THE PRICE OF WEALTH
STORY OF A YAHOO BOY (EPISODE 7)
When the coffin was finally opened, it felt as if only a minute had passed. The moment Baba opened the coffin, a sharp wave of cold air hit my face. It was over. Or so I thought. I sat up slowly, my body trembling from exhaustion. My muscles ached, and my mind felt foggy, as if I had been trapped in a dream for ages.
Yet, somehow, it felt as though only a minute had passed. I blinked, adjusting to the dim light of the room. Baba was standing over me, his piercing eyes studying my every movement.
"Step out," he commanded. I obeyed, moving cautiously as if my legs had forgotten how to walk. I had survived seven days inside a coffin.
But what came next? Baba didn’t waste time. He blindfolded me again and placed another calabash in my hands. "Eat," he said simply. This time, the contents tasted different. The first one had been raw, chewy, almost metallic—I didn’t want to think about what it was.
But this one? It tasted like soup—thick, peppery, with an odd aftertaste that made my stomach twist. I swallowed, forcing myself to finish it.
After I was done, Baba removed the blindfold and motioned for me to stand up and follow him. At this moment, my mind was screaming for me to run. What if I had gone too far? What if this wasn’t worth it? But I had already made my choice. I was too deep to turn back now.
Baba led me through another hallway, this one different from the others. Unlike the previous rooms, there were no red and white cloths hanging on the walls. Instead, the entire space was filled with eerie wooden carvings—ugly, twisted faces, some with hollow eyes that seemed to watch me as I walked.
In the middle of the room, I saw something that made my heart pound. A large black pot. The type usually used for preparing jollof rice for large gatherings. Except this one was different.
It was boiling heavily, smoke rising from it in thick spirals. But there was no fire. It sat on three massive stones, yet it bubbled furiously like it was placed over an invisible flame. I froze.
Baba turned to me and said, "Enter the pot." My body stiffened. "Am I the one to enter, or are you referring to your servant?" I asked, half-joking. Baba’s expression darkened. "DO YOU THINK THIS IS A JOKE? ENTER THAT POT NOW!" His voice was like thunder in the small room.
I swallowed hard and took a step forward. The steam rose, curling around my skin. I lifted one foot and tested the water with my toes.
To my shock, it wasn’t hot. It just looked like it was boiling. With trembling hands, I stepped fully inside. As I stood in the strange boiling substance, Baba began chanting incantations.
His voice echoed through the room, sending chills down my spine. After some time, he stopped. The bubbling pot suddenly went still. "Step out," Baba ordered. I obeyed. By now, I was weak. My body felt drained. This entire process was taking a toll on me. But it wasn’t over yet.
As Baba led me back to the main chamber, I was shocked to see Vince sitting there, waiting for me. "How did you know I was here?" I asked, my voice hoarse.
He smirked. "When I noticed your laptop was gone, I knew where you had gone." I sighed. "Bro, I feel like my soul is being drained." Vince chuckled. "You’re still standing, aren’t you? That means Baba’s work is successful." Baba walked into the room and handed me my laptop. To my surprise, it was now stained with: Red oil. Native chalk. Drops of blood. I stared at it in disbelief.
Baba then turned to me and said, "Leave One Thousand Naira for the work I have done." I nodded, left the money, and quickly changed into my regular clothes. The moment I stepped outside, I felt relief for the first time. It was finally over. Vince led me to the car and drove us away.
As we drove, I sat silently in the passenger seat, my head spinning. I had just spent seven days inside a coffin. I had eaten God knows what. I had stepped into a boiling pot that wasn’t hot. And now? Now, I was expected to return to Yahoo work like nothing had happened.
Was all this even worth it? My stomach growled painfully. I turned to Vince. "Bro, take me to a restaurant. I haven’t eaten real food in seven days." He laughed. "I knew you’d say that." We pulled up to a local eatery, and I ordered the biggest plate of food I could find.
As I ate, Vince leaned back in his chair and started talking. "There’s something you need to know, Daniel." I looked up, chewing slowly. "What is it?" Vince’s expression turned serious.
Episode 8 to be dropped after 100 shâres. If it’s not complete, I won’t drop it, it’s not easy but I am enjoying writing this story just as you guys enjoy reading it.
