Auntykwaskwas stories, Abuja (2025)

25/05/2025

THE COCKROACH's CHOICE

Three hungry c**kroaches came to a farmer and asked him for food. He willingly offered them some bread and some cheese. They ate to satisfaction and saved food to take home to their families.

Upon leaving, the farmer told them,
"Listen roaches, instead of begging for food as you always do, why don't I offer you a job in my farm? We offer good pay, food, and protection for your families."

The c**kroaches asked,
"What work do we have to do, and how much salary do we get?"

The farmer answered,
"There are four positions available in my farm, with each having a different pay. It's up to you to choose which of them you prefer! The worker whose job is to inform my chickens that food is ready gets paid $3,000 every month. The worker whose job is to peel and slice my garlic gets $5,000 monthly. The worker whose job is to chase pesky lizards out of the farm gets $4,000 every month. And lastly, the worker whose job is to sing and dance for my goats gets only $250 monthly. You can make your choice now!"

The first c**kroach exclaimed,
"I choose the $5,000 job! I want to peel and slice your garlic!"

The second c**kroach chorused,
"I want the $4,000 job! Let me chase the pesky lizards out of the farm!

The third c**kroach thought for a long moment, then said surprisingly,
"I would prefer the $250 job! I want to sing and dance for your goats!"

For a moment, the two other c**kroaches glared at her and thought she was very dumb.
"How could she have chosen the lowest paying job in the farm? Is she that silly and unreasonable?" they thought within themselves.

The following morning, the three c**kroaches arrived for their first day of work. However, as they began their duties, the first and the second c**kroaches died all of a sudden.

The curious farmer then called the third c**kroach and asked,
"Tell me, why did you choose the lowest paying job?"

She took a deep breath and answered,
"Firstly, chickens favourite food is c**kroaches- why would I choose a job where I have to go close to chickens? Secondly, the pungent smell of garlic can quickly kill a c**kroach- why would I choose a job where I have to peel and slice garlic? Thirdly, lizards love to snack and prey on c**kroaches- why would I choose a job where I have to chase lizards out of the farm? It's not about the money at all, it's about putting my life into consideration."

LESSON TO LEARN:
Be careful of the deals you accept from people. Don't jump into every offer made to you. Don't be so blinded by money and material things that you refuse to pause and carefully consider the ramifications before taking a decision. Be wise!

05/05/2025

PEOLE CALLED ME WITCH BECAUSE I AM OLD AND UGLY
(Episode 4)

One hot afternoon, something strange happened in the village.

A small boy named Chika, just six years old, fell sick.

He was the son of a woman called Aunty Ngozi, a loud and proud woman who had always been the first to shout, “Witch!” whenever Mama Nene passed.

That day, Chika collapsed. His body was hot like fire, his eyes were rolling back, and he couldn’t speak. They tried everything—paracetamol, rubbing his body with palm oil, pouring cold water—but nothing worked.

By nightfall, the boy was shaking and breathing fast. Aunty Ngozi was screaming. She ran from house to house begging for help.

“We need to take him to the clinic!” someone shouted.

“But the nearest one is too far!” another said.

It was a helpless moment. Everyone gathered but no one had a solution.

Then, something unexpected happened.

Aunty Ngozi began to walk toward the end of the street.

Toward Mama Nene’s house.

Gasps filled the air.

“She’s going to the witch?”

“God forbid!”

“She must be desperate.”

But I understood.

Because when people have no hope left, they start to look in the places they once avoided.

I followed quietly behind her.

She knocked on Mama Nene’s door like someone knocking on shame.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then the door creaked open.

Aunty Ngozi fell to her knees. “Please… help me. My son is dying. Please…”

Mama Nene looked at her. No anger. No pride. Just quiet.

Then she said, “Bring him.”

Two men carried the boy to her small room. I stood by the door as Mama Nene touched his forehead, then his chest. She closed her eyes for a few seconds. Then she got up and began to gather some herbs.

