Home of Happiness: A Spirit’s Price

Home of Happiness: A Spirit’s Price

When grief turns to greed, a once-loving home becomes a gateway for spirits—offering riches, but at a terrible cost. A chilling tale of love, loss, and the price of forgetting what truly matters.

Sarah and Abigail were sisters—close as breath, yet different as dawn and dusk. Their children, raised under one roof in a grand, old house, knew laughter and comfort in abundance. The family called it the Home of Happiness, a place where every corner held warmth, where holidays bloomed with music and memories.

But everything changed when Sarah died suddenly one winter evening. The light seemed to drain from the walls. Her death cracked something deep in Abigail’s soul. She clung to Sarah’s memory, spoke of her constantly, and passed her belongings down to the children, hoping to keep her sister’s presence alive through the touch of familiar things.

Time passed. Abigail’s children moved away, their lives pulling them far from the house. She remained, a lone figure in a place once brimming with life. But something else filled the silence.

Spirits.

Abigail had always possessed a gift. As a child, she could feel things others couldn’t. After Sarah’s death, she embraced that power. One spirit—older, stronger, more cunning than the rest—made itself at home. It whispered promises into her ear: gold, beauty, youth, control. All it wanted in return was dinner every night, left in the basement where the veil between worlds was thin.

She agreed.

And the riches came. Coins gleamed in jars. Jewels sparkled in drawers. Her skin glowed. The loneliness faded, replaced by grandeur. She became someone else—wealthy, mysterious, untouchable.

But power always has a price.

One night, distracted by her growing treasures, Abigail forgot to place the dinner.

The basement turned cold. Candles blew out. She tried to stand—but couldn’t. Her limbs turned to stone.

The spirits arrived. Silent. Watching. Angry.

Everything changed in an instant.

The gold dissolved into dust. Her youth melted away. Her skin withered. Her beauty twisted into something hollow and strange. Her voice failed. She became a shadow in her own home.

Years passed.

The house decayed. Vines crept up the walls. Windows clouded with grime. Locals called it cursed. Children told stories of “The Greedy Woman” who fed ghosts for gold.

One spring morning, Sarah’s youngest daughter, Miriam, now a grown woman, returned. She stepped into the silent house. The dust was thick, but the air felt… waiting.

She wandered through rooms frozen in time—past broken photo frames, and faded laughter. In the basement, she found a circle of melted candles, a moldy dinner plate, and words carved into the floor in a trembling hand:

“They gave me everything I asked for… and took everything I needed.”

No body.

No gold.

Only the cold.

Miriam wept—not in fear, but in sorrow. Then, she whispered a prayer—for Abigail, for Sarah, for the house itself.

Outside, a breeze stirred. A curtain lifted in the wind.

And the Home of Happiness, though worn and quiet, seemed to breathe again.

What would you choose—love that fades, or power that costs you everything?