POT OF WITCHES 🏴‍☠️

A Story of Love and Horror 👽

By: Chamsiya Laouali Rabo (MRS SADAUKI)
Dedication: Fateema Abdou, known as Mrs. Ƙarshen Ƙauna 🇳🇪
FCWA ☀️

Part 1

Tears brimmed in my eyes as I stared at Dr. Bilal, our Chief Medical Director. I found myself repeating his words in utter disbelief, "The mortuary, Doctor? Are you saying I am the one to spend the night with a corpse?"
Without so much as looking up at me, he cold-bloodedly replied, "Nurse Fatee, you know better than anyone that I do not repeat myself. Just go. This corpse belongs to a very prominent man, and it must be kept under maximum security. Furthermore, you must ensure you conduct a thorough investigation to determine the exact cause of his death."
His words hit me like a sledgehammer. I turned and began to walk away, constantly looking back over my shoulder in the desperate hope that he might pity me and call me back. But it was in vain; he had already completely immersed himself back in his work.
When I pushed open the heavy door to the mortuary, I froze, staring at the rows of tables holding bodies wrapped in white shrouds—all except for the corpse of the man I had been assigned to.
With my body trembling slightly, I began examining the corpse, meticulously writing down my findings on my report sheet. Suddenly—*screeech!*—the door I had left slightly ajar groaned loudly. Spinning around in sheer panic, I watched the door handle jiggle, followed instantly by the terrifying click of a key turning in the lock, echoing loudly in my ears.
Terror gripped me. I tried to run, but it felt as though an invisible, immense force was pinning me to the floor, rendering me completely paralyzed.
"Give me some liquor to drink... let me take a sip," a raspy voice echoed through the room. There was no sign of anyone else; I was the only living soul in the facility. My eyes, wide with fright like an owl's, began to stream with hot tears as if pepper had been rubbed into them. My entire body shook violently.
Then, I felt the paper in my hands begin to shift. Looking down, I watched in horror as it morphed into a piece of white burial shroud. At that exact moment, I witnessed something that defied all human reason. The corpse of the man sat straight up on the table! He locked his gaze onto me—a terrifying, piercing look of pure malice that froze the very blood in my veins.
I don't know how I managed to survive the shock, but the next thing I knew, I woke up lying on a bed in our hospital. My close friend and colleague, Rahinatu, was sitting right beside me, monitoring the intravenous drip connected to my hand.
"My friend, you're awake?" she asked anxiously, leaning forward and placing her hand on my forehead, which felt as though it was about to split open with a pounding headache.
Before I could even muster an answer, Dr. Bilal abruptly walked into the room. "Our guest has arrived," he said curtly. "Since she is awake, pack up quickly and get out there before he notices that a name is missing from the presentation roster." Without another word, he turned on his heel and left.
Rahinatu hissed loudly in irritation. "I swear, I detest arrogant men. He has absolutely no manners, just because he thinks his star is shining bright right now. Come on, let's get up and leave, otherwise, he might actually have us fired." She grumbled as she carefully disconnected my IV line.
As I struggled to sit up, another nurse poked her head through the door. "Rahinatu, Dr. Bilal wants to know what is taking you so long! Aren't you supposed to give the opening remarks for the conference?"
Flustered, Rahinatu rushed out of the room, waving her hands in a panic. I forced myself to stand, every single muscle in my body aching intensely, as if I had been beaten to a pulp.
The guest arriving today was a VIP, and extensive preparations had been made for the event. Rahinatu was scheduled to give an address, and I had been assigned a specific presentation topic myself. But because my soul had been so profoundly shaken by what happened in the mortuary, my mind went completely blank. I couldn't remember a single thing.
I walked straight to Dr. Bilal’s office, hoping to splash some water on my face to clear my head. But the moment I pushed the restroom door open, I froze in my tracks like a statue. My entire body began to tremble again. My eyes went wide as I stared at him, completely zoning out into a standing trance. I didn't snap out of it until I heard Dr. Bilal sharply calling my name. I blinked, realizing there was no one else in the room; he was just finishing using the restroom.