She mixed something in a calabash, added hot water, and stirred.

She gave Aunty Ngozi a spoon and said, “Give him this. Then wash his body with warm water and cover him with a thick wrapper. Let him sleep.”

Aunty Ngozi nodded like a child obeying her mother. She said “thank you” with tears in her eyes.

That night, nobody slept well. We were all waiting.

By morning, a shout came from Aunty Ngozi’s house.

“He’s awake!”

“He’s talking!”

“He’s eating!”

The boy was sitting up, smiling, and asking for food.

The news spread like fire.

People were shocked. Confused. Even scared.

How did the so-called “witch” save a life?

Some said it was luck. Others said, “Maybe she knows medicine after all.”

But for the first time in many years, no one called her “witch” that day.

They called her “Mama Doctor.”

After Chika got well, the whole village changed.

People who once crossed the street when they saw Mama Nene… now stood outside her house, waiting.

They no longer shouted “witch.”

Now, they knocked gently and said,
“Mama, my back is paining me.”
“Mama, my baby cannot sleep at night.”
“Mama, please help us.”

She helped them all.

With herbs.
With warm water and salt.
With soft words and quiet hands.

I watched in silence as the same people who once spat at her door now bowed their heads in respect.

Some brought gifts—yam, garri, oil.
Some dropped money into her bowl and said, “Sorry for before, Mama.”
Some even cried and begged her to forgive them.

But Mama Nene never raised her voice.

She never said, “I told you so.”

She just helped them, one after the other.

I once asked her, “How can you still help them after all they did to you?”

She looked at me, her eyes soft but heavy.

“Because hate is like fire,” she said. “If you fight it with more fire, everything burns. But if you bring water… the fire dies.”

I sat with her that evening as she prepared medicine for a pregnant woman.

She was quiet for a long time. Then she said, “You know what hurts the most?”

I looked at her.

“It’s not the stones. Not the names. Not even the hunger.”

She touched her chest and whispered, “It’s the silence.”

I didn’t understand at first.

She continued, “When people stopped talking to me. When they walked past like I was nothing. When I would sit outside and not one person said, ‘Good morning.’ That silence… it broke me slowly.”

I felt my heart squeeze.

She said, “Now they come. They say thank you. They call me ‘Mama Doctor.’ But this”—she tapped her chest—“this still hurts.”

I held her hand.

“They only changed because they saw what you can do,” I said quietly.

She nodded. “But what about the years they left me to die slowly?”

Her eyes were wet. But she didn’t let the tears fall.

I wanted to scream at the whole village.

I wanted to shout, “She is not a healer. She is a woman. A human being. And she deserved love before she healed anyone!”

But I stayed quiet.

And in my heart, I knew…

Even if the whole world forgot how they treated her—

I would never forget.

CONTINUE FROM EPISODE 5

04/05/2025

PEOPLE CALLED HER WITCH BECAUSE SHE IS OLD AND UGLY (Episode 3)

After Mama Nene shared her story with me, I couldn’t sleep for days.

I kept hearing her words in my head:
“I only grew old and ugly and alone… and for that, they hated me.”

I started to see things differently. I began to notice things I never paid attention to before.

The way people crossed the road when they saw her coming.
The way women covered their children’s faces, like she was a sickness.
The way shopkeepers refused to take her money when she tried to buy food.

One afternoon, I saw her walking to the market with a small basket. She picked up some tomatoes and a little salt. When she tried to pay, the woman selling shouted, “Don’t touch my goods with your cursed hands! Go away!”

People laughed. Some clapped.

Mama Nene didn’t say anything. She just dropped the items and walked away slowly, with her head down.

I stood in the corner, watching, my chest burning.

How can human beings be so cruel?

And it didn’t stop there.

Some young boys would urinate near her house and shout, “This is holy water for the witch!”

Others threw ashes on her doorstep and said it was to “chase away evil spirits.”

