Chapter 8: Pastor Mistook Me for a Demon
After my herbal cream disaster, Auntie Vida insisted I follow her to Night Vigil.
She said I needed serious prayer.
Honestly, I agreed. At this point, even mosquitoes were avoiding me like I was cursed.
At the church, Prophet OmegaFireLion Thunder himself was leading the service.
He looked like he hadn't blinked in three days.
The prayer warriors were on fire—literally. One woman was rolling on the floor, screaming like her rent money just disappeared.
I stayed lowkey at the back, just humming quietly.
Big mistake.
The Prophet pointed straight at me.
"YOU! Come forward! The demon of confusion is inside you!"
I panicked. Maybe he wasn't talking to me. Maybe there was a demon behind me?
Nope.
Before I could escape, two ushers grabbed me like I was Black Friday meat.
They started praying hard:
"Come out, spirit of wrong addresses!"
"Come out, spirit of tomato curses!"
"Come out, spirit of free jollof!"
I tried to explain, but Prophet shouted,
"HE'S MANIFESTING! HE'S SHAKING!"
I wasn't manifesting. I just needed to pee badly.
Thirty minutes later, they poured so much anointing oil on me, I could have fried plantain on my forehead.
When they finally let me go, Auntie Vida hugged me like a victorious warrior and whispered:
"You are free now."
Free?
I smelled like palm kernel stew and my jeans were stuck to my legs.
Was this freedom?
Or just the beginning?