A police dog BARKS AT AN ABANDONED HOUSE every day, then the policeman decides to get inside!

“A police dog barks at an abandoned house every day when he goes for a walk. When the policeman decides to go inside, he can’t believe what he finds. It was a typical Autumn morning in the small town to which police officer Roger had been transferred, which retained that rustic and serene air so different from the bustling metropolises he had passed through.

But of all the changes his new life brought, his morning walks with Siberius, his robust and expressive husky, were the ones that brought him the most peace. The two of them walked along the streets, enjoying the freshness of the morning sun and the quietness of the houses. But for some time now, as they passed a cobbled street full of tall trees and old houses, one in particular always caught the eye of his faithful dog.

It was a building that showed the signs of abandonment: broken windows, peeling paint, and a garden that hadn’t been attended for some time. Curiously, every time they approached the place, Siberius became restless. First, its fur stood on end, and its eyes fixed on the entrance. Then, as if sensing something that Roger didn’t understand, the dog began barking frantically, trying to advance towards the house.

The scene was repeated daily without fail. At first, the policeman thought it was just natural canine curiosity. But over time, he began to wonder what could be in that abandoned house that attracted his dog’s attention so much. ‘What’s wrong, boy? There’s nothing there,’ he said, trying to calm Siberius down. However, his attempt to calm down seemed to be ineffective. The intensity of the barking grew, and with each passing day, it was as if the dog wanted to communicate something urgent, something that only he could perceive.

Residents who lived in the area looked out of their windows curiously at the husky. Some even cursed the man for taking such a noisy animal there. And despite his canine friend’s insistence, Roger hesitated to approach the property. However, with every bark and insistent look from Siberius, his curiosity grew. ‘Come on, let’s go, buddy. We’re bothering the neighbors,’ he said after being scolded by a lady who asked him to keep quiet.

With every step away from the house, the feeling that something was wrong only grew. And every day, the same thing happened. The man even changed the route of his walk, but curiosity is a flame that, once lit, is difficult to extinguish. That’s how Roger felt about that abandoned house. He needed to know what his dog had to do with it.

After so many inexplicable behaviors by Siberius, the house became an enigma that he felt the need to unravel. The policeman came home from work and started looking up the history of the place on the internet but found nothing relevant. He even infiltrated the neighborhood wearing normal clothes, avoiding any reference to his profession, just so he could ask questions of the older residents, those who had lived there long enough to know the secrets that the younger generations didn’t know.

The first to provide information was an old man, Mr. Anthony, a barber who had been working in the same place for decades and who prided himself on his ability to recall stories while doing his job. ‘Oh, that house,’ he said, cleaning his scissors. ‘It was the home of a somewhat isolated family. They didn’t go out much. They said the father was a scholar, always with books and more books.’ While he was telling the story, the barber didn’t realize that Roger was a policeman, so he continued. ‘There was a terrible fire there a few years ago, very tragic. It killed one of his children. After that, they moved away and never came back. Many people said it was an accident, but I think it was a spirit thing.’

Roger thanked the gentleman and, with more questions in mind, moved on. Then he met Mrs. Seline, an old lady who was always sitting on her favorite bench, feeding the pigeons and tending to the surrounding plants. She was known by everyone as the keeper of the local stories. He approached her, and after a brief chat about the weather and the daily news, he brought up the mysterious house.

Mrs. Seline, with her sharp eyes and serious expression, remembered well. ‘That house has always had a strange energy,’ she began, looking away as if memories were flashing before her eyes. ‘And since that family left, no one has ever wanted to live there again.’ She paused, looking at the plants as if searching for the right words. ‘You know, my grandson used to play with one of the boys, the one who died. Poor thing, he always talked about strange noises at night and shadows moving on the walls. The children said it was a haunted house.’

