Sometimes, when I’m feeling down, I like to go on Etsy or eBay and look up the word “haunted.” I don’t ever buy anything (I’ve written about my feelings re: haunted objects before, and I have enough paranormal weirdness happen around me for free that I’d feel dumb as butts if I decided to pay for extra ghosts), I just like reading background stories for secondhand porcelain dolls and thrift-shop jewelry.
Take this little lady, for example:
Her name is Gabrielle but feel free to call her Gabby.
The name Gabrielle sounded much too grown up for her liking, although she secretly was beginning to like it.
Gabby was a funny, kindhearted young girl. She happened to be disabled to the extent that she needed full time care. She was very tiny for her age. Her aunt Mary was her caretaker. And she also ended Gabby’s 12 years of life with a pillow over the helpless girl’s face. Source.
Every once in awhile, I find something that isn’t a murdered child’s soul trapped in a doll body, or an ancient incubus or particularly horny vampire ensnared in a ring.
This is an item that was unfortunately used in satanic rituals and as a result has a nasty entity attached to it. I discovered during EVP sessions that it was saying things like, ” I hate you” and something to the effect of “rip your face off”- these items are only for responsible collectors as anyone who does collect these items knows that it can have very serious/devastating effects on your own personality and/or health. I advise collectors to not keep items in your living space. Source.
If I had money to spare and was of a mind to buy a haunted object, this would be it. I unironically think it is completely rad. I would give it its own room (ringed in salt, asafoetida, and cascarilla powder like some kind of demonic playpen) and a little pillow to sit on. There’s something indescribably hilarious to me about a single haunted maraca. I couldn’t tell you what it is, just know that I laughed like a hyena in a nitrous factory until I hurt myself.
Just picture the Satan party that must have happened for this artifact to happen. I’ve read some things, and I cannot for the life of me imagine a) what kind of Satanic ritual requires rumba music (isn’t Satanism mostly associated with ominous chanting and rock ‘n’ roll?), or b) what kind of demon would chill out in the kind of instrument that a garage band lead singer’s untalented significant other gets to play. Musically speaking, a maraca is what the tone-deaf kid gets in music class. It’s a step below a triangle, even, because at least that has more than one part.
A possessed guitar, a drum, that I can see. A maraca, though?
Now, I’m really not trying to dog on maracas. I love rattles of any description (my dad used to make them when I was a kid, from rawhide, turtle shells, or steer horn). I’ve dried gourds and made my own. I use them in my practice, and maracas have a long and fascinating history of spiritual use. They are divination and healing objects for shamans, but those maracas are given specific markings and are in no way associated with Satanic rituals. Traditional maracas are some pretty amazing and powerful works of art.
I just really, really, really want to know the rest of the story. Does the entity have a name? What kind of rituals was the maraca used in? Was the entity summoned on purpose, or did they wander in accidentally? Do I have to shake the maraca to be threatened and insulted, or do its self-esteem-and-mental-health-ruining powers flow freely? Is there a matching maraca somewhere? I have so many questions.
A friend of mine pointed out that a maraca that says “I hate you” and “I want to rip your face off” when you shake it isn’t really scary, mostly just rude. I agreed, figuring you could probably find a maraca that was used in church a whole bunch and was infested with angels and they’d cancel each other out. All, *rattlerattleYousuckrattlerattle* *rattlerattleYourhairlooksamazingthoughrattlerattle*.
So, I’m not sure if this listing resulted from a Satanic jam session, a strange conflation of shamanism with satanism, or what. Either way, though, I pity the demon who gets themselves stuck in a single goddamned maraca.