Maid Sees Shadow Entering Boss’ Room, Hears Faint Whisper Coming from under Bed – Story of the Day

Maria was left in her employer’s house to clean alone, but a shadow heading to his room alerted her. She investigated further and heard a whisper from under the bed, which made her call the police quickly. What they found was not what Maria expected.

“I’m going to the store, Maria, so I won’t disturb your work,” Mr. Hargrove announced, putting on his jacket by the door.

“You don’t have to do that, sir,” Maria laughed. She had been working for the elderly man for five years, and he always tried to be invisible when she was around.

“No, no. This is good. You can get work done when I’m not in your way,” the older man insisted and left, waving his hand goodbye.

Maria sighed, shook her head, and started her work. While being alone in the house was more efficient, she liked talking to Mr. Hargrove. He had many exciting life stories, and she suspected he was mostly lonely. But alas, she was utterly alone and would try to move through her chores quickly.

“Come out right now!” Paul stated, his hand on his gun. But nothing happened.
She was sweeping the living room when a shadow from the corner of her eye made her turn toward the hallway. She frowned. There was nothing there. She went back to sweeping, and another shadow passed by her peripheral vision. This time, her heart started beating quickly.

Mr. Hargrove said I was alone. But am I? she wondered, sweating from her upper lip. She placed the broom against a wall and approached the bedrooms. If her peripheral vision wasn’t wrong, she had spotted the shadows moving toward Mr. Hargrove’s bedroom. But was that real? Could it have been the light playing games on her mind?

She had never feared the dark or believed in ghost stories, but Maria wasn’t crazy either. She had seen something. She was sure of it, so she walked slowly, making no noise, toward the bedrooms.

Mr. Hargrove’s bedroom was unassuming. The bed was in the middle, with nightstands on each side. His preferred side had a couple of books and a lamp in case the older man couldn’t fall asleep and didn’t want to get up either. But there was nothing amiss in the bedroom, and Maria thought again that it must have been a trick of the light.

But there was a… low whine coming from somewhere, and Maria walked a little further into the room, trying to find it. Suddenly, a “shush” or something like a whisper emanated from under the bed, and the frightened maid jumped slightly, squealing.

She ran out of Mr. Hargrove’s bedroom, chanting, “Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!”

Maria almost stumbled reaching for the phone near the front door, but she grabbed the handle and dialed 911. “Please, someone is hiding under my boss’s bed,” she rattled quickly when the operator answered.

“Did you see someone, ma’am?” the 911 operator asked.

“I don’t know. I just heard a whine and a ‘shush.’ It was so scary. Can you please send the police over? I don’t know if I’m in danger,” Maria said, grasping the phone so tightly her hand started to hurt.

“Are you sure you’re alone in the house?”

“Yes! My boss went to the store because he likes leaving so I can work faster, but I saw a shadow, two shadows going into his bedroom. It’s broad daylight!” She was getting more and more desperate.

“Did you look under the bed?”

“No! I was too scared. I ran and called,” she continued.

“Ma’am. Most of our units are busy right now. Let me see if I can send some officers over,” the operator said. Clearly, she wasn’t as concerned as Maria.

“What if this is a home invasion? Please! You have to believe how scared I am! Please, send someone quickly!” Maria begged, and the operator tried to calm her down.

“Alright. Alright. There’s a squad on the way,” the woman on the line said, but Maria didn’t hang up until she saw the police car pulling up in front of Mr. Hargrove’s house.

“Officers! Officers! Quick!” she waved at them to hurry. The cops looked at each other. They didn’t believe she was in danger, but they obliged and followed her into the house.

“Where’s the situation, ma’am? You say there’s a man under the bed?” one of the cops asked casually.

“Yes! I don’t know if it’s a man, but there’s something!” Maria led them toward Mr. Hargrove’s room and pointed to the bed.

The cops walked around the space, searching. One of the men leaned down and looked under the bed. “There’s nothing here,” he said, looking back at Maria.

“But I heard a whine and a shush coming from under the bed earlier. Whoever it was must have run out or hidden somewhere else,” Maria said, wringing her fingers nervously.