"What are you waiting for? Why are you actively looking for a reason to get fired, Sweety?" Dr. Bilal asked, his voice completely shifting into a soft, affectionate tone.
I pouted hard, bypassing him to enter the restroom, deliberately ignoring him without giving an answer. You see, Dr. Bilal was actually my boyfriend. But the moment he stepped foot inside the hospital, he completely forgot our relationship, barking orders and shouting at me just like he did with the rest of the staff.
After taking a quick shower, I threw on my white clinician's coat and headed upstairs to the grand conference hall.
The moment I walked through the doors, my eyes locked onto the VIP guest. He was a tall, fair-skinned man with a perfectly groomed, thick beard and sideburns. His hair was strikingly long for a man, neatly parted and tied at the center. His expression was dead serious—the kind of stern, difficult man who brings nothing but tension to his family and everyone around him. To put it simply, beneath his mysterious aura lay an intense pride, arrogance, and condescension.
Seeing him turn his gaze in my direction, I quickly looked away, found a seat, and kept my head bowed. My heart hammered against my ribs as my mind kept flashing back to the terrifying ordeal with the corpse.
Though I was physically sitting in the conference hall, my mind was miles away, chaotic thoughts swirling through a brain that, up until now, had known nothing but romance. Lost in my deep worries, I was suddenly jolted back to reality by Dr. Rashid’s voice booming through the microphone:
"We now invite Nurse Fateema to the stage to present her findings regarding the autopsy of the deceased."
A cold dread washed over me. I snapped my head up, finding the eyes of nearly everyone in the room fixed entirely on me. I shot a panicked look at Dr. Bilal, who gave me a meaningful glance. It was only then I remembered that while I was in his restroom, he had told me to pick up the report sheets he left on his desk. I had completely forgotten them.
With trembling legs, I forced myself to stand and walked toward the podium. Tripping over my own feet out of sheer fear, I finally reached the stage, and Dr. Rashid handed me the microphone.
I stood there in total silence for a moment, closing my eyes. Suddenly, an overwhelming rush of information flooded my consciousness—words and descriptions that perfectly detailed the supernatural horrors I had encountered inside the mortuary.
"As you all know, mysterious deaths of this nature have become an epidemic across the world," I began, the words pouring out of me involuntarily. "Today, a similar fate has befallen His Excellency, Alhaji Lawan. During my examination, I discovered severe trauma to various parts of his body—injuries invisible to the physical eye, discernible only by a perceptive spirit. To put it plainly, his left leg is spiritually missing, and his ocular essence has been violently extracted. Even his bloodstream is completely devoid of globules rouges—red blood cells. This sudden depletion caused his respiratory system to seize up entirely; his lungs are completely dried out, and his veins have ruptured. These spiritual attacks on his soul are what forced our brilliant doctors to place him on oxygen. But what they fail to realize is that this oxygen tube is nothing but... a... a..."
Suddenly, a suffocating grip choked the words right out of my throat, cutting me off entirely. I forced my eyes open. There was absolutely no one standing near me, yet I could distinctly feel a heavy, invisible pair of hands squeezing my windpipe. Within two minutes, gasping for air, I lost consciousness and collapsed heavily to the floor.
Chaos erupted as people rushed to offer first aid. Through the fading twilight of my consciousness, I heard our VIP guest cold-bloodedly command, "Take her out of here. She is wasting our time, and we have important business to attend to."
Nurse Rahinatu and another colleague hoisted me up to carry me out. Despite my miserable, weakened state, I managed to cast a tear-filled, wounded glare at the guest, viewing him as a cruel, heartless monster.
"Take her to my office, I'll be right there," Dr. Bilal’s voice echoed from behind us. They followed his instructions and laid me down on his examination bed. The other nurse left, leaving Rahinatu sitting by my side to look after me.
