African folktales by King

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2 months ago | [YT] | 1

African folktales by King

EPISODE 2 – THE HOUSE OF SECRETS

Miracle froze at the doorway.

Her small hands trembled as the doctor pulled on a pair of old rubber gloves. The room felt colder now… like the walls themselves knew something terrible was about to happen.

“Come,” he repeated, his voice deep, almost hungry.

Miracle stepped back.
“No… sir… please, I want to go home…”

The doctor smirked.
“There is no home for you after today.”

He reached for her, but suddenly—

FOOTSTEPS.

Someone was climbing the stairs.

The doctor’s eyes widened.
“Who is that?”

Before he could react, the door creaked open… and a tall man dressed in black entered the room. His face was half-covered by a mask.

“Felix,” the man said quietly, “we don’t have much time. Bring the girl. The buyers are already waiting.”

Miracle’s heart almost stopped.

Buyers?
Who are buyers?
Mama once told her only people buy goods… and sometimes humans.

The doctor nodded quickly and moved toward her.

Miracle panicked and ran to the corner.

“Please! I don’t want to die! Please!”

The masked man sighed impatiently.
“Just make her quiet. We need to move.”

As the doctor reached for her again, a loud sound echoed from outside—

BANG!

Then another.

The men froze.

“What was that?” Felix whispered.

The masked man peered out the dusty window. His voice turned sharp.

“Police? No. It’s that woman… the girl’s mother.”

Downstairs, Grace was screaming her daughter’s name, her voice shaking the whole building.

“MIRACLE!! MIRACLE, WHERE ARE YOU?!”

She had followed her instincts, taken a bike, and rushed to the last place someone said they saw Solomon’s car turn.

The doctor hissed.
“She must not reach here! If she finds the girl, everything is finished!”

“Then stop her,” the masked man growled.

But before they took a step, Miracle did something none of them expected.

She ran.

Not out of the room—no.

She ran deeper into the building, through a narrow hallway lined with broken walls and scattered debris, her little feet slapping the dusty floor as tears blurred her eyes.

“STOP THAT GIRL!” Felix shouted.

Their footsteps thundered behind her, but Miracle didn’t stop. She didn’t think. She only ran.

“Miracle!”
Her mother’s voice echoed somewhere in the building.

“Mummy!!” Miracle cried, her voice shaking.

She followed the faint sound of her mother’s call, even when her legs burned, even when her breath became sharp and painful.

Behind her, the doctor shouted angrily:
“If she escapes, Solomon will finish us!”

But Miracle didn’t hear him anymore.

She only heard one thing—

Her mother calling her name.

She darted into a narrow room at the end of the hallway and hid behind a toppled cabinet, hands over her mouth.

Downstairs, Grace entered the building, tears streaming down her face.

“MIRACLE PLEASE ANSWER ME!”

Silence.

Then—

A soft, trembling whisper came back.

“Mummy… I’m here…”

Grace gasped and ran toward the voice.

But just as she reached the hallway where Miracle hid…

A shadow stepped between them.

The masked man.

“Going somewhere?” he said quietly, blocking her path.

Grace froze.

Her heart dropped.

Her daughter screamed.

And the nightmare was just beginning.

To be continued…

If you want Episode 3, just tell me.

