This Researcher Breaks Down The 20 Most Cursed Objects In History And What Happened To Their Owners

Carved Māori objects such as war masks and ceremonial panels are frequently described in Western popular writing as “cursed,” and we want to be direct about why we’re not using that framing here. In Māori tradition, many carved and ceremonial items are considered taonga — treasures carrying tapu, a concept of sacredness and restriction that governs how an object should be handled, by whom, and under what protocols. Tapu is not equivalent to a Western horror-genre curse; it is a living cultural and spiritual framework, not a plot device.

What is genuinely documented is a broader, serious issue: many such taonga were removed from Aotearoa New Zealand during the colonial period and now sit in overseas museum collections, a subject of ongoing repatriation efforts and negotiation between iwi (tribal groups) and institutions worldwide. We include this object to acknowledge that history honestly, rather than to recast a living culture’s sacred protocols as spooky folklore.

Curse rating: Cultural protocol

On November 4, 1922, Howard Carter's team broke through the sealed entrance of tomb KV62 in the Valley of the Kings. Lord Carnarvon, who financed the excavation, passed away five months later from blood poisoning. Within the following seven years, twelve people connected to the discovery also passed away—a pattern unusual enough that a 2002 study published in the British Medical Journal examined the cases statistically and concluded they were "unlikely to be due to chance alone."

One proposed non-supernatural explanation points to ancient mold spores, including Aspergillus niger, preserved for nearly 3,000 years inside the sealed, near-airless tomb. Researchers have suggested these microorganisms may have contributed to severe respiratory illnesses in individuals with weakened immune systems. Howard Carter, despite having the longest direct exposure to the tomb, remained active until 1939—seventeen years after its opening.

Curse rating: Deadly

Documented tragedies:

1. Lord Carnarvon (1923) - blood poisoning, 5 months after tomb opening.

2. Sir Archibald Douglas Reid (1924) - X-rayed the mummy; passed away 3 days later.

3. Arthur Mace (1928) - led the unsealing; passed away of unexplained wasting illness.

+ 9 additional fatal accidents documented in the 2002 BMJ statistical study.

In September 1985, The Sun reported that a mass-produced print of a weeping child — sold cheaply across British homeware stores — was repeatedly found undamaged in the ashes of house fires. A Yorkshire fire brigade test confirmed the prints were abnormally fire-resistant, attributable to the varnish used and a backing that caused the print to fall face-down in a fire. That explanation is scientifically documented. What it does not fully account for is the consistency of the effect across prints from multiple different manufacturers. Over 2,500 readers mailed in their prints for public destruction after the report. This response is a matter of newspaper record, even though the underlying “curse” claim is folklore.

Curse rating: Bizarre

Given to Robert Eugene Otto in 1904, the doll became the subject of neighborhood reports of independent movement and disturbances in the Otto household. It now sits at the Fort East Martello Museum, where visitors who photograph it without asking permission report camera malfunctions and bad luck at a rate the museum describes informally through its wall of written apology letters. These reports are anecdotal and self-selected — visitors who experience nothing don’t tend to write in.

Curse rating: Active

A Raggedy Ann doll given as a gift in Connecticut, 1970, became the subject of investigation by paranormal researchers Ed and Lorraine Warren, who concluded it was a conduit for a malevolent entity rather than the spirit of a deceased child. They sealed it in a glass case at what became the Warren Occult Museum, where it remains. The most widely repeated incident — a visitor lost his life in a motorcycle crash after taunting the sealed case — comes from Warren estate records and secondhand retellings, not independent police or coroner documentation. It should be treated as firsthand museum lore rather than verified fact.

Curse rating: Violent

The Hope Diamond’s traceable history starts in 1666, when French merchant Jean-Baptiste Tavernier purchased a 112-carat blue stone reportedly taken from a temple in southern India. Tavernier died in Russia at 84. While stories frequently describe a mauling by wild dogs, this detail is largely a 20th-century legend entirely unsupported by historical records. King Louis XIV bought the stone, had it cut to 67 carats, and died of gangrene. His grandson Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette, who later possessed it, were both guillotined in 1793 — a documented historical fact, though attributing the Revolution to a gemstone is not.

The stone resurfaced in 1839 in the collection of Henry Philip Hope, giving it its current name, and the Hope family was bankrupted within two generations — a matter of financial record. Evalyn Walsh McLean, who bought it in 1910, lost her son in a car accident and her daughter to a drug overdose; these are documented family tragedies, though whether the diamond caused them is, by definition, unprovable. It is consistently ranked among the most expensive historical items ever sold before Harry Winston donated it to the Smithsonian Institution in 1958 by registered post. It has been safely on public display since.

