Mischief, Menehune, and a Midnight Standoff in Hawaii

 

Most people think of Hawaii as a paradise—sun-drenched beaches, lush jungles, mai tais at sunset. What they don’t know is that Hawaii is absolutely riddled with spirit activity. From ancient entities to playful menehune (Hawaii’s own version of mischievous fae), the islands are basically a supernatural free-for-all.

So, this story kicks off with one of my dad’s roommates, who—like all of his roommates—knows exactly what I do for a living when it comes to spirits.  It’s 2 AM—you know, the witching hour when the veil is thinner than a gas station napkin—and he’s fast asleep when something starts gently pulling the covers over his head. Most people would panic, right? Nope. Not this guy. Instead of screaming like a normal person, he grabs onto whatever the hell it is through the blankets and holds on tight. And then—POOF. Gone.

Unbothered, he rolls over and goes back to sleep.

But whatever it was? Not done yet.

Ten - twenty minutes later, he feels something plop down on the bed beside him. He turns over—nothing. Just empty air. Well, guess that’s that, he thinks, and goes back to sleep again. (Sir, are you okay?!)

Now, this is the part where I come in.

Dad texts me the lowdown on the situation, and while I’m literally standing in the middle of a Target in Houston, Texas, I hear a spirit guide (not sure whose) whisper the word “malevolent” in my ear. Awesome. Just what you wanna hear while browsing home decor. So I text Dad back and tell him I’ll handle it when I get home.

Meanwhile, Dad decides he’s not waiting. He grabs a black protection candle and some sage, preparing to do a quick house cleanse. Except… the sage won’t light.

And if you know, you know. When that sage refuses to catch, it’s not just being temperamental—something doesn’t want it to burn. So Dad spends twenty whole minutes trying to get that damn thing to light while wandering through the house, getting increasingly frustrated.

During this time, his 3-inch black chime candle—designed to burn for only 2 hours—has already burned down to 1/3 of its size in just 20 minutes. A little excessive, don’t you think?

Finally, Dad gives up and goes downstairs for a cigarette. Just as he does, he gets another text from me:

"Handled it. Entity’s gone. You’re good."

When he goes back upstairs, the candle hasn’t burned much more (weird), and when he goes to light the sage again, it ignites instantly and smokes like its life depends on it.

Now, here’s the real kicker—despite that rapid initial burn, the candle continued burning for a total of 9.5 to 10 hours. I’m not saying it’s the haunted version of a Hanukkah miracle, but… I’m also not not saying it.

Cleansing: successful.

But wait—there’s more.

A few days later, one of Dad’s friends stops by for a visit. The moment she steps through the threshold of his room, whatever was attached to her gets jolted off at the doorway and just… lingers there.

Now Dad starts feeling weird and texts me again. "Something’s off. Is there still something here?"

At this point, I’ve still never physically seen the inside of the house, but when I remote view, I describe what I see: an entity standing on the stairs, looking up and to the left.

Dad: "Uh… which stairs?"

Me: "I don’t know, it goes straight up, then there’s a landing, then it turns left."

Dad: "…That’s my room."

At this point, Dad calls in reinforcements—my cousin. Now, my cousin also lives in Texas and has never seen this house either. But when he tunes in, he realizes that the protection spell Dad cast a few days ago knocked the entity off the visitor, and since Dad was standing next to her when she left, it couldn’t latch back on to her. Instead, it just hung around awkwardly, like an unwanted guest at a party.

So my cousin tells Dad, “Open a door. Tell it that it isn’t being held here against its will, but it is NOT welcome back.”

And just like that, poof—entity gone.

Moral of the story? 1. Entities are sneaky little shits. 2. Protection spells actually work. 3. Always check your staircases. 4. If your sage won’t light, you’ve got company.

This kind of work isn’t for the weak—but damn, is it satisfying.