The story of the Demon Ring Part 2

In 1971, I met an Italian boy named Marco, a kind soul I grew fond of. He had come to the UK to avoid Italy's compulsory military service at the time. Marco hailed from a small, mountainous village in southern Italy.

In his village, there lived a reclusive old man who always wore a striking silver ring. When the old man passed away, his house went up for sale. Marco's parents purchased it, finding the house empty save for one peculiar item: the silver ring, still hanging on a nail in the kitchen wall. Marco took the ring, unknowingly bringing its strange legacy with him to England.

One evening, as we rode the bus home from work, Marco shared the ring's ominous tale. From the moment he took it, nothing seemed to go right for him his endeavors failed, and he fell ill with a baffling sickness. Strangely, his luck only turned when he stopped wearing it.

When Marco moved to England, he brought the ring, despite believing it was cursed. He feared leaving it in Italy, worried it might bring misfortune to his family. But even in England, his luck didn’t improve. Marco decided to bury the ring in a local churchyard, six feet from the church wall, hoping to break its sinister hold.

Months later, after hearing his story, my curiosity got the better of me. After much persuading, Marco agreed to show me the ring. The next day, armed with a spade, we ventured to the church. The graveyard grass had recently been mowed, except for one conspicuous tuft marking the burial spot. We dug into the earth and unearthed the ring, unwrapped and untouched by dirt or time. It gleamed, bright and clean as if it had just been placed there.

Unable to resist its allure, I kept the ring. One day, a customer at work spotted it and offered me £500 a substantial sum back then. Intrigued by its value, I took the ring to a jeweller a Hungarian immigrant who had come to the UK after the war. His reaction was startling. He examined the ring, declared it a handmade silver piece over 200 years old with ruby eyes, and then insisted I leave, muttering, “You are the owner of the ring. Keep it safe. Now, get out!”

For the past forty years, the ring has rested in a locked box, first in my London attic, then in the attic of my current home. It has remained in darkness, hidden from the world.

As for Marco, he emigrated, became wealthy, but never married. As for me since taking the ring, life has been an uphill struggle. Perhaps its curse lives on.

Written by Irene Allen-Block.

Possessed Ring, Demon Ring, Paranormal,