THE RAT MONEY RITUAL

The RAT Money Ritual That Destroyed My Life

I’ve made mistakes in my life, but none have been as haunting as the one I’m about to share. What I thought would bring me wealth and happiness ended up cursing my life in ways I could never imagine. This is a cautionary tale about how greed and desperation led me down a dark path—a money ritual that still haunts me to this day.

It all began during one of the darkest periods of my life. I was drowning in debt, with no job and no one willing to help. Every day felt like a heavy cloud hung over me, and the walls seemed to close in. Then, I heard about a traditional money ritual that could supposedly change my life.

At first, I was skeptical. I had heard stories of people doing rituals to become rich, but I always brushed them off as myths or exaggerations. But desperation has a way of breaking down your doubts. A friend—well, someone I thought was a friend—introduced me to a spiritualist. This person claimed they could help me "unlock wealth" if I followed their instructions exactly.

The ritual involved rats. I was told that rats are a symbol of cunning and survival, creatures that can find abundance even in the worst situations. The spiritualist said that by using rats in the ritual, their "energy" would attract money to me. At the time, I was too focused on the promise of wealth to question the morality or consequences of what I was about to do.

The ritual took place deep in the forest, under a full moon. I was told to bring a pair of new shoes, a bottle of palm oil, and a small live rat. I hesitated at the mention of the rat, but the spiritualist insisted it was necessary. They tied the rat’s legs with a thin rope and placed it in a circle drawn with white chalk on the forest floor.

The spiritualist chanted incantations in a language I didn’t understand. They poured the palm oil around the circle and lit a candle at each corner. As the ritual went on, the rat began to squeal and thrash. I remember the hairs on my neck standing up—it felt like the forest itself was watching us. The air grew colder, and the night seemed darker than before.

Then came the final step. I was told to place my shoes inside the circle, right next to the rat. The spiritualist cut the rope binding the rat and let it crawl into the shoes. The rat stayed there, eerily still, as though it understood what was happening. Then, the spiritualist took a knife and ended the rat’s life right inside my shoes. I’ll never forget the sound—the squeal, the thud, and the silence that followed.

I was instructed to wear the shoes the next day and walk around as much as possible. The spiritualist assured me that within a week, money would start to flow into my life. I left the forest that night feeling uneasy, but the promise of wealth drowned out my guilt and fear.

The money came, just as promised. Small amounts at first—unexpected gifts, lucky breaks, and surprise payments. Soon, it turned into larger sums. I thought I had hit the jackpot. For the first time in years, I could breathe. I paid off some debts, bought new clothes, and even started making plans for the future.

But then the smell started.

It began as a faint, unpleasant odor in my shoes. I thought maybe it was just the aftermath of the ritual, something I could clean or ignore. But the smell grew stronger—so strong that it became unbearable. No matter how much I scrubbed, sprayed, or even replaced my shoes, the stench returned. It wasn’t just an ordinary bad smell; it was putrid, like rotting flesh. It was as if something had died in my shoes and refused to leave.

People began to notice. Every time I walked into a room, heads would turn, noses would wrinkle, and whispers would follow me. My confidence crumbled. I became paranoid, avoiding people and public spaces.

Eventually, I stopped wearing shoes altogether. It felt like the only way to escape the smell, but even that didn’t help. My bare feet on the ground became another source of shame. People stared at me like I was mad, and soon I started to feel like I was losing my mind.

What’s worse, the money stopped coming. Just as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished. I was left with nothing but the curse. Nights became terrifying. I started hearing scratching noises, like rats crawling inside the walls of my home. Shadows darted across my room when I turned off the lights. I would wake up to find my bare feet covered in dirt, as if I had been walking outside in my sleep.

I went back to the spiritualist, begging for help. They told me I had broken a rule—they wouldn’t tell me which one—and that the curse was irreversible. “You wanted the rats to bring you wealth,” they said, “but now they have claimed you as one of their own.”

I live with this regret every day. The smell still lingers, though fainter now, and I still can’t wear shoes. People still avoid me, and the whispers haven’t stopped. My life is a shadow of what it once was, all because I let greed cloud my judgment.

If you’re reading this and considering doing a money ritual, I beg you to think twice. No amount of money is worth losing your humanity, your peace of mind, or your soul. Wealth that comes too easily often comes with strings attached—strings that can strangle you when you least expect it.

I’ve learned my lesson the hard way. I hope my story will stop someone else from making the same mistake. Money is temporary, but the consequences of such actions can last a lifetime—or longer.