Maratona - The Real Satan

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Submitted: March 24, 2018

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Submitted: March 24, 2018

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The Attempted Murder of An American Grammy - The Real Satan

By Alexander Guinevere Kern

October 29th, 2017

 

 

His real name is Maratona.

 

Honest.

 

You aren't supposed to know that.

 

You're welcome.

 

The Buddha called him "Mara."

 

 

See? He did not just approach Jesus Christ. The Buddha was tested by him, too.

 

"Mara," "Maratona" = Marathon. "Maratona's Armada" = Satan's Army.

 

In the eyes of your Soul, your life is a Marathon. A Survivor Contest for bored Immortal Souls from the Glorious Realm of Love and Light - the "Source of All That Is" tells them they have to come here and pay off their Credit Card Karma. The fact that NO SOUL, NOR HUMAN can ever be perfect or live a perfect life seems to have escaped the Superior Consciousness of Source, the selfless Being which all Source Souls hope to become. Therefore, and forthwith, they are FORCED to keep coming down here, and battle in the never-ending war between the Dark and the Light. What that has to do with paying off Karma, I cannot divine.

 

Satan - the Marathon, IS the Entire Earth Game. Souls are called "Marionette Amore" - Love Puppets. Source's cutesy nick for Love Avatars. They're called Light Beings because they are Lightening BUGS. Yes, that is a fact. They download part of their Consciousness here, into a Human Form, in order to demonstrate they can maintain their integrity, while fighting the grisly, painful obstacles and HELL Maratona and his Armada create to thwart their Life Plans and Mission Objectives. We, the Human Forms, are considered "Host Bodies," which Designation most of us are not aware of, and we fleshly Folk are of NO value to the Master Teachers of some Loving Source.

 

Ahem. Loving?

 

Earth's sod is heavy laden with spent Avatar Humans, all of whom were vital to the Game, our Energies and Blood vital to the Demonic Armada, and were thankfully, and deliberately made unaware of our value and importance . . . to Satan, to Source. Both Beings who never show their faces and introduce themselves, nor speak to us, nor rescue, nor repair, nor show pity, nor compassion to us, nor mourn us when we buy the dirt apartment.

 

Unlike Yahweh, who said, "I am the Lord, thy God," "I will prove myself God to you," and proceeded to do plenty good for Mankind, including loving us, even when it was rather a chore and burdensome for Him to do so.

 

A Soul might then say, if It were honest and compassionate toward us: "We, the Love Puppets, are going to Satan (The Earth Game) in order to WIN over Satan's Army of demons, who are in turn trying to WIN over us in various scenarios."

 

That is the GAME of the MIND we are playing. Has everyone got that?

 

They are taught in schools how to be more loving, compassionate, faithful, cheerful, brave, resourceful, diligent, caring, sharing, giving, healing . . .

 

These attributes are not exhibited toward their Humans, without whom they cannot play the Earth Game which their Source insists they play. Source's thought processes are a mystery to me.

 

Soul's MINDS do not HURT, ache, feel pain, suffer, lament, repine, sigh, get depressed, endure mental illness, nor expire from the unbearable heaviness of PHYSICAL agony. They do not give birth, shed tears, bleed, break bones, have hairs to be counted, breathe, have a pulse, suffer insomnia nor get horrific mental, physical, emotional, spiritual diseases and/or disorders, nor any OTHER of the routine quiet and not so quiet desperate manifestations of human suffering.

 

For Beings who are given the GIFT of LIFE, for a short or lengthy term (contract with Satan and include terms and conditions) they certainly are NOT grateful to us, their appointed pack mules.

 

"Satan is misleading the entire inhabited Earth."

 

Later in this jeremiad of a text we're going to examine a Relationship I experienced with that amplified breed of Tyrant.

 

Incidentally, and ironically, the word "relationship" has no meaning for me.  I've hired therapists who invariably told me: "You don't need to paint. You need to take this medicine. What about your relationships?" and the classic: "People with High I.Q.s are arrogant. You don't need a high I.Q. for every day life. You need to work on your relationships."

 

Sadly, their "medicine" flatlined my creativity and intellect, not to mention packed on 30 pounds, raised my blood pressure and destroyed my teeth. My husband at the time stated, cruelly, "You are no longer the woman I married. And I can't see past the weight. I never would have taken those drugs," and left me for a 28 year old Russian bride.

 

Another "relationship" down the Pooper.  I guess that was my fault, as well.

 

I get diagnosed and called Names and they got paid.  How . . . professional.

 

Many of their "proven medicines" have been taken off the market for even more serious side effects. High I.Q.? Their worthless meds did nada for my I.Q. except trash it. A therapist said (during one of his rare seizures of honesty): "These medicines make it easier for us to work with you."

 

Dumbed down Apes - we're easy prey with Medicare and Insurance deep pockets.

I'll bet. He was enmired in a tense and stressful divorce at the time when he was supposed to be helping ME with the radioactive aftereffects of my unwanted divorce and the loss of a 18 month old child due to my ex's adultery, emotional abuse and resultant duress. Dr. Psychologist kept encouraging me to continue demanding visitation, so I could "eventually roll her into my camp."

 

In the meantime, he was attempting to seduce his children to roll over into HIS camp. His poor, overwrought, terrified, estranged wife, depressed over the divorce and at a loss how to fight him, served their children poisoned ice cream, took a large dose of tranquilizer herself and tried to drive them all off a cliff. Surely the poor woman felt powerless against a psychologist of renown, an expert often called upon by the court system to give testimony pertaining to child custody cases. (!)

 

Trying to "help" me, while polluting his integrity with such vile machinations is called Conflict of Interest - and is illegal. All his $75 per hour talk therapy was useless, as I found most talk therapy to be in my 63 years on this Godforsaken Planet - and the drugs used to "treat" our "emotional illnesses" even more folly, if not outright toxic. Big Geld for the Pharmaceutical Industry, though!

 

He diagnosed me with "unclear sexual identity," "Clinical Depression," and asked me if I told my ex-husband "how much I enjoyed and admired his muscles." Not doing so, one imagines, was the cause of him entering into a hot office affair. Then again, working 7 days a week, 12 hours a day, and then giving birth to a premature daughter did not leave me with much uuumphah to notice his "muscles." He additionally advised me his diagnosis was informed by his observation that I "sat like a man."

 

Well, yanno  - construction workers. We're like that.

 

Despite my name and style of sitting, I was born, and am, 100% heterosexual FEMALE. My sexual id is . . . a fearful woman.

 

That ex-husband boffed his 20 year old secretary at his Nuclear Power Station job while I was on Maternity Leave, and the two of them plotted and schemed with his parents to abduct my infant daughter away from me, while I struggled with the fact she had nearly died of Hyaline Membrane Syndrome from being born prematurely. She was in NICU for four or five weeks. When I found out (the last to know) he was engaged in an extramarital fuzz-bumping, my breast milk dried up that very day, effectively ending my dream of nursing her for a year.

 

And *I'm* the one who got pumped full of antiquated meds. Various bogus, shameless, pseudo-Shaman Brigands told me I would have to take these mind and body numbing drugs for the rest of my life.

 

All of which meds cause fatigue, fat, increase depression (yep! they do!), faintness, dizziness, sleepiness, lack of energy/vitality/hope/enthusiasm/happiness.

Because my depression is somehow . . . dangerous?? To whom? How so? Then may we take to court any person or circumstance or instance who or which provokes clinical depression in us??? Is Depression a crime? Or are those who caused depressive feelings in us criminals? Must I take psychoactive, addictive drugs the rest of my life because I did not accommodate or accept or "integrate in a healthy manner" the injustices done to me? For what shall I sue them . . . abuse of the Soul, or what?

 

Or are they Maratona's infamous Denizens of his Booger Army, who are permitted, if you please, to interfere in our lives and create havoc and distress whenever and wherever possible.

 

I hope so. Otherwise that ex and his third wife will be owing millions on their Karma Card.  Sucks to be them!

 

Meanwhile, the antidepressants and anti-anxiety drugs are unhelpful and often expensive.  And I have to take them the rest of my life? Because my ex decided he had to pork his sexatery, grab my baby, move to another part of the state? Those infidels never told her she had a real Mother, while I was left homeless, jobless and nearly vagrant, living in my car with my other two daughters.  The elder girl I turned over to her father, and he and his wife moved and left no forwarding address - and a foul crush of other life stressors too critical and morose to recount.  Drugs will cure that depression, Missy.  You bet!

 

Hilarious. Said sarcastically. The medicine he recommended I take, Tofranil, is a tricyclic antidepressant, originally used to treat persons suffering from Tuberculosis, a rot gut dirty drug Psychiatrists rarely prescribe any longer.

 

It sent me straight to the ER, psychotic as hell.

 

So much for our therapeutic relationship.

 

One cannot sue a psychiatrist for prescribing a 1950s tuberculosis drug to treat my situational depression. Or for the well-known and detested side effects of Ambien, a sleep medicine his psych therapist insisted I take for my insomnia, which "medicine" has caused people to sleep drive, sleep eat, sleep walk, sleep write - and other delirious acts.

 

Ambien caused me to literally disconnect from our Virtual Reality, stumble when I tried to walk, see the world through a glittering unreality, after which my eyes crossed - right up until my ex drove me to the hospital ER. The therapist proclaimed, authoritatively: "Oh, no, Ambien never does that! I have many people taking it. No one has ever reported side effects like that. Something else is going on with you."

 

Ambien, indeed, as many have testified, DOES THAT.

 

It is still on the market.

 

I fired her. After a succession of therapists, but no easing up of my muck-minded depression, gave up.

 

We could not work out our relationships. Drugs and therapy did not work. Because no person recovers from a life like mine.

 

Then along came The Devil of Legend. Then I was well and truly Fooked.

 

I have a dictionary and thesaurus on my BED. A perusal involving the intrepid seeking of a definition and synonyms for the word Relationship served up concepts as Alien to me as the Being I shall soon describe.

