[STORY] They lived with the spirits of the dead.

The Price of the Diviner’s House

Chapter One: Three Knocks at the Door

Laura stared into empty space. Fred, her husband, sat in the corner of the room, hollow-eyed — he’d barely slept in days.

“We have nothing left, Fred,” Laura said. “Not even enough to buy bread.”

Fred didn’t answer.

“Do you hear me?” she pressed. “Tomorrow the landlord will come knocking again. What am I supposed to tell him?”

Fred straightened abruptly. “You think I don’t know that?” he shouted. “You think I don’t see my wife wasting away in front of me?”

Laura’s eyes filled with tears. She hadn’t meant to provoke him, but the fear of tomorrow had torn the words out of her. Fred calmed slightly, pressed his hands to his face, and sighed. “Sorry,” he murmured. “Sorry, Laura.”

She came closer and put a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll get through this, Fred. I don’t know how, but we will.”

He lifted his head, eyes burning with a rage he could barely contain. “I’ll find a way. Whatever it costs.”

Laura opened her mouth to answer, but at that moment a sound echoed at the door. Three sharp knocks. Bam. Bam. Bam.

She jumped. “It’s him,” she breathed.

Fred clenched his fists, rose slowly, and went to open it. It wasn’t the landlord as they’d expected — it was Abdou, the shopkeeper from the neighborhood. His expression held nothing friendly.

“Fred,” he said. “It’s been a month you’ve owed me. The rice, the oil, the charcoal. You think I’m going to keep feeding your family for free?”

Fred lowered his eyes. “Just give me a little more time. I’ll settle it.”

“Time, always time. But I have my own supplier to pay. And you hand me this?”

Laura stepped forward, voice pleading. “Abdou, please, a few more days, we’ll pay you.”

The shopkeeper sighed, exasperated, then fixed his eyes on Fred. “Listen carefully. If in two weeks I don’t have my money, you will regret ever taking me for a fool.” And he left.

Fred stood frozen, shoulders trembling. Laura, terrified, put a hand on his arm. “Fred.”

He pushed her away gently and murmured, eyes dark. “I told you, Laura. Whatever it costs.”

Chapter Two: Small Jobs, Small Hopes

The next morning, Fred left early. Laura watched him go from the window, heart tight. Money had to be found — no matter how. He found a small construction site nearby, where men already stood waiting. Fred approached the foreman and asked for work.

“Take a shovel,” the man said. “We unload trucks, we dig, we carry. You work the whole day, and if you slow down, I fire you. Understood?” No contract, no fixed wage — only the promise of a few bills at the end of the day, if the work was judged sufficient.

Fred worked like a man possessed. At day’s end, he was handed a small amount — not enough to cover the debt, but enough for some flour and a few vegetables.

Meanwhile, Laura walked the streets carrying a tray of oranges, calling out to passersby who walked past her as if she didn’t exist. By evening, she’d sold only part of her stock. When she got home, her feet ached. Fred was waiting. He set the small sack of flour and vegetables on the wobbly table. Laura smiled weakly. “Thank you,” she said.

They prepared a thin meal. In the days that followed, Fred kept working the site while Laura tried selling fabric she’d obtained on credit. Little by little, they saved a few bills. They began to dream of a better future.

One evening, Fred laid a small bundle of money on the table. “What if we started our own business?” he said, eyes bright. “No more depending on other people.”

Laura looked at him, intrigued. “What kind of business?”

“A stall at the market. We could sell smoked fish, or charcoal. People always need it. We’d earn more than with these odd jobs.” Laura hesitated, then nodded — she saw a spark of hope in Fred’s eyes.

Chapter Three: The Business That Failed

They put every last bit of their savings into the venture. Laura ran the small stall they set up near the market; Fred, after his shifts at the site, helped haul goods. At first a few customers came, and he smiled, buoyed by the illusion of success.

But things soured quickly. Competition was fierce, suppliers raised their prices. One morning they discovered someone had stolen part of their stock. Laura felt her heart sink. “Fred, if this keeps up, we’ll lose everything.”

