I am a 25-year-old young man with a passion for stories about treasure hunters and hidden riches. I have always enjoyed listening to these tales, but it never crossed my mind that I might one day have my own story or find myself in possession of a great fortune from unearthing a treasure. Remarkably, this happened without any effort, knowledge of archaeology, or even a metal detector to guide me.
My father is an illiterate man who comes from a Bedouin nomadic background. He owns a large flock of sheep and has been a shepherd since childhood. As for me, I am an educated young man who completed my university studies but couldn’t find a job. This led me to join my father and help him in herding sheep.
We have spent most of our lives living in a house made of goat hair, moving from one place to another across the vast desert in search of suitable grazing lands for our sheep. Every year, at the end of winter, we relocate our home to a spot near an ancient castle. This location offers plentiful vegetation around nearby water sources and is conveniently close to our original residence.
I have no idea which civilization this castle belongs to or when it was built. However, it remains in remarkably good condition, showing little damage despite the passage of time. Tourists frequently visit the castle throughout the year, except in winter, when no visitors can be seen at all.
Some of our relatives occasionally tell stories about this castle, claiming that golden treasures were extracted from it decades ago—long before the state acquired it and placed guards to protect it. However, I never paid much attention to these stories. They didn’t interest me, especially since no eyewitness accounts exist. These tales were merely passed down from one person to another, with no concrete evidence to back them up.
One late winter day, while I was herding sheep alone near the ancient castle, a large four-wheel-drive vehicle approached and stopped nearby. Initially, I thought it was tourists as usual, despite knowing that they rarely visit during this time of year. However, the vehicle only carried a single man, who appeared to be in his fifties. He had an athletic build, a striking appearance, and slightly long hair.
The man came closer, greeted me warmly, and said, "I’d like to sit with you and share a cup of tea." Although his appearance was unusual and somewhat intimidating, I welcomed him and replied, "You’re most welcome." I won’t deny that I felt a bit uneasy in his presence, but I had my firearm with me, which always gave me a sense of security when I was alone. I was prepared to use it if anything suspicious happened.
The man sat down, and I prepared tea with milk—my favorite drink—for both of us. As we talked, he began asking me a series of questions. He wanted to know which tribe I belonged to, where my family originated from, who else lived in this desert with us, and to whom the sheep I was herding belonged. However, he skillfully blended his questions into the flow of conversation, so it didn’t feel like an interrogation.
Nevertheless, I noticed his subtle approach and kept my answers brief. Despite this, I grew comfortable with him over the hour we spent talking. He seemed like an important and respectable person. Among the many questions he asked, he inquired about treasures and whether I had ever searched for gold or seen devices for detecting underground metals.
When I asked him what he was trying to find out with that particular question, he laughed heartily and reassured me. He said the sight of the castle reminded him of such topics, and he believed there might be many hidden treasures around it. I then shared with him a few stories I’d heard from elders about the castle, and he listened with great interest.
Afterward, he asked if I knew the guard assigned to protect the castle. I told him that I did and mentioned that the guard was a relative of mine and that we knew each other well. The man fell silent for a moment before saying, "I want to share a secret with you, but you must promise not to tell anyone." I agreed and assured him of my discretion.
After I gave him my word, the man revealed that he knew of a confirmed spot near the ancient castle where gold was buried. He wanted to meet with my father to discuss how we could collaborate and agree on a plan to extract the treasure. However, I knew my father’s mindset all too well—he’s a man who’s hard to reason with, quick to suspect others, and often assumes the worst intentions. I was certain he would accuse the man of being a thief who came to scout the area and plan a future heist of our sheep.
So, I told the man that it wasn’t necessary to involve my father. I assured him that I could collaborate with him alone and provide him with the necessary protection. Regarding the castle’s guard, I explained that he only visits once a week and often neglects his duties. In fact, he frequently calls me to report if anyone approaches the castle.
