Some of you may be considering what kind of New Year’s resolutions you could make as 2025 draws near. If these forecasts come true, then there’s no need to worry.
Yes, as 2024 draws to a close, the ghosts of the past become more audible as two of history’s most mysterious people, Baba Vanga and Nostradamus, make terrifying prophecies that never cease to both enthrall and horrify.
The prophetic abilities ascribed to these fabled seers have been a subject of discussion for many years, regardless of one’s stance.
Despite having died away in 1996, Baba Vanga, the blind Bulgarian mystic born Vangeliya Pandeva Gushterova, is credited with an amazing 85% accuracy rate in her predictions.
According to The Economic Times, they have reportedly included Barack Obama’s presidency, the 9/11 attacks, and Princess Diana’s passing.
With predictions spanning the next three millennia (scroll to the bottom of the page for that delightful reading), her prophetic talent has left a lasting effect and cemented her place as a formidable force in the field of prophetic mystery.
Furthermore, the 16th-century French astrologer Nostradamus recorded his visions in the enigmatic quatrains of his book Les Prophéties, published in 1555.
His predictions are credited with predicting significant occurrences as the ascent to power of Adolf Hitler, the murder of President Kennedy, and the September 11 terrorist attacks, solidifying his status as a visionary whose writings are constantly examined for hints about what lies ahead.
Unsettling Forecasts for 2025
2025 has been identified by both seers as a critical year with serious ramifications for the international scene:
Nostradamus predicts the rise of a dark cult and the establishment of an underwater dominion.
In the meantime, Baba Vanga adds a futuristic perspective to our comprehension of human potential when he anticipates the development of telepathy.
But the projections also have a darker tone when it comes to war predictions.
Both foresee a catastrophic war in Europe; Nostradamus refers to it as involving “cruel wars,” but he also cryptically states that “the ancient plague will be worse than enemies.”
Furthermore, Baba Vanga forebodingly says that this fight will “devastate” populations, which bodes ill for the near future and makes me wonder if I should really bother purchasing my yearly calendar featuring Neil Diamond.
And if that’s not enough to keep you up at night, Nostradamus also predicts the arrival of an asteroid on Earth, saying that “a fireball will rise from the cosmos, The world begs you to be a forerunner of fate. The fate of the Earth, a second chance: science and fate in a cosmic dance.
A Hint of Hope and Intriguing Extraterrestrials
There are glimmers of hope despite the ominous predictions.
According to Sky History, Nostradamus alludes to a potential end to the continuing conflict between Russia and Ukraine, speculating that interventions by countries such as France or Turkey might usher in peace and that both sides will eventually run out of energy.
Strangely enough, both seers hint at the prospect of extraterrestrial encounters; Baba Vanga, for example, speculates that aliens might show up at a big athletic event.
However, as I have already stated, Baba Vanga left us forecasts that would last for 3,056 years when he passed away. Needless to say, things don’t seem to work out well with the aliens.
Baba Vanga was a person who?
According to the Mirror, Baba Vanga, known as the “Nostradamus of the Balkans,” is said to have had an accuracy rate of 85%. Her forecasts have been known to come true even after her death.
At the age of twelve, she was supposedly blinded by a storm, during which her mystic talents apparently materialized.
However, what prophecy of the mystic has apparently come true in the past?
The terrorist strikes of 9/11
She made the menacing prognosis in 1989: “Oh, horror! The steel birds will attack and then the American brothers will fall. The terrifying allusion to “steel birds” may refer to the aircraft that Al-Qaeda hijacked and used in the horrific 9/11 attacks in 2001.
The Kursk’s sinking.
In 1980, Baba had a terrible vision of Kursk, Russia, being “covered with water, and the whole world will weep over it.” Her prediction was confirmed when a nuclear submarine sank close to Kursk in August 2000, killing 188 crew members.
Given the realization of those terrifying prophecies, it becomes plausible that you might want to worry about the following 3,000+ years. Here’s how she see the next three millennia developing, from the New York Post:
2025: The population of Europe will be destroyed by a conflict.
2028: Research on Venus as a potential energy source will start by humans.
2033: Sea levels will rise dramatically on a global scale due to the melting of the polar ice caps.
2076: Communism will take hold in numerous nations worldwide.
2130: Aliens will make contact with humans.
2170: Much of the globe will be destroyed by drought.
3005: A Martian civilization and Earth will engage in combat.
3797: The Earth is no longer habitable, and humans will have to leave.
5079: The end of the world.
To Save My Father, I Pretended to Be a Stranger’s Fiancée, But I Never Expected to Fall for the Wrong Brother — Story of the Day
I was drowning in hospital bills when a stranger in a suit offered me a deal: pretend to be his fiancée, and he’d save my father’s life. I had no choice but to say yes. Then I met his brother…
The day started like any other, but by noon, my entire world had collapsed.
