After our wedding ceremony, as we were returning from the reception, I fell asleep. Upon waking, I realized my newly wedded husband was nowhere to be found.
Swiftly, I opened the door of the stationary car and found myself at the very hotel where we had planned to spend our honeymoon – our intended destination.
I surmised that perhaps my husband was upstairs arranging some surprise for me, so I waited by the car to avoid spoiling his plans.
As I lingered, a passing waitress fixated her gaze on me, leaving me bewildered. I inquired, “Why were you staring at me like that?”
“Oh, I apologize, ma’am, but there are blood stains on the back of your wedding gown,” she responded politely.
Alarmed, I swiftly turned, adjusting my gown to see the aforementioned bloodstains. I was horrified as my mouth gaped open.
“How did these get here? Wait, what!” I cried out and frantically searched the car for more bloodstains, but I found none apart from the one on my dress.
With a sense of dread, I rushed to our hotel room, only to discover that it was still arranged exactly as we had left it. No one had entered, so where was my husband? I lay on the bed, weeping.
A call came in, informing me that my husband had been found on the side of the road, lifeless. In frustration, I went to the specified location and saw my husband’s lifeless body. I wept bitterly, consoled by my sister, who had arrived before me.
Consumed by anger and grief, I attempted to remove my wedding ring to cast it away, but it refused to budge. Despite my best efforts, it remained firmly in place.
Later that evening, at home, I attempted to use oil to facilitate its removal, but it seemed unnaturally stuck.
Eventually, I gave up trying to remove the ring, resigned to the fact that it had become a permanent part of me.
Six months after becoming a widow, I began to socialize with men again, realizing that time was passing quickly. To my astonishment, every man I dated would flee upon glimpsing my nud!ty, as though they had seen a ghost.
The situation worsened to the point where, one scorching afternoon, after much contemplation, I called for my security man, James.
Innocently, James entered, and I asked him to sit comfortably on the couch. One by one, I removed my clothes, although he initially tried to leave, only changing his mind when I promised to increase his pay.
I had taken off everything except my joggers when James suddenly became more bashful, averting his gaze to the ceiling.
I allowed him to be and removed the joggers before jesting, “James, how do I look?”
“AAAAAGH!” James screamed and attempted to flee like the others.
“Hey! Don’t you dare take a step! What’s wrong?” I admonished him.
“Ma’am, please don’t harm me. I’m sorry, ma’am,” James pleaded, his eyes fixed on my waist.
“I’m not going to h@rm you. In fact, what are you saying?” I inquired, moving closer to him.
“Ma’am, just look at it,” James pointed straight to my waist while inching away from me..
“Ma’am, just look at it,” James pointed straight to my waist while inching away from me..
*************
I got confused and bent down to look at my waist, where James was pointing. Lo and behold, a slim snake was coiled around my waist, still alive.
I screamed in terror and tried to use my hand to push the snake away, but I realized it was coming from my vag!nal opening.
James bravely grabbed a knife and attempted to cut off the snake’s head, but the ring I was wearing became extremely hot.
Before James could slice the snake’s head, he suddenly felt intense heat, to the point where he started screaming for help.
I quickly put on my clothes, and then everything subsided. We both lay down beside each other for a while before James asked me to go to the toilet and check if the snake had returned to its den.
I quickly did as he instructed, and after experimenting, we came to understand that the snake only comes out when I’m with a man and naked.
I was in my house with James when I heard a knock on my door. James excused himself and went to check who was at the door.
It was the detective in charge of my husband’s death investigation. He brought my husband’s phone and showed me a video my husband had been recording before he was k!lled.
In the video, I noticed the man who had initially attacked my husband was my sister’s ex-boyfriend.
According to my sister, she broke up with him because he was lusting after another woman. Even before her, he would stare at the lady lustfully and uncontrollably.
I told the detective everything I knew about him. Although he was a very nice man, I didn’t have anything bad aside from the video I had just seen. The detective chuckled and walked away silently.
Later in the evening, I decided to pay him a visit, yes, my sister’s ex-boyfriend. He warmly welcomed me, pretending not to be the cause of my predicament.
Although the woman’s face didn’t appear on camera, I implored James to help me search my husband’s room for more clues.
******************
Together, we combed through his room until we discovered the bag the woman had given my husband.
Fortunately, we found a phone number on the bag. Without hesitation, I dialed the number, but no one answered.
I decided to send a text message on WhatsApp to that same number. Almost instantly, an automatic response revealed that the number belonged to an online jewelry vendor.
After discussing with James, we both decided to place an order. Our plan was to confront the person when they made the delivery.