In a barely audible whisper, I managed to croak, "Hand me the paper on the desk."
She fetched it and handed it to me. I scanned the fabricated report Dr. Bilal had written—the lie he had wanted me to read to the audience.
As I held the paper, Dr. Bilal stormed into the office, furious. Rahinatu quickly slipped out. He marched up to me, yelling, "What on earth was that? Are you on drugs or something? If I hadn't cut you off, were you really going to expose the entire secret to everyone?"
"What did I do wrong? What secret are you talking about, Sweety?" I asked, genuinely confused, because I saw absolutely nothing wrong with what I had spoken on stage.
"Shut up! Just shut your mouth! You open your mouth and the words just keep pouring out like a blaring radio! Ugh! Get up and get out!" he barked, his shout piercing through my very soul.
With tears streaming down my face, I whimpered, "But Sweet..."
He cut me off viciously, "Look, Fateema, I said get out! Go home, I'll deal with you later!"
Seeing the sheer, unbridled rage burning in his eyes, I didn't stay a second longer. I ran out of the office crying, my vision so blurred by tears that I didn't see him coming. I crashed violently into a tall figure.
The impact knocked me backward, but before I hit the floor, he caught me, stabilizing me on my feet. But before I could fully regain my balance, he hurled a deeply insulting, terrifying insult at me in a booming, deep voice.
"You insatiable witch!"
He shoved me aside roughly. I stumbled back, weaving dangerously, but by God's grace, I didn't fall. Through my soaked eyelashes, heavy with tears, I watched him get into his sleek black luxury car. Only after his car had cleared the hospital gates did I manage to drag my heavy feet out to the street. I hailed a taxi to take me home. It was only when I arrived that I realized I had left my handbag back at the hospital. I had to ask my mother, Mama, for the fare. She was deeply alarmed to see me in such a state of emotional devastation.
I rushed straight into the inner bedroom, locked the door, and burst into a violent fit of weeping. Torn between Dr. Bilal's harsh words and the cruel remarks of the VIP guest, I couldn't decide which insult hurt my soul more deeply.
"Anty Fatee, please come out and tell us what's wrong," my younger sister, Maryam, called out from the hallway, gently knocking on the door. "We are supposed to be celebrating, but you've come home and ruined the mood."
I got up and unlocked the door. Sinking into Mama’s arms, I burst into fresh tears, explaining that Dr. Bilal was deeply angry with me. Knowing how much I loved him and how central he was to my life, Mama immediately dialed his number to find out what had happened. She called at least five times, but he repeatedly rejected her calls before turning his phone off completely.
I watched it all happen, and his rejection triggered a severe, burning fever within me. I refused to take any medication; I felt I would rather die than lose Dr. Bilal. Mama kept soaking a towel in cold water and placing it on my forehead while Maryam kept comforting me.
Eventually, exhaustion took over and I fell into a deep sleep. When I finally woke up, I noticed my handbag sitting on the table. Just as I was about to ask how it got there, I spotted Rahinatu sitting nearby on a prayer mat.
I let out a long sigh. She turned around, and the moment our eyes met, she awkwardly looked away. A cold chill settled over me. I stood up to go perform my prayers, but the moment I stepped into the restroom, I realized my monthly period had just started. I took a quick shower, changed into light, comfortable clothes, and walked out, sitting silently next to Rahinatu.
"Dr. Bilal has been placed on a compulsory leave of absence," Rahinatu said softly, her voice filled with heavy emotion. "He is absolutely furious. He smashed a lot of things in his office. My advice to you is to give him some time to cool down."
Tears welled up in my eyes again. "Are you blaming me too?" I asked.
"Well, yes, to some extent," she replied. "Why on earth would you say those things on stage when you know very well how hard everyone is working to debunk the rumors that there is a blood-drinking DARK SPIRIT lurking within the hospitals of this town?"
"But I only spoke the truth about what I saw!" I protested weakly.