The man seemed somewhat reassured but insisted it would be better to inform my father. I described my father’s personality to him and explained that telling him would only complicate matters and prevent anything from being accomplished. In truth, I didn’t want to let this opportunity slip away.
We began discussing the details of the plan. The man told me he wanted to resolve the matter as quickly as possible. He said he would return the next day with five men to start the work. We agreed that my share of the buried treasure would be 25%. He mentioned that the depth of the treasure was no more than two meters and estimated it would take two to three hours to dig it out.
He then asked me if I wanted my share in the form of gold coins or if I preferred to sell them. He offered to purchase my share on the spot once the treasure was retrieved. I told him I’d prefer to sell, and he reassured me by saying, “If your share is a million, I’ll give you a million—don’t worry.”
The conversation felt like a sudden and overwhelming shock to me. Could this really be happening? A stranger I just met was talking about uncovering treasure and handing me gold and money the very next day! It was beyond comprehension, and I couldn’t fully grasp the situation I was in.
The man left after we set a specific time for his return the next evening—naturally, under the cover of night. Yet, in my recklessness and greed, I placed my trust in this man far too quickly. I knew nothing about his background, where he lived, or even what he did for a living!
I couldn’t sleep that night, consumed by thoughts of the plan. It felt like a fire was burning inside me, fueled by my eagerness for the next day to arrive. At the same time, a tinge of fear crept in, making the night feel endless.
Finally, the day arrived, and by sunset, after my father and I had finished tending to the sheep and putting them in for the night, I told him that some friends of mine would be coming over to spend the evening near the castle. I mentioned that we’d have dinner there and that I might be back late. My father didn’t object.
After dinner, I prepared myself, double-checked my firearm to ensure it was in working condition, and packed additional rounds of ammunition. Then, I set off to meet the man as planned.
At the agreed time, the man arrived, accompanied by an older gentleman and five laborers of foreign nationality. They carried tools and equipment clearly meant for digging, which made it evident that he had hired them for the task.
At this point, I still didn’t know the exact location of the treasure or where they intended to dig. The man and the older gentleman walked to one of the castle’s corners, where they began measuring and moving westward for a distance of over 200 meters. I followed closely behind them, along with the five workers.
They stopped at a specific spot and marked it—it was a large stone that I recognized well. I had sat on it many times in the past. Nearby, within 10 meters, was an old, filled-in well and a large, ancient tree.
The man, the older gentleman, and I sat on the ground while the workers were instructed to break apart the stone and begin digging beneath it. The workers quickly broke the stone within half an hour and started digging.
After they had reached about a meter deep, the man asked me if he could bring his car closer to the site. I agreed and guided him on the best route to bring it. He returned with his car while the workers continued digging, reaching a depth of approximately two and a half meters. The ground was somewhat hard, and the process took around four hours from the time we started.
And then, the real story began.
While the workers were digging, they unexpectedly came across an old piece of cloth or leather—I couldn’t quite tell what it was—buried at that depth. When they reached it, the two men ordered them to stop digging and leave the hole. They instructed the workers to go to the car, and what struck me as odd was how obedient they were, without questioning anything.
The two men descended into the hole, and I stood there silently, as though I had swallowed my tongue, unable to say a word. They dug a little further, perhaps 20 cm more, and soon enough, they uncovered large pottery jars. They dug around them carefully and brought them out. I was asked to take the jars from them and place them outside the hole. However, they told me to handle them with care and not open them. There were four jars in total, each of medium size. Then, the two men climbed out of the hole.
The man I knew, who was in his fifties, turned to me and asked, "What do you think? What’s inside these jars?" He laughed. I couldn’t respond, so he said, "I’ll tell you—they’re filled with gold." Still in shock, I couldn’t speak. He added, "I’m still keeping my promise to you."
At that moment, the other man went to the car and took the workers with him. I don’t think they saw anything. The man I knew told me the other one would return in half an hour.
I sat beside the hole, while the man I knew opened one of the jars in front of me. The jar was sealed with clay, and he broke it open from the top. Inside, there were gold coins. I held two of them in my hands. He told me each jar contained about 6 kilograms of gold and that he would buy my share for a quarter of a million dollars.