Curse rating: Catastrophic

Documented tragedies:

1. Jean-Baptiste Tavernier (1689) - passed away in Russia, aged 84; wild dog folklore debunked.

2. Louis XVI & Marie Antoinette (1793) - both guillotined during the French Revolution.

3. Henry Philip Hope (1839) - family bankrupted within two generations of acquiring the stone.

4. Evalyn Walsh McLean (1947) – her son was involved in a fatal car accident; her daughter passed away from an overdose.

Housed at the British Museum as object EA22542, this is actually the inner coffin lid, or mummy-board, of an unnamed priestess of Amen-Ra — there is no mummy inside it. Late Victorian society gossip attached a chain of misfortunes to it: broken bones, ruined fortunes, and, most famously, a persistent claim that it was aboard the Titanic in 1912. The British Museum’s own records confirm the board never left the museum and was never booked on the ship — this specific legend is formally debunked. The earlier stories of misfortune among 19th-century owners are folklore-tier and untraceable to primary sources, though the object’s genuine age and museum provenance are well documented.

Curse rating: Legendary

On September 30, 1955, James Dean was involved in a fatal collision when his Porsche 550 Spyder struck another car near Cholame, California, just nine days after acquiring it. Custom-car builder George Barris later sold engine and drivetrain parts from the wreck to two doctors, Troy McHenry and William Eschrid, who were involved in separate crashes during the same race in Pomona in 1956; one of the drivers did not survive. This sequence is documented in contemporary motor-racing publications. The car's remaining shell was later used in a highway safety exhibition, where it was linked to separate injuries involving a mechanic and a student, before reportedly disappearing from a transport truck in 1960. It was never recovered, and no theft was ever officially reported.

Curse rating: Lethal

Beyond Bath, thousands of similar lead tablets — defixiones — have been recovered across the Roman world, from Britain to North Africa. Scholars including John Gager and Fritz Graf have published academic catalogues of these texts, which typically name a target, invoke a chthonic or underworld deity, and were folded, pierced with a nail, and buried in graves, wells, or under thresholds to increase their supposed potency.

Their historical significance is not in dispute — they are primary evidence for Roman folk religion, private grievance, and even ancient Latin dialect variation. Whether any tablet produced its intended supernatural effect is, naturally, outside what the historical record can verify.

Curse rating: Documented ritual

To be transparent: the famous Cave Canem (“Beware of Dog”) mosaic pictured here is not cursed—it is simply used as a representative image of the archaeological site. The reported “Pompeii curse” actually concerns the thousands of souvenirs, rocks, and artifacts removed by tourists over the decades. The Archaeological Park of Pompeii regularly receives packages containing stolen fragments mailed back by tourists who claim the illicit souvenirs brought them years of financial ruin, illness, or bad luck.

While the mosaic remains safely intact in its original context, the folklore attaches exclusively to the pieces taken from the site. There is no historical curse inscribed on these stones; the phenomenon is entirely driven by the guilt or superstition of modern handlers.

Curse rating: Not a curse

Discovered in 1991 emerging from a melting Alpine glacier, Ötzi is the oldest naturally preserved human mummy found in Europe. Evidence suggests he sustained a fatal arrow wound to the shoulder around 3300 BCE. Over the following two decades, seven people connected to his discovery and study were reportedly involved in sudden or tragic circumstances, as noted by Der Spiegel in 2005. Among them were hiker Helmut Simon, who was caught in a blizzard in 2004, and the mountain rescue chief who led the search for him, who reportedly experienced a fatal heart attack just days after Simon's funeral. No common cause links these events, and with only seven reported cases among the many hundreds of researchers and others involved since 1991, no formal statistical evidence has been presented to support claims of an actual "curse."

Curse rating: Disturbing

Excavated from the sacred spring at Bath, England, more than 130 lead defixiones — curse tablets — have been recovered, catalogued, and translated by archaeologists. Most were written by ordinary Romano-British petitioners asking the goddess Sulis Minerva to punish thieves who had stolen bathhouse clothing or coins, often listing suspects by name and demanding the goddess “not permit them health” until the stolen items were returned. These are not legendary objects retroactively labeled cursed — they are literal ritual curse texts, a well-studied category of Roman religious practice showing how hidden infrastructure of belief operated, held today at the Roman Baths Museum and analysed in academic epigraphy.

Curse rating: Documented ritual

According to Italian press reports from the 1990s, a silver vase made for a 15th-century wedding was blamed for the bride's sudden passing on her wedding night and was later associated with a series of misfortunes involving several modern owners, including a pharmacist, a surgeon, and an archaeologist, each of whom reportedly passed away within months of acquiring it. The reports trace back to a small number of Italian publications, and no museum, coroner, or academic institution has independently verified the events. This is the least well-documented entry in this collection and belongs firmly in the folklore category: a story repeated over the years with a consistent narrative, but without independent corroboration beyond its original press coverage.

