Lucky Dog, 501 Madison Ave, New York, NY 10022, USA, New York, NY, United States, New York, New York, NY (2026)

03/04/2026

"I need to sprinkle this Urine on my Wife’s Mouth, She needs to die and leave me alone, so that Sandra can come here and be fully mine…” Mr. Abel said as he took the urine in the bottle.
He was standing by the bed, his heart thumping like a drum. The room was dark, and the only sound was the slow, steady breathing of Juliana. Abel’s hands were shaking as he opened the bottle. A sharp, strange smell filled his nose, but he didn't care. He tilted the bottle carefully.
He successfully sprinkled the liquid right on Juliana’s lips. She didn't move. She didn't even cough. She stayed deep in her sleep, completely unaware that her husband had just done something so terrible. Abel smiled in the dark. He felt a huge weight lift off his chest. To him, the mission was successful.
The next day, everything seemed normal, but Abel was watching his wife like a hawk, waiting for her to fall down and die. But Juliana woke up, cooked breakfast, and went to work as usual.
However, after two days, things took a strange turn. Juliana went out in the morning for her nursing shift, but she did not come back home.
Evening turned into night. The two little girls started crying, asking for their mother. Abel sat in the living room, staring at the door. He began to wonder
“Did the urine secretly kill her somewhere on the road?, Did she just go missing on her own?”
He wanted to be happy, but he was also a bit scared. He needed to be 100% sure she was dead before he could bring Sandra into the house. He didn't want any drama or ""resurrection"" problems.
Three days passed. There was still no trace of Juliana. Her phone was switched off, and her workplace said she never showed up. The house was filled with the sound of the two beautiful girls crying. They missed their mother’s touch and her sweet voice.
But Abel had no pity. He looked at his daughters and felt they were just a reminder of Juliana. In a very wicked move, Abel packed their small bags and sent them to Juliana's family house.
""I cannot look after them alone,"" he told her parents. ""Take them. I will only be paying for their school fees and food. I don't want them around me for now.""
Juliana’s family was suspicious. They looked at Abel’s cold eyes and felt something was wrong. “Are you sure you’re not the one who kíIIed our daughter secretly?” her father asked, pointing a finger at Abel.
Abel acted like he was hurt. He shouted back, “What sort of useless question is that? My wife is missing, maybe déad, and as I’m still mourning her, you’re accusing me of her death?”
As soon as he left Juliana’s family house, Abel stopped acting sad. He drove straight to Sandra’s place.
That same evening, Abel finally brought Sandra to his house! His dream was finally fulfilled. He threw Juliana’s clothes into a corner and told Sandra that the house was now hers. He was ready to start a brand-new family, thinking he had finally gotten away with his plan.
Do you think Juliana was really dead?
Do you think the marriage with Sandra will be amazing and sweet?
THE DEÀDLY URINE 2
My Love, as we start this New Story, let’s Iike the Story, please, please 🙏😔😭😭😭, I don’t coIIect anything from anyone, it’s just the Éngagement and Iikes that éncourages me, to be honest, it won’t take anything from is to just place our hand and Iike this Amazing Novel. 🙏😔
Deariest, You know what to do right?, I'm Talking about those that are just meeting this page for first time!, you can CIíck on the F0LLOW button that you're seeing, So that Facebook Will notify You immediately I drop the Next one, I'm just Saying for those who'll like to read the Journey of all the girls in this School."