2 months ago | [YT] | 1

African folktales by King

Ab0rti0n is 2K," Doctor Felix told Pregnant Miracle who was just I2 yrs old...
"Hello, Daddy, the doctor said it's 2K" Little Miracle said over the phone to her Dad.
HOW IT STARTED...
Grace was very happy when her newly wedded husband, Solomon, allowed her 12-year-old daughter, Miracle, to live with them.
For one week, the house was full of joy. Solomon acted like a caring father to Miracle, and Miracle laughed freely like a child who had finally found a father.
But Soon, Grace noticed that Miracle kept throwing up. She had fever almost every night. Whenever she complained, Solomon quickly said, “It’s malaria. Children fall sick all the time.”
Grace believed him.
Grace didn’t know that behind her back, Solomon had become a monster.
He f0rced himself on Miracle anytime Grace was not around. The fr!ghtened ch!ld cried in silence, her legs hürt!ng. Solomon thre@tened her:
“If you tell your mother, I will k!ll you… and k!ll her too.”
So Miracle kept quiet, opening her legs for a man old enough to be her father,swallowing her tears every night while Solomon pretended to be the sweetest husband in front of Grace.
When Solomon discovered Miracle was pregnant, he was so happy.
He couldn't wait to carry out the secret plan he had with Doctor Felix.
The real reason he married Grace.
That morning, he lied to Grace with a smile that h!d d@rkness.
“I’m taking Miracle to the children’s park. She needs fresh air.”
Miracle clung to her mother, crying. “Mummy, I don’t want to go. Please.”
Grace stroked her cheek gently. “You’ll have fun, my baby. Don’t be scared.”
If only she knew.
Instead of the park, Solomon drove her to an abandoned house far from town. Broken windows, rusted gate, and a long lonely road. Miracle’s small hands shook as she stepped out of the car.
Solomon pushed 2,000 naira into her palm.
“Go inside. You’ll see the doctor upstairs. Don’t waste time.”
Her voice trembled. “But… Daddy—”
“GO.” His eyes flashed like fire.
Terr!fied, she obeyed and climbed the dusty stairs.
Solomon didn’t wait. He reversed the car and drove off.
When he reached home alone, Grace gasped.
“Where is Miracle?”
“She’s playing. I’ll go back for her,” he replied quickly. But Grace’s heart suddenly felt heavy, like something was terribly wrong. Her chest tightened.
Meanwhile, inside the abandoned building, Little Miracle stepped into a dim room that smelled of drugs and bl00d. A man wearing a dirty lab coat stared at her with a wicked smile.
“Sir… I’m here for ab0rti0n,” she whispered.
He chuckled, exposing yellow teeth. “Ab0rti0n is 2K.”
Miracle tried to swallow her fear, but tears fell instead.
Just then, the doctor picked up his phone and made a call.
“It’s time to carry out the plan. Tell them the kidney and the foetus will be ready soon. AND GET READY TO BURY THE G!RL'S C0RPSE AFTER THE OPERATION.”
He ended the call and gave Miracle a final, deadly smile.
“Come inside, little girl…”
To be continued…
SAVE this post to be NOTIFIED once EPISODE 2 is uploaded.

2 months ago | [YT] | 0

African folktales by King

The next morning felt different.
The air in our house felt heavier, almost as if the walls themselves were watching me. I moved quietly, avoiding Obinna’s eyes. Whenever he tried to talk to me, I gave short answers. I knew he sensed something was wrong — how could he not?

But I couldn’t tell him the truth. The prophetess had warned me.
“Do not tell him anything. The spirit inside him will react.”

Those words played in my head over and over like a broken record.

Obinna tried to lighten the mood.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked softly as I prepared to leave the house.

I forced a smile. “I’ll be fine.”

But even as I walked out the door, I felt his eyes following me, full of worry.

I didn’t go to my boutique. I headed straight to Mountain of Divine Fire Ministries. When I arrived, I found the church already filled with people. Everyone looked troubled, as if carrying heavy burdens on their shoulders.

But the prophetess wasn’t there yet.

I sat in one corner and tried to pray… but my mind was noisy. I kept thinking about my marriage. About Obinna. About the strange fear that had taken over my heart. I wasn’t sure which voice to believe anymore — the prophetess’s voice or my own.

After a long wait, the church doors opened suddenly. Prophetess Mama Chinyere walked in with two assistants. Her presence filled the room instantly. Some women rushed to her. Others knelt. A few began crying before she even said a word.

She raised her hand for silence.

“Today,” she announced, “destinies will change. Witches will run. Evil will scatter.”

The congregation roared.

My stomach tightened.

She turned toward me slowly, as though she had been expecting me.

“You,” she said. “Come forward.”

I stood up with shaky legs and walked to the front. My heart was pounding so loudly I could hear it in my ears.

She circled me like a hawk, studying me carefully.

“The attack on your marriage is deep,” she said. “The enemy is determined. They want to destroy you through your husband.”

I swallowed hard. “So what do I do?”

“You must break the covenant tying you and your husband,” she replied.