"No, you fabricated it," Rahinatu countered. "You were brought to us completely unconscious. Everyone knows how deathly afraid you are of corpses and the mortuary. The things you described have never happened in our hospital."
I raised my head and looked her dead in the eye. "I need you to believe me. By God, everything I said is the absolute truth."
"Does that mean you're a witch then?"
The word slipped out of Rahinatu’s mouth before she could stop it. The accusation sliced through my heart, and for a fleeting second, I felt an intense urge to choke her. Instead, I remained dead silent, narrowing my eyes and glaring at her with a piercing look. Feeling deeply uncomfortable under my intense gaze, she quickly tried to justify herself:
"Think about it. If you aren't a witch, how else could you possibly know all those hidden details about what happened to Alhaji Lawan? And if you remember correctly, in our recent self-defense seminar, they explicitly taught us the characteristics of witches and how to identify evil people. Do you harbor any of those traits? Have you ever craved human flesh?"
"If I truly were a witch, I swear to God, nothing would stop me from snatching Dr. Bilal's soul right now!" I hissed, biting my lip in anger.
Rahinatu forced a uneasy smile. "Anyway, I have to get home. We'll speak over the phone."
I escorted her out to her car at the front gate before retreating back inside. I unzipped my bag, pulled out my phone, and came face-to-face with a text message from Dr. Bilal. It read: Leave me alone. Go find a witch like yourself.
I stared at the message, reading it over and over like a student memorizing a lesson, before whispering to myself, "Does he really mean it? Am I a witch?" And with that, a fresh torrent of tears cascaded down my cheeks.

Part 2

"Does Dr. Bilal really mean it? Am I truly a witch?"
The loud shatter of a plate breaking cut through my words. Mama had dropped the dish she was holding. Her eyes were wide with sheer terror and utter devastation. I walked toward her and asked directly, "Mama, am I really a witch?"
She didn't answer. Instead, she collapsed onto the floor like someone possessed, breaking into a heavy sweat. Seeing her in that state instantly made me forget my own crisis.
"Mama? Mama?" I cried out, shaking her vigorously as her body went completely rigid, stiff as a mouse locked in an electric shock.
"Maryam! Maryam, come quickly! Mama is not well!" I screamed.
Within seconds, Maryam rushed into the room. Then, I witnessed something extraordinary: the moment Maryam gently touched Mama’s face, Mama instantly snapped out of the trance and returned to normal, as if the shock had never gripped her.
Mama drew a ragged breath, closing her eyes as hot tears leaked down her face. Maryam let out a long sigh, staring at me intently for a moment before turning to our mother. "Please, Mama, don't say a word. If you tell her, Anty Fatee will completely lose her mind."
"What is it that you don't want her to tell me, Maryam?" I demanded.
"Get up and start packing your bags," Mama commanded authoritatively. Maryam immediately began to move. Left with no choice, I followed her. No matter how much I begged or questioned them, Mama refused to give me an answer. Instead, she frantically threw our clothes into large suitcases.
Mama walked into the room, looked at me, and quickly averted her eyes. "Take everything you know is valuable to you," she said sharply. "Follow your sister and leave right now."
"Where are we going? Mama, what is the meaning of all this?" I cried, stepping closer to her.
"I don't want any more questions, Fateema! Just pack up and leave before the whole world finds out who you really are!" Mama shouted, her voice cracked with emotion.
"Who am I, Mama? What is happening?" I asked, my voice trembling. Before she could answer, the sounds of heavy objects being thrown against our house echoed from outside, accompanied by a barrage of angry shouts and curses from a gathering mob.
In normal families, a mother entrusts her younger children to the care of the eldest. But today, for the very first time, I saw a mother entrust her eldest daughter into the hands of her younger sister.
"Maryam, look after her. No matter how difficult things get, do not let your sister cry. I place her in your safekeeping. Just go, I will find you there later," Mama wept, placing my hand into Maryam's. Maryam nodded silently.