She once told me that someone poured pepper into her water pot. Another time, they tied a dead rat to her door and shouted, “Let your fellow witch keep you company!”

But the worst was what they said when she walked by.

“Here comes the devil’s wife.”

“She is just waiting to die so she can return to hell.”

“She is using our destinies to stay alive.”

Mama Nene never replied.

Not once.

She never cursed anyone back. She never shouted. She never fought.

She just endured.

And I began to understand something I never understood before.

Sometimes, the worst pain is not from losing your family.

It’s from being alive… and treated like you’re already dead.

She told me one evening, as we sat under the moonlight:

“I used to scream when they called me names. I used to cry until I had no more tears. But now, I just sit and wait for night to come. Because in the night… no one sees me. No one throws stones. No one spits. In the night, I am invisible… and that is peace.”

I didn’t know what to say.

So I held her hand.

And in that silence, I promised myself one thing…

If the whole world hated her, I would be the one to love her.

The more time I spent with Mama Nene, the more I saw how deep her pain went.

She lived like a ghost among the living—unseen, unwanted, unloved.

But even that wasn’t enough for the people in our village.

One afternoon, something happened that I will never forget.

It was a Sunday.

After church, many children were playing near the village square. I was walking home with a basket of oranges when I saw Mama Nene coming down the path with her bucket, slowly heading toward the stream.

As usual, people turned their backs.

But the children didn’t.

They saw her and started shouting, “Witch! Witch! Run oh! The witch is coming!”

At first, they laughed and ran around her.

But then… they started picking up stones.

The first stone hit her on the leg.

She flinched but didn’t stop.

The second one hit her arm.

Still, she walked.

The third one hit her head. She stumbled and dropped her bucket.

That was when I screamed, “STOP IT!”

I dropped my basket and ran to her. My heart was shaking with fear and anger.

“Leave her alone!” I shouted at the children. “She is not a witch!”

They laughed at me too. “Ruth has joined the witches! Ruth is her daughter now!”

Tears filled my eyes. I stood between them and Mama Nene, my arms stretched out.

“If you throw another stone, it will hit me first!”

The children hesitated. A few adults nearby looked, but no one came to help.

Finally, the children walked away, still laughing.

I turned to Mama Nene. Blood was dripping from her forehead. Her hands were shaking.

She didn’t say a word.

I picked up her bucket and helped her back to her house. She didn’t ask for help, but she let me.

When we got to her house, I found a piece of cloth and cleaned her wound. She sat quietly, staring at the wall.

Then she whispered, “You should not have done that.”

“Why?” I asked.

“They will start to hate you too.”

I looked at her and said, “Let them.”

She looked at me with the softest eyes I had ever seen. She touched my cheek gently and said, “You are brave… braver than I ever was.”

I didn’t feel brave. I felt angry. Angry at the people who hurt her. Angry at the lies. Angry at the silence.

That night, I cried.

Not for myself.

But for Mama Nene. For every time she was hit and didn’t scream. For every insult she swallowed. For every tear she cried alone.

And I told myself again…

If no one would stand by her, I would.

Even if it meant standing alone.

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02/05/2025

PEOPLE CALLED HER WITCH BECAUSE SHE’S OLD AND UGLY ( Episode 2)

The next morning, I woke up early. My heart was beating fast.

I was going to do something that no one else had done in years.

I was going to visit Mama Nene.

I went to the kitchen and packed some leftover food in a small bowl—just some rice and stew. My hands were shaking as I wrapped it. I didn’t want my mother to see me. If she knew what I was about to do, she would shout or maybe even lock the door.

Quietly, I slipped out of the house and walked down the road.

The sun was not too hot yet, and the village was still calm. But every step I took toward Mama Nene’s house felt heavy. My feet were moving, but my heart kept asking, “What if the stories are true?”

When I reached her compound, I stopped and stood at the entrance. Her gate was half open. I looked inside.

