The Treasure Ifrit | A True Horror Story

True Horror Story | Drawn into a dark game by his master at a young age, Serhat becomes the victim of a cursed treasure and a pact with ifrits. His terrifying experiences, torment akin to the grave, and search for salvation are recounted.

I’m sure you will never forget what I’m about to tell you for the rest of your lives. Even if you forget, it will occasionally come to mind, and you will hesitate to commit sin. Perhaps what I tell you will stop you when you are about to sin. By preventing a sin you might commit, I will gain merit (sevap). Perhaps these merits will be like a drop of water on the hellfire burning inside me. Maybe I will die before I can finish writing this. Because I have become their plaything now; I have to do whatever they say. Okay, I have money, I have everything I dreamed of when I was very young, but my youth is gone, my family is gone, my friends are gone, my life is gone.

Have you ever wondered what the torment of the grave feels like? Have you thought about what you will experience under the cold earth, inside a thin shroud? I endure that torment every night. I repent. Even the best, the most knowledgeable people could do nothing more than give me protective prayers. What I did, how I did it, I will tell you everything, step by step. Don’t think I’m happy now. I just put on my mask every morning when I leave the house, just so people won’t see me troubled and want to help; I stay away from everyone. As they say, “Neither the sick awaits the morning, nor the fresh corpse the grave.” I am sick, waiting for the morning, but I am not dead. Every night, the grave awaits me.

Without further ado, I begin my story. When I was young, I was in a situation where I couldn’t even go to school. My family struggled with financial difficulties, and I, with my tiny body, tried to help out somehow. Those tools and equipment didn’t suit my tiny hands at all. My father had placed me with the village mechanic. It was clear even then that I would be successful when I grew up. My master could see the light in my eyes, but my mother could never approve. I understood her too. Her only son was spending his days as a mechanic’s apprentice at an age when he should be studying, playing ball with friends outside. Still, I never complained about what I did. Even at that age, I always lived with the pride of being able to bring a loaf of bread home.

When I turned 14, I woke up to a very bad morning. My mother goes to my father’s room to wake him for the morning prayer, but my father doesn’t wake up. A loud scream echoed through the house. I understood; I was old enough now, matured early. I was scared something had happened. I jumped out of my hard-matted bed and went to that room. My mother was kneeling at my father’s bedside, crying as if there were no tomorrow. I looked at my father’s pale face for a while. The neighbors, hearing the noise, had already gathered at the door. I went and opened the door. I let everyone who came in with great composure, but when I saw my master, I couldn’t hold back and started crying. Because he was like a father to me too; I even told him things I couldn’t do or talk about with my father. Okay, sometimes I felt like I was being unfair to my father, but never mind, he was here with me today, I didn’t want anything else. We hugged, my master and I. He went to see my father, came back shortly after. I was sitting on the floor waiting, with tears in my eyes. He quietly sat next to me, wiped my tears with his calloused hands. “Don’t worry, Serhat, I’m not dead yet,” he said. Even if I say these words brought me back to myself, don’t believe it. I couldn’t get over my father’s grief for months. My master, Salih abi (older brother Salih), helped us in every way, never withholding his support.

About four years passed; I was about to turn 18. I was still in the village and had learned the trade well. It was my birthday. I had another evening spent with memories of my father, an evening with cakes, pastries, cookies, and lovely gifts. But that night, after everyone left and I was alone in my bed, I had a strange moment. I usually didn’t have trouble sleeping. My master had even told me not to come to work the next day, to take a holiday. But I couldn’t sleep all night. I took a cigarette to get some air and left the house. While watching the darkness and listening to the silence, I saw some activity on the hill opposite me. It looked like someone was shining a light, talking in low voices. I got curious and slowly started climbing the hill. As I climbed, the sounds and lights seemed to move further away. I reached the spot where I first saw the activity, but I couldn’t see anything. I took the last drag from my cigarette and dropped it at my feet. Just as I was about to turn back, I heard a clearer voice. It was Salih Usta’s voice. I could even see him. There were a few other people around him. In the middle, a fire illuminated the surroundings. I approached them, called out a few times, but he didn’t hear. I came right up behind him. Something was cooking in the fire. When I touched Salih Usta from behind, he suddenly turned to me. It really was him. “Come Serhat, sit,” he said and sat me down next to him. I was seeing the people next to him for the first time. I could see the light in all their eyes. It was as if the redness of the fire struck into a great whiteness; the fire burned in their eyes. They stared at me for a long time, then simultaneously turned back to the fire and, as if they had no nerve endings, started holding their hands into the fire. I asked Salih Usta, “Who are these guys, abi? What are they doing? Doesn’t it hurt them at all?” “It doesn’t hurt them,” said Salih Usta. Then he turned to the man next to him and said something. While they were laughing among themselves, it suddenly started raining. The rain, which quickly turned into a downpour, strangely didn’t extinguish the fire.