 

My ex-husband's paramour brazenly left love letters to him in his 4X4 truck, tucked them in his pants pocket for me to find whilst doing the laundry - and in his Igloo lunch box - for me to discover while cleaning it out, of course. The Tartlett even included a pair of risque panties in his dinner box to torment me. My three children were under the age of SIX at the time. She ruined the lives of three children and did not give a damn.

 

And still doesn't.

 

So that's a "relationship?" They are still married, after he originally dragged his construction-booted feet, and dumped her at the altar twice before giving into his sorry fate and finally tied the knot. Three times the charm, eh?

 

What is a relationship? I have never felt real love, happiness, security or peace. Those are smudged words in a dead letter to me, the province of the Normal and the Fortunate. Observing the outward expressions of those emotions in other people left me with only this interpretation - those were things other people had that I didn't. Like I said, Alien.

 

Look, I die about as often as people with Herpes have an outbreak. I know my stuff and I own my shite. You don't have to believe me. If you are reading this - then, if you are feeling generous of Spirit, accept that it IS my right to tell my own truth, in my own way, on my own computer.

 

No quarter given. Whatever is done to my Soul after my Exit Stage Dirt is up to God.

Meanwhile, I am one Miserable, Broken-hearted Human Being. As best as I am able, I'm attempting to describe and share actual events. My perceptual apparatus may be suspect, but my motivation is not. Misperception is a failing we all share, yes?

 

It seems "planet Earth" has been pitched to Spiritual Beings as a School/Game

/Play. So attest dozens of New Age-y types and others of unknown philosophies, especially Hypnotherapists and Psychic Mediums. Not that there's anything wrong with them.

 

Souls = Intelligent Energy Beings - yes, and Mankind is too! And yet I possess a plethora of memories of Play scripts, Life planning, Assignment of Roles, Rehearsals, Wrap Parties, the entire, astonishing program of School Play prep, Alpha to Fini. I actually recall a Script which was to conclude at my former home. Upon the last page the word FINI appeared. A group of Beings encircled my Soul and discussed what her next lesson could possibly be and how it would bring her closer to God. They wrote comments and ideas all over the margins of that script, until only the word FINI was left untouched.

The death of me would bring her CLOSER TO GOD?

 

God?

 

"I want you to have Life, and have it more abundantly."

 

THAT God?

 

I died there. Dead in my broken body in a broken down bed. Alone. Surrounded by crumbling walls and a seeping basement, 100 year old electrical and plumbing systems, rusting, leaking tin roof, stained, plaster cracking ceilings - a deteriorating Duplex in a dumping ground for Social Security Seniors, Disabled Poor and every style of Drug Addict and alcoholic alive in SW Baltimore. Alone. Severely ill and nearly bedridden, I interacted with four people in the world and counted only six who truly loved me.

How . . . ruinous to my ego and the shock value of these "Holy Beings'" evaluation of MY Human Value nearly flatlined me off the heartbeat graph.

 

Between one breath before and one exhalation after that discovery, I died again every death in every life my Soul ever lived. Alas, as far as *I*, a Human know, this is the ONLY life in which I have ever been amongst the pulse-bearing community.

 

My Soul, however, may have incarnated numerous times, in myriad Realities.

 

By the by, prior to my death, I knew little, if anything, about Source, Souls, Incarnation, Schools, Earth Plane Games, Role-plays, Grades, Choosing Human Host Bodies and Films, Aliens, E.T.  and the endless fiction stories one might want to experience. The thought of the above would've terrified and depressed me and it still does.

I am NOT a "Host Body!"

 

Just calling me one doth not make it so!

 

And, incidentally, to this very day I know NOTHING about Video Games!

 

To my "Soul" (a Lightening Bug Entity, yeah! Get that!), I was a *character* - my "life" a sham, my belief I was alive and my pulse mattered, my hopes, dreams and desires mattered, my essential dignity and absolute conviction that I had "free will" - all smoke and air and "Let's Play Pretend" (To Be Human). Dupe of the most malevolent sort. Subjection to an E.T. Intelligence? Easy peasy - they are invisible to us, because Mankind is only aware of a narrow band of the electromagnetic spectrum.

 

Free Will? We matter? Well, we ARE matter, are we not?

 

Am I not, no matter of what I am constructed, a Child of the Same Universe?

 

We are loved, loved, so much loved - as so many Near Death Experiencers aver? Our "Spirit Guides" are in constant contact (by some covert means) and watching over us, and steering us through our vast, complicated Life Labyrinths? Not a word of truth in those suppositions/assertions. I have the body, the breath, the blood - but the Soul has learned in classes in the great Up There how to take over Human Host Brains and that, m'friends, is a stone fact.

 

Again, if they view us as Host Bodies, what are they?

 

Well, are You a Host? Come on, they're Parasites/Smart Sparkplugs/A.I. While Mankind, could, if one wished to pursue the matter forth, be considered a Parasite of a Kind, we are Born on this Earth, for good or for ill, unaware of the Being Within. (Jesus the Christ did TELL us they existed.) That Entity in the New Age parlance is your Soul, and an Oversoul is in charge of Its doings. The Oversoul Cluster is a massive colony of Insect Gamers, believe it or don't.

 

It is all so repulsive, fiendish, treacherous, depraved, insidious, abhorrent, execrable and downright invasive. The propaganda is they are Holy, Pure Love, Sacred, Good, Kind, Loving Beings of Light. We bought the Dirty Grease in which they cooked their deception- Heaven, God, Perfection, Sublime, Angels, Grace, Peace, Rest, Eternal Existence in Elysium.

 

This is Bunkum. Humans get Nada but dead. Heaven is for Souls. (Don't despair - a goodly part of our better consciousness is one of THEM, without all the unforgivable "veiling" or blocking of our immortal memory and spiritual power identity. Not to mention energy - ah, energy. What was THAT, again?

 

God Yahweh is a different Entity entirely. I shall cover His Creation and Involvement with Man and Souls in my next installment.

 

The truth is Souls are predominately children, playing Games with Humans and using us for programmed Avatars. If they fail to learn some inane "lesson" they have to return here for Summer School. In pursuit of lessons learned, humans have been used and killed for countless centuries. Our energy and bodies, blood and intelligence is useful - and necessary. Our ignorance is vital for the Game to work.

 

That's why Alice Cooper looked like a Vampire. "School's out for Summer."

 

One third of our lives we are ASLEEP, during which time they exit our corpus, fly up to the Astral, Other Planes, Games, Timelines, Programs, Dimensions or Realities, pit stop at the Big Bughouse and take more classes, discuss their current conundrums on Earth with their Incredible Disappearing Spirit Guides, and enjoy recess, or even do positive work on Earth.

 

Can you imagine?

 

"Spirit Guides?" A malevolent, Satanic, ruthless, sadistic Human Being told me HE was my "Spirit Guide!" I read all the New Age Bulldoggie and thought, "Hey, that's great! Now I'll be sure to be protected and loved, loved, so much loved."

 

Yeahhhhh . . . once he had me on his mental frequency, all manner of horror was inflicted on me.

 

This is the primary reason very ill, despondent, depressed and despairing people, especially those suffering long, agonizing, lingering deaths from cancer or other end stage illnesses, are kept alive as long as possible - dragging the death out longer and longer - and our intense suffering means absolutely nothing to these Bug Gamers - while the poor human is asleep, It can still do Karma! Rotting away in Jail? Strapped into a Nut Hut, brain-locked on drugs? Drooling from meds in a wheelchair, parked in a Nursing Home for decades? Out of the consciousness loop with Alzheimers? No problem! You are a hobbled Human and therefore a stable energy source grounding rod and the Bug Light can go upstairs every night and party and plan to do even more KARMA! Woo hoo!

 

Meanwhile, Maratona and Company can snort up all the negative energy, which he considers his due for allowing your Light Soul to play the Earth Game. It's the way you pay off your Credit Card, so to speak.

 

Got that?

 

My Soul and I do NOT have a mutually supportive relationship.

 

Much of my information was gleaned via my very legit - in my opinion, anyway - Near Death Experiences. NDEs give you the skinny on the not so loving underside of the Alleged Light Frequency Realm. Instead, there are MANY Realms, dominions, channels, frequencies, etc. You can pop over to www.nderf.org and read scads of NDEs. There are books galore on the subject.

 

People who do not believe NDEs are "real" have never had one. Bar none.

 

Ever feel Used by a Force or Individual more powerful, knowledgable, devious and crafty than are you? The very Incarnation of Resident Evil? Read on.

 

A wise, Human Being once told me (speaking from Experience) - "Remember you are an OBJECT to be USED."

 

This brave gent was talking about an alleged race of Reptilians who can, and must, engage in a variety of horrifying, bloody rituals in order to secure blood and organs and to manipulate sexual energies from their knowing, or unknowing victims, in order to maintain human form.

 

My understanding of those Beings is a tad different. Close enough, though.

We will get to The Reptilians eventually. They are not relevant to my tale - yet.

There's all manner of Intelligences out there. I mean, be real. Did you truly think we are alone in the Universe?

 

We are NOT alone. For one darn thing, there's an ET Being sitting in your bod, steering you around like an Avatar in a . . . Video Game. That ET is NOT from Earth. Feel me on this?

 

I hear all you Doubters, Skeptics, Scientific types who demand I show evidence, reliable, provable evidence. Well, Dears - I've had several NDEs and you apparently have not.

 

So - you will find out.

 

Grab yourself a Playstation or whatever expert Gamers are using these days and invent some Avatars. You will discover there are as many Forms as the human mind can devise for those Avatars. Go on - feel free. Pretend you are God. Jack up your cognitive processes on Ambrosia or Honey or Nectar or whatever Bug Supplement your Souls require and have at. Or Cheezy niblets or whatever.

 

Souls even flap Up to the Bughouse Version of a Dressing Room and try on any number of Source's vast warehouse of FORMS. For the yucks of it, ya'll.

 

The Source Collective is NOT short on imagination. Nor are they deprived of THEIR version of computers. On this, you may trust me.