At that point, I felt completely dazed, overwhelmed, and terrified. I asked him, "How did you find this treasure without using a metal detector?" After pressing him a bit, he finally explained, "This treasure belonged to a soldier from the time of World War II. The soldier found it in another place but buried it here, hoping to come back for it. We learned about it from a map he left with one of his descendants."
The other man returned at that moment, alone. I had no idea where the workers went. The man I knew went to the car, returned with a leather bag, and told me it contained a quarter of a million dollars. When I opened the bag, I saw it was full of bundles of money. He told me each bundle was worth $10,000. He said I could count it, but I told him there was no need.
They loaded the pottery jars into the car and left after bidding me farewell. I was still in disbelief, unable to fully comprehend the situation. A thought crossed my mind: What if the money in the bag was counterfeit? What if they had tricked me?
I continued my walk toward home, carrying the bag with a quarter of a million dollars, feeling as if I were walking in a trance, overwhelmed by the enormity of the situation. I kept imagining the moment the man broke open the large pottery jar, and the gold coins spilling out. The sight of the gold was absolutely mesmerizing.
I hid the bag in a small rocky cave near my house and made sure it was well concealed. Then, I hurried to my bed, exhausted, and fell asleep almost immediately.
My father woke me up early in the morning, as usual, but I refused to get up. I told him I was feeling sick and extremely tired and couldn’t get out of bed. I also said I wanted to go to the doctor today. He left me alone after shouting at me, as he often did, and went out with the sheep.
Once I realized that my father had moved a bit farther away with the sheep, I got out of bed, told my mother I was going to see a doctor at the hospital, and then went to the place where I had hidden the bag. I took out $1,000 and selected one or two bills from each bundle. After carefully hiding the bag again, I headed to the nearest town to find a currency exchange shop.
After a long search, I finally reached one, my heart racing in fear that the dollars might be counterfeit, and I’d be caught in a mess. I took out a $100 bill and entered the shop, telling the man that a tourist had bought something from me and paid me with this bill, but I was afraid it might be fake. The man inspected it very carefully and said it was genuine, not counterfeit, and that he could exchange it for me if I wanted.
I exchanged it for local currency, my heart nearly exploding with joy. I left that shop and went to another exchange shop, where I exchanged the remaining $900. To my relief, the money was real. I remember the first thing I bought was a brand-new iPhone, along with many other things.
I returned to our home in the desert, and when my family asked where I had been, I told them I went to the hospital, got an injection, and felt much better. A couple of days later, I won’t deny that I lied to my family, telling them I had found a well-paying job by chance in a nearby city. They didn’t oppose it. I packed my bag filled with dollars and moved to a neighboring city, renting an apartment on my own.
The first two months I spent there were unforgettable. I experienced every pleasure life could offer and felt like the happiest person on earth. Every weekend, I would return to visit my family, bringing them gifts. When they asked about my work, I told them I was employed by a foreign company, earning a large salary, working late hours, and receiving extra money.
About three months later, my life changed drastically. My father passed away, may he rest in peace, and I fell into a deep depression. I couldn’t imagine that my father would one day be gone. Money no longer mattered to me as much. On top of what I already had, we inherited large pieces of land and many sheep from my father. After his death, my siblings decided to sell everything, and we received a substantial amount of money. We left our life in the desert behind.
I eventually got married and built a large, modern house. I also bought an expensive car and brought my mother to live with me. I never tied myself to any fixed job, but later I opened a car dealership, and I still have a lot of money.
I often think back to the treasure hunt story, remembering it in vivid detail, as if it happened just moments ago. The reason I’m sharing this story with you is partly to motivate some of you and partly to release this secret I’ve kept to myself all this time. I’ve never shared it with anyone, not even my wife. People believe that my wealth comes from the inheritance of my father, but the truth is different.