My phone buzzed just as I was locking my apartment door. I almost didn’t answer: spam calls had been relentless lately, but something made me pick up.
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“Miss Carter?” The voice was calm and professional. “This is Dr. Reynolds. I’m calling about your father.”
“Is he okay?” My voice cracked on the last word.
There was a pause, a measured breath. “His condition has worsened. He needs surgery immediately. Without it… his chances are low.”
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I pressed my back against the doorframe, gripping the phone so hard my fingers ached.
“How much?”
The number crashed over me like a tidal wave. Too high. Impossible. I barely heard anything after that.
I just murmured a weak “I’ll figure it out” before ending the call.
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But I had nothing. No savings. No family to ask for help. Just a café job that barely covered rent.
By the time I arrived at work, my chest felt hollow. I barely noticed the smell of coffee beans or the familiar chime of the bell as I pushed through the door. I made a beeline for my manager.
“Lisa, I… I need an advance. Please. Anything you can spare.”
Lisa’s face softened, but her hands twisted nervously.
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“Sophie, I wish I could do more. Two months’ salary is the best I can offer.”
It wasn’t enough. But I forced a nod, blinking hard.
“Thank you. I… I appreciate it.”
The weight in my chest only grew heavier. Two months’ salary wasn’t nearly enough. It wouldn’t even cover half of what I needed.
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I blinked hard, willing the sting behind my eyes to disappear. Crying wouldn’t fix anything. Exhaling shakily, I turned back toward the café floor. And that’s when I felt it.
Someone was watching me.
The sensation crawled up my spine, a quiet, lingering gaze that felt too deliberate to ignore. I glanced up. A man sat near the window, his eyes locked onto me.
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He wasn’t pretending to skim a menu or glance around absentmindedly. He was watching. Listening.
The café wasn’t loud. My conversation with Lisa hadn’t been a whisper. He must have caught every desperate word. Heat rushed to my cheeks.
Who is he?
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For months, another man always sat in that spot. We had never spoken beyond polite exchanges, but I noticed him. He never rushed, never buried himself in his phone, never seemed in a hurry to leave.
He always ordered the same thing. Black coffee. No sugar. No cream.
I even started adding an extra cookie to his plate. He never said anything, never questioned it, but he always smiled before leaving.
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And I had foolishly imagined, just once, that maybe one day he’d do more than smile.
But that day, he wasn’t there. Instead, a different man sat in his place.
Older. Sharper. Dressed in a suit that radiated quiet authority. He stirred his coffee with slow, deliberate movements, his gaze flicking toward me before shifting away.
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I forced myself to move, to pretend I hadn’t noticed. But my stomach twisted.
I didn’t know who he was. I didn’t know what he wanted.
And I had no idea that by the end of the night, he would change everything.
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***
Later that evening, I walked home, my body aching from the long shift, my mind tangled in numbers, hospital bills, and the crushing weight of impossibility. I barely noticed the cold creeping through my thin jacket or the flickering streetlights overhead.
I just kept walking. The streets were quiet, the usual city hum softened by the late hour.
Then, a car slowed beside me.
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I stiffened, gripping my bag a little tighter. The tinted window rolled down, and a deep, controlled voice called my name.
“Sophie.”
I froze mid-step.
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It was him. The man from the café. The one who had taken the seat of my regular customer that day—the one I always brought an extra cookie to.
Every instinct screamed at me, “Keep walking! Ignore him. This is how true crime documentaries start.”
But something about his tone made me pause. It wasn’t commanding. It wasn’t threatening. It was… certain.
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“You don’t need to be afraid,” he said, as if reading my thoughts. “I just want to talk.”
I turned, keeping a cautious distance. “Who are you?”
“Steven.”
He leaned slightly toward the open window, his dark eyes sharp, assessing.
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“Get in. I’ll explain everything.”
I huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”
His lips twitched.
“Fair enough.”
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He exhaled, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. “Then I’ll talk here.”
“I’m listening.”
His gaze met mine.
“My father is handing over control of our family business soon. But there’s a condition—he wants to see me as a settled man. Stable. Engaged.”
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“And that affects me how?”
Steven studied me for a moment. Then, with a quiet certainty, he said, “Because I need a fiancée.”
I let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. “You’re joking.”
“I’m not.”
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He let the silence stretch just long enough before adding, “And you need money. I heard you talking to your manager.”
My fingers curled into fists. “You were listening?”
“I see an opportunity, I take it. You need money. I need a fiancée. It’s simple.”
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Simple. Right. Except nothing about this feels simple at all.
