CHRISTMAS TREE CORNER

I am Natalie Brooks, 38, from the small town of Clearwater, Oregon. That Christmas Eve, my entire life shattered like thin ice after a storm. And it all started with… the nearly ten-foot-tall Christmas tree that glowed with soft yellow light in our living room.

My family—my husband, Ethan, and our two kids, Chloe and Max—were opening presents at midnight. Outside, a cold wind blew through the cracks in the door, but inside, the fireplace was on, and the smell of freshly baked gingerbread cookies lingered.

There was only one thing that was unusual: Cooper, our yellow Labrador, was growling and clawing furiously at the base of the tree. At first, we thought he was excited about the presents. But when the light shone on his paws, I saw blood oozing out.

“Cooper! Stop!” Ethan yelled, running to pull him away.

But Cooper kept his panicked gaze on the tree, as if signaling something terrible was there.

I bent down. At first I saw nothing but moss and cloth. But when I put my hand on the trunk, I felt a strange groove—unnatural.

“Where did you put this tree?” I asked.

Ethan shrugged. “At Christmas Town, like every year.”

But the unease drifted through my chest like black smoke.

I pulled the cloth aside. Then I saw it: a circular hole, about the size of a fist, cut into the back of the trunk. A small metal mass emerged.

“Holy shit…” I gasped.

Chloe timidly approached. “Mommy, what… is that?”

No one had time to answer, because Ethan tugged on it. A small device fell to the floor—a specialized microphone, the kind used for covert surveillance.

And inside the hollow tree… there was a piece of paper.

A crumpled piece of paper, soaked in turpentine, with the words scrawled on it:

“PLEASE FIND ME.”

Chloe burst into tears. Max, only eight, looked like he was about to vomit.

My hands were shaking as if I were holding someone else’s heart.

Ethan was the first to respond calmly. He closed the door, locked all the exits, and growled,

“We’re calling the police. Now.”

I. THE MICROPHONE AND THE ANONYMOUS MAN

Only twelve minutes later, two Clearwater Police Department patrol cars pulled up in front of the house. Detective Harris, a tall, thin man with a stern face, picked up the microphone and examined it.

“This isn’t a toy. This is old military equipment. No one sells this kind of thing on the market unless they have a… special purpose.”

He glanced at Ethan. “Who in the house could be being monitored?”

Ethan was startled. “What do you mean?”

“Does anyone have enemies? Disputes? Debts? Lawsuits? Does anyone want to harm your work?”

I shook my head: “I’m just an elementary school teacher. Ethan works in a lumber company. We don’t touch anyone.”

Detective Harris was silent for a moment.

“That’s even more worrying. Ordinary people who are being wiretapped… usually because they’re unknowingly involved in other people’s business.”

He put the device in an anti-magnetic bag. Then pointed at the pine tree:

“The pine tree is hollowed out from the inside. This must have been done before you bought it. I’ll check where it was sold.”

I sighed, but it didn’t stop there.

II. NEIGHBORHOOD CAMERA AND SHADOW IN THE DARK

The next morning, our neighbor, Linda Morton, brought over a box of cookies.

But she whispered,
“Someone was standing outside your house last night. I thought it was the delivery guy and didn’t pay attention.”

I shivered.

She handed over her phone: a security camera had captured a figure in a black hoodie standing in the corner of my yard at 11:37 p.m.—just 20 minutes before we opened our presents.

He stood looking at the tree through the glass door. Not moving. Not revealing his face.

And when Cooper barked, the figure disappeared into the woods behind the house.

Detective Harris watched the video, his face darkening.

“This can’t be just eavesdropping. This is live surveillance.”

I was shaking. “But why?”

Max hugged me, sobbing, “Mom, I’m scared.”

I held it tight. But I knew in my heart: the nightmare was just beginning.

III. THE TREE FROM WHERE IT SHOULD NOT BE

In the afternoon, the police came back with new information.

“Christmas Town said that tree was not on the import list,” Harris said. “They said it wasn’t in their inventory.”

Ethan’s eyes widened. “But we bought it there!”

“The sales person that day disappeared,” Harris said. “The store never hired him.”

I felt like someone was squeezing my neck.

“That means… someone disguised themselves as an employee and gave us that tree?”

Harris nodded.

Ethan began to panic: “Is this related to my family?”

But then Harris looked at me with a serious look:

“We found fingerprints in the hole… they belong to a 14-year-old girl who went missing two weeks ago. Her name is Lily Dawson.”

My heart stopped for a beat.

A missing child.

And the tree in my house had a message: “Please find me.”

IV. THE ERASED TRACES

The police launched a full investigation.

But every step made me more terrified:

Lily went missing near the woods behind my house.

The gift box under the pine tree had been opened by someone.

There was a strange mud mark on the carpet—the kind

The only land that appeared was in the old, abandoned logging area.

What choked me the most: Cooper stood by the back door every night, growling, as if someone had been standing there for a long time… watching.

Harris came to us again.