03/04/2026

"“Who gave this Måd Woman my Phone Number?!!!”
Amelia was shaking as she sat on the sofa. She had just received a strange call. The voice was rough and cracked, but the words were clear: “Return my beauty back, you stole it!!”
When her husband, David, came back home, she quickly reported everything to him. She was crying as she showed him her phone. David’s head became hot; he was confused and angry at the same time.
“How? Who gave her your number?” David shouted, pacing up and down the parlor. He stopped and looked at Amelia with a serious face. “Wait, Amelia... be honest with me. Have the two of you met before? Do you know this woman from somewhere?”
“No, darling! I don’t know her for real. I haven’t seen her before in my life until that day at the market,” Amelia replied, wiping her eyes.
”In my entire life, I have never seen such type of trouble before. This is just driving me crazy,” David said, sitting down heavily.
He held Amelia’s hand to calm her down. He told her that he had assigned his friend, Tim, to search for the Mad Woman. Tim’s job was to find her and ask what exactly she wanted and how Amelia ""stole her beauty."" Amelia hugged David tightly in appreciation. She felt a little bit of hope.
The next morning, Tim went to the big General Market. He asked around, and people pointed toward the back where they sell grains. He saw her. She was wearing the same dirty rags, begging for garri from the sellers. She looked tired and hungry.
Tim moved closer. He was careful. He had a defensive object hidden in his pocket just in case she tried to àttack him. He also held a pack of warm, cooked food to get her attention.
“Madam,” Tim called out, making a sign for her to come.
The woman looked at him. When she saw the food, she slowly walked toward him. She took the food and started eating like someone who hadn't eaten for days.
“Why are you always disturbing that lady?” Tim asked quietly. “The one you followed to her house. Why are you asking her to return her face?”
The Mad Woman suddenly stopped eating. She jumped up, her eyes wide.
“Oh, that woman? She’s a thief! She is the one who stole my beauty!” she screamed, attracting a few onlookers. “I am supposed to be very beautiful. God created me to be beautiful! But because of her selfishness, she stole it. Now see me, I am very ugly! Tell her to return my beauty o! She thought I won’t see her again in this life!”
Tim felt a chill run down his spine. The woman sounded so sure of herself.
“What exactly is the beauty?” Tim asked again, trying to keep her calm. “Explain plainly how she stole it, please. Did she take your cream? Did she go to a herbalist?”
The woman laughed, a high, scary sound. She leaned in close to Tim, and her breath smelled like old leaves.
”She should confess herself! Tell her that her time is up! She thought she could run, but no one runs away under the sun.”
Before Tim could ask another question, the woman grabbed her bag of bottles and ran into the crowd, disappearing inside the market.
Tim sat down and thought within herself
What exactly should Amelia confess?
My Love, as we start this New Story, let’s Iike the Story, please, please 🙏😔, I don’t coIIect anything from anyone, it’s just the Éngagement and Iikes that éncourages me.
Deariest, You know what to do right?, I'm talking about those that are just meeting this page for first time!, you can tap on the foIIow button, so that Facebook Will notify You immediately I droo the Next one, I'm just Saying for those who'll like to read the Sad Journey of this Amelia"

