The Secrets of the Night: A Confessor’s Tale of the Soul’s Journey
Every night, the world sleeps, but not all of us truly rest. I’ve come to realize that the human body is not the only part of us that works—our souls have their own tasks. These aren't acts of kindness or healing. Instead, they are dark practices, mysterious missions that pull my soul into the unknown.
Let me tell you my story, though I’ll keep my name hidden. I live a life that many would call strange or terrifying. When the sun sets, my body lies down to sleep, but my soul has a different plan. It slips out, leaving my physical form behind. I’ve watched this happen countless times, almost as if I were an observer to my own existence. My soul moves with purpose, drawn to forces I cannot resist.
At first, I thought it was a dream. I would wake up exhausted, with unexplained scratches and bruises. But over time, the truth became clear. My soul was working in ways my body could not. It wasn’t the kind of work you could explain to someone. This was something darker, something I could barely understand myself.
The process of leaving and returning is not easy. It’s a violent separation, a struggle that leaves my body drained. Imagine being pulled apart and then stitched back together, night after night. That’s what it feels like. By morning, I am often too tired to move, the marks on my skin a reminder of the journeys I cannot fully remember.
One night, something happened that I will never forget. My soul was sent to a house with a purpose: to cast a curse. The target was a family living in a small yard. My mission was to bring them bad luck and slow their progress, to tie their lives in knots they could not untangle.
But they were prepared. These people had used pig fat to protect their home. I didn’t know why it worked, but it did. The moment my soul entered their yard, I began to suffocate. It felt as though I was being pressed down by an invisible force. I tried to retreat, but it was too late.
They caught me. Not my physical body, but my soul. I was trapped, wandering aimlessly in their yard, unable to escape. When your soul is caught, your body cannot hide for long. The two are connected, and sooner or later, the body follows. That’s how they found me, trembling and powerless in a place I didn’t recognize.
The experience was terrifying. I had always thought that the soul was untouchable, that it could slip through the cracks of the world unnoticed. But now I knew better. There are defenses, ancient methods that can trap even the most elusive spirits.
Since that night, I’ve been more cautious. The marks on my body, the fatigue in my bones—they are reminders of the dangers I face. But the pull of the dark forces is strong. Even though I know the risks, I cannot stop. My soul is not entirely my own, and each night, it is called to serve a purpose I cannot refuse.
For those who wonder why they wake up tired, with scratches they can’t explain, know this: the night is not just for rest. The soul has its own journey, and sometimes, that journey is not one of peace. Be careful what you allow into your life, for the unseen world is closer than you think.
And if you ever find yourself in a place where pig fat is smeared on the walls, know that someone has prepared for battles you cannot see. As for me, I continue my nightly journeys, hoping that one day I’ll understand why this is my fate. Until then, I live in the shadows, my story a secret whispered only to those who are willing to listen.
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