I froze. “Covenant? What covenant?”

She lifted her eyes to the ceiling dramatically. “There is a spiritual rope binding both of you, but darkness has entangled itself in the middle. I must cut it, or you will suffer.”

I stared at her, confused.
“Prophetess… will this help my marriage?”

“It will save it,” she said confidently. “But after today, you must obey God’s instruction. Whatever revelation comes, do not resist.”

I nodded slowly, though fear had already taken root in my bones.

She instructed me to kneel.
Two women placed a white cloth over my shoulders.
The prophetess dipped her fingers in oil and touched my forehead.

“Close your eyes,” she commanded.

I obeyed.

The prayers started softly at first, then grew louder, faster, more aggressive. The prophetess was shouting, the women were clapping, the drums were shaking the room. I felt dizzy, overwhelmed.

Then, in the middle of the chaos, the prophetess suddenly screamed,
“THERE IT IS! THE FACE OF THE ENEMY!”

People gasped.
I opened my eyes in shock.

She looked at me with wide, fiery eyes.

“My daughter,” she said slowly, “do you know who God is showing me?”

My heart almost stopped. “Tell me.”

She hesitated for effect, then whispered, “Your husband has been spiritually replaced.”

I blinked. “Replaced? How?”

“He is no longer the same man you married. Something else has taken over him. The enemy wants to use him to destroy you.”

My mouth went dry.
“What… what should I do?”

“You must separate,” she said.

The room went silent.

My throat tightened. “Separate? Prophetess, what do you mean?”

“You need space from him,” she said firmly, “until the deliverance is complete. If you stay close to him, the spirit controlling him will fight you. It may even harm you. You must leave the house for seven days.”

I felt the floor spin beneath me.

“Leave my husband?” I whispered, stunned. “But I love him.”

“That love,” she replied, “is what the enemy is using to blind you.”

The congregation began nodding and murmuring, agreeing with everything she said.

The prophetess continued, “Go home today. Pack your things quietly. Do not argue. Do not explain. If he questions you, say nothing. Come and stay in the church guest house for the seven days. After that, we will restore your marriage.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
Leave my marriage? Leave my home?
For a prophecy?
For a revelation I wasn’t even sure was real?

My heart was breaking.

But fear had already swallowed my sense of reason.

The prophetess placed her hand on my head again. “Obedience will save you. Disobedience will destroy you.”

Those words sealed my fate.

When I left the church, tears blurred my vision. I walked home slowly, like someone carrying the weight of the world. I didn’t know how I would face Obinna… or how I would explain leaving him without an explanation.

And as I approached my house that evening, I saw him outside, pacing back and forth, worry written all over his face.

He rushed over immediately.

“Where have you been? I’ve been calling you!” he said, pulling me into his arms.

I stood stiffly, unable to hug him back.

He pulled back and looked at me closely. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”

I couldn’t.
The prophetess’s warning echoed in my mind:
“If you tell him anything, the spirit in him will fight you.”

So I remained silent.

Obinna looked more confused… and more hurt.

And that was the moment I realized something painful:

The prophetess had succeeded in doing something the enemy could not do —

She had created a distance between me and my husband.

A distance that would soon tear our marriage in two.

2 months ago | [YT] | 1

African folktales by King

Episode 4: The Revelation That Changed Everything

By the third day of the “deliverance program,” I was already losing pieces of myself.

Every afternoon, while Obinna thought I was at the boutique, I was kneeling on the hard floor of that small church, listening to the prophetess speak in riddles, symbols, and warnings. Each prophecy pulled me deeper into confusion and fear.

That Wednesday, something felt different.
The air in the church felt heavier. The drums were louder. The prayers sounded more desperate than usual. Women cried as though their entire lives depended on that service.

When Prophetess Mama Chinyere finally walked in, she looked at me the way a teacher looks at a student who has finally arrived at the lesson meant for her.

“You,” she said, pointing directly at me. “Today, we will break the stronghold.”

My heart dropped. I felt every eye in the building turn toward me.

She beckoned me to come forward. My legs felt weak, but I obeyed.

“Have you been praying?” she asked.

“Yes, ma,” I whispered.