Just then, I heard my mother’s voice. “Serhat! Son! Where are you? You made me worry so much out here at this hour, come here quickly!” she said. “I’m sitting with Salih abi, Mom,” I replied. When I turned back towards the fire, I saw no fire, no men, no Salih abi. None of them were there. Only where the fire had been, there was the charred corpse of a cat. My mother grabbed my arm and pulled me up. “Look at you, soaking wet, quick, home!” she said. At that moment, I felt the need to explain to my mother, but I couldn’t even explain it to myself. The people I had been sitting with for minutes had vanished in seconds. The fire had definitely been burning because there was a burnt body on the ground. My mother saw the cat on the ground. “Son, what have you done? You, who wouldn’t let me kill even an ant, have you now burned an animal alive?” she said. Even though I said things like, “Mom, I didn’t do it, I swear,” I couldn’t convince her. We quickly walked home, soaking wet. I immediately changed my clothes. While I was drying my hair, my mother went to her room. After drying myself thoroughly, I went to my mother’s room to apologize. Her door was closed. When I opened it slowly, I saw her sleeping in bed. I called out a few times, “Mom?” When I got no answer, I went to her side. This time, I nudged her arm. My mother woke up with great fear. Panicked, she said, “What happened, son?” “Mom, you just went to your room, how did you fall asleep so quickly?” I asked. My mother looked at the clock, turned back to me, and said, “Son, we went to bed early today.” “I didn’t do it, Mom, I didn’t burn that cat,” I said. My mother’s expression became even more bewildered. “What cat, Serhat? Were you dreaming? Go to bed, we’ll talk in the morning,” she said.

I left the room. As I entered my own room, I heard a cat sound from outside. Looking out my room window, I saw a large dog tearing apart a small cat, just like the burning cat there. Although I opened the window and tried to shoo it away with various sounds, I couldn’t make the dog listen. It picked up the cat it had torn apart in its mouth and started running towards that hill. When I closed the window and turned around, I came face to face with my mother. I was terrified; I jumped back seeing my mother suddenly in front of me. Fire seemed to burn in her eyes. “Mom?” I said fearfully. She didn’t answer. I slowly slipped past her, but she continued to follow me with her locked gaze. I got into bed, sat with my back against the wall, and pulled the blanket over my head. I was praying on one hand and trying to understand what was happening on the other. Then, from outside the blanket, my mother whispered into my ear, “Why did you burn that cat? Why did you kill it, son?” From under the blanket, with a trembling voice, I said, “I didn’t kill it, Mom, I didn’t burn it.” At that moment, the buzzing in my brain slowly began to subside. Everything seemed to have returned to normal. I slowly peeked my head out from under the blanket. My mother wasn’t there; the door was also closed. I waited quietly in my bed for a while. I tried to recite the prayers I knew.