Another resident, the owner of the bakery, intervened in the conversation. ‘My grandmother used to say that before the fire, at midnight, you could hear music coming from that house. She believed that the family was performing rituals. But you know, old stories.’ Roger, absorbing each piece of information, began to put together a puzzle in his mind. The pieces, although confusing, began to fit together. The house wasn’t just abandoned; it was full of mysteries and superstitions.

But he was a skeptic and didn’t believe in such supernatural nonsense. As far as he was concerned, there had to be a logical explanation for his dog’s infatuation with that residence. ‘Why didn’t they ever demolish or renovate the house?’ then asked the policeman. The old lady sighed. ‘I don’t know. I don’t think anyone wants to live in a haunted house.’

As the day ended, the policeman had more questions than when he started. The only certainty was that the house, with its broken windows and aura of mystery, hid secrets that went far beyond what the eye could see, and he was determined to find out what it was.

Then, one fine evening, particularly dark with heavy clouds covering the sky and the moon, the man and his dog went out for a walk. He had received an early call, so he couldn’t go for his usual morning walk that day. After arriving home from the police station, he went out for a walk with Siberius. ‘What a beautiful night, right, boy?’ he said to his friend. The silence of the street and the houses already preparing for bed was only broken occasionally by the distant chirping of a cricket or the rustle of the wind in the leaves.

The fatigue on the policeman’s shoulders was evident. The day had been intense, draining his energy, and the man was walking around distracted with those questions still on his mind. ‘What the hell is wrong with that house?’ And before he knew it, they were passing by that haunted house that intrigued him so much. It was no surprise when Siberia stirred once again; his barks echoed with a tone of urgency and anxiety. The animal’s eyes fixed on the gloomy house. ‘Ah, okay, okay, let’s go in!’ exclaimed Roger, surrendering to curiosity and concern about his dog’s behavior.

He was about to enter the grounds when he stopped for a moment to look at the facade of the house. ‘What a creeping sight.’ The broken windows looked like empty eyes staring back at him. Vines covered a large part of the walls, and the faded and peeling paint gave it an even more ancient and forgotten look. And when he was distracted for a second, thinking about how scary that house really was, Roger felt the string of his Husky’s collar slip out of his hand.

The dog ran towards the house, barking frantically. ‘Siberius, come back here!’ the policeman shouted, but the animal had already disappeared from sight. The rusty metal gate creaked as the man pushed it open. His entrance was marked by an intense feeling of apprehension. The atmosphere was charged with energy, and despite the silence, he felt as if he wasn’t alone.

‘My God, what a horrible place,’ he was walking slowly, and then decided to take out his flashlight. But as he shone the light on the ground, he noticed something that intrigued him. Footprints. Fresh footprints in the dust. They didn’t have a pattern, as if someone had been walking around with no clear destination. Strange.

The man entered the house, and walking a little further, the flashlight revealed something unexpected. A small child’s toy, a rag doll with one eye missing, abandoned on the floor of the entrance. And that’s when he began to conclude that something was very wrong. The doll wasn’t old, as if it belonged in that house. It was from the present day, and although it was a bit dirty, it had certainly ended up on the floor recently.

He looked around and saw that the curtains also seemed to have been moved recently. Roger’s heart raced. ‘Is anyone there?’ he asked aloud, trying to hide the fear that was taking hold of him. But silence was the only answer. With the gun in one hand and the flashlight in the other, he slowly advanced. He called softly for Siberius, expecting to hear the familiar bark of his K9 friend, but instead, there was silence.

In his mind, he was still trying to assimilate all the strange details he had encountered so far. But it was clear that he was afraid. Only the light of his flashlight cut through the darkness, showing the deteriorated architecture of the place. The floor was covered in a thick layer of dust, and the old furniture, half burnt by the fire, was scary to look at. Of course, that place wasn’t safe either; after all, its structure had been damaged by the fire, so he knew he was in danger.

