued the antiquarian as he peered outside through his shop's glass door and saw the cops arrive. "Maybe he was able to sell the gold somewhere, and maybe he lived a miserable, unhappy life, hiding from the police and his past for years. We'll find that soon as the cops are here," he added. "By the way, I forgot to introduce myself! I'm Arnold! Nice to meet you."

What can we learn from this story?

• Easy and dishonest money tends to vanish quickly, leaving behind a trail of problems. Jared, driven by his desire for wealth, stole Arnold's valuable collection intending to sell it and live a life of luxury. However, little did he know that this ill-gotten money would ultimately cost him his own life. Similarly, Chuck believed he could escape the consequences of his actions by absconding with his loot. Unfortunately for him, fate had other plans.
• Doing the wrong has never made anyone happy. Both Jared and Chuck learned the hard way that wrongdoing never leads to true happiness. Their ill-conceived plans to disappear with the stolen loot only brought them closer to their downfall. While they had hoped to profit from the collection, it ultimately found its way back to its rightful owner, Arnold.

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If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a bride who tossed away the cheap old ring her poor grandma gifted her, only to be shocked when it suddenly clicked open.

This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone's life. If you would like to share your story, please send it to info@amomama.com.