“Have you sowed your seed?”

“I have.”

She nodded slowly, as if confirming something unseen.

“Good. Today, God will reveal the face of the woman fighting your marriage.”

The room erupted in gasps.
Even I couldn’t breathe properly.

A part of me wanted to walk out. Another part — the fearful part — needed answers.

She laid her hand on my head, closed her eyes, and began chanting in tongues. A few women surrounded us, clapping, shouting “Fire!” and “Holy Ghost!” at intervals. I felt overwhelmed, trapped in a whirlwind of noise and heat.

Then suddenly, she stopped.
Silence fell like a thick blanket.

The prophetess opened her eyes and stared at me with an expression I couldn’t read.

“My daughter,” she said slowly, “the person fighting you is very close. Very close.”

My hands trembled.

“Who?” I asked, barely able to speak.

She took a deep breath and said, “It is someone inside your home.”

My heart hammered.
“Inside my home? Please, prophetess, who?”

She leaned closer until her mouth was near my ear.

“It is your husband.”

The world around me went silent.

“My… my husband?” I stammered.

“Yes,” she said. “He has been spiritually manipulated. He is not himself. The spirit attached to him is the one causing trouble. If you don’t break it, he will destroy your destiny.”

I felt my knees weaken.
Obinna? My Obinna?

The man who prayed with me?
The man who worked tirelessly to build our small home?
The man who kissed my forehead every morning?

“No, prophetess,” I whispered, shaking my head. “My husband loves me. He—”

She raised her hand sharply.
“Do not argue with prophecy!”

I froze.

She continued, “He may not know he is being used, but the enemy is using him. That’s why I told you the battle is close.”

I couldn’t hold back my tears.
“What should I do?”

“You must not tell him anything,” she said. “The spirit inside him will fight you. For now, guard your tongue. Keep your distance. Watch him carefully. And come for the final deliverance tomorrow.”

Her final words pierced through me like a knife:

“If you fail to obey, your marriage will collapse. Mark my words.”

I left the church that day with my mind completely shattered.

At home, Obinna welcomed me with a smile. “You’re quiet these days,” he said gently, placing a plate of food before me.

But I just stared at him.

Every movement he made, every word he said, every step he took felt suspicious through the lens of the prophetess’s warning. My heart wanted to reach for him, but my mind was at war.

Was he really being manipulated spiritually?
Was the enemy using him?
Or… was I losing my sense of reason?

He tried to hold my hand that night, but I pulled away gently. He looked hurt. Confused.
“Did I offend you?” he asked.

I shook my head and forced myself to lie. “I’m just tired.”

But I wasn’t tired.
I was terrified.

That night, I barely slept. I watched him as he slept peacefully beside me, wondering if there was truly something dark working through him… or if the prophetess was the one working on me.

Before dawn, I knew one thing:
Tomorrow — the “final deliverance” — would either heal me or destroy everything forever.

2 months ago | [YT] | 1

African folktales by King

Episode 3: The Seeds of Doubt

I hardly slept that night.

Obinna lay beside me, breathing softly, completely unaware of the storm gathering inside my heart. Every time he turned, I found myself watching him, studying his face, wondering if there was something I’d been missing all these years.

His phone lay on the bedside table, screen facing down. It had always been like that, but suddenly it felt suspicious. Why face it downward? Was he hiding something? Was there a message he didn’t want me to see?

It was strange… before the prophetess spoke, I never noticed little things like this. But now, every ordinary action began to look like a secret.

Just one evening in that church had changed how I saw everything.

By morning, the doubt had grown. Obinna greeted me with his usual warm smile, but even that smile felt different, almost rehearsed. He asked what I wanted for breakfast, and instead of answering lovingly, I shrugged and told him I wasn’t hungry.

He looked at me curiously.
“Are you alright?” he asked.

I forced a smile. “I’m fine.”

But I wasn’t. Far from it.

As he left for the shop, he kissed my forehead — something he always did — but the prophetess’s words echoed in my mind:

“There is a woman close to your husband… she wants to scatter your home.”

Which woman?

I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

I spent the morning pacing around my boutique like a restless spirit. Customers came and left with their goods, but my mind was far away. Every familiar woman I knew suddenly became a potential enemy.

