The river snake that made me rich

The River Snake That Made Me Rich

I have carried this secret for too long, and it has started to eat me alive. I have a river wealth snake — something I got from Ethiopia eight years ago. Back then, I was young and desperate to change my life. I didn’t know what I was getting myself into.

When I first received it, the snake was small, almost harmless. I used to feed it chickens and mice. It was like taking care of a strange pet, except I was told never to let anyone see it. As it grew, its appetite grew too. I was later instructed by the sangoma to start feeding it goats, and eventually, cows. Every time it fed, I noticed my money increasing, my business growing, and everything I touched turning to gold.

Then one day, the sangoma told me the snake was ready to live on its own — that it needed to be thrown into our local river so it could “hunt freely.” I didn’t understand what that meant. I just followed the instructions. I went to the river at night, alone, and released it into the dark waters.

After that, I was told to stay away and never call it again. I thought that meant my duty was done. But that same year, people started drowning in that river — three every year without fail. It became a pattern that no one could explain. I tried to convince myself it was coincidence, but deep down, I knew.

Every death brought more wealth my way. New contracts, new cars, a bigger house… but with it came sleepless nights. I see faces in my dreams — strangers gasping for air, hands reaching out from the water. I know those souls are feeding my fortune.

I tried to go back to the sangoma to undo what I had done, but every time I travel that road, I get lost. The paths twist, directions change, and I end up back home — shaken and sweating. It’s as if something doesn’t want me to return.

Now, my riches don’t feel like blessings anymore. They feel like curses bought with blood. And every time I hear news of another drowning, my stomach turns because I know — I am the reason people die in that river.

I just wanted wealth. I didn’t know it would come at such a price.

Part Two

This year, things started to change. The wealth is still there, but it feels heavier, like it’s dragging me down. I can’t sleep anymore. At night, I hear the sound of flowing water inside my house — even when the taps are closed. Sometimes it feels like my bed is floating, and I wake up soaked in sweat, hearing a voice calling my name from far away.

The river is calling me back.

A few weeks ago, I dreamt that the snake came out of the water, bigger than ever. Its eyes were glowing red, and it spoke to me. It told me the deal was not over — that I owed it something. I asked what it wanted, and it said, “Come home.”

Since then, strange things have been happening. I’ve found wet footprints leading from my door to my bed. My cows have started dying mysteriously, and every mirror in my house shows water rippling behind me even when nothing is there.

I tried to pray, but even my pastor said he felt a strong force around me. He advised me to fast and repent, but how do you repent for feeding a demon that lives in a river?

Last night, I went to the riverbank again, hoping to see the sangoma or anyone who could help. But all I saw was the reflection of my own face in the water, and behind me — the snake’s eyes.

It didn’t attack me. It just stared, and I heard it whisper, “It’s your turn now.”

I ran home shaking, knowing my time might be coming. Maybe this is how the deal ends — the same river that made me rich will be the one that swallows me too.

If anyone reads this and thinks of getting rich through dark ways, let my story be a warning. Nothing is free. Every gift from darkness demands a soul in return.

Part Three

This is the last time I’m writing. I can feel something following me everywhere I go. My house feels colder than usual, and I keep hearing water dripping even when the floors are dry. I haven’t gone near the river for days, but somehow, the smell of it is inside my home.

My workers stopped coming. They say there’s a dark shadow that moves around my yard when the sun goes down. My neighbors avoid me, and children cry when they see me. It’s like everyone can sense that death is near.

Last night, I dreamt I was standing in the middle of the river. The snake was circling me slowly, whispering in a language I didn’t understand. When I woke up, my feet were wet — muddy water on the floor, leading from my bed to the door.

I think it’s coming for me.

If I go missing, just know I didn’t run away. I was taken back — back to the same river that has been feeding off souls for eight years.

People will say I drowned, but those who know, will know the truth. The river has claimed what belongs to it.

And now, I am the fourth drowning of the year.