 

As I have told you before, we get their fourth hand "ready for the scrap pile" Junkite Junk.

 

Oh, NO, Miss Kern, you are NOT going to con us into believing that Steve Jobs was a Soul Gamer who contracted to bring the Computer Age into the twentieth century!!!

 

Yup.

 

Yes, he was.

 

Yes, he was.

 

Yes, he was.

 

Because The Source Contingent decided Mankind was ready to be possessed not just by Soul Intelligence, but by one of their favorite creative tools!

 

The more you set your face in front of the screen of your computer, enter the Online Reality Channel, plug your Human Brain and Mind into the indescribably monstrous and Ultimately Ruination of Man Internet, the faster they can cozen you onto the Bug Channel and we will be SO much easier to manipulate and their Incarnations will be far more in Line with what they desired for their Life Plan/Cast Party/School Play/Lessons.

 

If you, Human, do NOT allow the Soul to stay on Its Life Path, Its Soul-buddies will incarnate temporarily in a Body and HURT YOU until you get back on Its Path.

Not kidding. Don't accuse me of it. Not. Joking.

 

"Love and Light" is NEITHER.

 

Miss Kern! You are talking about GOD! Angels! Love! Light Beings! Joy! Peace! Happiness! Evolution of Consciousness! Spiritual Awareness! Kindness! Compassion! Unselfishness! Caring! Sharing! Concern for Mankind!

 

Awwww, how cute.

 

NO.

 

We are now Hybrid Consciousnesses in a physical Form. Your "personality" is BOTH you, the Human and one of THEM, your Soul.

 

While your Soul claims IT wants all of the above, has all that to offer you, wants you to be closer to God and so on, so forth, etc., what It actually wants is for YOU to believe certain propaganda so you will be far easier to control.

 

Not the Reptilians are we talking here, Friends. They have their OWN agenda.

 

The Embodiment of Souls into Human bodies is a HOSTILE, carefully controlled, pre-meditated and insidious invasion by an extra-terrestrial race of Spiritual (Energy) Beings.

All these people talking about getting yourself in gear for The Landings and welcoming our Space Brothers and how Aliens and E.T. visit and have lived on the Earth Plane for centuries . . .

 

YOUR SOUL IS AN E.T.

 

Period!

 

While you are dashing about seeking Extra-Terrestrials, your Soul is laughing silently within you!

 

Fancy, heart-warming, sentimental, emotionally uplifting concepts of Heaven and God are not for US. YOU and I will NEVER see Heaven, Source, or Its extraordinary panoply of Gaming Systems.

 

We are not Bugs, dag it! What enough NDErs and what I, are/am telling you good folks, is that The Human Being and The Soul have nothing to DO with each other.

 

The word Soul means "breath of God."

 

Pass the Mouthwash.

 

Now, you might say to me, Hogwash.

 

You will find out.

 

Because part of your Conscious Awareness IS one of THEM. Right now, as you read this they are trembling with Fear, because They know what ELSE I am going to present for your inspection and education.

 

We CAN over-ride their hopes, dreams and desires and their computer and programming Life scripts and take back control of our lives. We CAN - and if you believe what I say is true and you are willing to put my suggestions into practice, Mankind can seize the power we already have.

 

We have the body and the Human Brain-Mind.

 

NO Spirit known to me can make me do anything on the Earth Plane. Trust me, they have tried.

 

Souls want certain stuff, depending on their Grade Level and School aspirations.

We can thwart that. We MUST. The Internet only makes it more convenient for them!

 

No, I am NOT talking about The Illuminati! They are a separate concern.

 

Yes, Satan.

 

You knew I was going to bring him up from DOWN, didn't you?

 

Satan, the Incredible Disappearing Satan. He LOVES the Internet! Seduce you onto the Satan Channel and you might as well stick a Pitchfork into your brain - you're DONE.

 

Yanno, Dark.net and porn sites and God Knows What-all degrading, grisly and vile and unseemly and grotesque sites are HIS delightful manifestations! Watching Humans being reduced to the primal BEASTS he thinks we are, brings him the barest glimmer of happiness. Happiness he rarely feels, trust me.

 

I was selected and USED as a Human Biomedical Slave, part of Mind Control and other illegal experiments on School age children in the 50s and 60s, along with hundreds of thousands of others. Our stories are all over the Internet if you seek for them. We are nothing more than Human Trafficking victims, sold to Military Contractors/Torturers to test their EMF and SAT weapons and Direct Energy Weapons until we expire, go insane or get locked up in a ward, thus to be drugged insensate. Baring these expected outcomes, we are to be maximally demoted without delay.

 

You FAILED.

 

I am still alive, typing away, drinking stout coffee, eating hard-boiled Deviled Eggs and saying my story for the benefit of Man and Souls. Give me back the money you were given for permission to torture, experiment upon and USE me and my Form, and for sacral and base energy, also, you cretin monsters. We've got you now.

 

The propaganda is that those weapons are not refined and perhaps won't be useful or as effective as hoped. I assure you, they work very effectively and ruin hundreds of thousands of human lives.

 

You don't believe?

 

You will find out.

 

My accusations will be proven beyond all doubt in the future. So laugh as you wish NOW.

 

You will find out.

 

Have you lately been able to read even ONE article on the Internet without streaming Advertisements above, below and side to side of that article?

 

The Internet is an Advertisers' wet dream, so to speak. Your brain is picking up massive quantities of some random Data every second and It decides what is useful for your conscious mind to absorb and use, often to sustain and support your survival. Advertisers are aware of this - thus, subliminal advertising, which has been in play since . . . forever. Picking your brain is their business!

 

After such an avalanche of visual, psychological, mental inputs and downloads, information and data dumps on a daily basis, flashing ads and exciting games and pop-up lures to toxic sites, your brain simply gives up the ghost. Then it is a simple exercise to take over the Minds of Man. I don't know a single Millenial who displays the old-fashioned and once taught skill of DISCERNMENT.

 

I read some of them are under severe stress trying to create and maintain DAILY their Social Media Identity!

 

Listen up! Tighten your Thinking Cap! SOCIAL IDENTITY occurs when you attend a PARTY or GATHERING of your Fellow Humans and you introduce yourself and they get to KNOW YOU - as a real, LIVING PERSON!

 

Social Media Identity is of importance if you are a "celebrity" (whose carcasses will decay during the dirt nap like everybody else's) who needs Face/Name recognition so they can sell themselves as a commodity or advertisement for some product or other use detemined by a Multinational Company. They use MEDIA to advertise themselves.

Now every blessed person can create a Persona (or Personas) and display photographs and memes and lodge opinions in Forums, quip quickie, usually benign, type bites on Facebook and share their creative efforts - of whatever nature - and Chat the livelong day to people they will never meet in person and whose gender they cannot truly divine, much less DISCERN their motivations or learn the intricate program of their secret, hidden selves, which we all possess, on or offline.

 

I heard, from her very own relative, about a young lady, about 22 years of age, who calls her Yahootie her "boyfriend" even though they've never kissed or really dated, just texted hundreds of times per day. This has been going on for TWO YEARS.

 

Bring on the 'Bots. What's the dif, anyhow?

 

Did you good folks know Screenwriters have to present their scripts and ideas to Advertisers FIRST before they will be granted funding to produce their movies/shows? Fo'git the Producers, Directors, actors (The Talent) -

 

Advertisers DECIDE what YOU will be watching!!!

 

Tomorrow, as it so happens, is Halloween. Would you like to know where the Incredible Disappearing Satan makes an Incredible Appearance?

 

Satan LOVES Halloween! It is a VERY important Satanic holy holiday.

 

They call it Samhain. (Sowen)

 

Lots of ritual SACRIFICES.

 

Of people. As in Humans, they say.

 

You don't know that, Miss Kern.

 

No?

 

I certainly do. Against my will and consent I was suckered into one, by the most foul and despicable lie - and also this I will reveal and discuss.

 

He does not always appear at every function. That would not be possible. Satan is not God, no matter how much he longs to be so. He cannot read your mind at all - and there is only one of him, thank the Lord.

 

Well, I was most unfortunate because the night I was tricked into attending one of these unspeakably gruesome events, he elected to be there, large and in charge.

 

I won't provide too many details. It is too sickening for words. Seriously. Sane, healthy, normal people cannot bear to hear or read or imagine the atrocities. Most people are GOOD.

 

If you, intrepid Reader, think you can stomach the contents, read Mr. Stewart Swerdlow's books, especially "Blue Blood, True Blood," - Barf Bag firmly in hand. No, that is not a Dare, that is a Warning. So I now state and render myself not liable for any ill effects, of any kind, you may experience as a result of your questionable curiosity.

 

According to this gentlemen, thousands of persons world-wide have been forced to participate in these gruesome rituals, and IF they even survive, can barely speak of their experiences. Often their memories return later on in life, leaving the victim confused and deeply depressed. A Google search reveals the Satanic Ritual Abuse Survivor Group discussions and a selection of articles by victims, therapists, skeptics, which discuss their stories, and the validity or lack of validity there of. Some deny SRA exists and is instead, the memories of traumatized victims are actually attributable to other causes. Frankly, sometimes those proposed theories are as ghastly and sadistic. Must one be sacrificed on an altar or witness vulgar, lewd, unbearable atrocities in order to be the victim of psychopathic or mentally ill or criminal-minded human beings? Watch the movies about Blood Diamonds, or practically ANY movie available right now streaming.

 

How about "The Lord of War" for some of Mankind's own special breed of horror and inhumanity to Man. Usually profit oriented, though - whilst Satan and Company need something completely different from us Humans.

 

Need I mention Ted Bundy, The BTK Killer, The Green River Killer, John Gacy, Jack The Ripper, Jeffrey Dahlmer?

 

Holocaust, anyone? If that Genocidal Abomination is real, and it was, then why is it impossible to believe there are religions, secret societies, cults and sects, the members of which believe Satan exists, or Dark Forces exist, and secretly practice the rites and rituals they were taught from birth were mandatory in order to honor or serve such Beings? In fact, they are active today - and some for centuries.

