I set fire to the precious crib that my husband’s mother had given for my future child – What I saw in the flames made me give birth instantly.😱😱
My husband’s mother had given me a wooden crib of great elegance, a highly valuable gift for my coming son. I stared at this beautifully carved crib, an irrational worry growing inside me. When she had placed it in the room, she said, “This crib is precious, I purified it from a cursed place. Don’t worry.”
Every time I heard “cursed place,” a cold shiver ran through me, as if something evil was hiding in that crib. I tried to push these thoughts away, but that night, the anxiety became unbearable.
Since that day, every night, I dreamed of the same dark and frightening place. Unknown faces tormented me, staring at me with hateful looks. They were there, in the shadows, like specters constantly threatening my child.
Every time I closed my eyes, I heard voices, distant whispers, and these blurry shapes trying to get closer to my baby, as if they wanted to harm him. It was endless torment, a trap I could not escape.
I could no longer bear it, and what I decided and what I did was shocking to everyone. But it was the only way to rid myself of this hell.
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I slowly made my way to the baby’s room, suddenly feeling a cold air. My steps were heavy, each breath slower. With the bottle of gasoline in hand, I knew something frightening was going to happen.
I poured the gasoline on the crib, lit a match, and here came a “BOOM!”, the crib burned.
The flames engulfed the crib. Then a scream pierced the air. It wasn’t the scream of burning wood, but that of a living creature in pain… In the middle of the flames, it seemed that human faces appeared, as if voices could be heard, whispering in the intense heat of the fire.
The crib, now reduced to ashes, seemed to release a black energy, an evil force that I had awakened. My body trembled. The fire slowly died down, but the echo of that scream still resonated in my mind.
In a final moment of clarity, I understood. The crib was not just a gift, but a trap. The curse of the cursed place was not just a superstition: it was a warning. But it was too late.
And as the room filled with silence, one thought crossed my mind: it wasn’t the fire that made me give birth… it was the terror.