Later, I heard sounds from the hallway bathroom. I slowly opened the door. My mother had gotten up to use the restroom. I waited for her to come out, waited and waited, but she didn’t. In that short time, I experienced a whirlwind of emotions. Finally, my mother came out. Half-asleep, as she was returning to her room, she saw me through the crack in my door. “Serhat, aren’t you asleep?” she said and came in. I didn’t answer. “Why haven’t you slept until this hour, son?” she asked. “Did you sleep, Mom?” I asked. With this question, I would be able to understand if what I experienced was real or not. “I couldn’t sleep much, actually. I feel like there’s some trouble inside me, son, but I woke up occasionally and came to check on you. You were sleeping soundly, thank God. I covered you, kissed your cheek, stroked your head a bit. You were moving your eyes while sleeping, I thought you were dreaming and left your room. Why are you awake now?” she said. This meant that none of what I experienced was real; it was all a dream. I didn’t go there, didn’t intervene in the altercation outside, nor did I go to her room and wake my mother. “I just had a bad dream, Mom, that’s why I woke up,” I said. “Okay son, may God give you peace,” she said and left the room.

I put my head on the pillow and started thinking. I just wanted to sleep because I felt very tired. Repeating the prayers in sequence, I managed to fall asleep, albeit with some difficulty. When I woke up in the morning, I was still under the influence of the night’s events. I wasn’t supposed to go to work, but since I couldn’t talk to Salih Usta, my mind wouldn’t be at ease. I had my breakfast and left the house. When I entered the workshop, he was busy with a tool. I greeted him and sat down next to him. He looked strange when he saw me; his gaze changed and everything. He put down the tool in his hand and turned to me. “What’s wrong, Serhat? I gave you the day off today,” he said. “Usta, I couldn’t sleep last night, and I was bored at home, so I came,” I said. There was a moment of silence. “You know, Serhat, I had a dream last night, but I couldn’t tell if it was a dream or real. I mean, there were dead cats, dogs, strange-looking men and stuff at home. I dreamt within a dream. Even now, I don’t know if I’m awake or still in the dream,” he said. When I said, “Usta, tell me a bit, I’m curious,” he described exactly what I had seen. As I listened wide-eyed, he nudged me back to reality, asking, “Are you okay?” “I’m fine, Usta, I’m fine, but I saw the exact same things you described last night. My mother was there too, but she’s unaware of everything right now,” I said. Salih Usta paused for a moment, lost in deep thought. “Maybe it was just a coincidence, let’s get back to work,” he said. I helped him until evening, but my mind was very confused now. As I was leaving the workshop in the evening, he said, “I’ll stay a bit longer, you go, see you tomorrow.”

I left the workshop. After taking a few steps, I heard my master’s screams from inside. Running back inside, I realized the sound was coming from the back area we used as a workshop. I immediately slid open the door and rushed in. It was on fire! There were dozens of cats like the ones I saw outside at night. The dog that tore that cat apart was also there. Serhat! Usta was also huddled in a corner, covering his eyes with his hands, just waiting. As I was about to lift him out of there, the flames suddenly grew larger. Something appeared within the flames, like a huge, long snake. Its tongue was as big as my hand. Salih Usta had removed his hands from his eyes and was staring fixedly at the thing in the flames. The cats started talking like humans. The dog stood in front of the fire with its head bowed. The fur on top of its head was burning, but it showed no reaction. Just then, someone pulled me hard from behind, bringing me back to my senses. They literally dragged me out of the workshop. Then they pulled my master out too. Inside was a huge fire and animals waiting to die. The villagers tried to extinguish it with their own efforts, but soon the workshop of many years, along with my childhood, turned to ashes.

Salih Usta was crying at the side. The man’s livelihood had burned down, and there was nothing he could do. After the fire was extinguished, the villagers went inside to see if anything salvageable remained. Dead cat bodies emerged from under every plank. Actually, everyone thought we had deliberately burned them, but no one dared to make that accusation while we were in this state. Our clothes were covered in black soot and smoke stains. I grew more afraid with every cat body that emerged. After that incident, my mother and I went home. While cleaning up in the bathroom, the human-like sounds those cats made still echoed in my ears. Every time I closed my eyes, the image from within those flames appeared before me, and when I opened them, those cat sounds rang in my ears.

