“I Joined a Dark Ritual for Money and I Am Lucky to Be Alive”
I never thought I would share this part of my life, but I know there are people right now who are walking the same dangerous path I once walked. Maybe this will be a warning before it’s too late.
I was young, broke, and desperate. Nothing in my life was working. I wanted money, respect, and success, and I wanted it fast. One day, a close friend came to me and said, “I know people who can help you. Real money, no stress. But you must be brave.”
I thought he meant business connections. I was wrong.
We drove late at night to a small house outside the city. From the road, it looked like any normal house. But when we stepped inside, I felt something shift. The air was heavy, the silence was unnatural, and I knew this was no ordinary place.
The room was dim, lit only by red candles placed in every corner. On the floor, there was a circle drawn in white powder. Inside the circle stood bowls filled with blood, feathers, and strange bones. The walls were covered with mirrors. I avoided looking into them because every time I did, my reflection looked distorted.
The leader, an old man with a calm but dangerous presence, spoke softly. He said, “Money does not come for free. Every coin has a price. Are you willing to pay?”
I swallowed hard, but my friend nudged me to agree.
He told me to bring something from my family—a piece of clothing, a photo, anything personal. “It will connect your bloodline to the blessing,” he explained. That was the first moment I felt true fear, because I realized this was not just about me. It was about everyone tied to me.
The ritual began. They covered my eyes with a cloth. I heard chanting in a language I could not understand. The sound rose and fell like waves, and with every word, my skin felt colder. I felt hands brushing my shoulders, but when I tried to touch them back, there was nothing.
Then I heard a sudden scream—short, sharp, and cut off. Silence followed. When they removed the cloth from my eyes, I saw a man lying still in the circle. His chest was not moving. No one panicked. No one cried. They carried him away like he was just another tool.
The leader turned to me and smiled. He handed me a bundle of cash. Real money. More than I had ever held in my life. My hands shook as I took it. My friend whispered, “Now you are part of us.”
That night, I did not sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the dead man’s face.
At first, the money felt like a blessing. I bought clothes, food, and even helped family. But soon, everything turned sour. My relatives became sick for no reason. People close to me started dying in accidents. I had nightmares of chanting voices every night. Even when I was awake, I felt like someone was watching me from the corners of every room.
The same friend who introduced me disappeared. No one could find him. It was like he never existed.
I realized too late that the money was not free—it was poisoned.
I left everything behind. I cut ties, burned the clothes I bought with that money, and never went back to that house. Still, I know the ritual left its mark on me. At night, sometimes I hear footsteps in my room. Sometimes I hear whispers calling my name.
I am alive today, but I will never be free.
#Confession #DarkSecrets #RitualsExposed #MoneyAndBlood #TrueStory #SouthAfrica #BeWarned
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