THE DAY I HELD THE SERPENT THAT CHANGED MY DNA

THE DAY I HELD THE SERPENT THAT CHANGED MY DNA

I have never told anyone this story… not even my closest friend. But when I look at that picture  that moment my fingers first touched those scales . I realise my life stopped being normal the very same night.

People think money rituals are loud, dramatic things… goats crying, drums beating, candles burning red. But mine started quietly. Too quietly.

It began with a snake.

Not a wild snake from the bush… no.
This one was brought to me.

The man who gave it to me told me that the snake was “the child of wealth,” and that if I could hold it without screaming, it would recognise me as its keeper. I remember how my hand shook, how the scales felt warm and alive beneath my fingertips , just like in the picture. The pattern on its body looked like old coins pressed into skin, each scale shaped like money I hadn’t yet seen but was already craving.

When I wrapped my fingers around it, the snake didn’t hiss. It didn’t bite.
It breathed. Suddenly my thumb took a reflection of the snake.

And the moment it did, my palm tingled like something was crawling under my skin. The man smiled and said:

“From today, you will never be broke… but you will never sleep freely again.”

I didn’t understand what he meant until the first night.

I woke up with the sound of coins dropping on the floor… except there were no coins. It was the snake — the same one I held — sliding out from beneath my bed. Every night, it came with money. And every morning, I found cash that I could never explain. I was terrified, but I couldn’t walk away because the money kept getting bigger… thicker… sweeter.

But like all rituals, the sweetness had teeth.

After nine months, the snake stopped bringing money and started demanding something else — my peace. I stopped dreaming normally. Every night I heard whispering. Every shadow looked like scales. Every sound felt like hissing.

And then came the day I tried to return it.

I went back to the man who gave me the snake — but his house wasn’t there. Not an empty yard. Not broken walls. Nothing.
Just open land like nobody had ever lived there.

People told me I was mad. They said no one had ever stayed in that place. But I know what I saw. I know what I held. I know what I carried.

That snake didn’t come into my life to make me rich.
It came to mark me.

Even now, when I close my eyes, I still feel those scales — warm, alive, choosing me.

And I don’t know if I chose wealth… or if wealth chose my soul first.