That night again, I couldn’t sleep until morning. My mother slept with me too. I must have fallen asleep with the comfort my mother provided, but I woke up suddenly again with the knocking on the door. It was Salih Usta at the door, with another man beside him. “Serhat, sorry to disturb you late at night, but I’m not well at all. Those sounds, that image… they won’t leave my mind. There’s no one else who understands me but you. This is the older brother of a close friend of mine; he said he could help us. He will save us from this situation,” he said. As I tried to comprehend what he was saying in my sleepy state, my mother came up behind me. Seeing the desperation in Salih Usta’s eyes, my mother turned to me and asked, “What’s wrong, son, what are they doing here at this hour?” I briefly explained the situation to my mother. “Mom, I need to go, please let me,” I said. Although my mother said things like, “Don’t go, son, I’ll take care of it tomorrow,” she reluctantly let me go. “You sleep, I’ll come in when I get back,” I said. “Okay son, may God protect you. Come back with good news,” she said and closed her door.

While Salih Usta stood there anxiously, the man next to him looked quite confident. We got in the car. First, Salih Usta picked up a few things from his house. During that time, the man and I were left alone. I hesitated to talk to the man; he had a stern demeanor. Soon, my master returned. We took a long journey at that hour of the night. We arrived at another village. As I expected, we stopped in front of the man’s house. His house was quite far from the village square, standing alone in a desolate place. We made eye contact with the dog waiting at his door. The man spoke for the first time there: “Don’t get too close, he has a nasty temper,” he said. I didn’t know if he was joking or serious, but I did as he said. We passed by it and went inside. The inside of the house was immaculate. With new furniture, a latest model television, comfortable sofas, etc., it caught my attention quite a bit. I sat on one of the sofas; it was more comfortable than my bed. The man left the room. Salih Usta said, “We’ll be fine, Serhat, don’t worry.” I nodded slightly and said, “Inshallah abi, inshallah (God willing, brother).” The man re-entered the room with two glasses in his hand. First, my master drank, then I drank. It tasted like cologne. As soon as I drank it, I felt a sense of relief.

By the way, I’ll pause writing here. I felt a cold breath on my neck. I’m having trouble using my hands right now. My computer screen is also turning on and off by itself. I know how this feeling ends, so I’m stopping.

Yes, three days later, I’m back at my computer. I recited my protection prayers, prayed as much as I could. I feel better. To avoid experiencing the same things, I continue writing quickly.

I felt relieved after drinking the glass. All the worries and troubles in my brain seemed to have been erased. But this relief didn’t last long. With a sudden wave of nausea, I barely made it to the toilet. After vomiting and feeling relieved, I came out and went back to the room. Salih Usta was still sitting there. As I sat on the same sofa waiting to see what would happen, this time a tickle started in my throat. I couldn’t stop coughing. The man gave me a tissue. I covered my mouth with the tissue while coughing. When I felt relieved and removed the tissue, I saw it was stained with blood. The man took it from my hand and put the tissue in a black plastic bag. “I’ll throw these away,” he said. The same thing happened to my master. After taking his tissue too, he had us sit on the floor in a triangle shape. After reciting something, he gave us papers with the same recitations written on them. The three of us started reading simultaneously. As we read, I saw my master’s face changing. Before my eyes, his nose elongated, his ears grew larger, his eyes bulged out. I looked away from him. Suddenly, my mother called out from behind me. I can’t describe my fear at that moment because my mother’s arrival was so irrelevant. Just as I was about to turn around, the man grabbed my arm firmly and said, “Don’t, don’t turn around!” “I don’t want to read anymore, I’m terrified,” I said. “Read it 7 more times, then it will be over,” he said. My mother was still behind me, pleading as if, “Don’t do it, son, don’t read! Leave him, get out of this house!” The man, as if hearing her too, said, “Don’t listen to her, that’s not your mother.” After taking a deep breath and reading seven more times, Salih Usta’s form completely changed. He became the same entity that appeared in the fire at the workshop. His head turned into that of a black snake. I didn’t want to look, but I couldn’t take my eyes off him. The man started reciting something else. This time, my mother’s anguished voice gave way to wicked laughter. As the same talking cat sounds, footsteps, and tapping noises from within the walls filled the room, my vision blurred.