Fred, face closed off, said only, “We can’t give up. Not now.”

The situation worsened — customers grew scarce, debts grew heavier, money left faster than it came in. One evening, counting their last coin, Laura broke down in tears. “We gave everything, Fred. Everything. And look where it’s gotten us.”

Fred, furious, shouted, “It can’t just end like this! I’ve worked like a dog. You too. And for what?”

Laura lifted her eyes to him. “Maybe we need to accept this isn’t meant for us.”

Fred sprang up, pacing the room like a caged animal. “No. Never. I refuse to live in this misery.” He stopped. “I’ll find a solution. Even if I have to sell my soul.”

Chapter Four: The Diviner

The following days, the business collapsed entirely. Their savings vanished like sand through their fingers. One evening Fred came home; Laura was waiting, seated. “Where were you again?” she asked.

Fred’s eyes had a strange, animated look. “I found a lead.”

“A lead,” Laura repeated, wary.

Fred sat beside her. “Someone told me about a man. A diviner.”

Laura frowned. “A diviner?”

Fred nodded. “A powerful man. People who’ve seen him say he changes destinies. They were poor, like us. Now they drive luxury cars.”

Laura went pale. “Fred, do you know what that means?”

He locked his eyes on hers. “You want us to rot here, Laura? You want us both to starve?”

She lowered her eyes, unable to answer. Then, voice breaking, she said, “And if this man asks us for something terrible? People say these rituals have consequences.”

Fred placed his hands on her shoulders. “Whatever it is, I’ll accept it.”

Laura stared at him. In his eyes she read something she’d never seen before — a determination that felt almost inhuman.

Chapter Five: The Hut in the Wilderness

Two days later, they set out. Laura struggled to keep pace, but Fred never slowed, his eyes fixed on the horizon with unsettling obsession. “Fred,” Laura pleaded, “let’s turn back, please.”

“No,” he answered flatly. “We’re already too far.”

Suddenly Laura stopped short. A black crow had landed directly in their path, in the middle of the trail. The bird hopped a few times, still facing them, as if guiding them — then, with a powerful beat of its wings, it burst into flight. Laura let out a stifled cry. “Fred, you see that? That’s a bad sign. That bird — it announces death.”

But Fred no longer listened. He walked forward without hesitation.

They arrived at a hut. The door was shut, but a voice rose from within. “Who are you? What do you seek?”

Fred answered in a strong voice. “We seek wealth.”

Silence, then laughter echoed. “Wealth!” the voice repeated. “Are you prepared?”

Laura felt her heart stop. She shot Fred a panicked look. “Yes,” he said without hesitation.

The voice deepened. “Then choose. Will you give blood, or flesh?”

Laura was terrified. “Fred,” she whispered, “say nothing. Think.”

He looked at her, eyes bright with a new fever. Laura felt afraid of her own husband. She pulled at his arm, panicked. “Fred, let’s go. This place isn’t for us.”

He looked at her. “We have no choice, Laura.”

She shook her head, terrified. “Don’t you understand? What if the spirits demand my blood — or yours?”

Fred looked away. The voice rose again, forceful. “Decide. Here and now.”

Laura, throat tight, murmured, “Fred, please, don’t do this.”

He closed his eyes. One second. Two. Then he breathed out, like a man signing his own death warrant. “Blood.”

Silence fell again. Then the voice concluded, mysterious. “So be it. Blood will be given. But know this: a death approaches your house. When you hear the news of misfortune, return here, and then you will understand.” The wind rose sharply. The closed door began to shake. Laura screamed. Fred stood as though he’d just heard a promise of salvation.

Chapter Six: Three Brothers

They left. Laura trembled. “Fred, you heard — a death in our house?”

“Then we must wait,” Fred answered. “When the sign comes, we’ll return here.”

“And if that death is me?” Laura said.

Fred didn’t answer. His eyes already stared far off, as if he could already see the future he’d just been promised.

