🌿✨🌪️ The Broken Pot & The Bird 🕳️🦜🧞‍♂️

 

The Shattering

It began on one of those still, unremarkable days 🧘‍♂️🕯️ — silence filling the house, parents away, time unmoving.

A crash. ⚽💥 A stray ball from the children outside had shattered a great earthen pot 🪴. The plant was wounded but alive. I lifted it, gave it shelter in a smaller makeshift pot. Yet the broken clay clung with roots still wrapped around its shards — like memory clinging to bone. 🧩🪵

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The Weight

I gathered the fragments, placed them into a stiff paper bag 🛍️. Heavy. Awkward. The kind of weight that feels like more than matter. With no plan, only impulse, I carried it to a barren plot nearby — a three-foot wall enclosing emptiness.

My thought: Throw it. Be done with it.

But the bag felt fragile, ready to tear. So instead of a direct heave, I swung sideways — a strange, spiral flick of the hand 🌀. A movement I can only call… half-ritual.

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The Bird

And then — it happened. From the corner of my eye: a bird in flight 🦅. Wings stretched, midair, cutting across my vision.

💥⚡ BOOM.

In that instant, my inner sight cracked open like a lens of fire 👁️. I saw Him — a being, half-formed, rising behind me.

Male, towering, turbaned.

Waist dissolving into smoke.

A jinn of the in-betweens 🧞‍♂️.

As my hand flung the bag to the left ➡️ …he surged past me to the right. An arrow of invisible force. And the bird — struck by nothing — froze mid-flight. Then dropped, lifeless, like a stone. 🪶🪨

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The Silence

The bag was gone. The act was done. But what had I unleashed? I walked to the bird. She lay limp, her head twisted. 💔 Not an accident. Not chance. And then, a whisper — not my thought, but Mother’s:

🕊️ “The being took her subtle body. A sacrifice.”

I did not question. Did not cry. Did not even think. Only silence.

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The Knowing

I already knew of those who dwell between worlds 🌌 — in trees, roots, quiet corners where human eyes seldom linger 🌿👁️.  But this? This was a two-foot indoor plant. Barely a sapling. I kept still. Said nothing. Not even to Her. Days later, my parents returned. I asked my mother what plant it had been. She smiled casually: “A money plant.” 🍀

Native to Africa. Kept indoors for prosperity.

Google confirmed. My heart didn’t.

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The Warning

So here’s what I tell you: Care for your plants. Especially those inside your home. 🏡 Because you are not living with just leaves and soil. And no — I will never tell you how to dispose of them. 🌱🙅‍♂️ That is between you, the plant, and the unseen. 🪬

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The Seed

I kept the roots. Wrapped them in a small envelope ✉️, carried close. I know now: it wasn’t random. That spiral throw, that chant of the Mother’s Name humming in my blood — it was a code. 🔓 An accident, yet a ritual. A door opened. A being awakened.

And though I have never asked him for anything… I know one truth with absolute certainty:

☠️ If I ever did… he could topple a kingdom. 🏯🔥