I Wanted to Be Rich, but I Sold My Soul to the Devil
I can’t believe I’m actually writing this. I never thought I would be the type of person to even consider such dark things. But now, here I am, years after making the worst decision of my life, and I’m trapped in a nightmare that I can’t wake up from. I should’ve known better. I should’ve stopped before it was too late, but I didn’t.
Let me take you back to the beginning. It started out of desperation. I had always been poor—well, not poor, but struggling. I couldn’t keep up with the bills, couldn’t afford to do the things I wanted, and I was living paycheck to paycheck. There were months where I’d skip meals to make sure my rent was paid, and I was tired of it. Tired of living in a run-down apartment, tired of being looked down on, tired of feeling like I would never amount to anything.
That’s when I first heard about the ritual. I was browsing online forums late one night, my mind racing with thoughts of how to change my situation. That’s when I saw the post. It looked like a joke at first. The title read: “How to Get Rich in 30 Days – A Pact with the Devil.” At first, I rolled my eyes. Who in their right mind would make a pact with the devil for wealth? But curiosity got the best of me. I clicked on the post.
The writer described the ritual in such a matter-of-fact way, like it was just another everyday thing. They talked about how they had followed the steps and, within a month, they’d received a large sum of money. More than they ever imagined. The more I read, the more intrigued I became. The instructions seemed simple enough—light a few candles, say the right words, and wait for the devil to appear. That was it. No catch. At least, that’s what I thought.
The thing is, I had never really believed in the devil. Sure, I’d heard stories, but I thought they were just myths, things people told to scare kids. But something about the way the post was written—something about the promises of instant wealth and power—pulled me in. I was desperate. I would’ve done anything at that point to escape the life I was living.
So, I made the decision. I gathered the items I needed—candles, matches, a mirror, and a few drops of my blood. I thought it was ridiculous at the time, but the post said it was necessary. In my mind, the need for wealth had clouded all of my judgment.
The night I performed the ritual was the strangest night of my life. I sat in the middle of my living room, surrounded by candles, the only light coming from their flickering flames. I had the mirror in front of me, reflecting my anxious face. I took a deep breath and whispered the words from the post, words that seemed to make the air grow thick and heavy around me. My heart raced as I waited for something to happen.
Then it did.
The temperature in the room dropped dramatically, and I felt a coldness seep into my bones. The mirror in front of me began to warp, the reflection of my face twisting and distorting. A shadow appeared in the glass, and I froze. It was a figure—a man, tall and thin, dressed in a dark suit, his face hidden in the shadows. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. But I could feel him watching me, waiting for me to make the first move.
“Are you ready to make the deal?” his voice came, not from his mouth, but directly into my mind. It was calm, almost soothing, yet it sent a shiver down my spine. I didn’t know what to say. I was terrified, but a part of me—maybe the part that was too tired of being poor—felt a strange pull to accept.
“Yes,” I whispered, not fully understanding what I was agreeing to.
The figure in the mirror smiled, and for the first time, I could see his eyes—red, glowing with a malice that made my stomach churn. “The price is your soul. A simple exchange: power and wealth for your essence.”
I hesitated. My heart pounded in my chest. It didn’t feel real. How could it? This was madness. But in the depths of my desperation, I said yes.
The moment I did, the air around me crackled. I felt a searing pain in my chest, as though something inside me was being ripped apart. I gasped for air, but it was like I couldn’t breathe. I could feel the essence of who I was being stripped away, piece by piece. But in that instant, a sense of power flooded through me, more than I had ever felt in my life. I knew I had made a terrible mistake, but I also knew that this power was mine.
The figure in the mirror laughed, a sound that seemed to echo through my mind, and then he was gone.
The next few weeks were a blur. Things started happening fast. People I hadn’t heard from in years suddenly contacted me. Job opportunities came out of nowhere, and money—loads of it—started pouring in. I couldn’t believe it. It felt like I had the world at my fingertips. I was making more money than I had ever dreamed of, and everything I touched seemed to turn to gold.
But as the wealth increased, something else started to change. I felt distant from everything. I couldn’t connect with people the way I used to. My family—my friends—they seemed like strangers to me. I started to push them away. I no longer cared about their feelings. I was consumed with my own desires, my own success. I had become someone I didn’t recognize, someone I hated.
And then the nightmares started.
I’d wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, feeling the presence of something dark and oppressive in my room. Sometimes, I’d hear whispers—soft, faint whispers—calling my name. Other times, I’d see shadows moving in the corners of my vision, always lurking, always waiting.
The figure from the mirror—the one who had promised me wealth—started appearing in my dreams. He would stand at the foot of my bed, his glowing eyes staring at me, reminding me of the price I had paid. His smile would widen, and I could feel my soul slipping further away with each passing day.
I tried to ignore it, tried to tell myself that everything was fine. But deep down, I knew that I had made a deal with something evil. The wealth, the power—it wasn’t worth it. It was never worth it.
Now, I can’t escape it. The darkness follows me wherever I go. I’ve lost my humanity, my connections, and most of all, my peace. Every day feels like a battle, a struggle to hold on to whatever little piece of myself that’s left.
If you’re reading this, please, don’t do what I did. Don’t make the same mistake I made. No amount of wealth is worth losing your soul. There’s no amount of money that can bring you peace once you’ve made a deal like this.
It’s too late for me, but maybe it’s not too late for you.
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