A week later, a bus left the road on a curve. Three passengers didn’t survive — three brothers seated side by side, Fred’s brothers, returning from a wedding in the countryside.

When Fred heard the news, he stood petrified, unable to speak, his lips trembling. Laura collapsed to the floor, her cries echoing through the room. “Three. Three at the same time. Fred, this is impossible!” she screamed.

Fred didn’t answer. Laura demanded, “Do you understand now? Do you understand what this means?” He slowly raised his eyes to her. “It’s the sign.”

She shook her head, desperate. “No, Fred. This isn’t a sign. It’s a curse. Your brothers — three at once. You still want to believe it’s chance? They said a death would strike. And there it is — three lives offered. The spirits have begun taking. Now we must honor our promise.”

Laura was horrified. “You’re insane. You’re ready to follow this further? Ready to give even more?” He didn’t answer. His silence was more frightening than any words.

Chapter Seven: The Second Visit

In the morning, Fred rose without a word and dressed. Laura watched him, terrified. “Fred, what are you doing?”

He didn’t turn around. “We have to go back.”

Laura fell to her knees, pleading, hands stretched toward him. “Mercy. Don’t take me there.” He paused a moment, then said, “Are you coming with me?” She felt her body drain of all strength. She rose slowly and followed.

They stood before the hut again. The voice rose, deep, seeming to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. “You’ve returned.”

Fred nodded. “We understood the sign.”

The door opened slowly, creaking like a stifled scream. The voice continued. “She must enter alone.”

Laura went pale. “What? No. Never.”

Fred slowly turned his face toward her. “Laura, listen. This is our only chance.”

“You want me to go in there alone? Fred, you don’t love me anymore. You want me to die?”

Fred shook his head. “No. This is to save us. To give us a better life. Do it, Laura. I beg you.”

She wept, shaking uncontrollably. “I can’t, Fred. I can’t.” But he took her face in his hands and said, “Trust me. It will only be a moment. Do you want my brothers to have died for nothing?” Laura moaned, pleading — but Fred placed a firm hand at her back, and she crossed the threshold.

Chapter Eight: What Happened Inside

The walls were covered in markings drawn in ash. On the floor, a frayed mat. Laura sat, curled in on herself, her breath ragged. The silence was suffocating. Then the voice sounded again — not in her ears, but inside her skull.

“Strip yourself.”

Her clothes slipped from her body on their own, torn away by an invisible force. She let out a cry, pressing her arms across her chest. The ground began to vibrate. Three silhouettes appeared.

Laura felt her heart stop. She recognized their faces, even distorted by death — Fred’s three brothers. “No. No, this isn’t possible. You’re dead!” she screamed.

They advanced, their steps dragging, their icy hands reaching toward her. Laura shrieked, pressing herself against the wall, but they seized her, surrounded her. Their cold bodies closed in around hers. The marks on the wall flared with a red glow. A chorus of moaning rose, mixing her pain with distant voices from beyond. She fought, wept, screamed, until her strength left her and her mind sank into terror.

When night fell, the door burst open. Laura stumbled out, her clothes torn, her gaze empty, her steps slow and hesitant, like a broken doll. Fred waited outside, pale but resolute. He supported her. Without a word, they walked home in silence.

Chapter Nine: The Money That Fell Like Rain

When they pushed open the door of their room, Laura collapsed. The entire room was flooded with money — bundles of bills stacked on the bed, in the corners, under the table, everywhere. Mountains of cash, as if vomited by an invisible mouth.

Fred knelt slowly, took a bundle in his hands, eyes lighting up. “Do you see what I see, Laura?”

Laura, on the floor, wept silently.

A few weeks were enough to transform their lives. With money falling like rain from the sky, Fred and Laura left their room for a vast house. Everything breathed wealth. Fred savored every moment — always well dressed, his whole bearing changed. Laura smiled in public, but her heart was consuming itself from within.

At night, the horror resumed. In her room, she’d barely fall asleep before the three brothers appeared. Every night they surrounded her, possessed her, the room filled with nothing but her stifled moans. She wept, struggled, but their dead hands never released their grip. Every night, the same torment. Every night, she felt herself dying a little more.