“Ma’am, calling the police unnecessarily is a huge waste of resources,” the other cop said, his hand at his waist.

“No, sir. Please, can you search the house?” she begged.

“Wait for a second, Paul,” one said after a while. “I hear something.”

“Jesus. That’s terrible,” Maria sympathized. “Let me get you some water.”
“Really, Colin? I don’t hear anything.” His partner shook his head.

“Shush, listen carefully. Something is whining,” Paul cautioned and moved closer to the other side of the bed. “Are you sure you checked under the bed thoroughly?”

“Well, yeah. It’s a little dark, but I think so,” Colin repeated, and Paul kicked the armchair. A subtle “ouch” resounded, and they both drew their weapons.

“Come out right now!” Paul ordered, his hand on his gun. But nothing happened.

“Come out. Slowly with your arms where we can see them. I don’t want any funny business,” Colin added, his face serious and concentrated.

No one came out, but they knew someone was down there. The officers shared a look and decided to check again under the bed, using their flashlights, one on the right side and the other on the left side.

“Ma’am, I think we found your problem,” Colin said and stood up, sighing heavily. “I didn’t see it when I looked earlier, and they were hiding in the darkest spot at the top, but there’s nothing to fear.”

“Come out, kid,” Paul requested.

“Kid?” Maria repeated, confused.

“Do you know who this is?” Paul asked when a boy stood from under the bed with a puppy in his arms, its tai wagging.

“No. I have no idea,” she said, raising her eyebrows.

“Kid, did you break into this house?” the officers inquired.

“No. I’m here for the summer with my grandpa. I tried to be quiet. I didn’t want to spook you, but grandpa hates dogs, and I just found him—” the boy rambled and Maria stopped him.

“You’re Mr. Hargrove’s grandson? Why wouldn’t he tell me you’re here?” Maria spoke softly to the kid and smiled at the restless puppy in his arms.

“I was supposed to stay all day at my friend’s house, but I found a puppy on my way and brought him back. I knew Pawpaw would be away so I could feed him. But I didn’t want you to find out and tell him,” the boy explained.

“What’s your name, darling?” Maria asked.


“OK, I think our job is done here,” the cops said and started to leave.

“Thank you, officers. I’m so sorry,” Maria apologized as she walked them out.

They told her not to worry and went on their way. Then she told Peter to sit down and tell her everything again.

“Pawpaw doesn’t like dogs. I’ve always wanted a dog, and my parents don’t like them either. But I couldn’t leave him out there to go hungry,” the boy recounted.

“That’s OK, Peter. You did the right thing.” Maria smiled at the boy, and they happily let the puppy run around the living room. “Let’s see what we can fix him to eat. Are you hungry too?”

Peter nodded eagerly, so Maria went to the kitchen. Watching the boy play with the puppy brought her so many memories of her childhood. She had been just like him. She loved animals and would always bring stray dogs and cats to her house.

Her parents were always somewhat angry, but they worked to find homes for the rescues. Until they got Banana, a lab mix their whole family adored. Her parents couldn’t resist that dog, so they kept him until his last day. Maria still missed him every once in a while. She hadn’t had a pet in a long time.

“Maria, I’m back. I’m sorry I didn’t have that much to do at the store. But I promise I won’t be in your way,” Mr. Hargrove said as he came through the door.

“Pawpaw!” Peter greeted.

“Peter, I thought you would be your friends,” the old man said, but then his eyes caught the puppy running around. His hand flew to his chest, and there was a loud thump as he backed into the front door.

“What is that? Get that out of my house!”

“Pawpaw, it’s just a puppy,” Peter said, and Maria was confused. Mr. Hargrove was in a full-blown panic as if this cute little puppy was some kind of shark.

“Sir, are you alright?” she asked, grabbing the puppy.

“Maria! Maria, get that out of my house!” the elderly man said through choked breaths.

“Peter, grab the puppy and go outside,” she said, and Peter nodded.

When the dog was out of sight, Mr. Hargrove managed to breathe again and sat on his sofat to regain composure.

