A Neighbor’s Tragic End: A Story of Guilt and Haunting
I never thought I would share this, but the weight of my actions has grown unbearable. My name doesn’t matter. What matters is the truth—the dark, painful truth about how I destroyed an innocent life.
I was a terrible neighbor. Some might call me jealous, petty, or evil, but the truth is I lived off witchcraft and was willing to do anything to ensure no one outshone me. I didn’t start out like this, but life has a way of twisting you when you feel small, unseen, and left behind.
My neighbor, Nthabiseng (I’ll use this name for her), was everything I wasn’t. She was cheerful, hardworking, and respected. People loved her, trusted her, and often sang her praises. Meanwhile, my life felt like a hollow shell. I hated her for shining so brightly while my world was dark and cold. I let envy take root in my heart, and it wasn’t long before I acted on it.
Tokoloshis in the Yard
I didn’t know much about witchcraft when I started, but I found someone who did—an old healer in the next village. I told her I wanted power, that I needed to make my enemies weak and my life stronger. She gave me the tools to summon tokoloshis—small, dangerous creatures said to do the bidding of their master.
I placed these creatures in Nthabiseng’s yard, hidden inside her pit toilet. During the day, they would lie dormant, but at night, they came alive to do my bidding. Their purpose was simple: to ruin her. They would bring her bad luck, sickness, and fear. But there was one thing I didn’t anticipate—they terrified people who visited her home at night.
It started with the young men coming back from the grooves (night parties). They would pass through her yard and see strange shadows moving in the dark. Some claimed to hear whispers, others swore they saw small, menacing figures darting between the trees. Word spread quickly, and soon people began to whisper about Nthabiseng being a witch.
She didn’t know what was happening. She was clueless that my tokoloshis lived in her pit toilet, returning there every night after completing their tasks. She never suspected me because I kept my distance, pretending to be an ordinary, quiet neighbor.
As weeks turned into months, the rumors about Nthabiseng grew wilder. They said her success came from black magic, that she was the reason for the strange occurrences in the neighborhood—missing chickens, sudden illnesses, and eerie noises at night. She was called a witch, though she had done nothing wrong.
I stayed silent, never revealing the truth. A part of me felt guilty, but another part enjoyed seeing her life fall apart. The respect people once had for her turned into suspicion and fear. She tried to defend herself, but the more she protested, the more people doubted her.
The tokoloshis kept doing their work, causing chaos in her life. But it wasn’t enough for me. I wanted her completely destroyed. My envy had turned into a hunger for revenge, though I couldn’t even say what I was revenging. I just wanted her to suffer.
The day the mob came for Nthabiseng is a day I’ll never forget. By then, the whispers had become loud accusations. People blamed her for everything wrong in their lives. They said she was the source of evil in the community, that she needed to be stopped.
A group of neighbors, angry and desperate, decided to confront her. They dragged her from her home, accusing her of witchcraft. She was confused, crying, and begging for her life, but no one listened. The more she denied the accusations, the angrier they became.
Someone suggested burning her alive. I was there, standing in the crowd, watching as they tied her up and set her on fire. Her screams still echo in my mind. She begged for mercy, pleaded for someone to believe her, but no one did.
I stayed silent. I didn’t step forward to save her. I didn’t confess the truth. I let her die for my sins.
It’s been years since that day, but Nthabiseng’s spirit won’t leave me alone. I feel her presence everywhere. At night, I hear her voice whispering my name. Sometimes, I see her face in the shadows, her eyes filled with pain and anger.
I tried to return to the old healer for help, but she told me there was nothing she could do. She said I had to live with the consequences of my actions.
And live with them, I do. Every day, I am reminded of what I did. I destroyed an innocent life out of jealousy and pettiness. I fed into the worst parts of myself, and now I am haunted by the ghost of the woman who suffered for my sins.
A Confession and a Warning
Why am I sharing this story now? Maybe it’s a desperate attempt to ease my guilt. Maybe it’s because I can’t take the haunting anymore. But I also hope it serves as a warning.
Envy is a dangerous thing. It can twist you into someone you don’t recognize, someone capable of terrible acts. And witchcraft, no matter how powerful it seems, comes with a heavy price.
Nthabiseng didn’t deserve what happened to her. She was innocent, a victim of my jealousy and the community’s fear. Her death was a tragedy, one that could have been prevented if I had spoken the truth.
I don’t expect forgiveness. I don’t even expect understanding. I just needed to confess, to let the world know what really happened. Maybe, somehow, this will bring Nthabiseng’s spirit some peace.
As for me, I will carry this guilt for the rest of my life.
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