03/04/2026

"“How did this Màd Woman know where I’m living? How did she locate me?” Amelia said to herself.
The Màd Woman who accused Amelia of stealing her face had traced her to her house and she was still shouting at the gate,
“Return my beauty back, you stole it!”
She didn’t leave the gate. The noise was too much, and the neighbors were starting to look out of their windows. Amelia was shaking. She had to call her husband on the phone.
When David heard her crying, he rushed home. He didn’t come alone; he came with security agents. They had to use force to bundle the woman away from the house.
Amelia was just crying in the living room. She has never seen such humiliation before. She felt like a prisoner in her own home. She can’t move outside freely again. She’s just scared that the Mad Woman would just pounce on her at any time.
The next day, David sat in his office, but he could not work. His mind was on his wife. His best friend, Tim, walked in and saw his face. After David explained everything, Tim started laughing.
""David, this is the funniest thing I have heard this year!"" Tim said, still laughing. ""How does someone steal someone’s beauty? Is it a handbag? Is it money?""
“Tim, you have to stop laughing. This is a serious case,” David said, tapping his pen on the desk.
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” Tim said, trying to be serious. “But I thought you said they have driven that Mad Woman away. So why are you still scared?”
“If that woman can locate where we’re staying, that means we’re not safe anymore. She found us, Tim. That is what is bothering me. How did a beggar from the market find a house in this estate?”
Tim leaned back in his chair. He looked at David’s worried face and sighed.
“It’s alright, David. I think I’ll take that risk of meeting the woman one on one. I want to ask her what she meant by stealing her beauty.”
David looked at him, surprised. ”Wow, I appreciate that... although I see no need for that because she’s a Iunatic. But let’s just see what she has to say. Maybe she will talk differently to a stranger.”
""Exactly,"" Tim said. ""If she is always at that market, I will find her. I want to know if there is a story behind this madness.""
Back at home, Amelia was sitting in her room. She didn't want to turn on the lights. She kept thinking about the woman’s face.
It was dirty and old, but if you looked closely, the shape of the jaw and the eyes looked... familiar.
""No,"" Amelia whispered to herself. ""It is just my mind playing tricks. I don't know her!!”
Suddenly, her phone rang. It was a private number. She picked it up, her heart beating fast.
""Hello?"" she said.
There was no voice, only the sound of someone breathing heavily on the other end. Then, a low, cracked whisper came through:
""It’s me, Amelia. Give me bàck my face, you thief!.""
Amelia screamed and dropped the phone.
Who gave the Màd Woman Amelia’s phone number?
My Love, as we start this New Story, let’s Iike the Story, please, please 🙏😔, I don’t coIIect anything from anyone, it’s just the Éngagement and Iikes that éncourages me.
Deariest, You know what to do right?, I'm talking about those that are just meeting this page for first time!, you can tap on the foIIow button, so that Facebook Will notify You immediately I droo the Next one, I'm just Saying for those who'll like to read the Sad Journey of this Amelia and her husband."

03/03/2026

"Who is this Mád Woman? Why is she asking me to return her face back to her?” Amelia asked within herself.

She had just met a very strange encounter when she went to the market. A Mád Woman in rags and bottles came to meet her and was embarrassing her, saying that she should return her stolen face. Amelia hasn’t met her before, or even known her.

Her husband said she should ignore her, but she just can’t. The woman’s eyes were too intense. They looked sane, even if her words were crazy.

Amelia tried to clean the house, but she was slow. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the woman’s ragged hair and heard her scream: Return my beauty!

“Amelia, you are thinking too much,” she told herself. She decided to go back to the market. She wanted to talk to the tomato seller. Maybe someone knew who the woman used to be.

As she was about going to the market the next day to look for that strange Mad Woman, her concerned husband, David, stopped her near the car.
“Amelia, what are you doing?” David asked. He looked worried.

“I’m going to the market, honey. We need fruits.”
David shook his head. “Have you forgotten that you were embarrassed yesterday by a random Màd Woman? Please stay at home. I don’t want anything to happen to you. That woman might result to stabbing you if she sees you. Mad people can be dangerous.”

Amelia nodded slowly. David was right. Mad people are often violent. She remembered the bottles in the woman’s hands.
“Okay, David,” she said softly. “I will stay home. You are right.”

David smiled and kissed her cheek. “Good girl. I love you. I will buy the fruits on my way back. Bye.”

He drove out. Amelia went back inside. She felt trapped, but she was also safe. She started listening to music to forget her troubles.

Around noon, she heard a loud sound from the front.

The heavy noise came from the big black gate.
“Oh my god,” Amelia jumped. It sounded like someone was trying to break the gate.

She quickly walked to the verandah. Her two gatemen, Musa and John, were already near the gate. They picked up big wooden sticks.
“Who is there?” Musa shouted.

There was no answer, just another loud BANG!
Musa cautiously opened the small pedestrian door of the gate to peep outside.

His face immediately changed to fear. He quickly closed it back and locked the iron bar.
The two gatemen went to meet Amelia on the verandah.

“Ma,” Musa said, his voice shaking. “One dirty Mad Woman is standing at the gate.”
“Are you looking for her?” John asked.