When I came to, I was lying on the floor. That man was still beside me, still reciting something, splashing water on my face from the glass in his hand. I opened my eyes and got up from the floor. Salih Usta was lying unconscious next to me. There were pieces of plaster on the floor that had fallen from the ceiling. The walls of the room were also cracked. The man brought Salih Usta around, but he couldn’t remain calm like me. He covered his eyes with his hands and started running around the room screaming. This time, the man raised his voice slightly, cornered Salih Usta against the wall, and poured the glass over his head. There, my master came to his senses again. He looked around with anxious eyes. “What happened to me?” he started shouting. When he saw me, he came over. Seeing me, he literally forgot his own trouble. The man started attending to me. I still couldn’t understand what had happened. After a while, we fully recovered. The man also started speaking more friendly, but I could see the fear in his eyes too. His house was wrecked. Salih Usta asked, “Abi, what are we going to do now? How will we get rid of this?” “You will be saved, don’t worry, but it won’t be easy. I learned that you are under the influence of black magic performed by someone. My strength alone was not enough, so we need help. But this task falls to you, young man,” he said. I felt strange. “What can I do?” I asked. “You will bring a piece of grave soil from the grave of your closest relative,” he said. My father immediately came to mind. “Let’s go and get it before the morning call to prayer,” he said. I didn’t want to do it. “What does grave soil have to do with this?” I asked. “Look, kid, if you act like this, you can’t be saved. So do as I say,” he said.

We hastily left the house and returned to the village. When we stopped in front of the cemetery, he gave me a jar, and I started walking towards my father’s grave. As I approached the grave, a disgusting smell hit my nostrils. I reached the foot of the grave. My father’s soil had become rock hard. I struggled even to take a handful of soil; it was like a solid block. As I dug my hand deeper, I felt something soft. When I pulled my fingers out, I saw dozens of scorpions on my finger. I flung them all aside with a sweep of my hand, but they all crawled back into my father’s grave together. At that moment, a great cry erupted from beneath the grave. My father was crying out in pain, pleading, “Help me! Save me!” I put my head to the ground; it really was my father’s voice. “Oh God, is my father suffering torment? Oh God, please end my father’s torment!” I started praying. The sounds didn’t stop. Now I joined his pain and started crying too. There was nothing I could do. Then snakes surrounded me. They all entered the grave from different places. I tried to stop them, thinking let them bite me, let me die, as long as nothing happens to my father, but they slipped through my palms. When the snakes entered, my father’s screams intensified. I stood up to ask for help, ran out of the cemetery, and got into the car. My master and that man were waiting for me in the car. Seeing the empty jar, the man asked, “Why didn’t you take it?” When I told him what happened, the man’s lips started trembling. I could understand that things were getting worse. My crying continued intensely in the car.