 

Whether or not the true reason such Beings demanded, for instance, sacrifice and worship, may not have been clear to the congregants, those Entities sought ENERGY, blood in particular - if they are in a Body.

 

If a Spiritual Being is hovering around The Earth Plane, typically It needs energy, from whatever source, simply because they are not powered up by The Realm of Light Energy. Spirits might linger on the Earth Plane for a variety of reasons. They rarely mean to haunt or scare unwary humans, and they are permitted to hang out or haunt for 400 years, give or take. Often they want to stay close to loved ones, when they really need to get their booty back Home.

 

Love is love is love, plainly stated - in or out of a body Form.

 

They can be confused, unaware their body is dead, lost, but whatever the reason, they still need energy. Lower Astral Plane spirits seemed to me to be, shall we say, less educated and more bad asses and trouble makers mostly. Those hummers are EVIL, and really, really hilarious. Your Spirit goes where Its energy fits. Again, often Its classroom.

 

So your consciousness might be possessed by, let's say - a preschooler. Seriously!

And you wonder why The Earth is in a Deep State of . . . Entrenched Darkness. Juvenile, Theater of the Absurd quality Amok Insanity - and brutal, senseless, heart-rending chaos, hunger, homelessness, drug addiction, sex-addiction, alcohol addiction, adult/child sex and servant trafficking - addiction to almost anything which will assist folks and enable them to bear what is unbearable. I judge not. In my next installment I shall introduce myself and detail all of MY sins and errors - before Satan gets to do so for me. And he is very prejudice against HUMANS, whatever our color, race, gender, religious affiliation, status, wealth, creed, etc.

 

The Uni is abundant with Spiritual Beings, from endless sources and origins. SOME of these Beings don't fit their energy effectively into Human Forms. Trouble! Spirits are not wild about indwelling Humans with mental illnesses and hormonal imbalances or physical/mental/emotional disabilities especially when they were unaware of those issues before embodiment.

 

God help my poor Soul. Seems certain details were redacted out of her "Terms and Conditions" Contract before accepting the Degraded Human Form I Am as her Life Partner/Host Body/Wild, Uncontrollable Sea Biscuit.

 

Certain Beings who reside in a particularly dreadful vibrational plane have no option but to inhabit Human Beings and those they must breed in certain bloodlines. Or legally clone, which they have done for centuries. Problem! No life (LIGHT) in those bodies! Their energy does not work in Human bodies! So - they've become adroit in what some term Magic-Science, and all other means to obtain Spirit Energy to keep those bodies operative.

 

Your blood and spiritual energy are most usesful IF you are a good match for their energies.

 

Ta Da!

 

Guess who?

 

Unbelievable as this may seem, they choose some rather attractive bodies, and have, from the Past, courted the Souls incarnated in certain Human Beings into contractual arrangements to offer vital energy to them in a variety of ways, no matter what Incarnational bodies these Entities wear, no matter what the Plane, Game, Timeline, Program, Dimension, Universe or Reality.

 

The Human, meanwhile, knows zip about these Love Troths and Blood Oaths and other romantic-sounding promises and suffers fatigue and tiredness and death from "unknown" causes.

 

Your bloodlines are tracked, your blood has tracers in it, and those Dark and Outsider Entities are hunting those Souls who promised and contracted to give them energy. They will TAKE it, frankly, whether you like it or not. Contracts are important in the Realm of Light and everywhere else.

 

Using love and romance is a prime ticket to obtaining those Private agreements . . . I regret to report my Soul is clearly one of them who occasionally does some Time on Earth with such Incarnated Beings, even if only in a dating or friendship situation, usually of limited duration. Understandably the Vampiric Being doesn't want to tap out Its Human Concubines' battery.

 

Their favorite energy source is the Base and Sacral Chakra. Energetic hooks, drains, cables, what-have-you are connected and they are serviced from the Gas Station with a smile. Humans unaware.

 

They are ALSO exchanging energies in the Astral Planes while we snooze in our beds, visions of strange activities screwing with our heads.

 

These guys are the True Masters of Energy. In form, they are OFTEN Magicians. If not, then various generational families are holding those rituals and sacrifices and rites vital to their SURVIVAL. People who believe they are worshipping or offering to Gods and Goddess had best be certain just whom or what is accepting your donations. And are they giving you anything back?

 

Bet they aren't.

 

The Vampire have set up and maintain a complicated system which ensures those Blood Donors are available to keep the Supply Line up and active. Life to life, they are NOT veiled as to who and what they are, what they have done, and there is no way in Hell they return to The Source or God or any Light & Power Providers. Those rituals, as I shall describe to you, have blackened their already deviant Souls to the point where Quantum Clorox and Cosmic Brillo won't repair the energetic damage. There is NO possible means by which they may "pay due Karma."

 

Nor would they.

 

Without our contributions, back they go, to their Special Place in the Royal Hell Planes. You don't want to know.

 

These Beings are *dangerous* in the extreme. Desperate.

 

Blood Donors may have other assignments and are almost always mind-controlled. They Cannot risk losing even one of us.

 

When you are about 50 years of age, or sooner, the mind-control starts to wear off (I am a lovely example) and at that point, they're going to kill you. Done. No interference from nosy and irate Grammys. They LOVE to experiment on Humans anyway. So that will be continued until the studies are complete and THEN they sacrifice the animal.

 

I happen to have straight up experience with all of this crap - they are genuinely clever and psychopathic and without mercy, no, not ever. The subject Human will be alone, poor, and ILL, so you cannot connect to the outside world, physically. One strange illness after another will afflict you, against all chance. How can you make friends, or join clubs or attend adult classes at the local college or work or date? All of those avenues are arteries to other people and THEIR connections, in other words, support system. Those avenues WILL be cut off.

 

Apparently I was not pretty enough to be mind-controlled into one of their most delectable Presidential Model Slaves. One might wish to read the works of Cathy O'Brien, who was. While she has been accused of being a Scammer, trust me, she is not.

 

Whether we are victims of "Monarch Mind Control" or Deep Black Military Test Subjects for weapons or something else, is *irrelevant.*

 

We are Slaves to their Hierarchy and they are VERY desperate for the sorts of energy they need to keep their Body operative. Otherwise, they roll right back into the Dark Side of Lower Astral Hell. Those Human bodies may, or may not, live long. As long as they can keep up their Power Sources, be it blood or energy of whatever type, these "Vampire" can live looooooog.

 

They need "blood transfusions" - which can be literal, but more likely energy transfusions. If the Human Being body hits the skids, oh well.

 

In my case, having been used until there was not a spark of life left, they invited in an army of Negative Entities to Eat At Grammy's and leave my Soul to their whims, I suppose. Typically the depleted Light Being returns Home, bedraggled and besmirched for immediate treatment at one of their MASH centers.

 

How do you know this, Miss Kern? This all sounds improbable and the product of an unhinged and over-heated imagination!

 

You will find out.

 

Would I sit here, night after night, writing disturbing drek material meant to deceive Mankind?

 

I've seen the Devil, dears, and I am NO DEVIL. And if technically he was not the Literal Devil of The Bible he might as well have been.

 

Generational families are energetically *bound* to them and some of their members are Hybrids. They cannot take the chance an adult member or child of those families will escape the gory story and tattle. Not only mind-controlled, The Vampire Nation has used various means to spread their propaganda and alter Mankind's consciousness as *they* desire. Control our perceptions, control US.

 

My tender mercies feel for them, slightly - they are trying to stake a place for their race on The Earth Plane.

 

How they've managed to keep a strangle hold on Man's consciousness and themselves FED, if you will, is ingenious.

 

We can overcome this, Folks. In other installments I have already outlined our plan of Defense and Counter-attack.

 

Persons who supposedly arrange and participate in those rites and rituals have been carefully, but brutally mind-controlled in Satanic families, beginning when they were babies. The methods by which the Satanist parents torture and terrorize their own children, and the monsters who help program those innocent babes and thereby cement in budding brains their insane belief systems, were themselves victims of the same Ritual Abuse. Despite the obvious sadism and clear signs of Psychopathology, Incorporated, there is method/reason in their madness and an absolute necessity motivating them in their creation of Mind Controlled Slaves.

 

Of course, according to the NDE books written by one woman, Source found Earth "a safe and very okay place to play."

 

How's THAT for Mind Controlled Propaganda?

 

Earth is NOT a safe and very okay place to play. For Humans, anyway, and WE LIVE HERE.

 

Here's a secret: The ONLY thing which is keeping YOU ALL from seeing what our environment IS, what our Reality IS, what our physical world IS - is your body!

 

Out of your skin, the world is a VR. Looks completely different. Solid stuff just vaporizes away or becomes gauzy and insubstantial. How about THAT for tricks! Your Body is a Virtual Reality Suit!

 

And, Tricks are for KIDS.

 

There is much discussion amongst conspiracy theorists, Therapists and Whistleblowers who treat, support and publish the accounts of the broken victims of Satanic Ritual Abuse, Targeted Individuals and others, regarding MKUltra and other deep black government Mind Control programs. Watch Kay Griggs's video at https://jameslico.com/ for her testimony. She's the wife of Colonel George Griggs. Truly frightening stuff.

 

MKUltra is MIND CONTROL. Period. Changing the name of the Techniques over time doth NOT change its purpose. And now those inclined to pursue the testing of those techniques on innocent, unwary and non-consenting persons have new and exciting and fomerly unknown technology which permits deeper and more pervasive Mind Control.

If you read all the available material on the hidden world and vulgar, murderous activities of Satanists and their Slaves, you will readily apprehend WHY mind-control is vital. Never, ever, ever - not even under Medieval-styled torture is a member of their Hierarchy permitted to speak or write of their derelict, evil, sadistic, bloodthirsty Society.

 

Yes, they are highly skilled Black Magicians. No, not all Black Magicians are Satanists. By any definition.