STORY OF A YAHOO BOY (EPISODE 7)
When the coffin was finally opened, it felt as if only a minute had passed. The moment Baba opened the coffin, a sharp wave of cold air hit my face. It was over. Or so I thought. I sat up slowly, my body trembling from exhaustion. My muscles ached, and my mind felt foggy, as if I had been trapped in a dream for ages.
Yet, somehow, it felt as though only a minute had passed. I blinked, adjusting to the dim light of the room. Baba was standing over me, his piercing eyes studying my every movement.
"Step out," he commanded. I obeyed, moving cautiously as if my legs had forgotten how to walk. I had survived seven days inside a coffin.
But what came next? Baba didn’t waste time. He blindfolded me again and placed another calabash in my hands. "Eat," he said simply. This time, the contents tasted different. The first one had been raw, chewy, almost metallic—I didn’t want to think about what it was.
But this one? It tasted like soup—thick, peppery, with an odd aftertaste that made my stomach twist. I swallowed, forcing myself to finish it.
After I was done, Baba removed the blindfold and motioned for me to stand up and follow him. At this moment, my mind was screaming for me to run. What if I had gone too far? What if this wasn’t worth it? But I had already made my choice. I was too deep to turn back now.
Baba led me through another hallway, this one different from the others. Unlike the previous rooms, there were no red and white cloths hanging on the walls. Instead, the entire space was filled with eerie wooden carvings—ugly, twisted faces, some with hollow eyes that seemed to watch me as I walked.
In the middle of the room, I saw something that made my heart pound. A large black pot. The type usually used for preparing jollof rice for large gatherings. Except this one was different.
It was boiling heavily, smoke rising from it in thick spirals. But there was no fire. It sat on three massive stones, yet it bubbled furiously like it was placed over an invisible flame. I froze.
Baba turned to me and said, "Enter the pot." My body stiffened. "Am I the one to enter, or are you referring to your servant?" I asked, half-joking. Baba’s expression darkened. "DO YOU THINK THIS IS A JOKE? ENTER THAT POT NOW!" His voice was like thunder in the small room.
I swallowed hard and took a step forward. The steam rose, curling around my skin. I lifted one foot and tested the water with my toes.
To my shock, it wasn’t hot. It just looked like it was boiling. With trembling hands, I stepped fully inside. As I stood in the strange boiling substance, Baba began chanting incantations.
His voice echoed through the room, sending chills down my spine. After some time, he stopped. The bubbling pot suddenly went still. "Step out," Baba ordered. I obeyed. By now, I was weak. My body felt drained. This entire process was taking a toll on me. But it wasn’t over yet.
As Baba led me back to the main chamber, I was shocked to see Vince sitting there, waiting for me. "How did you know I was here?" I asked, my voice hoarse.
He smirked. "When I noticed your laptop was gone, I knew where you had gone." I sighed. "Bro, I feel like my soul is being drained." Vince chuckled. "You’re still standing, aren’t you? That means Baba’s work is successful." Baba walked into the room and handed me my laptop. To my surprise, it was now stained with: Red oil. Native chalk. Drops of blood. I stared at it in disbelief.
Baba then turned to me and said, "Leave One Thousand Naira for the work I have done." I nodded, left the money, and quickly changed into my regular clothes. The moment I stepped outside, I felt relief for the first time. It was finally over. Vince led me to the car and drove us away.
As we drove, I sat silently in the passenger seat, my head spinning. I had just spent seven days inside a coffin. I had eaten God knows what. I had stepped into a boiling pot that wasn’t hot. And now? Now, I was expected to return to Yahoo work like nothing had happened.
Was all this even worth it? My stomach growled painfully. I turned to Vince. "Bro, take me to a restaurant. I haven’t eaten real food in seven days." He laughed. "I knew you’d say that." We pulled up to a local eatery, and I ordered the biggest plate of food I could find.
As I ate, Vince leaned back in his chair and started talking. "There’s something you need to know, Daniel." I looked up, chewing slowly. "What is it?" Vince’s expression turned serious.
Episode 8 to be dropped after 100 shâres. If it’s not complete, I won’t drop it, it’s not easy but I am enjoying writing this story just as you guys enjoy reading it.
