I Stole From the Wrong Man and Now I’m Seeing Flames

This is not a money ritual confession. I didn’t sell my soul or do rituals for money. But deep down, I know I’ve been bewitched. I think I stole from the wrong man — and now my life has turned into pure hell.

I used to be a big criminal. I robbed people on the streets, at gunpoint, with knives — anything that worked. I robbed houses too. My trick was simple: I watched people at the mall. When I saw someone buying expensive things — like a TV, laptop, or phone — I would follow them home quietly. Then I’d study their daily routine for a week or two before I struck.

If the house had someone home all day, like a helper, I’d still go in. I had something I used — an animal’s tail that could make people fall into a deep sleep. Even dogs would pass out after I used it. CCTV didn’t scare me because I knew how to handle it. I thought I was smart. I thought I was unstoppable.

I even had inside connections — bank tellers who’d call me when someone withdrew a big amount of cash. I’d follow the person, wait for my chance, and strike. That was my life for years. Fast money. No fear.

Until I stole from the wrong person.

That night, I entered the man’s house with my gun ready. But he didn’t fight back. He didn’t even look scared. He just stared at me and calmly gave me his safe’s password — even though I hadn’t asked.

That should’ve been my warning.

But greed took over. I wanted everything.

Inside the safe were expensive things — electronics, cash, jewelry, and a strange old bracelet. I put the bracelet on without thinking. It felt cold and heavy, but I ignored it. That was the moment my life changed forever.

After that robbery, everything started falling apart.

I began hearing voices, seeing shadows moving on my walls. My mind went. My family took me to Weskoppies for treatment. I got better for a short while, but when I came back home, things got worse — much worse.

I started feeling something growing from my body. From my backside. I know how crazy it sounds, but I swear it’s like a snake. The tail hangs out, and the head feels like it’s inside me, eating my insides. I can feel it moving. I’m in pain all the time. I’ve lost so much weight.

Now I believe that man wasn’t just an ordinary man. He was a ritualist. And by robbing him, I didn’t just take his possessions — I took his curse. Maybe he was tired of living with that snake, and by giving me his safe password, he passed it on to me.

The bracelet disappeared later, but it keeps appearing in my dreams. I see it glowing, whispering my name, telling me to “finish what was started.” I don’t know what that means — and I don’t want to find out.

One day, I decided to go back to that house. I thought maybe I could return the bracelet, apologize, do something. But when I got there… there was no house.

Where the house used to be, there’s now a huge dam. Just water. No foundation, no walls — nothing.

I asked around, and the people there looked at me like I was insane. They told me there has never been a house there. They laughed and said I was imagining things. But I know what I saw. I know I robbed someone there. I can still see the man’s face in my dreams.

Now I’m stuck with this pain, this curse, and a body that’s no longer mine. I don’t know how long I’ll last. But I’m confessing so that maybe someone out there learns from me.

Don’t steal.

Don’t touch what’s not yours.

Because not every house you enter belongs to the living.

Hey, check out this video of a ritualist vendor who protects his business with a swamp of bees. Even the metro police don't bother this man's trolley 🛒