The Man I Married would turn into a snake,a family member would die then money would maricurously fill our room.
I never imagined that the man I married would turn into someone—or something—that I couldn’t recognize. I thought our love was strong, and our life together would be simple. But, as life often does, it threw us a curveball. I am sharing my story today because I’m no longer sure where to turn. I married a man who, after losing everything, became someone beyond my comprehension.
He was a hardworking man when I met him. He worked at a mine and had plans to build a stable future for us. But everything changed in 2020. The pandemic struck, and like so many others, he lost his job. The sadness, the hopelessness in his eyes were visible from the very beginning. I tried to comfort him, but nothing seemed to help.
I saw the depression slowly consume him. His once lively spirit was replaced with an emptiness I couldn’t reach. But I wasn’t about to give up on him. Desperate to lift his spirits, I planned a vacation to Mozambique, hoping the change of scenery would bring him back to life. But little did I know, that trip would mark the beginning of a nightmare I could never escape.
We stayed in a small hotel by the coast. It was meant to be a relaxing getaway, a fresh start. But everything went wrong one night. I woke up to find his side of the bed empty. At first, I thought he had gone to the bathroom or stepped outside for some fresh air. But as time passed, my worry grew. I searched the hotel, called his name, and knocked on every door. There was no sign of him. He had vanished.
Panicked, I contacted the hotel staff and the police, reporting him missing. I contacted the authorities back home, hoping they could help. I was in a complete state of disbelief, unable to fathom what had happened to the man I loved. All I could do was wait and hope he would return.
Seven days passed. Seven long, agonizing days. I went back home alone, broken, carrying the weight of not knowing what had happened. The memories of that vacation haunted me. I tried to stay strong, but part of me felt like I had lost him forever.
Then, one day, he returned. But he wasn’t the same. He came back to me mute, a shell of the man I once knew. His clothes were torn, his skin dirty, and he looked malnourished. His eyes were hollow, and he refused to speak. No matter how much I begged, he wouldn’t say a word. I took him to the hospital, hoping they could figure out what was wrong with him. But when they examined him, they referred him to a psychiatrist. They said he was showing signs of a severe mental breakdown.
For a week, he stayed in the hospital. I tried to visit him, but he barely acknowledged me. When he finally returned home, he seemed somewhat better, but something was off. He was quieter than usual. He didn’t speak much, but he started doing strange things. Little by little, I began to notice that he wasn’t the man I married.
I had always known my husband to be a simple man. But after his return, there were little things that began to raise questions in my mind. One of the first odd things I noticed was a wooden laundry basket that had appeared in our home. It wasn’t there before. And inside the basket were two red and white doeks (cloths), which he would wear once a month. It struck me as strange, but I didn’t know what to make of it at first.
His behavior started to get weirder. He started spending long hours in the room we had kept for the children, locking the door behind him. He told me that the children were to sleep in the other bedroom, and no one, not even me, was allowed in that room. Every night, I could hear strange noises coming from inside. Sometimes, it sounded like a voice I recognized, calling out from the darkness. Other times, it was something even worse: screams.
I tried to ignore it, thinking maybe it was my mind playing tricks on me, but as the days passed, I couldn’t escape the terrifying feeling that something was terribly wrong. I couldn’t ignore the cold chill that seemed to fill the house whenever those sounds echoed through the walls. I also couldn’t ignore the fact that the deaths in our family started to follow these events. It was as if we had somehow sensed them before they happened.
I began to have vivid dreams that left me shaken to my core. In these dreams, my husband would transform into something I couldn’t explain—a giant snake. He would lay naked on the corridor floor, his body contorted in unnatural ways. The terrifying part was that every time I woke from these dreams, I would find him walking into our bedroom, exhausted, drenched in sweat, and looking like he had been through something unimaginable. His eyes were distant, as if he wasn’t truly present in the moment.
And then, a week later, something even stranger would happen. He would make huge purchases—things we couldn’t afford, lavish gifts, expensive meals, and even contributions to family funerals. It was as if the money came from nowhere, and he never once questioned where it was coming from. I had no explanation for his sudden generosity, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was all somehow connected to the bizarre events that were unfolding.
The day I truly understood what had happened to him will forever be burned into my memory. I was cleaning the house one afternoon when I noticed the wooden laundry basket again. This time, I decided to investigate. As I opened the lid, my heart nearly stopped. Inside, curled up in the corner, was a snake. It was large and venomous-looking, with scales that shimmered in the light. And just as horrifying, the snake had piles of money around it—money that I had never seen before, money that seemed to come from nowhere.
I was horrified. I immediately confronted my husband, demanding answers. It was then that he told me the truth. In Mozambique, under the guidance of a powerful sangoma (witch doctor), he had made a pact. He had sacrificed a member of our family in exchange for wealth beyond our wildest dreams. The snake, he explained, was part of the ritual, and each time he sacrificed, it would reward him with money.
I was frozen in disbelief, my body shaking as I listened to him speak. The man I loved had become something I couldn’t understand. How could he do this? How could he turn his back on everything we had ever stood for? But the worst part was the guilt. He had become trapped in a cycle of sacrifice, and I was helpless to stop it.
Now, I am left with nothing but regret. I wish I had known earlier. I wish I had never encouraged him to go to Mozambique. I wish I had seen the signs sooner, before it was too late. But it feels like the more I try to understand what happened, the further away he gets. He has changed into something unrecognizable. And even though he still lives with me, I don’t think I have him anymore. The man I married is gone, replaced by a person consumed by greed and darkness.
I don’t know what to do. I am trapped in
a marriage that I didn’t sign up for, with a man who has become someone—or something—far beyond my comprehension. I don’t know how to escape this nightmare, but I have to find a way. Because no matter how much I wish it weren’t true, I know the truth now. My husband has turned into a snake, and there is no going back.
Please, if you ever find yourself in a similar situation, listen to your instincts. Don’t ignore the signs, no matter how small they may seem. I thought I could change him. I thought I could help him. But I was wrong. Sometimes, the darkness consumes a person completely, and there is nothing left of them. If you can, run. Save yourself. It’s not too late.
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