This story gives me shivers every time I think about it.
A friend of mine invests in foreclosed homes and invited friends and family to come and “take whatever you want” from a home he was buying.
When I got there, it was cluttered to hell and smelt awful. Food wrappers expired milk, recipes from years ago. It was filthy. There were about 15 of us, masked and gloved up, scrapping whatever we could find. But as we dug deeper into the mess it became…. Sad.
Sentimental items started to appear, new clothes that were in gift boxes, old passports that were stamped many times over, handwritten letters, and many many photos from the 60’s and 70’s.
I looked over the photos and felt bad that I was scavenging what was left of this lonely woman’s life. From the photos, it seems she never had kids and she was widowed for a while.
I ended up being the last one in the house. The sun just set so it was quiet and eerie being alone in the musty home. My friend was waiting outside. As I took my basket full of things I scavenged—
I felt it. A cold, tight, tingling tug at my right arm. I nearly dropped what I was holding. It really, really felt like SOMEONE tugged me back. My body buckled backwards slightly.
When I got home, I saw it, right where I felt it, the tug… clearly a pressed handprint on my arm.
This is not a sunburn— it never hurt, andI hadn’t been in the sun at all for days. The pale pattern of a hand STAYED blanched for DAYS. I hustled to rid of the items, and only after everything was sold or donated, did the handprint go away.