Remember, the earth is full of hidden treasures, and they are meant for those the universe selects, at the right time and place. However, this doesn't mean we should neglect the importance of taking the right steps, striving to earn a living, and using available tools, like metal detectors, to help along the way.
My father is an illiterate man who comes from a Bedouin nomadic background. He owns a large flock of sheep and has been a shepherd since childhood. As for me, I am an educated young man who completed my university studies but couldn’t find a job. This led me to join my father and help him in herding sheep.
We have spent most of our lives living in a house made of goat hair, moving from one place to another across the vast desert in search of suitable grazing lands for our sheep. Every year, at the end of winter, we relocate our home to a spot near an ancient castle. This location offers plentiful vegetation around nearby water sources and is conveniently close to our original residence.
I have no idea which civilization this castle belongs to or when it was built. However, it remains in remarkably good condition, showing little damage despite the passage of time. Tourists frequently visit the castle throughout the year, except in winter, when no visitors can be seen at all.
Some of our relatives occasionally tell stories about this castle, claiming that golden treasures were extracted from it decades ago—long before the state acquired it and placed guards to protect it. However, I never paid much attention to these stories. They didn’t interest me, especially since no eyewitness accounts exist. These tales were merely passed down from one person to another, with no concrete evidence to back them up.
One late winter day, while I was herding sheep alone near the ancient castle, a large four-wheel-drive vehicle approached and stopped nearby. Initially, I thought it was tourists as usual, despite knowing that they rarely visit during this time of year. However, the vehicle only carried a single man, who appeared to be in his fifties. He had an athletic build, a striking appearance, and slightly long hair.
The man came closer, greeted me warmly, and said, "I’d like to sit with you and share a cup of tea." Although his appearance was unusual and somewhat intimidating, I welcomed him and replied, "You’re most welcome." I won’t deny that I felt a bit uneasy in his presence, but I had my firearm with me, which always gave me a sense of security when I was alone. I was prepared to use it if anything suspicious happened.
The man sat down, and I prepared tea with milk—my favorite drink—for both of us. As we talked, he began asking me a series of questions. He wanted to know which tribe I belonged to, where my family originated from, who else lived in this desert with us, and to whom the sheep I was herding belonged. However, he skillfully blended his questions into the flow of conversation, so it didn’t feel like an interrogation.
Nevertheless, I noticed his subtle approach and kept my answers brief. Despite this, I grew comfortable with him over the hour we spent talking. He seemed like an important and respectable person. Among the many questions he asked, he inquired about treasures and whether I had ever searched for gold or seen devices for detecting underground metals.
When I asked him what he was trying to find out with that particular question, he laughed heartily and reassured me. He said the sight of the castle reminded him of such topics, and he believed there might be many hidden treasures around it. I then shared with him a few stories I’d heard from elders about the castle, and he listened with great interest.
Afterward, he asked if I knew the guard assigned to protect the castle. I told him that I did and mentioned that the guard was a relative of mine and that we knew each other well. The man fell silent for a moment before saying, "I want to share a secret with you, but you must promise not to tell anyone." I agreed and assured him of my discretion.
After I gave him my word, the man revealed that he knew of a confirmed spot near the ancient castle where gold was buried. He wanted to meet with my father to discuss how we could collaborate and agree on a plan to extract the treasure. However, I knew my father’s mindset all too well—he’s a man who’s hard to reason with, quick to suspect others, and often assumes the worst intentions. I was certain he would accuse the man of being a thief who came to scout the area and plan a future heist of our sheep.
So, I told the man that it wasn’t necessary to involve my father. I assured him that I could collaborate with him alone and provide him with the necessary protection. Regarding the castle’s guard, I explained that he only visits once a week and often neglects his duties. In fact, he frequently calls me to report if anyone approaches the castle.
The man seemed somewhat reassured but insisted it would be better to inform my father. I described my father’s personality to him and explained that telling him would only complicate matters and prevent anything from being accomplished. In truth, I didn’t want to let this opportunity slip away.