The man was looking from side to side, searching for his dog, when suddenly, amid the oppressive silence, a soft sound caught his attention. That shouldn’t have been there. A baby crying. It was a low cry, almost silent. The sound came from upstairs, making Roger look up at the staircase in front of him. Each step, with dark stains from the fire, made a hideous creaking sound that echoed through the house.

As he climbed the stairs, the crying became closer. His mind began to be invaded by tumultuous thoughts. Was it a trap? Or perhaps it was the echo of some past tragedy? Was the place really haunted? He tried to concentrate, but the combination of the crying and the atmosphere in the house made it difficult to maintain clarity of thought.

At the top of the stairs, the policeman came across a long, narrow corridor with several closed doors. The crying seemed to be coming from the end of the corridor, from a half-open door that let in a dim light. Breathing heavily and with his heart pounding in his chest, he moved forward slowly, finally arriving at the door.

With a sigh, Roger pushed it open, and that’s when the scene before his eyes paralyzed him. A woman with disheveled hair and eyes wide with fear was sitting on an old sofa. In her arms, she held a newborn baby whose soft cries were what had led the policeman to that room. And lying next to him, Siberius. The girl’s gaze met his, and for a moment, they were both silent. Then she cried out, ‘Please don’t hurt us, please!’ and hugged her son against her as if trying to protect him.

The man lowered his gun and flashlight, trying to show that he had no hostile intentions, and asked softly, ‘Who are you? What are you doing here?’ The young woman, Veronica, had tears streaming down her face as the baby continued to cry. Veronica, that was her name, was clearly shaken. Her eyes reflected a mixture of despair and hope at finding someone who could perhaps help her. ‘Aren’t you going to arrest me?’ she said when she saw Roger’s gun.

The man quickly understood the seriousness of the situation and put the gun away. In a soft, reassuring voice, he said, ‘Don’t worry, I’m not here to hurt you, my dear. I’m a policeman. That’s Siberius, my dog.’ The animal got up and went to its owner’s side, with a bright look on its face, as if to say, ‘Look, I told you there was someone in this house.’ Roger continued, ‘What’s going on? Why are you here alone?’ Realizing how cold the woman was, he took off his coat and draped it over her shoulders. ‘Here, you must be cold,’ he murmured, his expression showing genuine concern.

Veronica looked at him, and a slight glint of gratitude appeared in her tired eyes. ‘Thank you,’ she said before sobbing again, holding her coat tightly around her body. The girl began to talk about why she was there. ‘I came here because, well, I’m running away. This place, I thought I’d be safe here, that he’d never think to look for me in this abandoned house.’

Roger sat down next to her, and his gaze became attentive and understanding. ‘Who is he, and why are you running away, my husband?’ Veronica sighed deeply. ‘We married young, and at first, he was kind. But over time, he changed. He became violent, possessive,’ she cried, ‘and when our son was born, everything got worse. He didn’t accept that I paid attention to the baby. He was jealous, angry. I was afraid he might do something terrible.’

The man’s gaze hardened, and his police instincts went into alert. ‘Your right to run. The first priority now is to ensure your safety,’ he agreed, looking at her son. ‘I just want him to grow up in a safe place, away from all this horror.’ The policeman picked up his radio and made contact with the police station, reporting the situation and requesting reinforcements and assistance. While he waited, he kept talking to Veronica, trying to reassure her. ‘We’ll take care of you and your son, Veronica, I promise,’ he said with determination.

The woman looked at Roger, her eyes still full of fear but now with a spark of hope. ‘He said he will find me wherever I go,’ she whispered, as if confessing her greatest fear. The man gently squeezed her hand, conveying reassurance. ‘As long as you’re under my protection, nothing will happen to you or your son. We’ll make sure you’re both safe.’

The news of Veronica’s violent husband’s arrest swept through the city in the blink of an eye. People once fearful and afraid of that abandoned house now welcomed the transformative potential it could have. Everything changed thanks to Roger’s determination and the support of his loyal team. The arrest process began; the information provided by the young woman was crucial