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Granny Martha's Treasure – Part 2.

It was a year later when Granny Martha quietly passed away.

In the wake of her funeral, Thorn hill was set upon by her heirs, not unlike a swarm of hungry locusts. The bickering and rivalry was something awful to witness and it left no doubt in my mind, that providence had smiled upon me in the shape of that dream, since I was an outsider, in spite of whatever finance and effort I would have put into Thorn hill, any claim I may have thought I had, would have been discarded like a piece of flotsam.

One evening, just before dropping off to sleep, I was staring at a bluish spot against the bedroom wall. I kept watching and noticed that it seemed to grow bigger in size; puzzled by this, I gently shook my wife’s shoulder, asking her if she could see what I saw. She didn’t answer so I decided not to wake her up, in case it was my mind playing tricks on me.

Moments, later, I saw the image of an attractive young woman dressed in Victorian-style clothing, materializing in front of my eyes. Looking almost like the image of an old valve operated TV tube, gradually growing in intensity.

Without her lips moving, I clearly heard her speak: “Andre’ don’t be alarmed, she said, it is I, Grandma Martha. “I have a special treasure for you, which you have to go and retrieve at Thorn hill.”

I was shocked and thought that I had fallen asleep and was dreaming but just then, the neighbor from across the road slammed his garage door shut which made me look over at our LED alarm clock; it was 10:30 pm. I looked back to where Granny Martha’s picture had appeared, it was still there… “No, my boy, she said, you are not dreaming, please keep your wits about you because the treasure I have put away is for you and your wife only, and requires some skill, to retrieve.

For the next few moments, she explained several intricate details, repeating several aspects of it a few times over and cautioning me, not to forget.

* The hiding place of the front door key on top of a special, rain-water tank, 50 yards from the house.

Then, there was the problem of deciding which one of the 8 sun-facing rooms the treasure had to be retrieved from, and the specific date, 16th September on which the angle of the morning Summer sun’s beams would specifically indicate the exact 3 floorboards, from any of a possible 180 floorboards in those rooms, that needed to be lifted up, under which the chest containing her gold and silver jewelry and rare first edition books had secretly been placed by her.

Before she left to wherever it is, spirits depart to; she made sure that I would not forget how to find the spot. Finally, her image started to fade and she explained that it required lots of psychic energy to project one’s image but, that it was really only possible shortly after death.

As no two people are identical in life, so too do spirits differ in their ability to communicate with the living. The overwhelming majority are content, not to “interfere” with the living. Others grapple with acceptance of the reality of their own death.

When she, “left”, I recorded all the details on a wire-bound notepad next to my bed, before falling asleep. The next morning I told my wife and my best friend about the apparition. We decided that it would probably “haunt” us all forever if we did not at least try and find the treasure.

The day of the treasure hunt, my friend and I set off early, on our 400-mile expedition, to catch the sunlight at the right moment.

Thanks to the supernatural visitation from Grandma Martha, and the very intricate retrieval operation, required, to find it, everything went off without a hitch and what an amazing experience it was, to work one’s way through several, possibly imaginary procedures, then slowly realizing that of the possibly 12 different steps needed, to get to the actual discovery of the treasure, the nocturnal encounter had to have been very real indeed and not a figment of a fertile imagination.

The final discovery of the very real treasure she had buried under the three loosened floorboards, across which the mentioned sunbeam clearly fell, at 9 am that morning, none of which could possibly have been achieved without a real visitation from Granny Martha from the spirit world…

  *She had buried an emergency fund there, in case she ever fell on hard times and fortunately, she had not had a reason to retrieve it in her life.


What do you think?

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  1. I was wise. When you said Part II I knew there would be part I and so I went there first.
    I do not believe in spirits appearing after death but your story is another story.

    Happy for you. This has given me an idea. I too shall hide something for my special niece. But I would not want to come after I kick the bucket but do tell her to search for treasure after I am gone and I shall leave hints in a sealed cover with my lawyer.
    What say?

    • I’m sorry you missed the first one, it was posted a while before the second part, it seems it will always be a conundrum when more than a single is sequentially posted. Thanks for reading and commenting though. Regards, Andre’

  2. That is one amazing story Andre and thank you for sharing. It was lucky to have found that treasure. My story is different but you reminded me of what my mom did as a young woman. As WW II loomed and she was forced to escape from her homeland Latvia she went down to the basement of her apartment building in the capital Riga. There she buried some silver object and vases as she told me herself right in the middle of the basement. I brought her back to here homeland in 1994 and the building was still there and she even remembered what apartment she and her mother had lived in. Mom was all ready to take a shovel and get in that basement to see if the treasure she buried was still there but we would be breaking so many laws and we would get i such trouble we would not know how to get out of so unfortuately the treasure if still there remained. To this day I do not know if anyone found anything or if it is just there.

    • I believe we all have “buried treasure”, Carol. Should we ever meet, I shall hope to see you with the sparkle and exhilaration of the images of butterflies, sunsets, and kittens you unashamedly adore, still visible in your eyes.

    • Thank you, Linda, I’m so happy you liked it, you know, each time I try to coax my readers into remembering certain aspects of their past it is to invigorate the soul. I believe our souls live on the verge of remembering each meaningful step we took on the path of life, even when the regression involves some tension between the needs of the common world and the dreams of our souls. This inherent tension can easily stop us in our tracks, yet, it can also be the source of vital new energy needed for the soul to grow. Each time we remember a part of our past, we are that much closer to discovering why we came to be a part of life. The inner seed, curiosity, keeps trying to germinate so we can grow, but sadly too often, we have to be placed at a crossroads or be nailed to a cross before we allow it to be.


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