“Sir, what was that? Should we call an ambulance?” she wondered, concerned.

“No, no, no,” the old man sighed. “It’s not medical, or at least, not physical. I was younger than Peter when a dog attacked me right in front of my parents’ house. I got nine stitches after, and I had nightmares for years. I haven’t been able to be around dogs in a while.”

“Thank you, Maria. I think this will be good for me.”
“Jesus. That’s terrible,” Maria sympathized. “Let me get you some water.”

“I can tolerate them from afar. I mean, I can’t ask the neighbors not to have dogs, so I’ve learned to control my panic attacks. But that dog in the house was too much.” Mr. Hargrove shook his head, grabbing the glass Maria offered and sipped from it slowly.

“I can’t even imagine who would let a dog attack a kid. But I can tell you that it was 100% the owner’s fault,” Maria said, sitting next to him.

“I know. I know. We had terrible neighbors—some shady people. Looking back, I think they ran dog fights or something like that,” the older man recalled. “They always had the biggest, ugly-looking dogs tied to their yard. This one got out and attacked me because I was running around my front yard. But they would exchange dogs quickly.”

“God, I hate people like that.”

“Yeah. My fear of those dogs got so bad that my parents sold the house, and we moved. In our new neighborhood, there were only a few small dogs, but even as I grew up, I wanted nothing to do with them,” Mr. Hargrove stated. “And it’s such a shame. I’ve thought over the years that having a pet companion would be nice.”

“What about a cat?”

“I don’t know. I feel like I would’ve been a dog person if not for that attack,” the old man said.

“You know… it’s never too late to overcome your fears,” Maria suggested, tilting her head.

“How? You saw me just now, and that was just a puppy.”

“Yes, but you can see a therapist to help you work through your past, and we can expose you slowly to that puppy. Maybe,” Maria said, thinking about their options.

“But where would the puppy live? Peter will get attached, and I can’t have him in this house. My son’s wife – Peter’s mom – hates dogs, so his home is out too.” Mr. Hargrove shook his head.

“I’ll take him. I’ll bring him over when I’m working. We can try to desensitize you from your fear. But that’s just an idea. You’ll have to ask a therapist if it’ll work,” Maria suggested.

“That sounds like a good idea. I’ve hated being this afraid for so many years. And I can see how happy my grandson is with that dog,” Mr. Hargrove said wistfully and twisted his head to look out the window where Peter was running with the puppy.

“Good! Let’s find you a therapist then!” Maria clapped and went to find Mr. Hargrove’s insurance information. They had given him a brochure with the phone numbers of physicians covered by their policy. There was a therapist with an office just a short distance.

“Thank you, Maria. I think this will be good for me,” the old man said when they made his first appointment.

Maria took the puppy home, informing Peter of the plan. He named him Bowser and tended to him when Maria had to work. It would be easy to say that Mr. Hargrove quickly overcame his issues, but he didn’t. The puppy couldn’t come into the house at all.

The therapist told him to take things slower and slower because his trauma had been significant. But at least Peter spent time with the dog, and Maria had a new companion at home.

The puppy was already full size when Mr. Hargrove finally let him into the house without going into another panic attack. He still didn’t touch him, but it was considerable progress. Another few months passed before the elderly man petted the dog for the first time and enjoyed it. However, he would go out and buy his food and fill his bowls every day.

One day, he asked Maria to let Bowser stay for the night, much to Peter’s delight, and she smiled. Bowser never left that home again, and slowly but surely, Mr. Hargrove got to enjoy his pet. Peter had to return home after the summer, but he visited every day after school.

Maria saw how good therapy and Bowser were for Mr. Hargrove and eventually quit her job to work in an animal rescue organization. She also implemented programs where they visited retirement homes and schools to show how wonderful having a pet could be.

What can we learn from this story?

It’s never too late to work on your fears. Mr. Hargrove suffered his entire life after a trauma, but Maria encouraged him to get help. His life was much better after.
Dogs are only aggressive if they were raised that way. The dog that attacked Mr. Hargrove was trained to be that way. That doesn’t mean a specific breed or that all dogs are bad.
Share this story with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.

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