You return home, explaining your harrowing night to your family, and sharing your two treasures as evidence it was real. The authorities are contacted, but their response shocks you: "no house has been at that address for over a hundred years." You beg them to dust the treasures for fingerprints, and after several weeks of pushback, they oblige, finding only your own. You swear you didn't make the story up, but even your closest friends clearly don't believe you.

One night, you decide to search for missing people from your area named Hazel, and find a picture that resembles her: someone who disappeared on Halloween night nearly two decades ago. You contact the authorities again, but they dismiss your claims as yet another lie. You swear you're not going crazy, but no one believes you. You're not going crazy, right?

In the years that follow, you make it your personal mission to prove your sanity. Instead of selling your blatantly valuable treasures, you keep them as evidence. You set up a website detailing your experiences, even creating an interactive game based on that house from that Halloween night, which you hope will spark conversations with other escapees; but only get spam emails and unhinged conspiracy theories in response. You're not crazy! You swear!

Next.