“Natalie, Ethan, I have to tell you something. Maybe little Lily tried to escape and left a mark in the pine tree… hoping someone would recognize her.”

“But why us?” I asked.

Harris looked at me for a long time, then slowly said:

“Because according to the school camera footage… the last person Lily had contact with before she disappeared was her husband.”

V. THE TRUTH FROM THE HUSBAND

I was stunned.

“Ethan… what was that?” my voice shook like a fever.

Ethan stammered, “I—I don’t know anything! I just came to the school to deliver the Christmas decorations! She just asked me for directions to the library!”

Harris stared at him, as if trying to dig deeper with his eyes.

And then Cooper suddenly jumped up, barking at Ethan.

That stopped me. Cooper had never done that to him before.

I took a step back—not because I believed Ethan was guilty, but because for the first time I realized I was no longer sure of anything.

VI. ABANDONED LOGGING SITE

Three days later, the police traced the direction from the dirt on the wiretap: the old “Haven Ridge” logging site, abandoned since 1997.

Harris led a team of investigators. Ethan and I were not allowed to come along, but neither of us would sit still.

“She’s out there,” I said. “I can feel it.”

And Ethan agreed.

We followed the police far behind, taking a shortcut. The forest was pitch black, the wind whistling through the pines like the sigh of someone trapped.

We arrived at 9 p.m.

The first sight I would never forget:

Cooper rushed into a ruined warehouse, barking until he was hoarse.

Harris shouted, “Watch out!”

I ran after him, my heart exploding in my chest.

And as soon as I was inside, I saw a pair of eyes looking at me from the darkness.

A trembling voice:
“Are you… Miss Natalie?”

I touched my mouth, tears welling up.

Lily.
She was huddled behind a wooden box, her face purple, her limbs scratched. But what made me fall apart the most was the next whisper:

“I… tried to send a signal. I know… only you can find me.”

“Why… you?” I hugged her, choking.

Lily cried.
“Because… I heard him say… he’ll come back and kill you.”

VII. THE MASKED MAN IN THE FOREST

The moment Lily finished speaking, footsteps thundered. Someone was coming.

Harris shouted: “Get down!”

A figure in a black hood rushed out of the bushes. He had an iron rod in his hand.

Ethan pulled me back. I looked at him—a familiar figure, but not enough light to recognize him.

He rushed toward Lily, shouting:

“She knows too much!”

Harris fired a warning shot. The man ran away, disappearing into the shadows of the forest like an invisible shadow.

But in the moment the flashlight beam passed, I saw half of his face.

And my heart stopped.

Because… it wasn’t Ethan.

It was his real brother: Gabriel.

The person I thought had moved to Texas three years ago.

VIII. THE TRUTH BURIED FOR THREE YEARS

Gabriel was arrested the next morning. But the most terrible thing was not that he kidnapped Lily.

It was the reason he was following my family.

In the interrogation room, when Harris asked him:

“Why did you wiretap and threaten Natalie Brooks?”

Gabriel smiled faintly, his eyes empty:

“She… doesn’t deserve to live.”

“Why?!”

“Because… I wiretap to collect evidence that Ethan betrayed the family company. I have to protect the legacy.”

Harris frowned. “What about Lily?”

Gabriel didn’t answer. But Lily, once safe, told something that made everyone shudder:

“I saw him beat a man in the woods… and then bury him there. He said… if I told anyone… he would kill Natalie’s family first.”

No one in the room said a word.

Gabriel—the man the family had thought was kind—turned out to be a murderer, paranoid of betrayal, obsessed with protecting the ‘family honor,’ and had been stalking us for two years like a ghost.

The Christmas tree… was just a desperate sign of a child trapped in hell.

IX. THE FINAL TWIST: THE SIGNAL SENDER IS NOT LILY

A week after the case closed, Harris came to my house with something that almost knocked me off my feet.

“The paper was examined.”
“Is it Lily’s?” I asked.

Harris looked at me for a moment and shook his head.

“No. The handwriting matched the dead man Lily had seen Gabriel bury in the woods.

His name was Arthur Kane—a private investigator hired by another family to find Gabriel.”

My jaw dropped.

“When Gabriel captured him, Arthur knew he wouldn’t live long. But at the last minute, he carved out the tree, hid the device, wrote a message… and hoped someone would find it.”

I sank into a chair.

“He picked the right house,” Harris said softly. “Because Cooper smelled dried blood. And because… you noticed something unusual that others would have missed.”

I burst into tears, not because I was scared… but because I knew we had saved more than one life.

X. CONCLUSION: THE NEVER-TURNED-OFF CHRISTMAS TREE

Christmas 2016

There, we erected a new tree.

But the stump of the old tree—kept in a glass case—sat in the middle of the room as a reminder:

That sometimes, salvation comes from unexpected places.

That the kindness of a stranger investigator saved Lily.

That a child was braver than many adults.

That the loyalty of a dog prevented further tragedy.

And that the darkness, no matter how terrifying, can be defeated…
with a note scribbled in desperation: “Please find me.”