Amelia felt her stomach turn. “Are you sick? Looking for her as how? Have you seen me book appointment with Mad people? Lock that gate, don’t open it!!”

“Okay ma,” Musa said. “We will not open it. She is just banging and crying. But...”

“But what?” Amelia snapped.
“She keeps shouting,” John explained. “She is saying that you should return her beauty to her!! She says you stole her face.”

Amelia’s eyes was widened as she heard that statement. She felt a cold sweat on her back.

The Mad Woman had found her. She had found where she was living.

How did she do that? The market was very far from Amelia’s house. Did she foIIow the car?
What exactly did the woman want? It wasn’t just crazy talk. This felt like a thréat.

“Madam,” Musa asked, seeing Amelia’s scared face. “Should we call the police?”
“No,” Amelia said quickly. If the police came, they might lock the woman up, but they might also ask Amelia questions she couldn't answer. Questions about why a random crazy person thinks she stole her face.

“Just... just leave her,” Amelia whispered. “She will get tired and go away. Don’t open that gate for anybody. Not even a visitor.”
Musa and John went back to sit near the gate, holding their sticks tightly. The banging continued.

Amelia slowly put her hands up to her own cheeks in her room,
“Who exactly is this Mad Woman?!!”

How did she find where I’m staying? …

My Love, as we start this New Story, let’s Iike the Story, please, please 🙏😔😭😭😭, I don’t coIIect anything from anyone, it’s just the Éngagement and Iikes that éncourages me, to be honest, it won’t take anything from is to just place our hand and Iike this Amazing Novel. 🙏😔

Deariest, You know what to do right?, I'm Talking about those that are just meeting this page for first time!, you can CIíck on the F0LLOW button that you're seeing, So that Facebook Will notify You immediately I drop the Next one, I'm just Saying for those who'll like to read this Journey of Amelia😔
‎"

03/03/2026

"There is this Måd Woman that usually roam around in the Market, and anytime she sees me, she screams “This is the Woman who stole my Beauty, Please return it back!!”
My name is Amelia, I’m newly married to my husband. To be honest, he’s my dream husband, his family are so nice, and he’s also established.
So I went to the Market one fateful day to buy what I’ll cook for my husband and I. As I entered the market, I started asking for the price of the foodstuffs.
Suddenly, a woman with bottles, on rags, and bushy tattered hairs came to where I was, and screamed:
“Yes!, this is the Woman who stole my beauty, please return my face back to me!!”
I looked at her so shocked and my heart racing. “How does someone steal a person’s beauty?” I asked myself.
The market women and the crowd just told me to ignore her that she’s insane, and that she doesn’t know what she’s saying at all; they also apologized.
“Don't mind her, my daughter,” one woman selling tomatoes said. “She has been like this for three years. She picks a beautiful face and starts shouting. Just buy your things and go.”
I had to do fast, and leave the busy market, heading to my car, but the Mad Woman was still running towards my direction.
“Return my face!! Return my beauty…”
I quickly start up the car and left.
As I got home, I was still having PTSD of what happened at the market. I kept looking at myself in the mirror. I am beautiful, yes, but I have always been this way.
When my husband, David, came back from work, I was still quiet.
""Honey, what is wrong?"" he asked, dropping his bag. ""You look like you saw a ghost.""
""David, something strange happened today,"" I said. I narrated everything to him.
He laughed loudly. “You see a Mad Woman saying such, and you’re still bothered? Her brain is not intact, Amelia. Why are you letting a crāzy person ruin your mood?”
""But David, the way she looked at me... it was as if she really knew me. She was crying.""
""Amelia, stop it,"" David said, pulling me close. ""You are just too soft-hearted. Forget about her. Is food ready? I'm starving.""
I just sighed, cooked, and we ate. But to be honest, the thought was still on my head.
Later that night, while David was sleeping, I sat on the edge of the bed. I couldn't stop thinking.
I have never met her before, so how did I steal her beauty? I moved to this city only six months ago after our wedding. I don't know anyone here.
As I looked at my husband sleeping peacefully, I felt a small shiver. I remembered the woman's eyes. They weren't just ""mad"" eyes. They were eyes full of pain and recognition.
I decided that tomorrow, I would go back. Not to buy food, but to find out who that woman was before she lost her mind.
Who Exactly is this Màd Woman?
What does it mean that “I stole her beauty?”
My Love, as we start this New Story, let’s Iike the Story, please, please 🙏😔😭😭😭, I don’t coIIect anything from anyone, it’s just the Éngagement and Iikes that éncourages me, to be honest, it won’t take anything from is to just place our hand and Iike this Amazing Novel. 🙏😔
Deariest, You know what to do right?, I'm Talking about those that are just meeting this page for first time!, you can CIíck on the F0LLOW button that you're seeing, So that Facebook Will notify You immediately I drop the Next one, I'm just Saying for those who'll like to read this Journey of Amelia 😔"