Chapter Ten: The Confession

One evening, as Fred was packing bundles of cash into a trunk, she approached. “Fred, I can’t anymore.”

He looked up, surprised. “What are you talking about?”

She collapsed at his feet, sobbing. “They come back every night. Your brothers. They come and take me, again and again.”

Fred went pale. For a second he seemed to waver. But his face quickly closed again. “Laura, stop.”

She looked up at him, pleading. “You think I’m lying? Come sleep in my bed. You’ll see. You’ll see them.”

Fred shook his head. “No. What you see, what you feel — that’s the price. That’s what we owe. Don’t forget it’s my brothers who were sacrificed.”

“So you accept it?” she cried, voice breaking. “You accept that I’m defiled every night by your dead brothers?”

Fred looked away. “We have wealth. We have what we wanted. Don’t speak of this again, Laura. Ever.”

From that point, an invisible chasm opened between them. By day, Fred shone in his new life, basking in his prestige. By night, Laura survived her nightmares alone, a prisoner in a bed that had become a tomb.

Chapter Eleven: Fred’s Own Reckoning

Every morning, she watched the bills pile up in the strongboxes, telling herself the same thing: This money is my prison. Every bill is stained with the breath of the dead.

One night, Fred and Laura tried to share a moment of intimacy, but the instant his hands touched her, the room went dark. The walls vibrated. Laura screamed, her body seized with convulsions. An invisible force threw Fred backward, the breath knocked out of him. Three shadows rose before him — the silhouettes of his brothers, their eyes seeming to fix on him. A glacial voice echoed in his mind. “She belongs to us.”

Fred was terrified. From that night on, he never tried again. The gleaming new house, so radiant by day, became each night a house of horror. Laura went to bed trembling, knowing what awaited her.

Over the following weeks, her body began to change. She developed burning, painful infections that returned no matter the treatment. The nights of horror left more than invisible marks — every morning she found fresh welts on her skin, scratches, wounds that seemed to ignite on their own.

Frustration ate at Fred. So he did what men do when they refuse to face their own ruin — he looked elsewhere. He took a mistress. With her, he moved into another house, bigger still, brighter, as if to show the world his star kept rising without limit. Laura stayed behind, alone with the walls, alone with the nights.

Chapter Twelve: The Mistress Who Fled

One evening, curled in a corner of the room after another night of horror, Laura said, “I can’t anymore. I have to speak.” She thought of her family — the sisters, the cousins who still praised Fred, who saw him as a role model. They knew nothing. They had no idea of the price she paid every night to maintain this illusion of success. The thought haunted her; it terrified her.

Fred’s fortune kept growing. At first, everything seemed perfect — but the spirits hadn’t forgotten him. It began with dreams. At night, Fred saw shadows slipping around him. His dead brothers’ faces surged out of the dark, their extinguished eyes fixed on him. He woke with a start, convinced they still stood at the foot of his bed. Then came footsteps echoing all the way into his room. Windows slammed shut without wind. Fred drank more and more to calm his nights, but nothing helped. The spirits had followed him.

Fred’s new mistress had glowed in that immense house — but her smile faded quickly. The nights held none of the peace she’d hoped for. One night, sitting in the living room, she thought she glimpsed three motionless silhouettes in a corner. She stifled a scream, rubbed her eyes — but when she looked again, there was nothing. Trembling, she told herself she was imagining things.

The next night was worse. She opened her eyes and saw them again — three silhouettes, closer this time, standing near the bed. In a panic, she shook Fred. “Wake up, Fred. Look.” He opened his eyes, grumbled, then froze in turn. They were there. The three brothers.

Fred felt his heart stop. His mistress burst into sobs, covering her face with her hands. The silhouettes didn’t move, but their mere presence crushed the room with an unspeakable terror. At dawn, she didn’t wait — eyes red from crying, she packed her bags. Fred tried to stop her, but she shook her head. “I won’t stay here. I’d rather have poverty, anything, but not this.” She left the house.

