Have you ever found an anonymous letter in your mailbox, with a riddle leading you into your own home? Here's a true story...
It was the end of November, a cold but uneventful day in the quiet French countryside. My parents had arrived at their country house, the kind of place where time slows down, and nothing much happens. As usual, my parents checked the mailbox.
Among the usual stack of bills and advertisements, there it was: a plain white envelope. No name, no return address, nothing to suggest where it came from. My mother opened it. Inside was a single printed sheet of paper, with nothing but a short, rhyming text. She frowned at it, then set it aside.
Later, my father picked it the letter. "What's this?" he asked.
"It's nothing," she replied with a shrug. "Probably a mistake. Weird, though."
But my father was intrigued. He took the paper and read the lines aloud. After a few lines mentioning the Advent, there was an enigmatic part (English translation):
Climb the stairs to reach the shelf,
Where Famous Five rest by themself.
Among their tales, search and see,
Where five in caravan roam free.
A clue awaits, well-hidden here,
To guide you to the secret near.
He turned to my mother. "Do we have this book with The Famous Five?"
She sighed, half amused. "Yes, of course, it's upstairs. But the letter makes no sense. It's just... random."
"Random?" He shook his head. "No, it's too specific to be random. We have to check the book."
"Check what? It's just a normal book. Or are you suggesting someone went into our house... That's ridiculous. There isn't even a name on the letter!"
Still, the letter had planted a seed of curiosity. They exchanged a look, part skeptical, part intrigued. Then, without saying much else, they headed upstairs to see for themselves.
A Journey Upstairs
My parents climbed the stairs to the second floor. The bookshelves stood against the wall, filled with novels collected over the years. My mother went straight to them. "There," she said, pointing at a section. "All the Famous Five books are right here."
Together, they scanned the titles until they found it: Five Go Off in a Caravan. My father pulled it off the shelf, opened it, and before he could even turn a page, a small piece of paper slipped out and fell to the floor.
It was a handwritten note this time. The message read: "Search beneath a mattress in the dormitory."
My parents exchanged a look, then burst out laughing.
"What kind of game is this?" my mother said, shaking her head. She picked up the note and studied the handwriting. "It looks like a man's writing," she noticed. "But who could it be?"
They tried to figure out who might have done it. It had to be someone close, and someone with access to the house. But they couldn't find any good suspect.
"And the dormitory?" my mother added. "That's such a specific word. Only someone from the family would call it that."
The room in question had several single beds lined up neatly, the kind of setup designed to accommodate large family gatherings. Admittedly, it did look a bit like a dormitory.
The more my parents thought about it, the more intrigued they became. With a mix of skepticism and growing curiosity, they continued the search.
Beneath the Mattress
My parents stepped in the dormitory, the note in hand.
"Under the mattress," my mother repeated, her voice half amused, half doubtful. "Do you think there's actually something there?"
My father chose the nearest bed and lifted the mattress with ease. Nothing. Just the plain wooden slats underneath. One by one, they went from bed to bed, lifting mattresses, and checking every possible hiding spot. The first few minutes were lighthearted, with playful remarks about how absurd the whole situation was.
But as the minutes stretched on, they started to get skeptical. Bed after bed, mattress after mattress... still, nothing. They considered giving up.
"Are we sure we're looking in the right place?" my mother asked.
"The note was clear," my father replied. "Under the mattress. In the dormitory. This has to be it."
So they checked every mattress once again. This time, they were more methodical. And finally, after what felt like 20 minutes, they found a paper tucked between the slats. Relief and laughter filled the room as my mother leaned in to read. The note revealed the next step: "Look in the closet, under the pillowcases."
"The closet now?" my mother said, shaking her head with a smile. "How long is this going to go on?"
And with growing curiosity, they moved on to the next clue.
A Sweet Discovery
My parents immediately went to the closet in the corridor. The closet was filled with linen and pillowcases. It didn't take long before they found something...
"What's this? A box of chocolates?" asked my mother.
Not just any chocolates. It was an Advent calendar. But what caught their attention was the writing on the box... "It's in German," my father noticed.
With a smile, they realized the mystery had been solved. It didn't take long for them to put the pieces together. I am the only person they know living in Germany, and they remembered that I visited them four weeks earlier. It could only be me.
The search had ended, and as they sat down with the box, they couldn't help but laugh. What started as a strange letter in the mailbox had turned into a treasure hunt, one that would become a cherished memory. And as a bonus, they got chocolates for a month.
Reflections
This little mystery was an exercise in creating a unique experience. The goal was to strike the right balance: intriguing enough to spark curiosity but simple enough to keep the momentum going.
Designing a treasure hunt without being there to guide it meant I had to keep things straightforward. It's easy to make a hunt too complicated, and without the ability to provide hints, I had to err on the side of simplicity. Choosing the hiding spots was also important. I had to pick places that wouldn't be disturbed for weeks, even if my parents decided to clean.
How did I send the letter? I used a service from the website laposte.fr; they printed the document and delivered it. So the envelope didn't have a German stamp and I knew it would be delivered at the right moment, just before December 1st.
The element of mystery was key. If I had told my parents upfront, "Here's a treasure hunt," it would have been fun but predictable. They would have approached it with a clear sense of purpose, knowing what to expect. Instead, when my parents found the letter, they weren't solving a "puzzle". They were only following their own curiosity.
This unpredictability made it special. Escape rooms, for example, are fun, but you know what you're signing up for. It's an experience with clear rules and a well-defined scope. By contrast, stumbling upon a clue in your own home blurs the line between the game and the real world. It leaves you wondering what might happen next. And these unplanned surprises can create memories far more memorable than planned activities.