03/03/2026

"""If I knew that the man I called 'My Crown' was using my glory to buy Benz and build mansions in the village, I would have remained single and drank garri in my father's house until Jesus comes.""

I am writing this with t3ars in my eyes. My hands are shaking so much I can barely hold my phone. Please, my fellow women, shine your eyes. Not everything that glitters is gold. Some gold is dipped in the bl00d of innocent wives.

My name is Chidinma. I have been married to Obinna for seven years.

When I met Obinna, he was a nobody. He was managing a small patent medicine store in a container. He had nothing. No car, no house, not even a good shoe to wear to church.

But I loved him. I saw his potential. I was a nurse then. I used my salary to feed him. I paid our rent for three years. I even sold the small land my late father left for me just to help him start an importation business.

""Chim, you are my luck. I will treat you like a Queen when I blow,"" he would promise me, holding my hands with tears in his eyes.

I believed him. I was a f00l for love.

Two years ago, Obinna finally ""blew."" Business started booming. Containers were landing. Money was flowing like water. He bought a Venza. Then a Lexus. Then he built a duplex in Lekki.

I was happy. ""God has finally answered our prayers,"" I told my mother. But I didn't know it was the devil answering him, not God.

As the money increased, my own life started going down. First, I lost my job at the hospital for no reason. Then, I started having terrible nightmares. Every night, I would see a masquerade chasing me with a machete.

Then came the sickness. I started drying up. I went from a Size 12 to a Size 6 in three months. I did every test in the world. Malaria, Typhoid, HIV, Cancer. Everything came back negative.

Doctors were confused. ""Madam, medically, you are fine,"" they said.

But I was dying. I could feel life leaving my body.

Meanwhile, Obinna was glowing. His skin was fresh. He was getting richer every day.

But he had one rule.

""Chidinma, never enter my private study. That is where I pray and do business calls. If you enter there, you will spoil my grace.""

I obeyed him. I was a submissive wife.

Until yesterday.

Obinna traveled to Dubai for ""business."" He was in a rush, so he forgot something very important. He forgot the key to his ""private study"" on the dining table.

I was cleaning the house when I saw the key. Something in my spirit said, ""Chidinma, go and open that door. Go and see why you are dying.""

I was scared. But curiosity is a strong spirit.

I took the key. I walked to the door. My heart was beating gbim gbim gbim. I turned the key. The door creaked open.

Brothers and sisters, what I saw inside that room made me scream ""Jesus!"" without opening my mouth.

The room was painted entirely in red. There was no furniture. No computer. No files.

In the center of the room, there was a large, clay pot calabash. Inside the pot, there was a large mirror. And tied to the mirror was my wedding blouse. The same blouse I wore for our traditional marriage. It was soaked in oil.

But that was not the worst part.

Next to the pot was a small, wooden doll. The doll had a wire tied around its neck. And on the doll's forehead, he had written my name. CHIDINMA.

There was a small candle burning in front of it. As the candle burned, the doll was melting slowly.

