The Money That Never Sets You Free

Femi was a well known man in Epe, Lagos State.

People didn’t call him by name anymore. They called him “the money lender.”

If you needed cash urgently startup money, business capital, emergency funds Femi was the man.

But there was a pattern.

Anyone who borrowed from Femi always started well. Businesses would boom. Customers would rush in. Money would flow. But when repayment time drew close, everything collapsed goods would spoil, shops would burn, partners would disappear. The borrowers would run back to Femi, desperate and broken.

That was when Femi smiled.

He would give them more money, make them sign new agreements, and tighten the rope slowly. Somehow, nobody ever fully paid him back. Some disappeared. Some lost their minds. Some just returned to their villages with empty eyes.

Then Akin arrived from Osun State.

Akin came to Lagos with big dreams. He wanted to hustle, make money, and return home a wealthy man proof that the city had favoured him. But Lagos wasn’t smiling. Jobs failed. Business ideas crashed. Hunger followed him closely.

That was when he heard whispers of Femi.

“Borrow from him,” people said.

“He doesn’t argue.”

“He always gives.”

Akin found Femi’s house and asked for a loan.

When Femi asked how much he wanted, Akin mentioned an amount higher than anyone had ever borrowed from him. People nearby gasped. But Femi didn’t flinch. He only looked at Akin calmly, brought out an agreement paper, and slid it across the table.

Akin signed, smiling.

The money came instantly.

For months, everything worked. Akin’s business flourished. Customers lined up. He moved into a better apartment. He even started sending money home.

Then, six months later just as repayment time approached everything collapsed.

Goods were stolen. A deal failed mysteriously. Akin fell sick. Debtors vanished. Fear crept in. That was when he remembered the rumors:

“Femi never shouts when you can’t pay back.”

Trembling, Akin went to Femi’s house, fell on his knees, and explained everything. Femi listened quietly. No anger. No surprise.

“Get into the car,” Femi said softly.

They drove.

Out of Lagos.

Past Ogun State.

Past towns.

Into deep bush.

Akin wanted to ask questions, but fear sealed his mouth.

They finally stopped at a lonely house hidden among trees. Inside were men sitting silently. Their eyes were open, but their presence felt empty like their bodies were there, but their souls were somewhere else.

Akin’s blood turned cold.

Femi spoke.

“This is where real wealth is made,” he said. “You must join. That is how you will pay your debt.”

Akin shook his head violently.

“I can’t,” he said. “I won’t.”

Femi’s voice hardened.

“You ate from my money. You drank from it. You lived with it. There is no ‘no’ anymore.”

Fear gave Akin strength. He ran.

Branches tore his clothes. Thorns cut his skin. Somehow, he escaped and ran straight to a pastor people said could see beyond the physical. Broken and shaking, Akin prayed.

God answered.

The pastor revealed everything: Femi had made a dark covenant. His wealth came with a price he must bring people to replace him, or he would lose his mind.

That was why borrowers never escaped.

But Akin refused to return.

And that refusal broke the chain.

Weeks later, people in Epe started whispering again.

This time, it wasn’t about money.

Femi was seen walking naked in the market, shouting at shadows. He spoke to people who weren’t there. He screamed names names of borrowers who had vanished. His house was abandoned. His cars rusted.

The money lender had gone mad.

Akin returned quietly to Osun not rich, but free.

And people learned a lesson they would never forget:

Some money doesn’t help you rise.

It only buys you time… before collecting your soul.