How I Got a Magical Snake That Spits Cash (A Confession from an Indian Shop Owner’s Wife)**
I never imagined my life would turn into this. When I married my husband, he was just a struggling shop owner, trying to make ends meet. Business was slow, and he often spoke about closing down. I watched him stress about money, counting coins, hoping for better days.
Then, one day, everything changed.
**Suddenly, the shop was full.** People came in every day, buying without hesitation. Shelves that once gathered dust were now stocked with the best products. My husband started making money—**a lot of money.** He bought a car, then another one. We moved into a bigger house. At first, I was happy. I thought his hard work was finally paying off.
But deep inside, something felt wrong.
It started small. I noticed how, once a year, my husband would get unusually nervous. He would sit in silence, lost in thought. Then, one evening, I overheard a phone call. He said, **“It’s time again. I need to prepare.”**
Prepare for what?
I paid more attention. That’s when I noticed he would **set aside certain snacks in the shop—biscuits, sweets, chips.** They were always placed on the lower shelves, where little hands could easily grab them. He always encouraged children to take them.
Then, the worst started happening.
Every year, after these “special” snacks were sold, news spread in the neighborhood—**a child had died.** The parents always said the same thing: the child ate something and fell sick. Sometimes, they blamed food poisoning. Other times, they never found an explanation.
**I knew then that my husband had blood on his hands.**
When I confronted him, he didn’t even deny it. **His eyes were cold, empty.** He told me everything.
Years ago, when his shop was failing, he traveled to Durban. There, he met a man who introduced him to **a money snake.** He said the snake would make him rich, but there was a price—**blood.** The snake needed a sacrifice once a year. **And not just anyone… but children.**
At first, he refused. But when his shop got worse, when he saw other shop owners secretly growing rich, he gave in. He brought the snake home, kept it in a locked room, and followed the rules. **Every year, he poisoned a few snacks, let children take them, and waited.**
And the snake kept its promise. **More money. More customers. More power.**
I wanted to run. I wanted to expose him. But **then he took something from me that I can never forgive.**
### **He Took My Own Child**
I had a daughter from my first marriage. A beautiful, happy girl. She was my whole world.
One day, she went to the shop without telling me. She bought biscuits. **She never came home.**
I remember the moment I saw her picture in the newspaper. My heart stopped. I ran to my husband, screaming, crying, begging him to tell me it wasn’t true. **But he just looked at me and said, “Now you understand. There’s no turning back.”**
I lost my mind that day. I tried to leave, but he controlled everything—our home, my bank account, my life. I was trapped in a house built on blood money. And the worst part? **He felt no guilt.**
For years, I stayed silent, but I can’t anymore. I see how mothers cry over their lost children, not knowing the truth. I see how people trust men like my husband, thinking they are just hardworking business owners. **But some of them are not. Some of them feed snakes in the dark, and they use you, your children, your families, to keep their riches.**
If you ever lost a child after eating from a shop like his, ask yourself—was it really just bad luck? Or was there something more?
I was silent for too long. **Now, I refuse to be silent anymore.**
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