CHAPTER 1: THE COUCH THAT TERRIFIED MY DOG
When I bought the couch, I thought I had found the deal of a lifetime.
It was elegant, modern, and surprisingly affordable. The small furniture store owner told me it had been professionally restored and was practically brand new.
The moment it arrived, I felt proud of my purchase.
Unfortunately, my dog had a very different opinion.
Jerry was a seven-year-old German Shepherd. He was calm, intelligent, and rarely barked without a reason. Over the years, I had learned to trust his instincts.
That was why his behavior scared me.
The second the movers left, Jerry approached the couch cautiously.
He sniffed the left side.
Nothing.
He sniffed the cushions.
Nothing.
Then he reached the right armrest.
His entire body froze.
His ears stood upright.
The fur along his back rose.
A low growl escaped his throat.
I laughed nervously.
"What's wrong, buddy?"
Jerry suddenly began scratching furiously.
Not playfully.
Not like a dog looking for a comfortable spot.
He attacked the armrest as if something inside was alive.
For the next several hours, he refused to leave it alone.
He ignored treats.
Ignored toys.
Ignored food.
Every few minutes he returned to the couch and scratched the exact same place.
That night, things became worse.
At around two in the morning, I woke up to violent barking.
Jerry was standing beside the couch.
Staring directly at the armrest.
Growling.
His eyes never moved.
As if he was watching someone.
Or something.
Inside.
For the first time, genuine fear crept into my mind.
The next morning I grabbed a utility knife.
Maybe there was a dead animal trapped inside.
Maybe rats.
Maybe mold.
Anything would be better than the thoughts running through my head.
I carefully sliced through the fabric.
Foam appeared.
Then old padding.
Then rusted springs.
And finally...
Something black.
A tightly wrapped plastic package.
Hidden deep inside the couch.
My heart nearly stopped.
Who would hide something inside furniture?
With trembling hands, I pulled it out.
But that was only the beginning.
May you like
Because there wasn't just one package.
There were three.