There she was.

Sitting on her broken stool, eyes closed, head resting on the wall. She looked so tired… like someone who had not slept well in years.

I cleared my throat gently.

She opened her eyes slowly and looked at me.

Her eyes… they were not scary.

They were tired. Deep. Silent.

For a few seconds, she just stared. She didn’t speak. I didn’t speak either. My hands were shaking as I lifted the bowl and said softly, “Good morning, Mama… I brought you food.”

She didn’t move.

She just kept looking at me like I was a spirit.

Then, slowly… very slowly… she reached out and took the bowl.

She didn’t say thank you.

She didn’t smile.

She just looked at it, then looked at me again.

And then… the corner of her mouth moved.

A very small, weak smile appeared on her face.

That smile… it wasn’t like any smile I had seen before.

It was the kind of smile that comes after years of crying. The kind of smile that says, “I’m not used to kindness anymore.”

She nodded once, then stood up and went inside her house.

I stood there for a moment, not knowing what to do.

Then I turned and walked back home.

My heart was full.

I didn’t know what would happen next. I didn’t even know if I had done the right thing.

But I knew one thing for sure…

That woman was not a witch.

She was just… alone.

And I had just taken the first step to hear her story.
After the day I gave her food, something changed.

Mama Nene didn’t speak to me the next few times I visited, but she didn’t chase me away either. That alone was enough for me.

I started going to her house every few days. Sometimes I brought fruits, sometimes water, sometimes just myself.

We would sit in silence. I sat on the ground while she sat on her stool. She would look into the distance. I would look at her, waiting… hoping she would one day speak.

And then, one evening… she did.

Her voice was soft. Like a breeze. Like someone who hadn’t used her voice in a long time.

She didn’t look at me when she spoke. Her eyes were on the sky.

She said, “When I was young, I was beautiful.”

I was shocked. Not because I didn’t believe her, but because those words… they came from a place of deep memory.

She continued, “I was the kind of woman men fought over. My skin was smooth. My eyes shined like the stars. And my laughter… ah, my laughter filled the village.”

She paused, and I saw a small tear roll down her cheek.

“I had a husband… his name was Okafor. He was tall, strong, and loved me with all his heart. He used to call me ‘my sunshine.’”

I smiled.

“And we had a daughter… Nene,” she said.

I looked at her. “That’s why they call you Mama Nene?”

She nodded. “She was my world. My only child. My joy.”

She closed her eyes, and her lips trembled.

“But life… life is not kind. One rainy evening, my husband went to the river with his canoe. He never came back. They said the water swallowed him.”

She stopped speaking. Her hands were shaking slightly.

I didn’t know what to say. I just sat there, listening with all my heart.

“A few years later,” she said slowly, “my Nene fell sick. She was just seven. Fever. I did everything I could. I prayed. I gave her herbs. I begged the gods. But she died in my arms.”

She began to cry softly. Not loudly, not with noise—just quiet tears falling one by one.

“After that, everything changed,” she whispered. “People started to talk. They said I brought death to my home. They said I was cursed. That I was the reason they died.”

She looked at me for the first time since she started speaking.

“I lost my family, and then I lost my name. They stopped calling me Mama Nene. They started calling me ‘witch.’”

My heart was breaking.

I didn’t know pain could be this deep… this silent.

“I begged them to stop,” she said. “I told them I was just a woman who lost everything. But they didn’t care. They needed someone to blame. And I was the easiest target.”

She held her chest.

“I cried every night, Ruth. Every single night. I talked to the stars. I asked God to take me too. But I woke up every morning to more hate… more stones… more names.”

And then she said something that stayed in my heart forever:

“I did nothing wrong. I only grew old… and ugly… and alone. And for that, they hated me.”

I could no longer hold my tears. I cried too.

That night, I didn’t just hear a story.

I saw the truth.

Mama Nene was not a witch.

