I MURDERED MY MOM AND SLAUGHTERED HER THEN HAD HER FOR DINNER FOR 4 MONTHS

I MURDERED MY MOM AND SLAUGHTERED HER THEN HAD HER FOR DINNER FOR 4 MONTHS

🕯️ Confession: The Wealth That Asked for My Mother

The circulating story triggers me because I feel like the man should have been given a chance to expose the person who made him do this to his own mother and also expose the ritual and the promises made to him.

I have carried this secret for two years now. Sometimes I think it lives inside me like a second soul — silent during the day, but awake at night, whispering the name of the woman I used to call my mother.

I was only twenty-two when I joined that group. They called themselves the Circle of Prosperity, but in truth, it was nothing holy. I was introduced by a man I loved — or at least I thought I did. He was charming, rich, and spoke of power as if it was something he could hand to me in a glass. He said I had to prove I was ready for wealth. He said the spirits needed something from my bloodline.

At first, I laughed. Later, I obeyed.

They sent me to a sangoma in another country. He gave me a drink that burned my throat and clouded my mind. When I woke up the next morning, I was not myself. I had no feelings, no memories that mattered. The world felt quiet — too quiet — and my mother’s voice, which used to calm me, suddenly felt like noise. The love I had for her was gone. Replaced by something heavy and cold.

I was told to murder my mom and eat her in order to become wealthy. I brutally took my mother's life and put her in the fridge. I'd cook and eat her almost everyday like she was just some donkey meat. I felt absolutely nothing at that time.

No guilt,no conscious absolutely nothing. I three her bones which I couldn't chew in our put toilet. 

When I returned home, I did what I was told. And for months after, I lived with what I had done — or rather, what I had been made to do. The strange thing is that during those four months, I felt nothing. No sorrow. No fear. Just emptiness. The sangoma’s medicine had turned me into a stranger in my own skin.

We even went to the police, my boyfriend and I, pretending to report her missing. Later, we told people she had left the country with another man. Somehow, the story was believed — even her phone still sent messages from far away. Money was withdrawn. The world accepted her disappearance as if she had simply vanished into happiness.

But the wealth never came. Not to me, at least. Six months later, it was him — my boyfriend — who suddenly grew rich overnight. Cars, houses, new clothes, and a new woman by his side. He said I had served my purpose.

That’s when the numbness wore off.

I began to dream of my mother. She doesn’t speak in my dreams, but I can feel her presence, heavy and watchful. Sometimes, the house smells like cooked meat even when I haven’t touched the stove. Sometimes the fridge hums at night as if something inside it still breathes.

The sangoma told me wealth takes time. He said maybe the spirits are still deciding if I’m worthy. But deep down, I know I’m not waiting for wealth anymore. I’m waiting for her.

I know one day, she’ll come back for what’s left of me.