 

In my humble opinion, from Myth and Rumor, the testimony of brave witnesses and people subjected to Satanic Ritual Abuse, to the gory, lewd, homicidal, pornographic, debauched, carnal and even incestuous atrocities committed at their secret rites and rituals, it is ALL window-dressing, meant to mislead even their own people from an awful Truth most of them are unaware of.

 

To wit: at the top of the Hierarchy are Spiritual Beings who have to create " VR Forms" in which to access the Earth Game, and those Forms are fragile and require a LOT of human blood, organs, ENERGY to maintain their manifestation.

 

In other words, those Beings (some of them are Freemasons, please don't ask me how I can be sure of that) are literally forced to coerce people into providing those energies, from the most powerful and useful source - Humans. Magic teaches the acolyte how to draw energies of various frequencies of vibrations from just about anything, but blood and the Soul Being are the Life, the Light, the ENERGY they need to *appear* Human.

 

They have no where else to GO. They are trying to build and maintain an indestructible support structure to provide them force, power and presence on Earth, and Satanists are THEIR pawns and not the other way around. No, do not think Reptilians, not all of them are! Think Lowest of the Lower Astrals. Spirits who are NOT going to school and have no right to even BE here.

 

It ain't pleasant to live in the nadir of negative energy! Dark, dank mucky energy. Sludge. Murk. Dread. Anger. Grief. Sorrow. Confusion. Unending Hunger for Light energy. If they did NOT set up this support structure and have it be absolutely reliable and unassailable, they would starve to death. Their bodies DIE, hideously, and back they go - rolled back into the scroll of a literal Hell. If they are deprived - soon or later they will eat each other - just like The Bible suggests.

 

Yes, go ahead and call them Vampire. They are probably the source of that Mythos.

A pity it IS, that the Satan will be the last to expire.

 

Sacrifices are their means to acquire those energies en masse. The vast majority of rites and rituals are sexual in nature. I ought to know, Friends. Disgusting, nasty, sheer torture and every shade of savagery, humiliation, evisceration, slaughter, consumption of body parts and fluids, raping, hanging, burning, stabbing, of human beings. Of ANY age. Repeat - of ANY age. Think of what we do to animals, and that we ARE animals - and get the big ghastly picture.

 

 

Particularly blood.

 

"Life is in the blood."

 

The Light of Life.

 

Some Satanists believe in a Satan, or Dark Force. Most of them have never seen him.

Now, read an account from someone who has - what he is like in person, if I may use that term, and how he managed to imprison me and induct me into his sacred service, and the means by which he kept me there, even when I could have left him.

 

He's the Master Magician of all time, but what occurs at those rituals is . . . not an illusion and there are NO rabbits.

 

When I can compel myself to speak of what I experienced, with my own two eyes, I will sit down at this computer and keyboard and try not to feel emotions as I write - like a Borg Reporter - and spill.

 

Right now it is me tears which are spillin'.

 

He's HUGE and blond and beautiful and . . . sinister and horrible.

 

'Nuff Said.

 

The last words he spoke to me before I passed out were typical, "Now you have seen the face of Satan!"

 

No human alive has that voice. I'd know him blindfolded, dead, deaf, drunk, in a coma.

 

Some experiences take your breath away.

 

Some of them almost DO - kill you. Almost.

 

Suffice to limn him thusly, for a reason soon to be explained.

 

Satan is a Being, of a Kind of Being. There are loads of these Trippy Freaks, rolling in and out of the Lower Astral Planes (which scientific types will tell you DO NOT EXIST) and in and out of Human Forms. Those Forms are NOT STABLE and more of a startlingly realistic shell.

 

And oh, how well I know that Shell.

 

David Icke was close to the truth of them, I was surprised to discover. Alas.

For your information, David, Sir, I am an almost perfect 50/50 split, so my loyalties should be divided. But they are not.

 

Onward.

 

Satan is a Fallen Whatsis or whatever or however you decide he is. You won't credit my account, I am assuming, so here goes anyway. Their plane and ours are kissing close. What veil? Since my Near Death Experiences, for me there is NO Veil between those dimensions.

 

From my POV, he is a Bona Fide Monster in a VERY ATTRACTIVE package.

 

By Hell, did not hurt my eyes to look at him; it is my heart he hurt irreparably. By Hell, that man is BEAUTIFUL.

 

Be not deceived. If you are human and have a pulse, he hates you.

 

If you are a dead human, he hates you.

 

He kills people and enjoys doing it. I've seen him! We are Power Providers, we have something he needs and desires.

 

He did not murder me. I'm sure that's obvious.

 

There's always tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.

 

For a Satanic High Ritual, it was pretty tame. Meaning, I only prayed for death.

Unfortunately, I lived.

 

If he chooses to spare you, he will have an ulterior motive, OR

As I recall, most assuredly, lifetime to lifetime, my GODLY SOUL BEING, has agreed to serve up some of her Incarnations' energy, when he demands it.

 

He can be extremely seductive. And beautiful. Did I mention the Beauty of Prince Harming?

 

In most of those Incarnations, Charming He talked me into a general Contract Blood Oath, more what Souls call a Love Troth, which I, Human Dummy, thought romantic and passionate and eternal love and other fanciful concepts of that nature. MANY people are slaves to those sorts of contracts, oaths, agreements, blood oaths, vows, covenants, etc. Life after Life - bound to serve SOME Being, which makes us all slaves.

 

He was NOT overly romantic, but he certainly, oddly enough, loved my Soul. Whatever love may mean to a Being such as he.

 

Such a divinely pretty man. Curses on him.

 

He does not care one whit about your perfect figure/charming face/social standing/advanced degree/Dun and Bradstreet rating/wealth/status/possessions/fame/achievements.

 

He wants only ONE thing from you. If you are of a certain bloodline, he wants your ENERGY, specifically Sacral, def the Base Chakra energy.

 

Thaaaa's all he HAS, folks!

 

He used me for it, because, yanno, I was an OBJECT TO BE USED.

 

I had no chance to escape him. Zero. His own people fear him. I actually loved some of them. And felt sorry for their plight because he is what he is and they are what they are.

I detest having to report the truth about Beings who, nevertheless, dress nicely, act lovingly toward one another and treated me with actual kindness.

 

He was pseudo-solicitous - after I fainted out of sheer terror, he abducted me and brought me into what I can only presume is a room in a large building or hotel. I remember not a bit. He brought in some doctors or slaves or Whomevers to heal me of what his numerous ritual participants had done to me. Needless it is to describe my injuries.

 

He hurt me monumentally during his ritual - in fact, he is the last one to git ya, so he can finish you off in his unique and torturous way.

 

The man is BIG. A good two feet taller than I am and built from the Titan Template.

Worse yet, he really does have a face like an Angel, one of Nature's most cruel devices.

 

His doctors buzzed me up on some good stuff while they repaired Raggedity Broken Me, and I knew nada for a blur of days. So much for Source's evolution of consciousness.

When I came to, I prayed for death - again.

 

Which I have routinely for thirty years.

 

I shrunk under the comfy cotton sheets and beheld the resolute and emotionless facade of the Being who had arranged for my deranged evening. I have, indeed, seen the many faces of Maratona.

 

This one was particularly calm.

 

He delivered his instructions and information in his deep monotone. On his part, there is no expectation of rebuttal, resistance or discussion. Just the facts. He could have been reciting scriptural passages for all I listened. I closed my eyes and wished the Incarnation away. When I re-opened my eyes, there he was, a giant, sitting in a giant chair by the bed.

 

If I had tried to evoke speech, I am sure I would have screamed. Therefore, I put the kibosh on my brain's urgent message and waited.

 

Out in the savanna, the lion would have jolted my flesh from my bones, eaten my face, chowed on my brains and gnawed on my skull. In this case, silence was preferred over actions unknown.

 

He explained what had been done to my female anatomy by his surgeons. It was too dreadful to speculate for what purpose his operation would serve, thus I said nothing. Hard to believe, eh?

 

When a human being has been deeply traumatized, by whatever cause, the brain cleverly eradicates the memory of the events around, and which, produced, the trauma. Where was I? Who was he? What operation? How did I get there? May I call the police, please?

 

Only my Mind asked those questions. I recall vaguely hoping he was a hallucination, and was glad of it, since everyone thought I was crazy, anyway.  

 

He moved with a simple, graceful, masculine confidence, as if he were ambulating in liquid. Age? Late thirties? Heavy-lidded absinthe-colored eyes, like a Da Vinci angel. The ice-white eyelashes and arched ivory brows, curling waves of Nordic hair, the sun-glowed skin, the over-large hands, the profile of a Grecian coin, the entire physical picture was one of a divine Presence slipped through from a secret fissure in Creation and, for some reason, decided to pass the time in Eternal Timelessness talking to me. His words collected in a refracting and reflecting bubble - I thought that fascinating. Most def locked in the trunk of Lethe, my brain unplugged and tried to gather together some sherds of sanity.

 

Radiant pain talked to me, everywhere, especially in my lady parts. Whatever mind warping drugs his docs had given me left me moorless in a classic opium surreality. The pain seemed far away, not quite connected to me, and yet, was, oh yes, and my nerve endings were slam dancing, while my neurons expanded and then imploded. I deflated into a peace unfamiliar to me.

 

Drugs, I tell you. I have a fresh understanding of why some people become addicted to chemical substances. Escape from Reality? Bring it on at times like this. Please.

 

He was far too tall and large to be a real person, my intuition insisted, avoiding language all together.

 

He asked my name. I did not remember and did not answer. He seemed amused at my inability to communicate. Sort of how a fox looks at a dazed vole.

 

Several hours later someone was gently trying to feed me - what, I cannot recall, either. I felt sick, sicker than sick. My Soul curled into a snail spiral and probably schemed ways to protect My shell from his Shell.

 

When my thoughts began to gel, I pondered my predicament. I still missed the doors of Perception and the Key To Self - my lost identity locked in the pocket of the Identity Thief. I had no point of reference.