Was it Obinna’s assistant at the shop?
Was it his cousin who visited often?
Was it that woman who always bought shirts from my boutique and joked with him whenever she saw us together?

I tried to shake the thoughts away, but they grew stronger.

Around noon, Mama Ngozi walked into my shop, smiling as though she had been waiting for this moment.

“So how was the program yesterday?” she asked.

I didn’t want to talk about it, but the words spilled out. “She said someone wants to destroy my marriage.”

Mama Ngozi clapped her hands softly. “I told you! That prophetess doesn’t miss. If she saw something, my sister, she saw something.”

“But who could it be?” I asked.

She leaned closer. “Look well. There is always someone. Sometimes the people closest to us are the ones plotting evil.”

Her words went straight into my heart like sharp arrows.

That evening, I returned home before Obinna. I checked the fridge, checked the rooms, checked the clothes I washed — anything to keep myself busy. But my mind kept whispering questions I didn’t want to ask.

When Obinna finally walked in, smiling, carrying suya from his favorite spot, I forced myself to act normal. But as we sat to eat, everything he said sounded suspicious.

“Business was slow today,” he said.

Was he lying?
Did he go somewhere else?
Was he with the woman the prophetess spoke about?

When he stepped out to answer a call, I felt my chest tighten. He didn’t even check who was calling before he stood up. He stayed outside for longer than usual.

By the time he returned, I had already imagined ten different scenarios — none of them good.

“Who was that?” I asked.

He looked surprised. “A customer.”

“Male or female?”

“Male. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I said quickly, but the edge in my voice betrayed me.

He watched me for a moment, confused.

Later that night, while he slept peacefully, I sat at the edge of the bed, staring at the wall. I began to think of the seven days of deliverance the prophetess had instructed. Should I go? Should I take it seriously?

The thought of losing my husband terrified me. What if the prophetess was truly seeing something from God? What if ignoring her brought disaster?

Fear slowly replaced my peace.

By the next morning, I had made up my mind. I didn’t tell Obinna. I simply dressed up, pretended I was going to my boutique, and instead went straight to Mountain of Divine Fire Ministries.

The church looked even smaller in the daylight, but the atmosphere felt heavy, like something was always watching. A few women were already there, each with sad eyes and desperate hearts.

When the prophetess walked in, she didn’t look surprised to see me.

“You came,” she said, smiling faintly. “Good. The battle has just begun.”

She told me to kneel as she prayed over me, her voice rising and falling dramatically. At some point, she asked me to sow a “sacrifice seed” to protect my marriage.

I hesitated.
“Prophetess, how much?”

She named an amount that made my chest tighten — it was money I had saved for stock in my boutique. But her words haunted me:

“If you don’t fight this battle, you will lose your home.”

So I did it.

I gave everything she asked for.

As I left the church, she called after me, “Come again tomorrow. The real revelation will come then.”

I felt a strange mix of relief and fear.

When I returned home, Obinna asked, “How was the shop today?”
I lied without blinking. “Fine.”

That was the first lie I ever told my husband.
And it wouldn’t be the last.

By the end of the week, nothing in our home felt the same. The seed of doubt had grown into a tree, spreading its branches into every corner of our marriage.

And the prophetess wasn’t done.

She had only just begun.

2 months ago | [YT] | 0

African folktales by King

Episode 2: The First Prophecy

The church grew strangely quiet as Mama Chinyere stepped onto the small podium. People leaned forward like they were waiting for a secret from heaven. Drums slowed down, the keyboard softened, and even the babies stopped crying. It felt as if the entire building was holding its breath.

I was still standing at the back, holding my bag tightly. I told myself I was only there to please Mama Ngozi, nothing more. But deep down, something about the place unsettled me. It wasn’t fear, exactly… just a feeling that I couldn’t explain.

The prophetess began to pray, pacing slowly across the altar. Every now and then she would stop, point at someone, and begin to speak about their life. People cried. Some fell to their knees. Others shouted “Amen!” as if their lives depended on it. I watched quietly, unsure what to believe.

Then she paused.
She turned slowly, scanning the crowd again.