Curse rating: Fatal

The Koh-i-Noor’s ownership history is unusually well documented for a gemstone, passing through Mughal, Persian, Afghan, and Sikh rulers before its 1849 annexation by the British East India Company following the Anglo-Sikh Wars. A Hindu text associated with the stone is said to warn that only God or a woman may wear it without misfortune — a claim that long postdates the stone’s actual origin and cannot be traced to a primary ancient source. What can be documented is that nearly every male ruler associated with the stone lost his throne, was imprisoned, blinded, or killed in the course of ordinary dynastic and colonial conflict — a pattern that reflects the historical reality of contested succession and empire wealth redistribution, rather than a supernatural mechanism. The stone is now set in the British Crown Jewels and displayed only when worn by a queen consort, incidentally matching the folklore.

Curse rating: Historical

Discovered in the ancient Macedonian capital of Pella — birthplace of Alexander the Great — this small lead scroll, dated to roughly 375–350 BCE, is inscribed with a curse by a woman seeking to prevent a man from marrying another woman, invoking underworld spirits to bind his intentions to her instead. It is written in a Doric Greek dialect, making it significant evidence in the long-running academic debate over what language Macedonians actually spoke.

Unlike many later Roman examples, the Pella tablet is remarkable for being written by, or on behalf of, a named woman in a personal, non-official context — a rare window into private ritual practice in the Classical Greek world. It is held at the Archaeological Museum of Pella.

Curse rating: Documented ritual

The Black Orlov is a 67.50-carat black diamond, said in popular retellings to have been pried from a statue of Brahma in India and to have caused the suicides of three successive owners in the early 20th century, including two Russian princesses. No court record, obituary, or contemporary news report naming these individuals has been independently located; the story appears to originate with 20th-century diamond dealers promoting the stone, a common practice in the gem trade. What is documented: the stone was cut into three smaller pieces and reset before its 2006 sale at Christie’s, reportedly intended in part to “break” its reputation — a marketing decision, not evidence of an actual curse.

Curse rating: Severe

In 1971, a boy digging in his family’s garden in Hexham, Northumberland, unearthed two small carved stone heads. Both families who subsequently kept them reported disturbing phenomena, including claimed werewolf-like sightings — accounts that remain entirely anecdotal. Archaeologist Dr. Anne Ross examined the heads and initially believed them Iron Age Celtic in style, but later investigation raised doubts about their age, and the original heads were reportedly lost or replaced, complicating any scientific dating.

This case is included deliberately as a caution: the “curse” narrative here formed quickly around an artifact whose authenticity itself was never conclusively established, illustrating how folklore can attach to an object faster than archaeology can evaluate it.

Curse rating: Disputed

Colonel W. Ferris looted the stone — actually an amethyst — from a temple in Cawnpore during the 1857 Indian Rebellion. It later passed to Edward Heron-Allen, a noted Edwardian polymath, who reported repeated financial losses while he owned it and eventually bequeathed it to the Natural History Museum, London in 1904 with a letter calling it “trebly accursed.” That letter survives in the museum’s archive — this is the rare case where the primary evidence is the owner’s own written account, not secondhand reporting.

Curse rating: Severe

The Dybbuk Box entered public awareness through a 2001 eBay listing, in which seller Kevin Mannis described a wine cabinet said to have belonged to a Holocaust survivor who warned it contained a dybbuk — a malicious spirit in Jewish folklore. Six subsequent owners independently reported similar symptoms: a recurring nightmare of a hag-like figure, unexplained bruising, and a smell described as cat urine mixed with jasmine. These accounts are firsthand and recorded, not formally peer-reviewed. The detail researchers find hardest to dismiss is the reported convergence — several owners described nearly identical experiences before learning what prior owners had reported. It was sold at paranormal auction in 2021 for a reported $280,000 and remains sealed at Zak Bagans’ Haunted Museum.

Curse rating: Severe

Adventurer F.A. Mitchell-Hedges claimed his daughter Anna discovered a life-sized quartz skull at the Maya site of Lubaantun, Belize, in the 1920s, and mystical claims of the skull’s power circulated for decades. Forensic examination by the Smithsonian Institution and the British Museum, using microscopic and tool-mark analysis, found evidence of rotary lapidary wheel cutting — technology unavailable to the ancient Maya — indicating the skull was almost certainly manufactured in the 19th or 20th century, likely in Europe.

This is the most clearly resolved case in this article. Where most entries end with acknowledged uncertainty, the crystal skull proves how new discoveries rewrite human history by putting false myths to rest: it is not ancient, not Maya, and not evidence of anything supernatural.

Curse rating: Debunked