“You… want me to pretend to be your fiancée?”
“A few weeks. Public appearances. My father believes I’ve finally settled down, and in return… I’ll pay for your father’s surgery.”
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I could refuse. Walk away. Pretend this conversation never happened. But then what? My father would suffer. His condition would worsen.
I didn’t remember saying yes. But an hour later, I was in a dressing room, surrounded by silk dresses and designer heels, staring at a reflection I didn’t recognize.
The girl in the mirror looked polished. Elegant. Someone who belonged in Steven’s world.
I wasn’t that girl. But for the following few weeks… I would have to be.
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***
Steven’s father’s birthday came. It was our grand debut as a couple.
The mansion was breathtaking. It wasn’t just big, the kind of place you saw in magazines, the kind of house that didn’t feel real.
A live band played soft jazz in the background, and waiters in crisp black uniforms weaved through the crowd with trays of champagne.
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I kept my shoulders back, my posture perfect, just as Steven had instructed. Every movement mattered. Every glance, every smile. We were on display.
Steven played his part flawlessly. He smiled at all the right moments and whispered small reassurances whenever I hesitated.
“Relax,” he murmured in my ear as we walked further into the room. “You look perfect.”
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His father, a tall, commanding man approached us. His sharp eyes scanned me from head to toe.
“Father,” Steven said smoothly. “This is Sophie.”
“Ah, so this is the young woman you’ve been hiding from us,” his father said, his voice rich with skepticism. “Lovely.”
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And then I saw him. My regular. The man whose absence I had felt that very morning. The one I had secretly admired for months without knowing his name.
But finally, I did. Steven’s father introduced him with a proud smile.
Oliver. Steven’s brother.
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His gaze locked onto mine, and I knew instantly—he recognized me too. He didn’t approach right away. He waited. He watched. And then, when the moment was just right, he made his move.
“Fancy seeing you here,” he said casually, stepping closer.
“Oliver…”
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“You know, I’ve spent months trying to work up the nerve to ask you out. But it turns out I didn’t need to. My brother beat me to it.”
“I…”
“I came to that café every morning just to see you,” he continued, ignoring my attempt to speak. “I thought maybe one day, I’d stop being a coward and say something. But I never did.”
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He let out a quiet laugh. “Instead, I followed you home a few times. Not in a creepy way…”
“Oliver.”
“…just because I couldn’t find the right words.”
I could tell him the truth. I could explain everything and end the lie before it spiraled any further.
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But then my father’s face flashed in my mind. The hospital. The money.
I turned away, slipped my hand into Steven’s, and leaned up to kiss him.
The first time a lie had ever tasted so bitter.
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***
The next morning, Steven placed a check in front of me.
“Here.”
I stared at the paper. The amount was more than enough to cover my father’s surgery and keep him comfortable for months. My hands trembled as I picked it up. But instead of relief, all I felt was emptiness.
“You are playing your part well. Maybe we should continue this… see if there’s something real between us.”
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I set the check back on the table.
“I can’t. I thought I could pretend, but even one more day would be unbearable. The truth is… from the very beginning, I’ve been in love with your brother.”
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For a moment, Steven said nothing. His jaw tightened, his fingers tapping against the table. I braced for anger, accusations, something. But when he finally spoke, his voice was calm.
“I can’t keep you here. Thank you for the evening.”
His eyes flicked to the check on the table before he pocketed it without a word. Then, without another glance, he walked out, leaving me alone.
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***
The following night, just as I was locking up the café, the door opened.
Oliver! He stepped forward, holding something out.
“Take it,” he said, pressing the paycheck into my hands. “Even if we never see each other again. I want to help your father.”
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He knew. Steven must have told him everything.
“Oliver, I…”
“You didn’t have to lie,” he interrupted gently. “You could’ve just asked. I would have helped. No deals. No charades.”
Tears burned at the back of my eyes. I looked down at the check, then back at him.
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“I was always happy when you came to the café. I used to put an extra cookie on your plate, hoping you’d notice.”
“I noticed.”
“I made a desperate choice. I just wanted to help my father…”
“You don’t have to explain. Steven realized his mistake because of how honest you were. And because of that, I get to be here with you now.”
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The burden of guilt, of fear, of uncertainty, it wasn’t all gone, but it was lighter. Oliver glanced at the check in my hands, then back at me.
“Come on. Let’s go to the hospital and talk to the doctor about your dad’s treatment.”
I exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of everything settle into something new. Something right. I nodded, letting him take my hand. That time, I wasn’t walking my road alone.
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: The elderly man at my café ordered dinner for two, but no one ever came. When I learned why, I couldn’t walk away. His love had vanished a year ago—without a trace. What I uncovered changed everything.
This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
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