The very next day, I received a call from the detective requesting I see him in his office. One my arrival with James the detective broke the news that an autopsy should be carried out on my husband’s corpse.
I initially dismissed the suggestion because they had previously reported that my husband was stabbed in the lower abdomen. So, I questioned the need for an autopsy.
However, the detective insisted and provided a forensic report stating that the injury was not caused by a knife, gun, or any known object. This revelation left me bewildered and anxious, especially considering my involvement in a previous fatal incident.
While still pondering, James suggested that we proceed with the autopsy, saying, “Who knows, it might provide us with a lead on the ring.” Recognizing the potential value of this, I agreed to the autopsy.
The following day, I began communicating with the vendor regarding placing an order. To establish trust, I asked the vendor to send me her photos, to which she refused.
Upon James’s urging, I purchased a piece of jewelry and requested delivery. The vendor accepted, and I played along, while James, on the other hand, hired some individuals to ambush her upon arrival.
We anxiously waited for her, and when we spotted a deliveryman honking at my gate, I approached him to receive the package. “I’ve been deceived,” I whispered to myself.
James, with hesitation, inquired from the delivery guy about the source of the package. The delivery guy explained that he received instructions from an unknown number to pick the package in front of an apartment.
We demanded the address of this mysterious apartment, and the deliveryman even offered to take us there himself.
Upon reaching the location, we discovered it was a solitary apartment on isolated land with no gates. Doubting if anyone had ever lived there, I approached a passerby.
“Excuse me, sir, does anyone live in this house?” I asked the passerby pointing towards the solitary apartment.
“No,” the young man replied, “Ever since we moved to this area seven years ago, I’ve never seen anyone inhabit that house.” He then walked away.
“No,” the young man replied, “Ever since we moved to this area seven years ago, I’ve never seen anyone inhabit that house.” He then walked away.
*************
We became confused and started to doubt the information the delivery guy had given us. James held the guy firmly, and together we all returned to my house.
Inside the house, James confronted the delivery guy, hoping for a different response. It reached a point where I began to feel sorry for the guy, so I asked Jerry to let him be for a while.
One day, while scrolling through my husband’s phone, I noticed that the jewelry vendor’s number had been called repeatedly even before our engagement.
I quickly informed James about the situation, and he suggested we call the vendor using my husband’s phone. I thought it to be a brilliant idea and immediately dialed the number. It rang.
“Hello,” the person greeted as soon as she picked up the call.
“Hello, am I speaking to the vendor?” I asked with a shaky voice.
“She hung up,” I said to James as I slowly lowered the phone from my ear.
“Call again,” James instructed.
I tried repeatedly, but she refused to pick up. James later suggested we check their chat, thinking that hidden messages might be there. Upon checking the chat, we discovered it was set to disappear after 24 hours.
Afterward, James suggested that we use the delivery guy’s phone to call her. We took the guy’s phone and dialed the number. As soon as the call connected, it was canceled from the other end.
While still going through his phone, my own phone rang. It was the detective in charge of my husband’s death case calling. I answered and he instructed me to come to his office as quickly as possible.
I quickly relayed the information to James, and together we prepared and went to the detective’s office.
“Good day, sir,” I and James greeted in unison.
“Good day. Ma’am, can you please recount everything you know about your husband’s death?” The detective asked, his eyes fixed on mine.
“Sir, all I can remember is falling asleep with my husband’s hand in mine on our way to our lodge. When I woke up, I was at our destination, but my husband was nowhere to be found, only the stains of his blood on my gown,” I answered, feeling uneasy under his intense gaze.
“And since your husband’s death, you haven’t noticed anything strange?” The detective continued to inquire, still staring at me.
“Nothing strange, sir,” I affirmed.
“Ma’am, can I have a word with you?” James interrupted.
I excused myself and walked outside to where James was waiting.
“James, what is it?” I asked, feeling irritated.
“Ma’am, why don’t you tell him about the vendor?” James suggested.
“Do you want him to know about the vendor and everything else?” I rebuked, my voice low.
“Oh, I forgot. Be careful, I think this man knows something,” James whispered before I returned to the detective.
As soon as I sat down, the detective handed an envelope to me.
“That’s your husband’s autopsy report,” the detective said.
I opened it but was shocked to the point of collapsing upon seeing the report.
I opened it but was shocked to the point of collapsing upon seeing the report.
**********************
“Hello, ma. Hello, ma. I think she is waking up. Keep fanning her,” a fervent voice said.