THE PRICE OF WEALTH
STORY OF A YAHOO BOY (EPISODE 7)
When the coffin was finally opened, it felt as if only a minute had passed. The moment Baba opened the coffin, a sharp wave of cold air hit my face. It was over. Or so I thought. I sat up slowly, my body trembling from exhaustion. My muscles ached, and my mind felt foggy, as if I had been trapped in a dream for ages.
Yet, somehow, it felt as though only a minute had passed. I blinked, adjusting to the dim light of the room. Baba was standing over me, his piercing eyes studying my every movement.
"Step out," he commanded. I obeyed, moving cautiously as if my legs had forgotten how to walk. I had survived seven days inside a coffin.
But what came next? Baba didn’t waste time. He blindfolded me again and placed another calabash in my hands. "Eat," he said simply. This time, the contents tasted different. The first one had been raw, chewy, almost metallic—I didn’t want to think about what it was.
But this one? It tasted like soup—thick, peppery, with an odd aftertaste that made my stomach twist. I swallowed, forcing myself to finish it.
After I was done, Baba removed the blindfold and motioned for me to stand up and follow him. At this moment, my mind was screaming for me to run. What if I had gone too far? What if this wasn’t worth it? But I had already made my choice. I was too deep to turn back now.
Baba led me through another hallway, this one different from the others. Unlike the previous rooms, there were no red and white cloths hanging on the walls. Instead, the entire space was filled with eerie wooden carvings—ugly, twisted faces, some with hollow eyes that seemed to watch me as I walked.
In the middle of the room, I saw something that made my heart pound. A large black pot. The type usually used for preparing jollof rice for large gatherings. Except this one was different.
It was boiling heavily, smoke rising from it in thick spirals. But there was no fire. It sat on three massive stones, yet it bubbled furiously like it was placed over an invisible flame. I froze.
Baba turned to me and said, "Enter the pot." My body stiffened. "Am I the one to enter, or are you referring to your servant?" I asked, half-joking. Baba’s expression darkened. "DO YOU THINK THIS IS A JOKE? ENTER THAT POT NOW!" His voice was like thunder in the small room.
I swallowed hard and took a step forward. The steam rose, curling around my skin. I lifted one foot and tested the water with my toes.
To my shock, it wasn’t hot. It just looked like it was boiling. With trembling hands, I stepped fully inside. As I stood in the strange boiling substance, Baba began chanting incantations.
His voice echoed through the room, sending chills down my spine. After some time, he stopped. The bubbling pot suddenly went still. "Step out," Baba ordered. I obeyed. By now, I was weak. My body felt drained. This entire process was taking a toll on me. But it wasn’t over yet.
As Baba led me back to the main chamber, I was shocked to see Vince sitting there, waiting for me. "How did you know I was here?" I asked, my voice hoarse.
He smirked. "When I noticed your laptop was gone, I knew where you had gone." I sighed. "Bro, I feel like my soul is being drained." Vince chuckled. "You’re still standing, aren’t you? That means Baba’s work is successful." Baba walked into the room and handed me my laptop. To my surprise, it was now stained with: Red oil. Native chalk. Drops of blood. I stared at it in disbelief.
Baba then turned to me and said, "Leave One Thousand Naira for the work I have done." I nodded, left the money, and quickly changed into my regular clothes. The moment I stepped outside, I felt relief for the first time. It was finally over. Vince led me to the car and drove us away.
As we drove, I sat silently in the passenger seat, my head spinning. I had just spent seven days inside a coffin. I had eaten God knows what. I had stepped into a boiling pot that wasn’t hot. And now? Now, I was expected to return to Yahoo work like nothing had happened.
Was all this even worth it? My stomach growled painfully. I turned to Vince. "Bro, take me to a restaurant. I haven’t eaten real food in seven days." He laughed. "I knew you’d say that." We pulled up to a local eatery, and I ordered the biggest plate of food I could find.
As I ate, Vince leaned back in his chair and started talking. "There’s something you need to know, Daniel." I looked up, chewing slowly. "What is it?" Vince’s expression turned serious.
Episode 8 to be dropped after 100 shâres. If it’s not complete, I won’t drop it, it’s not easy but I am enjoying writing this story just as you guys enjoy reading it.
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