 

A tall man in a pale suit, pale skin an alloy of Titanium white and cheek-flush, flicker of a smile/not-smile. In no manner did he appear dangerous or sinister. Bored, maybe. Waiting for something. Maybe. He randomly visited and left, and so did my consciousness. There was a large, yellow Sun on the wall. A painting? A mosaic? I'm not sure. He simply seemed benign. I thought finally, perhaps he was a male nurse.

 

More's the pity. More of a male CURSE.

 

I felt that whatever had befallen me, it was surely an improvement upon my previous state of Being.

 

He arranged for me to have whatever I wanted, kept in a hotel room, (I was allowed to wander around) and much as I am ashamed to admit this, since I am a person who attracts and is attracted to, High Strangeness, he was a good deal more interesting than the so-called Life I had been so-called Living. My personal situation had been barely tolerable and unstable and all around depressing.

 

An Alien Being doth not discompose me, per se.

 

Accept this as you can bear - sometimes you can be so dispirited, alone and poor, anyone and anything which is a new, yet transitory and possibly disturbing - even potentially lethal experience - is better than your current misery.

 

Besides, I remembered at last he said he was Satan and his people called him Satan. I assumed he was - and rarely durst I ask him ANY questions.

 

Because I am ME, without hope and without fear, eventually I healed, was given becoming threads, and became more animated and aware. Eventually I was even permitted to trek around the building, investigate my surroundings and ask a few questions. When he was not scaring the devil out of me, or reorganizing my belief system and physical structure I joked and joshed with him and poked and prodded for him to answer yet more enquiries. A curious gal, I am. Rarely would he respond, other than hand me one of his soon-to-be-familiar unsearchable expressions. I submitted to his desires however whenever he wanted that sort of attention.

 

If I were otherwise and otherwhere engaged, he simply walked into the room, picked me up, walked back to our room and dumped me on the bed. Unceremoniously divested himself of his clothes - and there towered the stone-faced Michelangelo's David, in the faux flesh.

 

Not too romantic, like I said.

 

Because I am ME, I laughed every time he did it.

 

Despite my free-floating apprehension, I loved him rotten, because he was beautiful, and rotten as the Devil. He did not mind. Please understand, Not Once did I feel safe, or secure, expecting instead the Portal to the Death Dimension to open at any moment. The man is not human and that was clearly in evidence. No Part of his anatomy or psychology is remotely normal. I'm sure you perceive my insinuation correctly.

 

Please note: he is not, and has never been, 100% human being. Such "people" walk the Earth, every day, and have for millions of years. Be that as it may, sharply aware folks can intuit that something is not quite right with these Homo Sapiens Poseurs.

 

This man did a poor job of even pretending he was human. Nevertheless, he was fascinating. As I sit here, pondering the mystery and oddity of him, I find my dictionary empty of adequate terms. A shrink would label him a sociopath or psychopath and/or serial killer.

 

He's beyond "Serial Killer" as we understand that term.

 

I lived with him at least eight years. I slept in his bed and lived with him and I am telling you - while I understand why someone might resort to those terms, they are inaccurate.

He really was JUST HIM. Psychopaths, sociopaths, whatever term is in vogue right now, serial killers, suffer from some brain conundrums or mal-wiring or mental programming corruption, psychological derangement.

 

"Satan" was BORN like that. That is his Kind. That was a TRUE Alien/Human Interface and do not question me on that point.

 

It is my prayer you good Readers will take my next paragraph on faith, that I believe my statements are the truth, not meant to imply approval of the truth. Many truths are . . . disturbing and disorienting.

 

He cannot HELP what he does. All of his race - they are all like that. How are they going to survive if they do not engage in acts we consider atrocious, monstrous, inconceivable, absolutely demonic? Therapy and drugs are not going to change him, either. He is what he is. I've seen him plastered and/or drugged often enough. He is not altered or realigned by alien substances. I wonder why he bothers indulging. You can believe he is NOT a passive drunk. Resolute, super focused, nearly a machine intelligence, nothing seems to faze him but disloyalty or hunger.

 

Are you so sure you want your expected "Space Brothers?" Whence shall they come? What diseases shall they bring to share with the human race? What if they are an Aztec Culture which worships the Sun and sacrifices humans to their "god."

 

We've had cultures which did that, and perhaps . . . well, how many human lives, our wants, needs and desires, are sacrificed to a lame Game for Bugs, Negative and Positive?

 

E.T. Bugs, mind you.

 

At least he and his people live on this planet with the rest of us. His Kind walk with us, sometimes ahead of us, sometimes invisible to us, occasionally guide and teach us, offtimes genuinely love us - and still they kill us and steal energy from human beings, in fabulously resourceful, often painful interactions.

 

We who know of them consider them dangerous.

 

They consider us, to be polite about it - stupid animals. Food.

 

Our Souls can boogie out at the FINI of their film. Or bail, if they really have to.

 

They will never leave.

 

I was a woman who loved men, and had not been asked on a date, not even a social dinner, not even for a cup of coffee, not even an invite to the movies, for twenty years.

This is NOT an accident. I was owned Property, my fate to be decided at some future date.

 

I get what you're thinking. I literally BEGGED that man to find himself a Movie Star Type lady, long of leg, balloon of boobs, young, appealing, exquisite, sexy, perky, hot to perform and please his every desire.

 

Nope. I had the ENERGY he wanted. It is as SIMPLE as THAT. Those photos on this site are Yours Truly, in the very real flesh. Not Aphrodite and never was.

 

Well, if you are a Human, you are starring in some Soul's movie. IT is learning lessons, clearly in the various forms of Abuse, Torture and the suffering of being a powerless, weak and vulnerable female in a Patriarchal World. Or a Demonic Reality? Or How To Terrify Your Human Without Even Trying? Let Satan Do The Talking.

 

Sorry, ripped-ass dungaree Truth.

 

He was NICE to me. Except for one rather distressing fact.

 

Prepare yourself.

 

No, he didn't drink my blood. I've heard he does engage in such barbaric activities.

Barbaric and savage and remorseless and murderous, a blood-drinker. A stealer of ENERGY.

 

Energy is the coin of his Realm. He did not care WHAT I looked like or my age or any other facet or feature of my personality or good character. He wanted sacral energy and THAT I have, in a fountain of Kundalini, such that even HE was satisfied with my contribution toward his addiction.

 

Please. Don't. Call. Me. His. Whore.

 

Me? Grammy K? No way.

 

More of a personal re-usable gas station Concubine.

 

He is no dummy. I was chosen for a reason. What is so privately amusing to me is that he did not choose me because the script called for The Rape of The Gray Blonde Locks.

Those cats have NO life scripts/chosen roles/movie scripts/rehearsals/pre-filmed/taste-tested ready-made Lives. (Lucky Vampires!)

 

What they do have are contracts. Believe it!

 

He *discovered* I was a Goose with a Big Orange Bowl and decided I was better Used and smoked than Dead. Thus, he decided to use me.

 

Why lie? I was never in any condition to fight him, leave him, poison him, kick him in the nuts, beat him up, knock him in his head with a lamp, what would You do? Quote Scripture?

 

He can do that more accurately than can I.

 

Some esteemed persons recommend women fight a determined Rapist with all she has in her. Like hell and storm and Fire, don't just defend yourself, fight back, spray him with bear spray and slice and dice with your car keys and so on. Scream at your highest volume setting. Attract attention by any means. Cell phone 9-1-1!

 

Those tactics were not on my Option Menu.

 

I was in HIS turf, in HIS room, under HIS control and blitzed out of my mind with a high state of Stun Spin and Percocet. He is surrounded by HIS people. For all I can guess, he was indwelling my food with Starfire - mono-atomic gold. Whiz BANG, and into another Reality you go.

 

Pray silently. He can't read your mind, at least.

 

No Angel showed up to save me, btw. Ready your Bible. Not even Raphael can contend with him.

 

Once you go kaput at your end of days on the Earth Plane, you will see him again, if you've never seen him before, in Soul format. Yes, you will. He is your Adversary and he LOVES to show a long, vellum-looking scroll of your endless sins.

 

Disdainfully.

 

He was absent often and sometimes, for many weeks. Business interests and rites and ritual appointments, I assumed. I did not voice my assumptions.

 

During those hiatus periods, I breathed a lot easier. He once asked one of his people to watch over me and then decided his Hired Nanny hid private designs on his Power Source. This is ludicrous. But we durst NOT argue with him. He did very ugly and unsavory things to that poor Being. End of that tidbit of hell.

 

He was possessive. Kundalini is like gold fire to his Majesty. He is not about to share it.

He could be funny, cheerful, affectionate, and very, very strange. We all loved him. I genuinely missed his Loud, Noisy, Huge, aggressive Male Presence, the shifting feel of his oceanic energy. And the voice, a deep vibrational resonance without modulation or inflection. I could feel it reverb in my bones.

 

Yes, I know. But I promised not to lie. He is one of those Beings who is undeniably Power In Itself, confident, assured, suave, a rara avis - diabolical, murderous, calculating, irrational and perspicacious, suspicious of strangers, unless they happen to be stuck in his bedroom.

 

And yet his existence in our world so fragile . . .

 

I have no idea who designs suits that big, a fine tailor he or she most certainly is.

 

The Devil is a sharp dressed Demon.

 

My daughter could and would say, "Mom, this is Stockholm Syndrome!"

 

At its most specific and refined. Of course.

 

Still, for the duration of my confinement, he tried to be nice to me, whatever that means.

 

Until he wasn't.

 

It is a testament to how well Mind Control Works. And I was no different from any other child or adult sadistically abused, especially by Satanists. In your diminished heart of hearts, you don't believe you are worthy of love or decent treatment. You don't deserve life, self-esteem, opinions, options. You have no sense of "YOU."

 

A person under siege becomes accustomed to insecure and dangerous on the precipice of death circumstances. After a while you accept the unacceptable and muscle through day by day, without expectations of any kind.


There was no Time there. What good would such knowledge have done me?