My knees knocked together. I fell to the floor.

So this was it?

He was burning my life to fuel his wealth?

Every time the candle burned, my health went down. If that candle had finished burning, I would have dropped d3ad.

I wanted to run out. I wanted to scream.

But as I tried to stand up, I heard a sound from the corner of the room. It sounded like a heavy breathing.

I turned my flashlight to the corner.

And I saw it.

A giant python was coiled in the corner, sleeping on a pile of money. Naira. Dollars. Pounds.

I covered my mouth to stop the scream.

The snake opened its eyes. They were human eyes.

It looked at me. It didn't strike. It just hissed.

I turned to run, but I was too weak.

Just then, my phone rang in my pocket.

It was Obinna.

I froze.

How did he know I was in the room?

I picked the call with trembling hands.

""Hello?"" I whispered.

""Chidinma,"" his voice was cold. Colder than ice. ""Why did you enter the room?""

""Obinna... I...""

""I told you not to enter,"" he said calmly. ""Now you have seen it. You have broken the covenant. Do you know what the snake eats for dinner when the covenant is broken?""

The call cut.

And the snake in the corner started uncoiling itself.

I am currently locked in the guest bathroom. The snake is outside the door. I can hear it slithering against the wood. I have called the police, but they are stuck in traffic.

My battery is at 4%.

If you are reading this, please pray for my soul.

And if I don't make it, tell my mother that the money she was enjoying was the price of her daughter's life.

YOU WILL NEVER BELIEVE WHAT HAPPENED WHEN THE POLICE FINALLY BROKE THE DOOR DOWN?"

03/02/2026

My Wife Always Covers the Bedroom Mirror With a White Sheet Before We Sleep

It started the very first night in our new house.
I watched my wife drape a white sheet over the tall mirror in the corner.

I chuckled.
“Superstitious?” I asked.

She didn’t laugh.
She just tucked the corners in tight.

“I just don’t like the reflection,” she said softly. “It distracts me.”

I thought nothing of it.
We all have our quirks.
I was just happy to be starting our life together.

But the next night, she did it again.
And the night after that.

It became a ritual.
Brush teeth.
Turn off the lamp.
Cover the mirror.

If I ever tried to touch the sheet, she would stop me immediately.
Her grip was always a little too strong.
A little too desperate.

One evening, I decided to push a little.
“Honey, it’s just a mirror. Why are you so afraid of it?”

She froze.
She turned to me, and for a second, she looked terrified.

“I’m not afraid,” she snapped.
“Do we have to talk about this every night? Can’t you just respect my privacy?”

She looked so fragile.
So I dropped it.
I didn't want to fight over something so small.

Weeks went by.
I got used to the white sheet standing in the corner like a ghost.

Until last night.

I woke up around 3 AM. Thirsty.
I sat up and rubbed my eyes.

That’s when I noticed.
The sheet was gone.
The mirror was completely exposed.

And my wife was sitting in front of it.

She was staring into the glass.
Perfectly still.
Not moving a muscle.

“Honey?” I whispered. “What are you doing?”

She didn’t answer.
She didn't blink.

I climbed out of bed and walked toward her.
I reached out to touch her shoulder.

“Babe, come back to bed,” I said gently.

Then I looked into the mirror.

My blood ran cold.

I could see the room in the reflection.
I could see the bed behind us.
I could see myself standing there.

But in the mirror...
The chair she was sitting on was empty.

03/02/2026

"I POISONED MY BEST FRIEND BECAUSE I THOUGHT SHE WAS SNATCHING MY HUSBAND, ONLY TO DISCOVER SHE WAS THE ONE KEEPING HIM ALIVE.

I am writing this from a police cell in Panti. My lawyers are saying I should plead insanity. But I am not mad. I am just a jealous woman who made a terrible mistake.

My name is Mrs. Coker. I have been married to Dayo for five years.