“Where is that woman in blue?” she asked.

I froze. I was wearing a blue blouse.

People around me turned to look.
Mama Ngozi quickly nudged me. “Go forward,” she whispered. “She has a message for you.”

I hesitated. Every part of me wanted to remain where I was. But something pushed me forward — maybe curiosity, maybe pressure, maybe the strange atmosphere in the room.

When I finally stood before the prophetess, she stared at me for a long moment without blinking.

Then she sighed deeply and shook her head.

“My daughter,” she said, “your enemies have tied your marriage like goat rope.”

My heart skipped.
“Which enemies?” I asked quietly.

She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she placed her hand on my shoulder. Her voice dropped lower, almost like she wanted only me to hear.

“There is a woman close to your husband,” she said. “She wants to scatter your home. She pretends to wish you well, but she is the one blocking your blessing.”

I felt heat rush through my body.
It didn’t make any sense. Obinna and I were fine. We prayed together every day. We had no serious issues.

But the prophetess continued.

“She is using charm to blind your husband. If you don’t act fast, he will turn against you. He will stop loving you. He will push you out.”

My mind began to race.
Who could she be talking about?

A family member?
A colleague from the market?
A woman from his shop?

Before I could think too much, the prophetess added, “Your marriage is under attack, and you need deliverance. Not small prayers. Serious deliverance.”

The congregation murmured. Some people looked at me with pity. Others nodded like everything she said was true. I felt suddenly exposed, like my private life had been placed under a microscope.

“Come for seven nights,” she said. “We will fight this battle. If you don’t, disaster is coming.”

Her words clung to me like cold water.

When the service ended, several women approached me, telling me how lucky I was that the prophetess “located” me. Mama Ngozi was smiling triumphantly as if she had been proven right all along.

But when I left the church that night, I felt more confused than blessed. The cool breeze outside didn’t calm my heart. On the way home, all I could think about were her words.

A woman close to my husband?
Charm?
Attack?
Disaster?

By the time I reached my house, the doubts had already planted themselves like tiny seeds in my mind. And seeds have a way of growing… even when you don’t want them to.

That night, for the first time in our marriage, I looked at Obinna differently. Not with love alone, but with a small shadow of suspicion — a shadow that wasn’t there before I stepped into that church.

And that was exactly how everything began to fall apart.

2 months ago | [YT] | 2

African folktales by King

THEY SAID SHE WAS A PROPHETESS, BUT SHE DESTROYED MY MARRIAGE

Episode 1: The Beginning of the End

When I married Obinna, I truly believed I had found my happiness. Our wedding in Enugu was something people talked about for weeks. The choir sang beautifully, the church was full, and both our families were proud. I felt blessed, knowing I had married a man who loved me deeply.

For five years, our home was peaceful. We laughed, prayed together, and supported each other. We didn’t have everything, but we had enough. Obinna’s electronics shop in Ogbete Market was doing well, and my boutique near New Haven kept me busy. Life was simple, and I was content.

Then came the woman who changed everything — Prophetess Mama Chinyere.

It started in a harmless way. My neighbor, Mama Ngozi, invited me to a church program at Mountain of Divine Fire Ministries. She leaned close to me and said, “This prophetess is powerful. She sees things. She even revealed that my husband wanted to marry a second wife.”

I wasn’t interested. I was a Catholic woman, and Obinna and I attended morning Mass together. I didn’t feel the need to visit any prophetess. But Mama Ngozi kept coming back, insisting that I should just attend once and see for myself.

One Wednesday evening, after so much pressure, I finally followed her to the church. It was a small, crowded place on the outskirts of town. People were praying loudly, some crying, others shouting. The atmosphere felt heavy, almost too heavy.

Then she walked in — Mama Chinyere. Dressed in white, moving slowly, eyes sharp like she could see through everyone in the room. The entire church became silent the moment she appeared.

I didn’t think much of it at first. I stood quietly at the back, observing everything. But when her eyes passed over the crowd and paused briefly on me, something inside me shifted. I didn’t understand it, but that single moment was the beginning of the end.

What I witnessed that night changed the direction of my life completely.

2 months ago | [YT] | 1