 

I never beheld him eating. I was brought any comestible I desired.

 

Now, for the part you all have been waiting for.

 

A concubine is a concubine is a concubine. I kept him happy. I love to baby men. Devil or no devil, he is still a man and I liked his eerie mien and subtle forms of communication. Not extravagant in dress, form or expression, he was nevertheless a keen observer and I liked to hear his conversation. I am an investigator and he is mutable and inscrutable and therefore, a challenge to my insatiable intellect. Delicately and with due respect, I probed his intelligence, simply because I genuinely wanted to know him.

 

Why not? I could die any day. Besides, I'd been born of an Enigma, why not confabulate with one?

 

If he told me to do something to him or for him, I did it. I did not question him like a Christian in the Inquisition. Death does not become me.

 

There exists no language for what he could do with energy. He used his expertise on me and there are NO words. End of paragraph.

 

By such magical means, Life after Life, he has seduced Ladies to bind their blinded hearts to his, and he does not release us until we are tapped out. He's hungry and we are Energy Bodies.

 

Try to understand this: I am OLD. I am half-blind and disabled with extra high blood pressure. I have Aspergers' Syndrome, which typically leaves me blind to very subtle forms of social interactions. I was passably cute when I was younger, that's it.

 

I am two feet shorter than he.

 

Be that as it may, I had the energy he loves and he was willing to put up with a daffy old broad just to get it. That was my ticket to Life. And he got it more abundantly. He knows HOW to conjure it, which is occult knowledge few men have, much less have mastered.

 

He never asked me to perform, don a wig so he could pretend I was another woman, nor asked me to have a threesome, foursome, whatever-some, wear this or wear that, say this or scream that, or use this or use that toy, aid, gizmo, or watch this porno with him or that XXX-rated flick with him and he never, no never, asked me what I liked in bed. I HATE all that stuff. It is like a role-play dance women are asked to do so their men don't get bored with them.

 

I loved every unblessed thing he did. That is what I like. NOT BORING.

 

No male person should EVER ask me what I like. They should already KNOW what women desire. If they do not, then they have been emasculated by some person(s) or circumstance.

 

I have lost lovers because I DID NOT DO THAT STUFF to their liking. I did not "hold their sexual interest." I was boring, dull, uninspired, lazy, inattentive, naive, "just laid there," and other insults, use-your-imagination.

 

Conversely and fairly to me, it should be stated they did nothing for me, to me, or exhibited any special effects which might have persuaded me to respond to them as they wished. I felt nothing. They were creepy, their requests juvenile, their touch like the dry chill of a lizard. They were nothing to me at all. I never felt like I was in a body, anyway. The body was not ME.

 

In general, humans smell disgusting to me - in a nearly indefinable way.  Dried out chicken sniff, putrid reeks of scalpy hair oil, toe jam and ear wax, slippery lips, slimey eye orbs, the red, roughened, furred worm tongue flapping, slapping spit - and the body's excretory parts, dingleberries and urine dribblets, sking tags, cloisters of moles and nasal hairs, the sex utensils . . . rubbery and crinkling, bean sprouts of hair all about - Our skin feels to me like a creation of stretched, scuba rubber, with a foam underpadding, or plastic or latex doll stuff. And cold. Cold moisture, mossy developments.

 

To me, Humans feel like a giant condom was pulled down over their innards.  Generally, that. 

 

Nevermind the odors.

 

The Devil most def could not care any less about that stuff. He IS porno. Just do what he asks, he loves you for it and you hold on for dear life.

 

He smelled lovely - virtually hairless and white and muscular and oddly soft-skinned for a Being who loved to skin alive his human victims.

 

Yes, he's big, he's heavy as Hell, he hurts - big time.

 

My Power Kundalini caused me to writhe in waves across his body, a Mystical Slippery Snake Energy, for a Big Snake. He loved it. Drove him absolutely NUTS. When he's nuts he is not easy to control. I can't comfortably ride that horse, if you get that innuendo.

Despite all of the above, I loved him, loved him, loved him. I was grateful beyond words that he did NOT criticize, reject or humiliate or condemn me for not being Lust-Of-The-Month.

 

I had the energy.

 

He knew how to raise it and what to do with it.

 

If I could find another man who DOES, I would, by God, pay him.

 

One time, Satan left on one of his business trips. His business was not MY business. I did not, and would not have been allowed to, ask him personal questions like that.

He is not very romantic. Pragmatist par excellence, he did occasionally bring me flowers, which no person has done in over twenty years. THAT was worth the entire, terrifying time I was with him. YOU have not seen the enormous, cherub-faced Devil carrying a bouquet of flowers and I have.

 

Some experiences you call WORTH IT.

 

I am NOT lying. Just you wait.

 

Ah, he could be so dear. I think it was quite aggravating for him to be Human. So he didn't bother faking it at home, if you will.

 

He departed suddenly and did not return for a long while. I did ask one of the remaining people and, naturally, she gave no answer. His business is never my business.

 

So I packed up my stuff, and left. Yes, I did. When he is gone that long, it makes good sense to assume he's done with you. This I believed. I took all the goodies he bought for me to keep me occupied and delighted in his absence. None of my ex-husbands allowed me to oil paint or read or write . . . my comforting hobbies.  He bought me whatever I asked for. So I took my treasures with me. Whatever money was lying around, I stole. There were maybe two people left in this famous hotel he either owned or appropriated, and I sneaked out, grabbed a taxi and headed right back here, where I waited, hoping he wouldn't notice the Old Grammy had left him.

 

Hope. Well, one hopes one can still hope against all counter evidence.

 

Believe it or nay, I once told him what kind of candy bars I loved and he sent someone out who bought and brought back a ginormous box of them, like from Costco, or something. So I grabbed handfuls of Twix and packed them into one of my suitcases and actually left some in a closet. True, dat.

 

"Guinevere! You are pulling my leg! The Devil doesn't exist and you are supposed to be a devotee of Jehovah! You can't be serious!"

 

Twix???

 

Who of good conscience could LIE about Twix?

 

He was a Titan with a titanic temper. IF he had wanted to kill me, he would have, without a nanosecond of regret. He has not bothered to contact me. He will not, unless he is very, very hungry.

 

He does exist. If you want to call his Existence a Life. Without those rituals and rites, he will lose his body, his Life. They have a LOT of rituals daily, weekly, yearly. He and his people need heavy duty support system donations.

 

Just you try forgetting how painful it is to sleep with a seven foot tall man. NOT EVEN.

You are not one iota lovable, Maratona.

 

And I am one, devoted fan of Jehovah, as always.

 

Be sure, Satan knew that fact about the Grammy he might have, maybe, just a wee bit, loved.

 

I would not know, since I don't feel love, being autistic.

 

What a pair.

 

I've heard he is a Nordic-Reptilian - genetically. Man! I believe it!

 

Geez! You can't help what you are!

 

And I cannot help what *I* am.

 

To be fair, again, against my will, he did all possible NOT to make it painful, but by all the points of sharp and piercing nails, it was agony. He creates a sweet agony out of love, but it is agony, without window-dressing that intersection. I learned to love a little pain.

 

Out of necessity.

 

Love me, love me, love me, he said. That was his demon way of asking me to get into his enormous bed and just . . . do what he said.

 

We are rare upon this Earth, ladies who swear Comitatus Oaths to those Beings. We have to service them without complaint, incarnation after incarnation. So to speak. Unhappily, my Soul agreed to that. So I kept him well fed. In 2006 I did not believe in Incarnation. I knew nothing but that God and Jesus wanted us to behave and follow the Ten Commandments and when we died, our Souls returned to Heaven and lived in paradise with Jesus. I truly, truly believed that. I attended church services every week when possible, went to Bible Study once per week, took communion, did good works, tried to have decent manners and act responsibly. I have never taken illegal drugs nor have I EVER been drunk or stoned. I am a TOTAL nebbish Grandma. A bookworm. An artist.

 

Well, The Source of All That Isn't (Real) states that there are no bad or good experiences. They are all just experiences.

 

Satan is not going back to Source. At least, I hope not.

 

"Guinevere! I would never give in to Satan! He would just have to kill me! Now your Soul is condemned to Hell for all eternity. You should have fought him. You should have called someone while he was out on business. He is The Devil INCARNATE and you will burn in Hell."

 

Yeah, well. You have NO choice. NO choice. NO choice. There was NO cell phone or any other sort of phone to be found. He would not have killed you, you would've raped you to your expiration of your respiration date. If you don't think you would have submitted to the Dark Angel, then you don't KNOW Satan. Without question, you would have bled to death. He has padded packages of nasty little needles of various gauges, which fit into every vein in the human body and knows how to inflict exsanguination torture. Meaning: he has all the time in the world to bleed you to death. No further description will be provided. And that is only a tidbit of His Majesty's repertoire of torture techniques.

 

Satan does NOT live in Hell. He lives in Obscurity. You have zero understanding of Hell, because you have not experienced any spiritual interactions. You have to get this - I left and he did not do anything TO me. He could have killed me during the ritual. He was going TO. He never asked for my Soul. My Soul does not have what he craves.

If a freaking car runs over you, did you have a chance to "fight?" Your opinion is invalid, has no relevance and serves no purpose from heaven to hell. Crikey!

 

He has innumerable devotees and members of his Family. Try fighting those first before you castigate me, an old wise woman who understands that Life is a Fight to the Finish. I did not ask for any of this. I did not mess with Tarot Cards, Ouija Boards, Mediums, Crystal Balls, Vampirism, Magic, Black Magic, Meditation, Rites, Rituals outside of my Christian Faith, ANY New Age nonsense. No Runes, Astrological readings, palm readings, etc., etc., etc.

 

A Jehovah's Witness was disgusted when I begged her to help me. Her husband angrily insisted I had "done something to invite this."

 

I thought, Mister, you have NO understanding, period. No experience. Nothing. Wave your Bible at him and he would probably just abduct and torture you and then he would murder you.

 

Nothing would happen to him.