Dayo was the perfect husband. He was handsome, rich, and worked as a ""Consultant"" for big politicians in Abuja.

But there was a problem. Her name was T**i.

T**i was my best friend since secondary school. We did everything together. She was the one who even introduced me to Dayo.

But recently, T**i became too close to my husband. She would come to our house in Banana Island at odd hours. 11 PM. 12 AM.

""I just came to drop some documents for Dayo,"" she would say, avoiding my eyes.

She stopped hugging me. She stopped eating my food. She only had eyes for Dayo.

I checked Dayo’s phone one night while he was in the shower. I saw a text from T**i.

""Baby, I am coming tonight. I know you are hungry. I will give you what you need to survive.""

I almost smashed the phone on the wall.

""To survive?"" So I was starving him in the bedroom? Is that it?

I decided that night that T**i had to go.

Last Sunday was T**i’s birthday. I offered to host a private dinner for the three of us. I cooked her favorite Egusi soup.

But inside T**i’s bowl, I added a full bottle of a potent rat poison I bought from the market.

""Happy Birthday, my darling friend,"" I said, smiling as I set the bowl before her.

Dayo was sitting opposite her. He looked pale. He had been looking sick for weeks, and I thought it was stress.

T**i ate the food. She ate everything.

Five minutes later, she grabbed her throat.

""Tolu..."" she choked, looking at me with red eyes. ""What... what did you do?""

I laughed. ""You think I don't know? You think I don't know you are sleeping with my husband?""

T**i didn't look at me. She looked at Dayo.

""I'm sorry..."" she whispered to him. ""I couldn't... sustain... it.""

Then she slumped. Dead.

I felt a rush of victory. The side chick was gone. Now I could have my husband to myself.

I turned to Dayo. ""Baby, it's over. She can't trouble us again.""

But Dayo was not smiling.

Dayo was shaking.

""You fool,"" Dayo whispered. His voice sounded like dry leaves. ""You fool.""

""Dayo?"" I moved closer.

And then, it happened.

As T**i’s body went cold, Dayo started to shrivel. Literally shrivel.

His smooth skin turned grey and wrinkled like a raisin. His hair fell off in clumps. His eyes sank into his skull.

""T**i was... my... life force,"" he gasped.

The smell of rotting meat filled the dining room.

""I died... five years ago... in the car crash..."" he wheezed. ""T**i... she is a powerful priestess... she used her spirit... to keep my body fresh... so I could marry you... because she loved you... and you wanted to be married...""

I screamed.

My handsome husband was turning into a skeleton right in front of me.

""She... fed me... energy... every night,"" he croaked. ""Now... the source is gone.""

His jaw fell off. His arm detached and fell onto the dinner plate.

My husband crumbled into a pile of dust and dry bones on the expensive Italian chair.

I stood there, looking at the dead body of my best friend and the pile of bones that used to be my husband.

The police met me screaming. They think I used acid to melt him. They don't believe he turned to dust.

I killed the only person who loved me enough to raise the dead for me.

Now I have lost everything.

Be careful with jealousy.

Sometimes, the person you think is snatching your happiness is the one holding it together with supernatural glue.

I am a widow to a ghost.

Drop a comment if you believe in the supernatural? 😭"

03/01/2026

I OPENED THE "PRAYER ROOM" MY PASTOR HUSBAND FORBADE ME FROM ENTERING. I DIDN'T FIND A BIBLE. I FOUND 6 MANNEQUINS WEARING THE WEDDING GOWNS OF HIS DEAD EX-WIVES... AND A 7TH MANNEQUIN WEARING MINE.

I am typing this with tears in my eyes from the back of a Danfo bus heading to Onitsha. I left my G-Wagon, my gold jewelry, and my iPhone 15 Pro Max behind. I prefer to be a poor woman in the village than a rich co**se in Lagos.