I never knew our house had a back exit, but today Mama opened a hidden rear door for us. All our luggage was hastily loaded into an old, vintage-model car waiting in the alley. We both scrambled into the backseat. My right hand was locked firmly in Maryam's grip, while my left hand held onto Mama desperately. Tears streamed down my face; my voice was entirely gone.
Suddenly, a violent crash echoed from the front of the house, sounding as if the main door had been brutally torn off its hinges. At that terrifying sound, Mama violently yanked her hand from my grip and rushed back inside the house. Simultaneously, the car—which had no driver at the wheel—suddenly roared to life and began speeding down the road with us inside.
The sheer terror gripping my soul was beyond words. Like a helpless little girl, I turned to my younger sister. "Maryam, please, I beg you, turn us around. Take me back to Mama."
She squeezed my hand tighter. "Anty Fatee, your time living in Kibri is over forever. Calms down and compose yourself. We are relocating to Duwala, the great capital city."
As I opened my mouth to protest, she made a swift gesture with the palm of her hand. Instantly, an invisible weight pressed over my eyes, and darkness consumed me. I lost total consciousness.
The next thing I knew, Maryam was gently shaking me awake. "Anty Fatee, wake up. We've arrived."
I forced my heavy eyelids open, watching rain pour heavily against the cracked windshield of the old car. Maryam pushed the door open, and we stepped out, her grip still firm on my hand. The biting, cool air of the new city hit me square in the face, a fine mist of rain settling on my skin. I blinked, taking in the sight of the massive palace looming before us. The sheer architecture of its towering security walls and the lush, exotic greenery surrounding it was breathtaking.
As we approached the massive front gates, a security guard peered through a small viewing slot. "Who are you?" he demanded.
Maryam glanced back at me, cleared her throat, and pointed toward the alleyway. "Look at the vehicle that brought us here."
The guard stared at the mysterious, driverless car. Without another word or explanation, he unlocked the heavy gates and ushered us inside. It was only then that I saw the true, staggering magnificence of the estate. A profound sense of dread began to creep over me. Before we could even reach the grand entrance to the main living room, the torrential rain had soaked us to the bone.
The moment we stepped onto the porch, the heavy double doors swung open entirely on their own. With Maryam leading the way, still anchoring me by the hand, we stepped into the grand foyer.
Suddenly, I jerked to a violent halt. My heart stopped.
There, mounted prominently on the massive wall directly facing the entrance, was a colossal portrait of him.
The sharp, rhythmic click of high heels echoing across the marble floor snapped me out of my trance. A young, elegant woman emerged from the corridor, walking with an exaggerated sway that looked as though she might snap her bones.
"Who are you looking for?" she asked, her voice dripping with sheer condescension and disdain. Before we could muster an answer, an elderly, dignified matriarch stepped out behind her.
"Sarah, watch your tongue," the older woman rebuked sternly. Sarah scowled, turned on her heel, and marched out into the stormy night, leaving me wondering where on earth she could be heading in such terrible weather.
"Welcome, my children. You must have had a very long and exhausting journey. Please, come and sit," the matriarch said, offering us a warm, comforting smile.
She gestured for us to take a seat on the luxurious couches and immediately ordered the house staff to bring us hot coffee. I couldn't bring myself to take a single sip. Fear tightly gripped my throat as I looked around the room, realizing that portraits of that man—the very man whose terrifying, unforgettable words still echoed in my mind—were plastered on almost every single wall of this house.
"Take it and drink, Anty Fatee," Maryam urged gently. I ignored her, wrapping my arms tightly around myself as my body began to shiver.
"If you don't mind, I would love to know what city our guests have traveled from," the elderly woman asked gracefully, taking a seat opposite us and studying our faces.
Maryam hesitated, stammering slightly before replying, "We came to see the master of the house."
The matriarch let out a soft chuckle. "He is my son. I only ask so that I can inform him, lest he throws a tantrum that his guests were kept waiting without his knowledge."
