I was helping my neighbor, Margaret, by emptying her trash bins when I stumbled upon something unexpected—bundles of cash, old and crumpled, tied together with rubber bands. The stench of the trash was unbearable, but the sight of the money made my heart race. Before I could process what I was seeing, Margaret stormed over, furious, and yanked the bag from my hands.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” she hissed, her eyes wild with panic. I asked her why it was in the trash, and she quickly claimed, “You shouldn’t have seen that.”

She clutched the bag close to her chest, and I cautiously asked, “Is this stolen money?” Margaret’s response was unexpected. “No. It’s mine. Every penny of it.”

Margaret then explained the dark history behind the cash. Thirty years ago, her husband had robbed a bank and intended to confess but died before he could. Since then, the money had been a source of tragedy and loss for her. She believed it was cursed, bringing nothing but misfortune, and that’s why she decided to throw it away.

In a panic, Margaret ordered a worker nearby to burn the money, and without hesitation, he threw it into the incinerator. As the flames consumed the bills, Margaret let out a deep, relieved sigh and whispered, “Thank you.” I walked away, unsure whether I believed in curses, but something told me that some secrets are better left buried.

Click below to read more…