We went back to that village, to the man’s house. When we stopped in front of the house, the man’s dog was lying on the ground, torn to pieces. He knelt beside the dog and examined it with a stick. I thought he would cry, wail, but the man showed no reaction. Then he entered the house. When there was no sound for a while, we followed him inside. The brand-new furniture I mentioned earlier was smashed to pieces. The walls were demolished, the curtains burned. When whistling sounds started coming from around the house, he hastily started the car. His hands were shaking; he struggled to drive. After leaving there, he pulled over, and Salih Usta took the wheel. The man gave directions. We stopped in front of another house on the other side of the village. We entered the house of another man, older than him. Seeing us in that state, he immediately took us in. He explained the situation to the man. After listening calmly, the man said, “I hope we’re not too late.” We went into a room. He dressed us in something that covered our entire bodies, even our heads were covered. He placed an ashtray in the center. He wrote our names on a piece of paper and threw it into the tray. He dripped one drop each from three different bottles. Then he lit it with a match. The moment he lit it, the house suddenly shook as if in an earthquake. When I started groaning in fear, the man placed his hand on my chest and said, “Calm down, it will pass soon.” I heard my mother’s pleas again, but this time I didn’t turn around. As the house shook, the light in the room also went out. Then the shaking stopped, and the light came back on. My mother’s voice also ceased. I slowly looked at the tray. The glass tray was shattered. Next to it lay a piece of paper with a burnt corner. The man picked up the paper, read something, blew on it, and then opened the paper. After examining it for a bit, his eyes suddenly widened. I could see beads of sweat trickling down his forehead. He fixed his eyes on me. “You… It all started with you and will end with you. The black magic harming you is so dangerous that it has the power to bring this house down on us right now. There is no escape from this anymore. You can only make a deal. You will give them something they want. Your father will rest easy in that ground, and you will be able to live a normal life,” he said. Then he turned to Salih Usta: “You have done things together with them too. The magic has spread to you. This curse is like a virus. If someone doesn’t stop it or make a deal with them, it continues from generation to generation, intensifying,” he said. I tried to stay strong, but I couldn’t. Tears found their way down my face against my will. “What will I do then?” I asked. “You need to give them something,” he said. “Okay, but what?” I asked. Just then, the lights went out again, and the shaking started again. This time I could hear the man and the other man murmuring “Allah Allah.” I felt a sharp pain in my left side. It felt like I was caught between barbed wires, trying to break free. When the shaking stopped and the lights came on, the pain in my side also ceased. Salih Usta fixed his eyes on me and slowly glanced downwards. Following his gaze, I looked down at my side. My clothes were soaked in blood. The man quickly lifted my clothes and noticed something had been carved into my side with a sharp object. The pain returned at that moment. It wasn’t written in Turkish. The man hastily grabbed a book that had fallen from the shelf and started flipping through the pages. Then he stopped at a page. He looked at the wound, then at the page. I was still trembling from fear and pain. He fixed his eyes on me and said, “Fetus.” “What fetus, hocam (teacher/master)?” I asked. “Fetus, meaning the baby in the womb after the 3rd month of pregnancy,” he said. “So what’s the connection, hocam?” I asked. “When you get married, you will give your first child to them as a fetus,” he said.

This time, my tears flowed not from pain, but from anger. “I won’t do such a thing! You are frauds! You didn’t say who did the worst, why they did it, when they did it! Why should I believe you?” I said. Just then, my father’s agonizing screams reached my ears. The hoca covered my eyes with his hand. I could see the torment my father suffered beneath the earth. Snakes, insects, scorpions were devouring my father. When the hoca removed his hand, I came back to my senses. “Do you believe now?” he asked. “I don’t believe! I won’t give my child to anyone because of this nonsense! Besides, I’m not even married yet, maybe I won’t even have children!” I said. I wanted to get up and leave. Actually, I believed; I felt that fear to my core, but I couldn’t accept it. Just then, the hoca began to speak calmly: “Before you were born, your family was quite wealthy, richer than most families in the village. The moment you were born, your situation started getting worse. If you don’t believe me, you can ask your master. Your father lost everything due to ill-gotten gains he acquired back then. He didn’t comply with them. He accepted the deal but didn’t hand you over to them. Do you understand me now? Your father started this. He agreed to sacrifice you for a treasure. Not just as a fetus, but on the day you turned two. They took everything from your father, left him penniless. Your mother knows nothing, including about the treasure, but they will harm her too. Now, while your father suffers torment there, saving your lives is in your hands,” he said. I slowly turned to Salih Usta. He was crying and nodding in agreement with the hoca.