Maryam reached into the deep pocket of her coat and pulled out an ancient piece of inscribed sheepskin parchment. She extended her hand and passed it to the matriarch. The older woman accepted it and began to read. As her eyes scanned the ancient script, she kept looking up at us in astonishment until she reached the very end.
"Are you Fateema?" she asked, looking directly at Maryam.
Maryam shook her head. "No, this is my older sister," she said, gesturing toward me.
The matriarch locked her gaze onto me for a long, silent moment. She handed the parchment back to Maryam, then pulled out her phone, quickly dialed a number, and pressed it to her ear.
"Mu'azzam, come home immediately," she said into the receiver. "You have guests. Very important guests."
She ended the call abruptly, turned back to us, and said, "When he arrives, you will hand that parchment directly to him." She then summoned a maid and instructed her to show us to our guest room—a room so lavishly furnished it had everything, including a massive bed and a fully stocked refrigerator.
The moment the bedroom door clicked shut, I violently yanked my hand away from Maryam's grip, my anger boiling over. "Why do you keep clutching my hand like I'm some helpless toddler? Where on earth have you brought me? You are going to tell me exactly what is going on right now, or so help me, I will run away into the dead of night!"
"Look, just take off those wet clothes and change into something dry before you catch a terrible cold," Maryam replied calmly, completely ignoring my outburst.
I felt like screaming at the top of my lungs out of sheer frustration. My own younger sister was treating me like a child and barking orders at me! I lunged forward to grab her, but a sudden fit of violent sneezing overtook me. Within minutes, a raging fever gripped my body, and I began shaking uncontrollably. Defeated, I stripped off my soaked clothes and wrapped myself tightly in the thick bedsheets.
Maryam smiled softly. "I'll go grab our suitcases."
The moment she stepped out of the room, I curled into a tight ball, terror gnawing at my mind. I shut my eyes tightly. At that exact moment, a deafening crack of thunder shook the entire palace. Terrified, I leapt from the bed, intending to flee the room, but the power suddenly cut out, plunging the entire room into pitch darkness.
In that same split second, the bedroom door was violently pushed open. I let out a blood-curdling shriek as I crashed headfirst into a massive, solid figure. The impact sent me flying backward, but before I could hit the floor, a pair of powerful arms caught me, pulling me roughly against a broad, solid chest, pinning me tightly against him.
In a blind panic, I sunk my teeth deep into his flesh and shoved him away with all my might. The momentum threw us both backward, and we crashed heavily to the floor, with me landing squarely on top of his chest.
My eyes went wide as a deep, painful groan escaped his lips: "Washhh!"
In my mind, I was utterly convinced a thief had broken into the room. As I thrashed wildly to break free from his grip, the bedsheet I had wrapped around myself unraveled completely. The draft blew it right over my face, leaving my chest completely exposed. I didn't even realize the lights had suddenly flashed back on until he roughly shoved me off him. I hit the floor hard, hearing him hiss in deep disgust.
"What on earth are you doing in here?" Maryam’s sharp voice suddenly cut through the room.
I sat up quickly, pouting angrily as I frantically re-adjusted the bedsheet around my body.
"Anty Fatee, come and help me carry these bags instead of just sitting there staring at me," Maryam grumbled, dragging her heavy trolley suitcase inside. With a heavy sigh, I stood up, grabbed the other suitcase, and wheeled it into the closet.
Even as I opened the suitcase and selected a change of clothes, the memory of the man completely consumed my mind. But what haunted my soul the most was his scent—a intoxicating, breathtaking fragrance that seemed to paralyze my very senses.
I changed into a set of thick, warm clothes and climbed back onto the bed. Just as I was finally closing my eyes to sleep, the matriarch of the house walked into the room, a gentle, apologetic smile playing on her lips.
In a tone full of maternal regret, she said, "That is just how Mu'azzam is. The slightest thing sets off his temper. But please, my children, do not worry..."