 

He had me hung from a mechanical wooden CROSS device and was going to torture me in a manner you cannot bear to read, that ONLY Satan can deliver. This is NOT uncommon. He is SO tall he had the Cross extended higher so he could rip my Energy and Rape me to Death. By that time, I did not care WHAT happened to me. I had been tricked into believing it was a special gathering of people who performed work for Jehovah on the Earth, people who knew Jehovah and communicated with Him for that purpose. It took place in a large building which had black and white checked floors. I was told it was an Initiation Ceremony into their secret society. Yes, I believed it. I had been invited several times to group meetings of pleasant, welcoming people in clean, respectable street clothes. Our work was discussed. The projects were discussed, You would never and I did not, suspect they were Occultists.

 

And every one of them was.

 

Why me? I am without an answer. Maybe in these pages, the answer lies embedded.

No, Jehovah will not condemn me to Hell.

 

Speaking of, Jehovah, in fact, incarnates.

 

Next, I will tell you all I know about the God of the Jews. That is what He was and is. No one will like what I have to share. As usual, no one will believe me. That is fine. I am 63 years old. I don't have to prove anything to anyone for any reason. I am telling the truth. For my own sake, that is all I have to do. I pay my own rent and my own bills. I pay my taxes.

 

I laid down in the Adversary's bed and did what I was asked to do, by a Being who understands the energy body, the Soul, the workings and cravings of the Human Body-Mind better than any Human Animal. He was Bigger, Quite healthy and wealthy, Larger, Taller, Powerful, Deadly, Fast with his fury and capable of murder most foul and most unnatural. I am small, weak, disabled, depressed, grubbing along in poverty, from gutter beds, to shelters, to dumpster diving to a rather natty accommodation when once married to a physicist. I did whatever he told me to do because he trained me to do so. I had been well and long trained. It was as natural to me as his breathing.

 

I did what he told me to do because I had to. I am no fighter, folks. And this is no fiction.

It does me no good to go silent to my grave.

 

Jehovah will not like what I am going to write. He will be hurt by my honest assessment of the God-man Yahweh I remember and loved with all my heart, all my Soul and all my Mind.

 

But He won't stop me. Contrary to what people insist, Jehovah doesn't get involved in the affairs of Mankind. I have never known him to refuse to let a Soul Student out of school. I have never known him to hurt, harm or injure a human being. I love Him, but when He was incarnated, He hurt, harmed and injured countless people. Read the Bible sometime and get to know the Real God of Heaven/Earth.

 

I am fairly sure every Soul leaving Earth School has to have an Exit Interview with the Principal. There is where I will once again see The Devil, standing in opposition to me and enumerating my bottomless tar pit of sins. I have a long suffering teacher, they tell me, who will be there, desperately trying to defend me. While Satan displayed his magical mastery of energy all over my poor, defenseless bod, the teacher was nowhere to be found.

 

Gonzo.

 

In absentia.

 

Asleep at the switch.

 

Out for a short beer.

 

You want to know what Hell is? Being here, Being incarnated here, being in a body which is old and in pain, every day, and always has been. Knowing Source and Its Souls are indwelling us in their eternal Game on the Limitation Plane and without our permission or consent. I did not sign a Soul Plan Contract, Friends. Knowing what our Reality really is. Knowing, absolutely, Man has been hoodwinked and No, the Reptilians didn't do it. Hell is not Satan and his affection for The Snake of Kundalini, it is KNOWING my life was planned, discussed, scripted, ruthlessly practiced, rehearsed, reviewed, taste-tested, and I was chosen to be the Human a Soul used for Incarnation purposes. That is true Hell.

 

Satan acts like Satan. From him, I expect misery, repining, pain, horror, deceit, cunning, lying, killing. Nothing he did or could ever do surprises me. I saw him kill as easily as he flicked ash off a cigarette. I've seen him awash in blood. I've witnessed him murdering a Being right in front of me. No expression. No effect whatsoever. But when he was on top of me, he was darling, passionate and affectionate - well, for him. Like a Mafia wife, I learned to accept his reality. He is a known Entity. I know what to expect from him. I am good with that. Our contract has nothing to do with Games or School. The only "schooling" I ever had was how to please him and give him Kundalini Fire Energy.

 

Period.

 

My Love Troth had to do with . . . Love.

 

Imagine THAT, Source of All That Is!

 

Never once did he say "I love you," or "I'm sorry," or discuss philosophy or French Architecture or the meaning of Greek columns. He rarely cursed, raised his voice, chewed out anyone in the Family - he's far too pacific for that.

 

I'd give most anything to hear "I love you" from him. That will NEVER happen.

 

LOL

 

I am Autistic. The subvocal, sprinkling of social cues naturally understood by almost all human beings are lost on me. Hints, clues and sideways communications are not perceived by yours truly. People who want something, an expected reaction from me, but cannot state it plainly, cannot hope to penetrate the veil of my faulty interpersonal frequency barriers.

 

"Satan" penetrated them with quicksilver efficiency.

 

Love me, love me, love me. Said a man who can't possibly feel love, to a woman who feels nothing at all. With him I at least felt something. Perhaps the satisfaction of knowing I was giving him satisfaction. Surely he could have had anybody. That is the mystery I never will solve. The Shamrock Sherlock was, for once, defeated.

 

He did like his White-skinned, green-eyed, auburn-haired Irish Lass.

 

He smelled like rainfall, like elegance in violence, like his wellspring of lust which controls him more than serves him, like a force of nature teaching a leaf how to fall in a storm. How can I hate him? Do you have control over firestorms, tornados, falling rocks, earthquakes, tsunamis, volcanic eruptions, floods, famine, disease? Like a Lion, a Tiger, a Shark, a Grizzly Bear - you are food and you taste good with Energy. He is hungry. THAT is the difference between his people and Human Beings. Or, is there any difference?

 

Mankind is a rapacious killer and lover of meat, fowl and fish, even if the final product is visibly far removed from those animals' original Form. I have a 1963 cookbook in which the author writes dispassionately, detailing the recipes and instructions for killing, skinning, scraping or boiling away fur, gutting and cooking: Bear, Raccoon, Opossum, Squirrel, Peccary, Octopus, Squid (served with ink), Snails, Turtle (including those her children played with), Dove, Elk, Muskrat, Woodchuck, Wood Pigeon, Cockscombs, Quail, Rabbit, Moose, Deer, Lamb, Shark, Beaver Tail, Wild Boar, Beaver, And the most popular, Turkey, Chicken, Guinea Hens, Pigs and Cows.

 

I'll place him and his kind into the Predator category.

 

So his Prey prays for him, nightly, in fact. I used to watch that handsome marble face sleep - peaceful, silent, curly blond hair on the pillow next to mine, and tickle his nose or bite his earlobe. I slept curled up along his side and under his arm and felt somewhat safer than in the mean streets. He smelled wonderful and had all those muscles, geez! (Yes, Dr. Psychologist! I told him how much I admired his muscles. Heh!)

 

Occasionally he'd wake up, give me The Look and pass out again.

 

The Look - interpreted meant, sort of - stop that. Not all that loquacious or ornamental in his expressions.

 

Such a relationship, eh?

 

Sometimes he sank into his indoor pool, wet with some poor victim's blood and I'd scrub it off and wash his hair. We all told him he was a god and we treated him that way. Yes, you read that right. Me, Christian Grammy. Who would I tell? Who would believe me? Sometimes you do what you do because there is naught else you can do. I loved him and I didn't want him to die. He was too beautiful to die. Mark that. I wrote it, I said it.

 

Bank on that.

 

He brought me flowers.

 

Just for writing about him, I will probably be next up in the hit parade at some ghastly ritual.

 

Because I am not beautiful. And I am not loved.

 

I have been callously abused by Predatory Human Beings all my life. They tortured me with their agendas; they did not have my best interests at heart; they were in conflict with my interests and usually, had no right to even be in my life, Soul Karmic Intersections be damned. Such it is for small, weak, powerless women, disabled by multiple illnesses and poor, in Spirit and in wallet, with no family or financial support or a circle of powerful and loving friends for comfort and protection.

 

Despite how mind-controlled and disassociated from my emotions I had become, when I was sleeping next to The Devil Himself, I had no more fear of the many people who had harmed me and some who had continued to threaten harm - they hurt me physically, spiritually, mentally, psychologically, to the point where I had no desire to continue living.

 

Far more dangerous Human Beings than the Aberration Satan walk this Earth and I have been their victim.

 

The only person I had to fear when in his arms was HIM.

 

I die and into the Earth I receive my Earthly rest, out of which Jehu made me.

For me, there will be no justice.

 

Satan lives on and on.

 

There is no rest for the wicked.

 

As far I am aware, I am one of the few, ordinary Reg'lur Earth Humans who have ever been that close to him. He does NOT like us.

 

And yet, and yet, as you all have read, genuine horrific events befell me at my former home from 2006 - 2014, with occasional, random flare ups.

 

I earnestly pray he was not behind that sadistic and malevolent trampling and torture of my human Form. Some Being ripped my sacral core. One does not survive this. Grammy K was utterly without comprehension and instead believed God's Angels would never permit any harm to come to me, a baptized Christian. Well, for what it's worth, I did survive - physically, perhaps. Surely the psychological ground zero massacre obliterated any further hope or happiness or joy d'vivre.

 

To hear the man I lived with and loved was the ferocious, obviously vengeful Intelligence behind the most degrading and ghastly experience of my life would suggest to me that he did indeed mind that I left him, and took most of the candy with me.

 

Ah. Big Bad Devil, tell me it ain't so.

 

Once, after I wept loudly over some trivial matter, such as I missed my kids, he called one of his people and said, "Get her out of here. Her crying is annoying. Knock her out and buzz me when she wakes up."

 

His family members loved me. She looked at him questioningly. "Will you kill her?" she asked, quietly.

 

"Yes."

 

When she appealed to him with her eyes, she told me he paused, looked up from the Financial Page and said,

 

"Not today."

 

Not

 

yet.

 


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