The Secrets of the Pit Toilet
My big brother has a money snake that he has been hiding in a pit toilet for over 4 years now. The toilet has claimed four of our family members in four consecutive years.
There are moments in life that change everything. For me, it was the day my brother built that pit toilet. At first, it seemed like nothing out of the ordinary—a simple structure at a distance from our house, tucked away behind bushes. My brother had built it himself and warned everyone not to use it without his permission. We thought it was strange, but we didn’t question him. He was always a bit secretive and stubborn.
What started as a harmless project turned into the darkest chapter of our family’s story. I’m writing this now, anonymously, because the weight of what I’ve seen and experienced is too heavy to carry alone.
The pit toilet was built four years ago. It wasn’t far from our house, but it stood isolated, with a narrow dirt path leading straight to its door. The path wasn’t made by us—it formed naturally, as if something had been walking back and forth, back and forth. None of us had used the toilet, yet this path appeared, eerie and unnatural.
Almost immediately after the toilet was completed, strange things began happening in our home. We started having nightmares—violent, vivid ones that made sleep unbearable. My mother, the heart of our family, fell ill a month after the toilet was built. It was sudden and strange; the doctors couldn’t explain it. She passed away shortly after, and my brother—who had been unemployed for years—suddenly became wealthy.
People whispered that he must have received an insurance payout or found some hidden inheritance. But I knew the truth. My brother had no policy, no savings, and no job. His newfound wealth didn’t make sense, and the timing was too coincidental.
Year after year, tragedy struck our family. Each time, it happened in the same month and on the same date. My father died the year after my mother. Then my grandmother. Then one of my uncles. Each death was as sudden and unexplainable as the last.
By this point, I couldn’t ignore the connection. My gut told me it all had to do with that pit toilet. It wasn’t just the deaths—it was the way the house felt after it was built. There was a heaviness in the air, a sense of being watched. The nightmares continued, and they felt more real each time.
I noticed something else, too. My brother never allowed anyone near the toilet. He was protective of it in a way that didn’t make sense. He would get angry if anyone even mentioned it.
Curiosity got the better of me one day. My brother had gone to town with his wife, and I decided to sneak to the toilet to see what he was hiding. My heart was pounding as I walked down the narrow path. The closer I got, the colder the air felt, even though it was a hot day.
When I opened the door, I was met with a horrifying sight. The inside was covered in cobwebs, thick and clinging to every surface. In the middle of the pit, I saw a snake—unlike any snake I had ever seen. It was beautiful, with shining scales and colorful beads around its neck. The moment it noticed me, it hissed and disappeared into the pit hole.
I wanted to run, but something made me stay. That’s when I saw them—the belongings of my late family members. My mother’s favorite dress was hanging from the roof. My father’s old hat was there, too, along with photos of everyone who had passed away. I felt like I couldn’t breathe.
It was as if the toilet wasn’t just a toilet. It was a shrine, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that it had something to do with their deaths.
After that day, the nightmares got worse. In my dreams, I saw my late family members. They were trapped in the pit, screaming for help. They reached out to me, their faces filled with pain and fear. I woke up sweating, gasping for air.
I wanted to confront my brother, but I couldn’t. I was too scared. What would I even say? What would he do to me if he knew I had seen the toilet?
Instead, I started keeping my distance. I avoided him as much as possible, but the fear never left me. I felt like I was being watched, like something was waiting for me.
I’ve come to believe that I’m next. Every year, someone in the family dies, and now there are so few of us left. I don’t know how to stop it. I don’t know how to break whatever curse or deal my brother made.
I can’t look at him the same way anymore. His wealth, his confidence—it all feels wrong. He doesn’t seem like the brother I grew up with. There’s something cold and distant about him now, like he’s no longer the person he used to be.
I don’t know what to do. Writing this is my way of letting out the pain, the fear, and the guilt. I feel guilty for not doing something sooner, for not protecting my family. But I also feel helpless.
If you’re reading this, I hope you believe me. I hope you understand that this isn’t just a story—it’s my reality. And if you’ve ever experienced something similar, I hope you’ll share it. Maybe together, we can find a way to stop this.
But for now, I’m living with the fear that my time is running out. And every time I pass that toilet, I feel it pulling me closer, like it’s waiting for me.
Let this be a warning. Sometimes, the things we don’t understand are the most dangerous. And sometimes, the people we trust the most are the ones hiding the darkest secrets.
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