I VISIT HOSPITALS MONTHLY TO COLLECT SOULS TO MAINTAIN MY WEALTH

I VISIT HOSPITALS MONTHLY TO COLLECT SOULS TO MAINTAIN MY WEALTH

I always say my life changed the day I picked up that small yellow pamphlet on the street. It was lying near a taxi rank, half-wet from last night’s rain. The message was short and tempting: *“Get rich in 7 days. No struggle. No stress. Guaranteed wealth.”* At that time, I was tired of playing hide and seek with a loan shark who wanted his money by force. My phone rang day and night. My family couldn’t sleep. My heart lived in fear. So when I saw that pamphlet, I felt like it was my last hope.

I called the number immediately, without even thinking. The man who answered told me to come the same day because he could “smell my desperation.” That should have been a warning, but I ignored it. I just wanted my life to stop being a nightmare.

When I arrived at his place, he was already waiting with a calabash full of Muti and strange bones. He told me that wealth was possible, but it needed a commitment. I had to slaughter one animal every month—usually a goat or a sheep. After slaughtering it, I had to visit a hospital and find someone who was very sick, someone who couldn’t speak or argue. He said the soul must be “floating between life and death.”

He instructed me to walk into the ward confidently and pretend I was a relative. Since the person would be too weak to talk, no one would question anything. I was told to stand close, sprinkle a pinch of the Muti on their blanket, whisper a short chant, and hold my breath for a few seconds. That’s how you capture the soul. It moves into your chest like smoke, a strange heaviness that settles behind your ribs.

Once the soul is inside you, you must go straight home—no stops, no conversations. The slaughtered animal must be waiting. You kneel next to it, repeat the chant, and the soul is transferred into the dead animal. That animal becomes your sacrifice for wealth. After that, the money flows like water.

But the man also warned me about two things:

1. I must never skip a month.

2. I must have a special room in my house—locked, dark, and untouched by anyone. That room is where the wealth sits, where the rituals rest, and where the souls are kept. Nobody is allowed to enter, not even my wife.

The first time I did the ritual, I didn’t believe it would work. I went to the hospital shaking, terrified everyone would see the fear in my eyes. I walked into a ward and found a woman lying on a bed, barely breathing. The moment I stepped closer, my chest tightened. The Muti in my pocket felt warm. I whispered the chant, and something cold moved into my body. She died quietly a few minutes later, and the nurses rushed in. I walked out pretending to cry like a relative, and nobody questioned me.

When I reached home, I transferred the soul into the dead goat I had slaughtered earlier. That night I heard scratching sounds from the locked room, even though the goat had been dead for hours. By morning, three clients had paid me money I had been chasing for months. More followed. Opportunities opened. Money came from directions I didn’t expect.

Since then, every month I repeat the same process. Slaughter. Hospital. Capture. Transfer. Lock the room. And wait for the wealth to grow.

People think I am blessed. They think I pray hard. They admire me and ask for advice. They don’t know about the yellow pamphlet, the rituals, or the souls trapped in that dark room in my house. They don’t know the price of my wealth.

I visit hospitals monthly to collect souls to maintain my riches.

And no matter how much money I have now, I still feel like the souls are watching me from the locked room, waiting for the day the ritual fails—andthey finally come for me.