We began discussing the details of the plan. The man told me he wanted to resolve the matter as quickly as possible. He said he would return the next day with five men to start the work. We agreed that my share of the buried treasure would be 25%. He mentioned that the depth of the treasure was no more than two meters and estimated it would take two to three hours to dig it out.
He then asked me if I wanted my share in the form of gold coins or if I preferred to sell them. He offered to purchase my share on the spot once the treasure was retrieved. I told him I’d prefer to sell, and he reassured me by saying, “If your share is a million, I’ll give you a million—don’t worry.”
The conversation felt like a sudden and overwhelming shock to me. Could this really be happening? A stranger I just met was talking about uncovering treasure and handing me gold and money the very next day! It was beyond comprehension, and I couldn’t fully grasp the situation I was in.
The man left after we set a specific time for his return the next evening—naturally, under the cover of night. Yet, in my recklessness and greed, I placed my trust in this man far too quickly. I knew nothing about his background, where he lived, or even what he did for a living!
I couldn’t sleep that night, consumed by thoughts of the plan. It felt like a fire was burning inside me, fueled by my eagerness for the next day to arrive. At the same time, a tinge of fear crept in, making the night feel endless.
Finally, the day arrived, and by sunset, after my father and I had finished tending to the sheep and putting them in for the night, I told him that some friends of mine would be coming over to spend the evening near the castle. I mentioned that we’d have dinner there and that I might be back late. My father didn’t object.
After dinner, I prepared myself, double-checked my firearm to ensure it was in working condition, and packed additional rounds of ammunition. Then, I set off to meet the man as planned.
At the agreed time, the man arrived, accompanied by an older gentleman and five laborers of foreign nationality. They carried tools and equipment clearly meant for digging, which made it evident that he had hired them for the task.
At this point, I still didn’t know the exact location of the treasure or where they intended to dig. The man and the older gentleman walked to one of the castle’s corners, where they began measuring and moving westward for a distance of over 200 meters. I followed closely behind them, along with the five workers.
They stopped at a specific spot and marked it—it was a large stone that I recognized well. I had sat on it many times in the past. Nearby, within 10 meters, was an old, filled-in well and a large, ancient tree.
The man, the older gentleman, and I sat on the ground while the workers were instructed to break apart the stone and begin digging beneath it. The workers quickly broke the stone within half an hour and started digging.
After they had reached about a meter deep, the man asked me if he could bring his car closer to the site. I agreed and guided him on the best route to bring it. He returned with his car while the workers continued digging, reaching a depth of approximately two and a half meters. The ground was somewhat hard, and the process took around four hours from the time we started.
And then, the real story began.
While the workers were digging, they unexpectedly came across an old piece of cloth or leather—I couldn’t quite tell what it was—buried at that depth. When they reached it, the two men ordered them to stop digging and leave the hole. They instructed the workers to go to the car, and what struck me as odd was how obedient they were, without questioning anything.
The two men descended into the hole, and I stood there silently, as though I had swallowed my tongue, unable to say a word. They dug a little further, perhaps 20 cm more, and soon enough, they uncovered large pottery jars. They dug around them carefully and brought them out. I was asked to take the jars from them and place them outside the hole. However, they told me to handle them with care and not open them. There were four jars in total, each of medium size. Then, the two men climbed out of the hole.
The man I knew, who was in his fifties, turned to me and asked, "What do you think? What’s inside these jars?" He laughed. I couldn’t respond, so he said, "I’ll tell you—they’re filled with gold." Still in shock, I couldn’t speak. He added, "I’m still keeping my promise to you."
At that moment, the other man went to the car and took the workers with him. I don’t think they saw anything. The man I knew told me the other one would return in half an hour.
I sat beside the hole, while the man I knew opened one of the jars in front of me. The jar was sealed with clay, and he broke it open from the top. Inside, there were gold coins. I held two of them in my hands. He told me each jar contained about 6 kilograms of gold and that he would buy my share for a quarter of a million dollars.