She was a broken heart still beating.

Continue from 3
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27/04/2025

PEOPLE CALLED HER A WITCH BECAUSE SHE’s OLD AND UGLY. (EPISODE 1)

My name is Ruth. I live in a small village where everybody knows everybody. It is a quiet place. People go to the farm, go to church, fetch water from the stream, and gather under the tree to talk in the evenings.

But in this same village, something strange happened… something I will never forget.

At the very end of our street, there is a small house. The walls are made of mud, the roof is old and broken, and when it rains, water pours inside like a flood. Nobody goes near that house. Nobody even talks about the woman who lives there… except to say bad things.

Her name is Mama Nene.

She is very old. Her skin is wrinkled like dry leaves. Her back is bent like someone carrying pain for many years. She wears the same clothes every day, and her hair is always tied with a faded scarf. She walks slowly, dragging her feet, carrying her plastic bucket to the stream every morning.

She never talks. She just looks at people as they pass. Sometimes she sits outside on a broken stool and stares at the sky. I used to wonder what she was thinking. But I never had the courage to ask.

People say she’s dangerous.

“Stay away from that woman,” my neighbor once told me. “She is a witch.”

Another person said, “She killed her husband.”

Others said, “If you go near her, your mother will die.”

Even children were afraid of her. They would run when they saw her coming and shout, “Witch! Witch!” Sometimes, they would even throw stones at her and laugh. And Mama Nene would just look at them. She never shouted. She never cried. She just sat there like a statue.

I didn’t understand. She looked so weak… so quiet. How could someone like that be a witch?

One day, I asked my mother, “Mama, why do people say Mama Nene is a witch? What did she do?”

My mother looked at me for a long time, then said, “People say many things. Don’t ask too many questions. Just stay away from her.”

But something inside me wanted to know more. Why did everyone hate her? What did she really do?

I started to watch her from my window. Every morning, I saw her walk to the stream, alone. Every evening, she sat in front of her house, alone.

She was always alone.

And the more I looked at her, the more I felt sorry. I felt something in my heart… something I could not explain. She looked like someone carrying a big pain… like someone who had cried too much.

That was when I decided: I would find out the truth.

Even if the whole village said she was a witch…

I was going to see for myself.
After I decided to find out the truth about Mama Nene, I started listening more carefully.

I wanted to hear what people were really saying about her.

And what I heard… it broke my heart.

“She is the reason her husband died,” one woman told another at the market.
“They said he was healthy before, then one day, boom! He just fell down and died.”
“It’s not normal. Something is wrong with that woman.”

“She never goes to church,” another said.
“Who doesn’t go to church unless they are hiding something?”
“She walks in the night. Sometimes she’s outside when the c**k has not even crowed.”

“She cursed her neighbor’s baby,” someone whispered.
“The baby cried all night. The next morning, the baby was dead.”
“That woman is not ordinary. Stay away!”

Even in school, the children talked about her.
“My brother said she has a black pot where she cooks people’s destiny,” a boy told us during break time.
“My uncle said he saw her in the forest talking to herself.”

Some children claimed they had dreams about her.
“I saw her in my sleep,” one girl said.
“She was flying with big wings like a bat!”
“Me too!” another boy shouted. “She came to my house and tried to press me in the night!”

The more I heard, the more confused I became.

How could one woman do all these terrible things?

Everywhere I turned, there were whispers. People were afraid of her. But at the same time… they enjoyed the stories. They laughed about her behind closed doors. They called her names like “the old ghost” or “Mama Death.”

It was like the village needed someone to blame.

I wanted to talk to someone about it. So one evening, I sat with my friend Ada and told her, “I want to visit Mama Nene.”

She dropped her food and stared at me like I had gone mad.

“Are you okay?” she asked.
“You want to die young? What if she touches you? What if she turns you into a frog?”

I laughed, but deep down, I was scared too. Not because I believed the stories, but because I didn’t know what I would find.