My name is Sister Grace. I am the wife of Pastor Ezekiel, the General Overseer of "Fire of Miracles Ministry" in Lekki. If you live in Lagos, you must know my husband. He is the man of the moment. He is tall, fair, and speaks with a British accent. When he holds a microphone, the ground shakes.

People call us the "Power Couple." Every Sunday, I wear the biggest hats and the most expensive lace. I sit in the front row, shouting "Ride on, Papa!" while he prophesies. We have been married for just six months.

Before he married me, Pastor Ezekiel told me he was a widower. He said he had been unlucky with love. He told me he lost six wives to "mysterious illnesses" over the last 15 years. "The enemy is fighting my ministry," he told me with tears in his eyes. "They attack the women I love to get to me."

I felt sorry for him. I told him, "Daddy, I am here to stay. My head is strong. No devil can kill me." I didn't know I was digging my own grave.

There is a room in our mansion that is always locked. It has a heavy iron door. Pastor Ezekiel calls it the "War Room." "Grace," he warned me on our wedding night. "That is where I battle with principalities for the sake of this church. You must NEVER enter that room. The anointing there is too heavy for a woman. If you enter, you will go mad."

I obeyed. I was a good wife. But last week, my curiosity got the better of me.

Pastor Ezekiel traveled to London for a crusade. He was in a rush, and for the first time in history, he forgot his keys on the dining table. I saw the bunch of keys. I saw the rusted iron key that opens the War Room. My heart started beating fast.

"Just one peek," I told myself. "I just want to see where he prays." I took the key. I walked to the end of the hallway. My hands were shaking as I turned the key in the lock.

Click.

The door creaked open. I expected to see Bibles, anointing oil, maybe a prayer mat. Brothers and sisters, the room was freezing cold. It smelled like a mortuary. There were no windows. The only light came from red candles burning in the corners.

And in the middle of the room, standing in a circle, were six plastic mannequins. I walked closer, trembling. Each mannequin was wearing a white wedding gown.

I looked at the first one. Pinned to the chest was a photo of a beautiful woman and a date: "Sarah: 2010 - 2012." I moved to the next one. "Bola: 2012 - 2014." I moved to the third. "Nneka: 2014 - 2016."

I covered my mouth to stop a scream. These were his dead wives.

But why were there red threads tied around the necks of the mannequins? And why was there a calabash of fresh blood at the feet of each one? He wasn't losing them to the devil. He was USING them.

Every two years. A new wife. A new sacrifice. A new level of power.

I looked at the dates. Every time a wife died, his church moved to a bigger location. Sarah died; he bought the land. Bola died; he built the auditorium. Nneka died; he started the TV station.

My knees went weak. I turned to run out of the room. But then I saw it.

In the center of the circle, there was a 7th Mannequin. It was empty. But it was wearing MY wedding gown. The exact gown I wore six months ago.

And pinned to the chest was a photo of me.

The date written under my name froze my blood. "Grace: 2024 - Feb 14th, 2026."

February 14th? Valentine's Day? That is in three days. He told me he was coming back from London on Valentine's Day to give me a "Special Surprise."

I didn't scream. The fear was too big for screaming.

I realized why he married me. I realized why he feeds me so well. I am not a wife. I am a fattened cow waiting for the slaughter.

I ran out of that room. I locked the door. I placed the keys back on the table. I didn't pack any bag. I didn't take any car. If I took the car, the tracker would show him where I am.

I took only the cash in my purse and ran to the motor park.

My phone has been ringing non-stop. It is him. He sent me a text message just now:

"My love, I feel a disturbance in the spirit. Did you enter the room? Remember, obedience is better than sacrifice."

I threw the sim card away.

I am going to my village to hide, but I know he has eyes everywhere.

Please, if you attend Fire of Miracles Ministry, stop going there! You are clapping for a man who stands on the blood of women to preach.

I am Number 7. But I refuse to die on Valentine's Day.

Be careful who you call "Daddy." Some Pastors are herbalists in suits.

Drop a comment if I should expose his real name! 😭

Lucky Dog

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