At that point, I felt completely dazed, overwhelmed, and terrified. I asked him, "How did you find this treasure without using a metal detector?" After pressing him a bit, he finally explained, "This treasure belonged to a soldier from the time of World War II. The soldier found it in another place but buried it here, hoping to come back for it. We learned about it from a map he left with one of his descendants."
The other man returned at that moment, alone. I had no idea where the workers went. The man I knew went to the car, returned with a leather bag, and told me it contained a quarter of a million dollars. When I opened the bag, I saw it was full of bundles of money. He told me each bundle was worth $10,000. He said I could count it, but I told him there was no need.
They loaded the pottery jars into the car and left after bidding me farewell. I was still in disbelief, unable to fully comprehend the situation. A thought crossed my mind: What if the money in the bag was counterfeit? What if they had tricked me?
I continued my walk toward home, carrying the bag with a quarter of a million dollars, feeling as if I were walking in a trance, overwhelmed by the enormity of the situation. I kept imagining the moment the man broke open the large pottery jar, and the gold coins spilling out. The sight of the gold was absolutely mesmerizing.
I hid the bag in a small rocky cave near my house and made sure it was well concealed. Then, I hurried to my bed, exhausted, and fell asleep almost immediately.
My father woke me up early in the morning, as usual, but I refused to get up. I told him I was feeling sick and extremely tired and couldn’t get out of bed. I also said I wanted to go to the doctor today. He left me alone after shouting at me, as he often did, and went out with the sheep.
Once I realized that my father had moved a bit farther away with the sheep, I got out of bed, told my mother I was going to see a doctor at the hospital, and then went to the place where I had hidden the bag. I took out $1,000 and selected one or two bills from each bundle. After carefully hiding the bag again, I headed to the nearest town to find a currency exchange shop.
After a long search, I finally reached one, my heart racing in fear that the dollars might be counterfeit, and I’d be caught in a mess. I took out a $100 bill and entered the shop, telling the man that a tourist had bought something from me and paid me with this bill, but I was afraid it might be fake. The man inspected it very carefully and said it was genuine, not counterfeit, and that he could exchange it for me if I wanted.
I exchanged it for local currency, my heart nearly exploding with joy. I left that shop and went to another exchange shop, where I exchanged the remaining $900. To my relief, the money was real. I remember the first thing I bought was a brand-new iPhone, along with many other things.
I returned to our home in the desert, and when my family asked where I had been, I told them I went to the hospital, got an injection, and felt much better. A couple of days later, I won’t deny that I lied to my family, telling them I had found a well-paying job by chance in a nearby city. They didn’t oppose it. I packed my bag filled with dollars and moved to a neighboring city, renting an apartment on my own.
The first two months I spent there were unforgettable. I experienced every pleasure life could offer and felt like the happiest person on earth. Every weekend, I would return to visit my family, bringing them gifts. When they asked about my work, I told them I was employed by a foreign company, earning a large salary, working late hours, and receiving extra money.
About three months later, my life changed drastically. My father passed away, may he rest in peace, and I fell into a deep depression. I couldn’t imagine that my father would one day be gone. Money no longer mattered to me as much. On top of what I already had, we inherited large pieces of land and many sheep from my father. After his death, my siblings decided to sell everything, and we received a substantial amount of money. We left our life in the desert behind.
I eventually got married and built a large, modern house. I also bought an expensive car and brought my mother to live with me. I never tied myself to any fixed job, but later I opened a car dealership, and I still have a lot of money.
I often think back to the treasure hunt story, remembering it in vivid detail, as if it happened just moments ago. The reason I’m sharing this story with you is partly to motivate some of you and partly to release this secret I’ve kept to myself all this time. I’ve never shared it with anyone, not even my wife. People believe that my wealth comes from the inheritance of my father, but the truth is different.
Remember, the earth is full of hidden treasures, and they are meant for those the universe selects, at the right time and place. However, this doesn't mean we should neglect the importance of taking the right steps, striving to earn a living, and using available tools, like metal detectors, to help along the way.