After some time, when I had fully woken up and regained my strength, the detective questioned me again, asking if I knew more than I claimed.
Boldly, I replied, “While I was sleeping, I didn’t notice anything.” After staring at me for a while, he showed me the video again before saying, “You see in this video, your husband was not attacked by your sister’s boyfriend; rather, he was trying to save him. If you look closely, you will see that your husband was already bitten by the snake before he was brought out of the car, which explains the blood stains on your wedding gown that day,” he explained as I watched the video.
“So are you saying my madam is a snake?” James asked doubtfully.
“No, I’m not saying that. In fact, that’s unimaginable. But no traces of a snake were found in the car except on madam’s gown, where we saw some DNA particles of a snake.So, how come she wasn’t bitten by the snake if it was on her gown?”
“If I may ask, how did my sister’s ex-boyfriend know that we were attacked by a snake?” I asked, trying to hide my fears.
“That we don’t know,” said the detective.
“And you called me, who was unconscious, for questioning. Don’t you know how to do your job properly?” I lashed out at him.
Feeling a bit tense, the detective asked us to take our leave. To cover my tracks, I asked the detective to close the case, and he did.
Back at my house, I began to panic because I had just killed an innocent man. I mean, I was the one who killed my husband. James, on the other hand, called me and encouraged us to work quickly to get hold of the vendor before things got out of hand.
Immediately, a thought popped into my head: The plan was to make another order, then inform the vendor that I would come to pick it up myself. Afterward, I would send the delivery guy to go pick it up for his freedom while we lay in ambush.
James accepted, and immediately I messaged the vendor. But it turned out she had blocked my number.
James immediately brought his SIM card, and we made an order. Surprisingly, the pickup point was still the same address where the delivery man confessed he took the package from.
We dressed the delivery guy and hid a mic and a camera on his shirt, while James and I waited at the pickup point, hidden.
Five minutes before the pickup time, we noticed two men in black hoodies pass by. Later, we saw the delivery guy approaching, but we didn’t see anyone with a package.
As soon as the delivery guy stood by the solitary building, a tinted bus with no license plate pulled up in front of him, and two men bundled him into the car.
As soon as the delivery guy stood by the solitary building, a tinted bus with no license plate pulled up in front of him, and two men bundled him into the car.
We were terrified, and we hastily emerged from our hiding spot, fearfully sprinting back to the house. Once at home, I quickly retrieved my phone to check if the camera was still on, but, unsurprisingly, it wasn’t.
James suggested that we replay the few recorded tapes, just in case. Unfortunately, the camera had been smashed almost immediately after he was dragged into the vehicle.
Frustrated and contemplating how to remove the ring from my hand and put an end to the snake inside me, the door suddenly swung open.
“Everyone in this room, you’re under arrest. You may remain silent because whatever you say or do may or may not be used against you in the court of law,” the detective said slowly as he confidently strode into my house.
“I asked you, did you know anything about your husband’s death, and you said—no—now let’s see who is in charge,” he smirked as he watched his men handcuffing us.
IN THE POLICE STATION
“Did you kill your sister’s ex-boyfriend?” the detective asked.
“I didn’t kill anyone,” I replied angrily.
“Oh, you didn’t? Then how come your DNA was found on his lips?” he questioned.
I remained silent, and suddenly the door cracked open, and an officer walked in.
“Sir, the other person is ready to talk,” the officer said to the detective.
“He’s about to cooperate. I’ll see you in a bit.”he giggled while walked away.
Two days later, while in the cell, my sister was thrown into the same cell as I was. A few hours later, the detective showed up and pressured my sister to confess to me. She said, and I quote—
“Ever since her ex-boyfriend began to lust after me and caused her to break up with him, she developed a deep hatred for me. Her hatred grew when I was about to get married and she remained single because I unintentionally caused her to lose her relationship.
She confessed to enchanting the ring and giving it to my husband to ensure my life would be ruined after our marriage.
She also revealed that her ex-boyfriend was aware of her plans and tried to save my husband when he stumbled upon our car parked by the roadside.
Unfortunately, my husband was already bitten by the snake and was recording a goodbye video when her boyfriend found him. Realizing that my husband wouldn’t survive, he left him by the bushes and took me to a hotel far away from my husband’s lifeless body, just to save me from being accused of his murder.”
Hearing this, I became bitter and blamed myself for the deaths of the two people who had genuinely cared for me.
“See you two in court,” the detective said and turned to leave.
I quickly grabbed his gun and shot my sister dead.
“Alright then, I’ll see you in court,” he calmly took the gun from me and walked away with a sense of pride.
The End
