I INVITED SPIRITS FROM THE GRAVEYARD INTO MY HOME HOPING FOR MONEY IN EXCHANGE OF THE INVITATION.
I still can’t believe I did it. I was always a skeptic, a person who tried to see the world through logic, not superstition. But, like many others, I found myself in a situation where nothing seemed to work. Financial struggle was eating away at my peace of mind, and no matter how many hours I worked, no matter how many times I hustled, I just couldn’t get ahead. I remember feeling hopeless, frustrated, and desperate. That’s when I heard about the ritual.
It wasn’t something I’d ever heard of before—at least, not in any of the circles I ran in. It was the idea of offering food to spirits. Apparently, by offering food to the spirits of the deceased, you could ask them to bless you with wealth. The more I heard about it, the more intrigued I became. Some people claimed it worked, while others said it was just a myth. But I was willing to try anything, anything to break free from the constant cycle of debt and worry.
I remember the first time I was told about the ritual. A friend of mine—someone I barely knew—invited me over to her house one evening. We were talking about life, how things were hard for both of us, and she mentioned that she had a way of improving her financial situation. I didn’t think much of it at first, but when she told me about this ritual of offering food to spirits, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
We finally decided to go ahead with it, we started off by killing black chickens and lit black candles at the gate of the graveyards summoning the spirits to come home with us. All this was done at 2 AM. When it was dead quiet and no one would see us.
She said that the spirits needed to be fed to bring wealth into the home. The ritual itself seemed simple enough: prepare food—sometimes fruit, sometimes something special—and place it outside, usually near the doorstep. The idea was that the spirits would come in the night, take the offering, and in return, they’d bring prosperity. To be honest, it sounded like nonsense at first. Spirits? Feeding them? How could that possibly work? But I was desperate, so I decided to give it a try.
I started small. I set a bowl of fruit outside my door one night, hoping the spirits would come. I don’t even remember what I was expecting. Maybe I thought I’d wake up to a check in the mail, or find a stash of cash outside. But of course, that didn’t happen. When I woke up the next morning, the fruit was gone, but there was no money, no sign of anything other than the usual struggles.
At first, I didn’t think much of it. I figured it was just a coincidence. Maybe someone had come by and taken the fruit, or maybe the animals had gotten to it. So I tried again. And again. And again. Each time, I placed more food outside, in hopes that the spirits would be appeased and that I would somehow be granted the wealth I was seeking.
The strangest thing started happening, though. After each night that I offered food, I began to feel...uneasy. It wasn’t anything obvious at first, just a little feeling of discomfort. It started with strange dreams—dreams where I couldn’t make sense of anything, but I could always hear whispering voices in the background. At the time, I brushed it off. After all, I had been reading a lot of books and articles about the occult and mysticism. Maybe it was all just in my mind. But then things started to get worse.
There was one night I’ll never forget. I had placed a large plate of food outside, just like before. The ritual called for it to be done during a specific time, in the dead of night, and I didn’t want to mess anything up. I went to bed early, thinking that maybe this time, things would change. But when I woke up, I felt a coldness in the room, like the air had thickened somehow. I looked outside to check the food offering, and once again, it was gone.
But this time was different.
I felt a shift, like something had changed in the very fabric of my existence. My heart pounded in my chest as I stepped outside to check the area. I don’t know what I was expecting to find, but certainly not what I saw. There, in the corner of my yard, was a dark figure. I couldn’t see much, but I felt its presence—like it was watching me. I could hear the whispers again, louder this time. They seemed to come from all directions, but when I looked around, I saw nothing. The figure was gone by the time I turned around, but I could still feel its presence lingering in the air.
I thought I was just imagining things, but deep down, I knew something wasn’t right. I felt...watched. But I tried to ignore it. After all, I wanted to believe in the ritual. I wanted to believe that this was the answer to my problems. Maybe the spirits were just taking their time, I told myself.
But that was the last time I did the ritual.
A few days later, things took a sharp turn for the worse. My finances didn’t improve—in fact, they got worse. Bills were piling up, and I found myself in more debt than before. But what truly shook me were the other things that began to happen. The whispers never stopped. At night, I would lie in bed, trying to sleep, but I could hear them—soft murmurs that seemed to come from just beyond my reach. Sometimes I’d wake up in the middle of the night to see shadows moving at the edges of my vision. They were faint at first, but they grew more persistent.
My sleep became restless, and the paranoia set in. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching me, waiting for me to slip up, to make a mistake. I began to dread nightfall, knowing that the whispers would return. It was as if the spirits I had invited in were not benevolent, but malevolent. I couldn’t escape the feeling that I had made a terrible mistake.
The money never came. The wealth I thought was on its way never materialized. I tried everything—working harder, taking on more side jobs, cutting back on spending. But nothing helped. And all the while, the eerie feeling that I was being haunted grew stronger.
The worst part was the guilt. I felt like I had disturbed something, like I had crossed a line I shouldn’t have. I had invited these spirits into my life, fed them in the hope of receiving wealth, and now I was left with nothing but dread and regret. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw shadows in the corners of my room, heard the whispers in my ears, and felt that coldness that I couldn’t explain.
I don’t know what I was hoping for. I thought the ritual would be a simple way to fix everything, but it only made things worse. I’ve learned the hard way that trying to make shortcuts in life often leads to consequences we can’t control. No amount of food offerings or rituals can replace hard work, patience, and perseverance.
I can’t say I’m free from the fear, either. Every so often, I still feel that cold presence in my room, those whispers at the edge of my consciousness. I wish I had never done it—never been so desperate that I would turn to the supernatural in the hopes of a quick fix. I regret it deeply.
If you’re reading this, please, learn from my mistake. Desperation can lead us to do things we wouldn’t normally consider. Don’t fall into the trap I did. There’s no magic formula for wealth, no shortcut. And whatever you do, don’t offer food to spirits hoping for a blessing. The only thing you'll get is fear.
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