It was like the ground had been ripped out from under me. I could barely speak, barely think. Chris, who had been listening in, immediately took the phone from me, his face a mask of shock and disbelief.
“Mrs. Johnson, there has to be another way,” he pleaded, trying to keep his voice steady. “We’ve put so much into this place. It’s our home.”
“I know, I know,” Mrs. Johnson replied, sounding genuinely sorry, “but Lisa’s family. She’s all I have left, and she’s in such a desperate situation… I can’t turn her away.”
What could we do? She’d made up her mind, and no amount of pleading was going to change that.
The next few weeks were a blur of packing boxes, canceled subscriptions, and trying not to break down every time I walked past a spot we’d lovingly restored.
The hardest part was leaving behind the memories we’d woven into every inch of that apartment—the late-night painting sessions, the laughter, the quiet moments of contentment.
Our new place was… well, it was a roof over our heads, and that was about all I could say for it.
It was smaller, darker, and lacked any of the charm that had made our old apartment so special. But Chris and I did what we always did—we made the best of it. We hung our pictures, arranged our furniture, and tried to pretend that everything was okay.
It wasn’t.
A few weeks after the move, I ran into Mrs. Patterson, one of our old neighbors, at the grocery store. We exchanged the usual pleasantries, but then she dropped a bombshell that left me reeling.
“Lisa’s been telling everyone how thrilled she is with the renovations in your old place. Said it was like moving into a brand-new apartment!”
My blood ran cold. Thrilled with the renovations? Wasn’t she supposed to be too distraught to care? Something didn’t add up, and I wasn’t about to let it slide.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. My mind was racing, replaying every conversation, every detail. There had to be more to this story, and I was determined to find out what it was.
Over the next few days, I started digging. I talked to a few other neighbors, asked some subtle questions, and pieced together a picture that made my blood boil.
Lisa hadn’t lost her job or her apartment. She’d manipulated Mrs. Johnson, using her sister’s kindness to get her hands on our beautifully renovated space. She hadn’t lifted a finger, but she’d swooped in and stolen the fruits of our hard work.
When I confronted Chris with what I’d found, he was furious—just as I’d expected.
We’d been used, betrayed by people we thought we could trust. Everything we’d built, everything we’d cherished, had been taken from us in the most underhanded way possible.
As we sat in our new, unremarkable living room, the weight of it all pressed down on us like a suffocating blanket. We were angry, yes, but more than that, we were heartbroken.
And it only got worse.
You ever hear something so downright ridiculous, that you just have to laugh? That was me and Chris when we first heard what Lisa had done to our old place.
I mean, you couldn’t make this stuff up if you tried. But there it was, delivered straight to us by the neighborhood’s most reliable source of gossip—Mrs. Thompson, who, bless her heart, couldn’t keep a secret if her life depended on it.
We were at the grocery store, of all places, when we ran into her.
“Judith! Chris!” she said, her voice tinged with that mix of excitement and pity that only someone like her could pull off. “You’ll never believe what Lisa’s done with your old apartment!”
My stomach dropped. I’d been trying so hard to move on, to not think about that place, but here she was, ready to spill the latest. I couldn’t stop myself from asking, though. It was like picking at a scab you know you should leave alone.
Chris, beside me, stiffened, his jaw tightening just the slightest bit. He knew whatever was coming wouldn’t be good.
Mrs. Thompson leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “She’s turned your beautiful kitchen into a metal workshop! Welding and all sorts of things, can you believe it?”
For a second, I thought I hadn’t heard her right. A metal workshop? In our kitchen?
Chris let out a low, bitter laugh, shaking his head. He looked at me, his eyes dark with anger, but also something else—a strange, grim amusement. “Well, isn’t that just perfect?”
My mind was reeling, trying to picture the damage.
It was infuriating, but there was something almost… poetic about it, too. She wanted our place so badly, and now she was destroying it piece by piece.
Mrs. Thompson, bless her, was still talking. “Mrs. Johnson’s beside herself, poor thing. She tried to get Lisa to leave, but you know how family is. Lisa won’t budge.”
Later that night, Chris and I sat on the couch watching TV. We hadn’t said much since the grocery store, both of us lost in our thoughts. Finally, I broke the silence.
“Do you think she’s ruining it on purpose?” I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper.
Chris sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Who knows? Maybe she’s just that careless, or maybe she’s trying to wipe away any trace of us. Either way, it’s out of our hands now.”
I nodded, but it didn’t make it any easier to swallow.
A 13-year-old builds his own mini-house in his backyard, look inside and be impressed
Most middle schoolers probably have other things on their minds besides building houses.
But Luke Thill, a 13-year-old from Dubuque, Iowa, is unlike any other middle schooler you’ve seen before.
This talented and proactive boy has crafted his very own little house — in his parent’s backyard.
The project cost him roughly $1,500 USD — and now Luke is living his dream in his little cottage.
Come on in and have a look at what it looks like inside.
I think it’s safe to say that Luke is not like many of his 13-year-old peers. In a time of iPads, smartphones, gadgets, and X-Boxes, this young man decided to keep himself busy in a different and more ‘old-fashioned’ way. As he explains on his YouTube channel, his desire to build a small house grew out of feeling bored last summer.
After some thorough research, Luke had a pretty good idea of how he was going to put his plan into action.
The Process
It took him about a year to get the money and materials he needed to build the house. Luke mowed lawns, started a fund-raiser online, and ran errands for anyone who needed help in the neighborhood to make money.
An electrician Luke was friends with helped him install the electricity in exchange for Luke cleaning his garage out, for instance.
Luke used about 75 percent recycled material, many of which were things left over from his grandma’s house. The front door of the house was a gift from an uncle’s friend.
The 89-square-foot house is 10 feet long and 5 1/2 feet wide, with electricity but no plumbing, so no water or bathroom… yet.
“I liked the minimalism,” he told The Des Moines Register. “And I wanted to have a house without a huge mortgage.”
Luke has made several video clips and posted them online, where he talks about his project as many have grown curious about the little house.
As you can imagine, Luke also received some help from his parents, both financially and with the building itself.
But dad Greg made sure that it would be Luke himself who would pay for most of his project and also build most of it himself.
“It was a chance for a kid to do something more than play video games or sports,” Greg told The Des Moines Register. “It teaches life lessons.”
Teenager’s Dream
The house is in many ways a teenager’s dream, an oasis where you can chill and hang out in. It has a microwave, a TV, and a loft with a bed.
There’s even a barbecue and flowers at the back.
Luke usually does his homework after school at his new house and some nights during the week he gets to sleep there.
Luke already has aspirations to build another house — one that’s a little bigger for when he starts college. He also hopes to inspire others to follow their dreams:
“I want to show kids it’s possible to build at this age,” he says in one of his videos.
You can really see how proud he is about his project below.
Luke’s story is a great example of what a child can achieve with a clear goal, a strong worth ethic, and support from home.
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