Number 1: X marks the spot

I examined the piece of paper I’d found hiding beneath the apple tree.

Here it was, as clear as day - a sketch of my own backyard. I’d come out to see if the trees needed an additional coat of paint when it caught my eye, gently fluttering in the wind.

Whoever had drawn it had been really meticulous with the details. Even the crumbling garden gnome next to the patio was accounted for.

What was it? A buried treasure? A prank?

Probably. I mean, paper disintegrates, right? So whoever put it here, must have done so recently. How else would I be able to make out the ‘X’ directly on top of my vegetable patch? Directly beneath…my feet?

Number 2: Give it 10 minutes before digging

I blinked at it. Ten minutes? Ten minutes from what? Judging by the state of the piece of paper, it’d been more like… ten hours? Was I missing something?

Number 3: Don’t forget to place the key inside

I furrowed my brow. Why would they place the key inside? I mean, the main reason for burying a treasure in the first place is to keep it safe, right?

Of course, the note didn’t explicitly state it was a treasure, but what else could it be? Especially if it came with a key.

I wondered whether I should tell my wife. A treasure was most definitely something she’d be interested in. Lately, she’d been more and more preoccupied with… people outside of our relationship. I’d asked her about it once or twice but she’d always chalked my concern up to my own ‘insecurities’.

Number 4: Cover thoroughly with dirt. Do not step on the surface.

I looked down at the plot directly beneath my feet. I wasn’t exactly stepping on the position of the X, but I was getting dangerously close.

I flipped the note in my hands, wondering if there was more; something to bring all the pieces together, but that was it.

“As you can see, the property comes with a large backyard,” my wife’s voice rang from the patio, “Please, take a seat, Mr. Jones.”

I hid behind the apple tree, watching my wife beckoning to a strange man in an orange fleece. What on earth was going on? What were they doing here?

“What’s this?” I heard the man ask.

I peeked out from my hiding place. My briefcase! But…what was it doing on the patio chair?

“Sorry,” my wife said, “My ex-husband was a magician. Let me relieve you of it.”

Wait a minute, ex-husband? To my knowledge my wife has only been married once…

“A magician?” the man replied, with apparent wonder in his voice, “What kind of tricks did he perform?”

Even from where I was standing, I heard my wife sigh in an exasperated manner.

“Oh, I don’t know, he liked that… What's his name… Houdini?”

“Houdini!” the man exclaimed, clasping his hands, “So he was an escape artist?”

His expression was jovial, but my wife didn’t smile.

“Something like that,” she said, before adding, “So, you’re interested in buying the house?”

I gawked at her, my skin prickling. Buying the house? Was she selling our property? Behind my back?

I was about to make myself known, when a small, gleaming object in the grass caught my attention. I crouched down to pick it up, my heart thudding in my chest.

It was a key.

A handcuff key.

My stomach lurched. What was a handcuff key doing in our garden? And why-

I gasped as I noticed red imprints around my wrists. They bloomed across my skin, raw and chafed, as though the result of an intense struggle. I stared at them, at the vegetable patch, and then at my wife, still chatting away to the man on the patio.

My blood ran cold as I realized what had happened.

It wasn’t treasure that was buried - it was me.

The note was a memo I’d left for my wife.