Still, something inside me said, Go.

That night, as I lay on my mat, I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking of Mama Nene… sitting alone… eating nothing… saying nothing… carrying the weight of the whole village’s hatred.

And I made up my mind.

I was going to see her.

I was going to look into her eyes please like my page and share.

23/04/2025

HIS LATE WIFE WHO DIED 10YRS AGO SERVED HIM FOOD IN A RESTAURANT😱 AND THIS HAPPENED_1️⃣4️⃣(The End)
(Written by Teachable Stories)
Mummy, what is going on? You’re scãring me even more! When did we finish 2023 and enter 2024? The last thing I remember was traveling after Daniel divorced me. After that… I can’t remember anything!"

Her mother’s next words shook her to the core. "Jessica, your best friend, Precious, has been controlling you—both spiritually and physically. Please, come home. There’s so much you need to know."

Before Jessica could respond, the call ended.

Shaken, she turned to the gatekeeper. "Please, where is the nearest bus terminal?"

The gatekeeper guided her there, and without hesitation, she boarded a bus to her hometown.

When Jessica got home, her mom told her that her best friend, Precious, had been secretly controlling her, both in real life and in a spiritual way. Precious had even made Jessica marry a spírit without her knowing.

After that, Jessica's mom took her to the pastor’s house.

When they arrived, the pastor told Jessica everything that had happened to her.

“My dear, the friend you trusted so much is actually evíl. She controlled your life and tricked you into marrying a ghóst. But thank God, you have been saved.”

Jessica, with tears in her eyes, asked, “But why would she do such a terríble thing to me?”

The pastor replied, “She did it because she was jëalous of you. She didn’t want you to be better than her in any way. She is under an everlasting cúrse placed on her by a prégnant woman.”

A long time ago, Precious was secretly having an affair with her boss, even though he was already married. His wife was prégnant at the time. Precious used a magic spell to make her boss love her and häte his wife. Because of this, the man started treating his wife bádly.

One day, when the wife was nine months pregnant, she came home from the hospital after a checkup. When she entered their bedroom, she saw her husband on their matrimonial bed making love with Precious, who was their Chef. Shócked and àngry, she tried to say something…

But Precious, using her spell, told the husband to pûsh his pregnant wife out of the room. Without thinking twice, he obeyed. He pûshed his wife so härd that she fell to the ground and couldn’t get up. Instead of helping her, he locked the door and ignøred her.

After that, the prégnant woman, lying helpless on the ground, cûrsed Precious with all her strength.

"Precious, you wícked and heàrtless servant, I cúrse you today!
You will never have children of your own. No man will ever love you or marry you.
Your womb is cûrsed forever. If you ever adopt a child, that child will not survive.
You will end up in prîson, living a míserable life.
Nothing good will ever come your way!"

As soon as she spoke these words, the prégnant woman took her last breath and díed.

It was only after she díed that her husband suddenly recovered from Precious’ spell and realized what he had done..

After the prégnant woman’s cúrse, no man found Precious attractive anymore. No one even showed interest in her, let alone approached her for marriage.

When Precious realized she was under an everlasting cúrse, she became deeply säd and frûstrated.

Then one day, her childhood best friend, Jessica, happily told her about her wedding plans with Daniel. This news filled Precious with ràge and jëalousy.

“If I can’t get married or have children,” Precious vowed ångrily, “then Jessica will never get married or have children either! We will both remain barren forever!”

After that, Precious bløck Jessica’s womb, making sure she could never have children. She also caused many pr0blems in Jessica’s marriage, leading to constant f!ghts and misunderstandings.

Eventually, Jessica’s husband, Daniel, couldn’t take it anymore. He divorced her and married another woman named Jennifer.

Heärtbroken but determined to move on, Jessica decided to leave town and start a new life. When she told Precious about her plan to relocate, Precious became wórried.

“What if Jessica moves to this new town and marries a rich man?” she thought.