Fred was left alone — alone in his house, surrounded by chests full of money. But every night, he knew he would never sleep alone.

Chapter Thirteen: The Vanished Hut

Crushed by his mistress’s departure, Fred returned to Laura. She didn’t welcome him with tenderness, but with the bitter silence of someone who knows they’ve been betrayed. Still, he sat beside her, head lowered. “We have to go back to the diviner. Maybe — maybe he’ll tell us how to stop this.”

Laura let out a broken laugh. “Stop this? You’re the one who opened that door, Fred. Do you think it closes just like that?” But he insisted, and despite her fear, she eventually agreed.

They took the road again — a path they knew by heart, having walked it dozens of times between the black rocks and the twisted trees. But this time, the further they walked, the less they recognized the place. The trails seemed to have changed. Laura fell to her knees. “This isn’t possible. It was here. It was right here.”

Fred spun in circles, eyes wild. “The hut? Where’s the hut?” A wind rose, whipping their faces. A voice rang out loudly, as if carried on the air itself. “The pact needs no house.”

Laura screamed, curling into herself, hands over her ears. Fred stood motionless. He understood, finally, that there would be no turning back.

Chapter Fourteen: The House That Was Never Silent

That same evening, back home, Fred and Laura, though reunited, were no longer truly together. Each carried a shard of madness within them — she consumed by fear, he gnawed by the obsession of finding the vanished place again.

The house was never silent again. Stacks of bills kept mysteriously appearing in every corner. Every night, the spirits appeared — footsteps in the hallways, doors opening on their own, the dead brothers settling into the bedrooms, the living room, sometimes sitting around the table as if they truly lived there. Their gaze watched every gesture. Laura screamed in her sleep. Fred woke drenched in sweat, but neither of them could escape.

The spirits no longer contented themselves with haunting her alone — they tormented Fred too. His dreams filled with dead hands dragging him to the ground, murmurs accusing him. Their nights became nothing but torment. And yet every morning, they discovered fresh bundles of bills — in the cabinets, under the beds, even in the pockets of their clothes. Money springing up endlessly, a rain of fortune they no longer dared even to touch.

Chapter Fifteen: The Crow Returns

One morning, Fred drove out for a business meeting. Coming out of a curve, a crow burst up, beating its wings directly in front of his windshield. Startled, Fred lost control. The car left the road, plunged into a ravine, and crashed. The scene echoed, eerily, the deaths of his three brothers. Like them, he died alone, broken, wealth still clinging to his clothes.

When Laura was told, she didn’t cry. Her eyes had been emptied of tears long ago. But her body began to waste away. The spirits hadn’t left her — without Fred, they only tormented her more relentlessly. At night, they came to sit around her bed, laying their hands on her skin. She woke screaming.

The house, once overflowing with bills, became a tomb. The money vanished mysteriously, as if returning to the earth itself. She couldn’t bear it any longer. In a final surge of desperation, she made a decision: to reveal the truth.

Chapter Sixteen: The Truth That Couldn’t Be Spoken

One evening, she went to her family. They gathered her in the middle of the courtyard, surrounded by her sisters and brothers. Everyone wanted to understand. They pressed her with questions. “Laura, what did you want to tell us? Where did your sudden wealth come from?”

She took a deep breath. Her gaze was fixed. Finally, she opened her mouth to speak.

“It was the spirits. Fred sacrificed—”

But her voice choked off sharply. She raised her hands to her throat, as if an invisible hand were squeezing it. Her eyes rolled back. Panic seized the gathering.

“Laura!” her sister screamed, rushing toward her.

She tried to answer, but no sound came out. Her body twisted one last time, then she collapsed, lifeless, her face frozen in an expression of absolute terror.

Silence fell over the courtyard. No one dared move. Laura was dead — struck down at the exact moment she tried to betray the pact.

To seek fortune from the spirits is to invite death to sit at your table. No house is built solid on the money of the dead, for its walls are made of screams and tears. Abundance born of blood always ends by suffocating those who craved it.