We did something there that night. By God, I cannot tell you what we did. I left that house with peace in my heart. We returned to our village. For several years, I experienced no bad incidents. Salih Usta also rebuilt his workshop from scratch. I frequently visited my father’s grave. I inhaled the scent of the earth. His torment had ceased; the soil literally smelled of roses. But now, a trouble-free life started to bother me. The voice inside me kept telling me to go and retrieve my father’s legacy. One day, I couldn’t stand it anymore and told Salih Usta. At first, he said things like, “Look, our lives have improved, let it go, let’s not touch it,” but somehow I convinced him, and we went to the hoca who had resolved our troubles. I explained the situation and said I wanted to take it. They had told the hoca its location since that night. We unearthed the remaining treasure from a large piece of land beyond the cemetery. However, they demanded a sacrifice for it, something I was familiar with from my dreams. I dismembered a small kitten into five pieces, excluding its feet, threw it into the pit where I unearthed the treasure, and covered it up. There was enough gold to save my entire life. I gave half to Salih Usta. Although he strongly objected at first, he gladly accepted when he saw the gold. I offered some to the hoca, but he refused. But the man who took us to that hoca accepted, and we divided it into three parts.

From that day on, my life changed completely. Salih Usta moved away from the village. Soon after, I moved too. We bought a nice house in the city, and I started living with my mother. My mother wondered where the money came from, but I always brushed it off with a lie. I didn’t tell her, but I was glad I had saved my father from that torment. While everything was going well, bitter news turned my life upside down. Salih Usta had passed away due to a heart attack. He was to be buried in the village tomorrow. So, we quickly prepared and set off for the village with my mother. Throughout the journey, I wondered if it happened because of what we had experienced, what we had done. Finally, we arrived in the village. I performed my last duty towards my spiritual father. However, the cemetery attendant removed dead cat bodies from the grave they dug. Everyone froze in astonishment, except me. Only I knew why this was happening. That man and that hoca hadn’t attended the funeral either. They put the cat bodies in a bag and took them away. Then they took Salih Usta out of his coffin. I was at the foot of the grave. The part of the shroud covering Salih Usta’s left side was soaked in blood. The ghassal (body washer) there absolved himself by saying, “It was perfectly clean when I washed him; it has nothing to do with me.” When we made the deal in that house, something bloody had been written on my left side. Now, the same spot on my master Salih was soaked in blood. We had to bury him like that. Everyone dispersed. My mother went home too. Only I remained at the graveside. As I sat there on the ground, a loud scream came from beneath the earth. It was Salih Usta’s voice! Just like my father, he was screaming in agony, “Help me! Save me!” I threw myself back. At that moment, the soil hardened too. Seeing the snakes and scorpions entering, I ran away from there.

My mother wanted to stay a bit longer because she missed her old neighbors; I couldn’t refuse her. I went to stay with an old friend and didn’t go home that night. Salih Usta’s screams wouldn’t leave my ears. My mother stayed with the neighbor too. As soon as morning came, I picked up my mother, and we headed towards our house in the city. A phone call on the way caused my hands to go limp. A fire had broken out in the detached house we were staying in; unfortunately, it was unusable. I pulled over, put my forehead on the steering wheel, and started crying like a child. I had to explain the situation to my mother too. My mother was very angry, scolded me, slapped me, but she also knew I did it for my father. I slowly continued on my way. When we arrived in front of the house, we came face to face with our home turned to ashes. There was nothing to be done. We rented a new house, but whenever the house was empty, things would get scattered, plates and dishes would break. We moved houses countless times, but it didn’t help us. My mother also changed a lot recently. At first, she was cold, but lately, she started openly saying she hated me, was disgusted by me. She left the house. I couldn’t tell her not to go; I was the guilty one. I should never have touched that treasure.

Now I was all alone. My money had no blessing. My businesses were doing poorly; the companies I partnered with were declaring bankruptcy one by one. I thought maybe if I started praying, repented, everything would get better, but every prayer I performed led to the tortures I endured at night. I started looking for a way out. I researched, asked around, and finally found a proper hoca. I shamefully told the hoca everything from A to Z, without omitting anything. He took me under his care and I began to hear the words that finished me:

“Look, child, you don’t realize what you’ve done. Let me tell you the truth. Actually, your father never found any treasure, never got involved in that business. The man you call Salih Usta was after that treasure from the very beginning, but he didn’t have the courage to make a deal with them. After deceiving and manipulating you somehow, he arranged for them to make the deal with you. Salih, that man, the people you went to thinking they were hocas and saved you are complete frauds, the worst kind. They played these games on you to deceive you and get that treasure. The agonizing screams you heard, the hardened soil, the snakes and scorpions – none of it was real. At least not regarding your father. They tricked you this way, played a game on you. Even if your father is truly suffering torment, it’s not because of the treasure. But it’s also true that this money will bring you no good. You said the man named Salih died; you described the events at his grave. What you described is that man’s end. Your end won’t be good either. This won’t end until you fulfill the promise you made to them. They are all people enslaved to the ifrit community you made a deal with. Salih, who took care of you after your father died, didn’t let you go hungry – do you think he really did it out of kindness? It was all planned years ago. They found the location of the treasure, chose a victim, ensured the victim made the deal, and shared the money. The victim in this story is you, Serhat. Pray that you are alive. There’s nothing I can do. I can only write protective prayers for you. Don’t lose hope in Allah; His will always prevails. I hope everything turns out as you wish. You will wear this amulet around your neck and never take it off. It will be with you day and night. This amulet will protect you from evil spirits, from ifrits. But you must know that this amulet only provides protection; it doesn’t completely save you. What you really need to do is break the pact you made with them. However, that’s not so easy. But be careful; their demands are always deceitful and dangerous. While doing what they ask, they might put you in even greater danger. Therefore, you must take every step very carefully. Read the prayers I gave you regularly every day. Definitely engage with these prayers in the mornings and evenings. Keeping your faith strong is the most important part of these matters. The only way to be strong against them is to increase your devotion to Allah. Because these entities catch humans at their weakest moments. Fear, helplessness, and despair are the emotions they feed on most. But remember, there’s no absolute guarantee in these matters. Just don’t lose hope. Finding a more powerful hoca might be the best solution for you, but finding such a hoca is not easy either. Tracking them down, finding a trustworthy one is difficult work. Don’t trust everyone, because there are many frauds in these matters. Lastly, be more careful regarding your mother. I told you that being near her could harm her. Perhaps the best way to protect her is to stay a little distant from her, but don’t break contact completely. Always stay in communication with her. Do your best to ensure no harm comes to her. With Allah’s permission, everything will get better. Don’t lose hope and continue the struggle. Now go and do as I said. Don’t forget to pray. May Allah be your helper and guide.”

What he said, what I’ve told you, is entirely true. These feelings have made me worse than dead. How did I fall into such a trap? How did I get caught in such a game? Was the smiling face I saw for years fake? Was it all for personal gain? Our experiences with the man named Salih, the identical dreams I had at night… It was all part of this game. May God punish me! Cursed be the day I dug that pit, the day I killed and threw that cat, the day I touched that treasure! Was this how I was supposed to learn not to trust anyone? Now my life is ruined. I have no family, no friends, no spouse, no stable life. The worst part is, they demanded something in return from me. They wanted to take a child of my blood while still a fetus. I can’t get married. I don’t want to do this injustice to my spouse if I marry. I will never have a child until I die. I can’t do this to those innocent people. I can’t do to them what was done to me. I’d rather die, be crippled, but I can’t do this to them.

Now, every night, a dug pit awaits me in the middle of my room, the soil beside it. I spend the night until morning in that grave. Snakes, scorpions tear my body apart until morning. Every night, I find a kitten outside and drip its blood into that pit; otherwise, the torment I endure becomes unbearable. It’s a pity for those animals too, I know. You will be very angry with me, but there’s nothing else I can do. I went to so many hocas, bowed to so many people, but received no help. I’m not blaming anyone, but nobody offers a solution either. Oh God, what am I doing? I regret it so much, my Lord! Oh God, I beg you, bring the right people before me, save me from this!

Bismillahirrahmanirrahim… They’ve come again. That cold breath on my neck again. My grave is dug, waiting for me along with my thin shroud. I want to finish with my last sentences: Be warned, don’t even go near these things. They are very dangerous. They can play all sorts of games and confuse your mind. Even your closest one can dig your grave. Be careful even with your closest ones, and most importantly, trust no one.