I Found 13 Candles and My Photo in My MIL’s Basement – I Was Shocked When I Learned What It Meant

This is honestly some next-level insanity! My MIL has totally lost her mind!

So, here’s what happened.

It was Jane’s birthday party. The whole family was there, and everything seemed normal. People were laughing, drinks were flowing, and she was doing that thing where she pretended to be all sweet and welcoming.

You know, typical family stuff. I’d only been married to Willis for a month, so I was still navigating the whole in-law dynamic, trying to play nice. But if you had told me a few hours earlier what I was about to stumble upon, I would have called you crazy.

Willis and I were hanging out in the living room with the guests when Jane, my mother-in-law, casually mentioned we were out of wine.

“Chelsea, darling, could you and Willis run down to the basement and grab a few bottles for the guests?” she asked, smiling in that warm, slightly forced way she always did. I didn’t think much of it, so I nodded and followed Willis downstairs.

The moment we stepped into the basement, though… something felt off. I don’t know if it was the musty smell of the place, the dim lighting, or just my gut screaming at me to leave. But there was this eerie silence, a kind of stillness that clung to the air like a bad omen. I glanced at Willis, but he didn’t seem to notice anything strange.

He headed straight for the wine rack, casually chatting about how his mom loved a good Chardonnay while I lingered by the stairs, scanning the room. And that’s when I saw it.

In the far corner of the basement, just beyond the shelves of old family albums and dusty boxes, was a small table. On that table sat a framed photo of… me.

“Uh, Willis?” I called out, my voice shaky.

“What’s up?” he replied, oblivious as he bent down to grab a bottle.

“There’s a picture of me over here…”

He straightened up, holding two bottles of wine, and walked over, his face scrunched in confusion. I pointed to the table. That’s when he saw it too.

“Why is your picture here?” he muttered under his breath. And that’s when I noticed the candles.

Thirteen of them. Eight were perfectly aligned in front of my photo, one placed in each corners of the room, and one sitting dead center, right in the middle of the floor.

“What the hell?” I whispered, my stomach flipping. “Why are there candles? And why are they all around my photo?”

Willis blinked, looking just as stunned as I was. “I…I don’t know. This is weird.”

“Weird?” I snapped, my voice rising in pitch. “This is more than weird, Willis! This is freakin’ creepy!”

I rushed toward the table to get a closer look, my heart racing as questions spun in my head. Why would Jane have a picture of me down here, like this? Was it some sort of ritual? A twisted family tradition? Or something even darker?

I turned to Willis, my heart hammering, feeling like I had just walked into a scene straight out of a horror movie. His face had gone deathly pale, his eyes wide with disbelief, as if he had seen something far worse than just a bizarre setup of candles and an innocent-looking photo.

“Willis,” I whispered, barely able to get the words out. “What… What is this? What’s happening?”

He didn’t answer at first. He just stood there, staring at the candles, his breathing shallow. I could see the panic building in his eyes, the kind of fear that runs so deep it paralyzes you.

“Willis?” I repeated, my voice trembling. “Talk to me.”

He finally turned to me, his lips parting slightly, but no words came out. After what felt like an eternity, he spoke, his voice hoarse and shaky. “I… I think my mother’s been using a spell,” he stammered.

“A spell?” My stomach dropped. “What the hell are you talking about?”

He took a deep breath, clearly struggling with whatever awful truth he was about to share. “My grandmother… she was into all this—this dark stuff. Witchcraft, curses, spells. I—I never believed it, but…”

He ran a hand through his hair, his voice almost breaking. “She taught my mom everything. And I think—Chelsea, I think my mom’s been trying to curse you.”

I stared at him, my mind spinning. “Curse me? For what?”

“To make you… infertile.” The words fell from his mouth like stones, heavy and cold.

I blinked, sure I had misheard him. “What?”

“My mom… she knows how much I want kids. How much I’ve always dreamed of starting a family. She must’ve thought… she thought if you couldn’t give me children, I’d… I’d leave you. That it would drive us apart.” His voice cracked, and he looked away, shame and sorrow etched deep in his expression.

I couldn’t breathe. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be happening.

“She’s been doing this to break us up?” I gasped, feeling a wave of nausea rise in my throat. “Because I won’t give her a grandchild right away?”

He nodded, his face full of guilt. “She knows how much it means to me, and… she thinks it’s the only way to get me to—” He couldn’t finish.

I stepped back, shaking my head. “This is insane, Willis. Completely insane!”

“I know. I know, Chelsea, but it’s the only explanation that makes sense. The candles, the picture—it all lines up. My grandmother used to say that 13 was the number of power, and… and my mom must’ve—”

I cut him off. “We need to get out of here. Now.”

I was horrified. The moment Willis told me about the curse, I felt like the ground had disappeared beneath me. I couldn’t sleep that night—couldn’t think about anything else but those candles and Jane’s cold, calculated plan to ruin my life.

For days, I spiraled. Every little thing sent me into a panic. Was the curse already working? Was I never going to have children? Was this Jane’s twisted way of controlling my future? Every thought spiraled into another, each darker than the last. I couldn’t stop crying.

“I don’t understand how she could do this,” I sobbed one night, curled up on the couch. “What kind of person would go that far to break up their own son’s marriage?”

Willis sat beside me, his face hard, his fists clenched. “She’s lost it, Chelsea. She’s gone too far this time.”

“I mean, what if—” My voice cracked as tears welled up again. “What if it worked, Willis? What if I can’t have kids because of her?”

He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into his chest. “No,” he said firmly. “You’re not cursed. She has no power over us. None.”

But as much as I wanted to believe him, the fear still clung to me. Every ache, every little stomach pain—I couldn’t help but wonder if that was it. If Jane had succeeded in doing the unthinkable.

Days passed, and Willis was growing more furious with his mother by the second. He’d already cut off contact, but that wasn’t enough for him. “She’s done, Chelsea,” he said one night as we sat in the kitchen. “I’m finished with her. There’s no coming back from this.”

I nodded, my eyes hollow from days of crying. “I can’t believe she’d go this far.”

And then, just a few days after that horrible discovery in the basement… everything changed.

It was a Wednesday morning, and I had been feeling strange—nauseous, and lightheaded, but I didn’t think much of it. With everything going on, I thought it was just stress. But something inside me whispered otherwise. So, I decided to take a test. Just to be sure.

I sat in the bathroom, staring at the test in my hand, my heart pounding. Willis was in the next room, completely unaware of the tiny, life-changing moment that was about to unfold.