Determined to ruín Jessica’s life completely, Precious cast a mysterious spell on her, gaining full control over her mind and bódy, both physically and spiritually.

After the pastor revealed all the terríble things Precious had done in the past, he also revealed to Jessica the härm she had unknowingly caused Daniel and his family. He then advised her to seek their forgiveness.

The next day, Jessica and her mother went to Daniel’s house, hoping to make things right. But when they arrived, the gatekeeper gave them shocking news.

“Daniel and his family moved to Scotland a year ago,” he said.

Feeling frûstrated, Jessica and her mother went to Kenneth’s house, hoping he could help them reach Daniel.

As soon as Kenneth saw Jessica, he was furious. “What are you doing in my house, you wícked, heàrtless Jézebfel?” he shóuted.

Jessica and her mother quickly explained everything—how she had been under Precious’ control and all the sûffering she had endured. As Kenneth listened, his anger softened, and he was deeply moved by their story.

Wanting to help, Kenneth called Daniel on a WhatsApp video call and told him everything.

After explaining, Kenneth handed the phone to Jessica. With tears streaming down her face, Jessica and her mother begged Daniel and his family for forgiveness.

After a moment of silence, Daniel, his wife Jennifer, and their two daughters, Linda and Lydia, forgave Jessica right there on the video call.

At midnight, while Precious was sleeping peacefully, she had a terrîfying níghtmare.

In her dream, she was in her bedroom when suddenly, two mysterious spirits entered, carrying their belongings. She tried to scream, but they seízed her voice and froze her bódy so she couldn’t move.

Then, the spirits each put a wedding ring on her fingers—one on her right hand and the other on her left.

After that, both spirits slept with her.

When Precious suddenly woke up, she was completely nâked. Her nightgown lay on the floor, torn to pieces. Her heart póunded in féar.

“What happened to me? Did someone enter my room and r@ped me while I was asleep?” she asked aloud. But the room remained silent.

Panicked, she rúshed to check her door, but there was no sign that anyone had entered her bedroom.

From that day forward, every time Precious slept or even dozed off, the two spirits would come and sleep with her. When she woke up, she would always find herself completely nâked, her clothes torn to piece.

Desperate for a solution, she visited a certain spiritualist. After deep consultations, the spiritualist looked at her and shook his head gravely.

"You are married to two mysterious sp!rits," he declared. "And you will remain their wife for ten years as a pun!shment for your wíckedness. Your evíl deeds have àngered both the déad and the living. No power, neither from this world nor the spiritual realm—can free you."

Precious's heart sank. The weight of his words crushed her spirit.

She tried everything, fasting, prayers, sacrifices—but nothing worked. The spirits continued t0rmenting her night after night.

When the sûffering became unbéarable, she attempted to end her life multiple times. But each time, something mysterious would stop her—either the rope would snap, the póison would lose its effect, or she would find herself mysteriously revived after blacking out.

One day, Precious went to see a very powerful spiritualist and he told her that to break free from her spiritually tr0ubles, she must sleep with a young v!rgin boy, aged 12-14.

Desperate, she hired thûgs to kidnap a 13-year-old boy for her. However, when she tried to sleep with him, the mysterious spirits kílled the boy instead. As she was trying to throw his bødy into a river at night, people caught her and turned her over to the police.

When the boy’s parents found out, the case went to court.
Precious was eventually sentenced to life in prîson. Even in the prîson, the mysterious spirits continued to t0rture Precious without mercy.

A few months after Precious was sentenced to life in prîson, Jessica met a rich single father through Daniel’s best friend, Kenneth. Six months later, Jessica and the man got married, and their wedding became the talk of the town. Even Daniel attended their wedding.

A year after the wedding, Jessica gave birth to triplets, two girls and a boy and they lived happily together. Meanwhile, Precious remained in prîson, still tørmented by the mysterious spirits for the next ten years.

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