SHOCK THE MONKEY

 

TRIGGER WARNING     TRIGGER WARNING    TRIGGER WARNING    TRIGGER WARNING

This posting is not suitable for young audiences.  The following stories are true, and if you frighten easily, or are impressionable you may want to move on to the next blogger-but please come back, I love my subs!!!!!!!!!

It all began about two and a half years ago.  It was Summer, and my sister, her family and my brother’s family were up in Lake George, without me, again.  My sister had announced, unceremoniously at that, on a day in Lititz, on my birthday, to tell me that I was not invited-for the 21st year in a row.  The excuses bordered on the ludicrous, we drink, you don’t, etc.  That particular day, on the way home, I asked her to light me a cigarette-I was under the false hope that things had changed, but she remained paranoid-that I would get the attention, that her children would love me more than she-only it took me these past few years to figure that out.   I have maintained no contact, and I know everything there is to know about NPD, however, I miss her, I miss my nephew and nieces, my Godchild, my babies.

So, Craig and the rest of my family were coming for a visit.  They weren’t coming to eat, but I had arranged a surprise for my brother: his childhood report cards and other keepsakes found in my father’s filing cabinet, after his death.  He was delighted, but my sister sat there-visibly nervous, on edge-she knew I was pissed, and she knew not to mess with me.

Prior to their arrival, I had found an old toy gun, solid metal, covered in mud.  I washed it off, and cradled it in my shaky hands.  What is this?  I had been digging in my garden for years and hadn’t come across the likes of this.  I placed the gun on my grandmother’s desk, and went into the kitchen to do the dishes before their arrival.  I turned on the radio, and this is the song that was playing

Thought nothing of it, never heard it before-but I liked it so much the first time, it became a therapeutic melody I could not resist.  I rushed upstairs to get ready for their arrival, still in my hiking clothes from this morning.  As I looked down at my feet, I almost fell off of the commode:

The socks I was wearing.  Red and black, toy guns on both sides.

How could this be and what the bloody hell was going on?

I am what they call a Sensitive.  I am not a prophet, nor a seer, I don’t read palms and I don’t read minds-but I see things or sense things that other people don’t.  This has been both heaven on earth, and hell at its worst.   I have learned to remain calm, cover myself in the blood of Jesus, and put on the full armor of God.

The other day, a vlog I follow-Philia Ministries-had an expose on the Hillsong single, Grace.  I quickly dropped the vlog in favor of listening to the song, as I believe these people to be quite judgmental at times, but hey, that’s their business.  As I turned on the vid, I felt every hair stand on end.  Then time stood still.  Suddenly, my cellar door handle began to turn, then a banging on the door-as if to say, LET ME IN.  I was backed up by my dog and cats, whose eyes were as big as fifty cent pieces.  In a fog I cannot describe, I went to the outside cellar entrance and lifted the heavy doors-convinced a cat had somehow been locked within.  I pulled away sheet after sheet of insulation, and found the cellar entrance.  There was no way anything had weaseled its way into my basement, and the insulation had been there for months.

This was not my first experience with evil, nor, I suppose will it be my last.  Thankfully, God protected me from losing my proverbial shit.  I sat down on the couch, turned OFF the video, and prayed Psalm 91, out loud.  I could feel the energy in the room shift, and I let out a sigh of relief.  Please don’t watch this video.   Hundreds and hundreds of people just like myself have experienced bad juju, and it could have been worse.

So, today, while on my daily jaunt at Middlecreek Wildlife Sanctuary, I came across a foot print on the trail that stopped me dead in my tracks.  It wasn’t the first time I has seen this phenomena, as a matter of fact I had seen these prints throughout the year, only in the Winter months did I find it strange.  Who the bloody hell is going to walk around barefoot when it’s 23 degrees in the sun?  My husband and I would joke, it’s my old Reiki Master, she walks barefoot to feel the earth’s “vibrations,” what a silly girl.

But today?  Today I saw, with my very own eyes, a footprint not of man nor beast.  It was huge, and whatever it was had 5 toes, just like the rest of us, but as I looked closer I let out an unholy yelp.

I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that this was not Lydia’s footprint.  I also knew that no animal I know of would make this footprint.  It was fresh, and it scared the life force out of me.  I looked up to the heavens, pled his blood and ran, as if our very lives depended upon it~

 

 

 

 

SHOCK THE MONKEY

 

TRIGGER WARNING     TRIGGER WARNING    TRIGGER WARNING    TRIGGER WARNING

This posting is not suitable for young audiences.  The following stories are true, and if you frighten easily, or are impressionable you may want to move on to the next blogger-but please come back, I love my subs!!!!!!!!!

It all began about two and a half years ago.  It was Summer, and my sister, her family and my brother’s family were up in Lake George, without me, again.  My sister had announced, unceremoniously at that, on a day in Lititz, on my birthday, to tell me that I was not invited-for the 21st year in a row.  The excuses bordered on the ludicrous, we drink, you don’t, etc.  That particular day, on the way home, I asked her to light me a cigarette-I was under the false hope that things had changed, but she remained paranoid-that I would get the attention, that her children would love me more than she-only it took me these past few years to figure that out.   I have maintained no contact, and I know everything there is to know about NPD, however, I miss her, I miss my nephew and nieces, my Godchild, my babies.

So, Craig and the rest of my family were coming for a visit.  They weren’t coming to eat, but I had arranged a surprise for my brother: his childhood report cards and other keepsakes found in my father’s filing cabinet, after his death.  He was delighted, but my sister sat there-visibly nervous, on edge-she knew I was pissed, and she knew not to mess with me.

Prior to their arrival, I had found an old toy gun, solid metal, covered in mud.  I washed it off, and cradled it in my shaky hands.  What is this?  I had been digging in my garden for years and hadn’t come across the likes of this.  I placed the gun on my grandmother’s desk, and went into the kitchen to do the dishes before their arrival.  I turned on the radio, and this is the song that was playing

Thought nothing of it, never heard it before-but I liked it so much the first time, it became a therapeutic melody I could not resist.  I rushed upstairs to get ready for their arrival, still in my hiking clothes from this morning.  As I looked down at my feet, I almost fell off of the commode:

The socks I was wearing.  Red and black, toy guns on both sides.

How could this be and what the bloody hell was going on?

I am what they call a Sensitive.  I am not a prophet, nor a seer, I don’t read palms and I don’t read minds-but I see things or sense things that other people don’t.  This has been both heaven on earth, and hell at its worst.   I have learned to remain calm, cover myself in the blood of Jesus, and put on the full armor of God.

The other day, a vlog I follow-Philia Ministries-had an expose on the Hillsong single, Grace.  I quickly dropped the vlog in favor of listening to the song, as I believe these people to be quite judgmental at times, but hey, that’s their business.  As I turned on the vid, I felt every hair stand on end.  Then time stood still.  Suddenly, my cellar door handle began to turn, then a banging on the door-as if to say, LET ME IN.  I was backed up by my dog and cats, whose eyes were as big as fifty cent pieces.  In a fog I cannot describe, I went to the outside cellar entrance and lifted the heavy doors-convinced a cat had somehow been locked within.  I pulled away sheet after sheet of insulation, and found the cellar entrance.  There was no way anything had weaseled its way into my basement, and the insulation had been there for months.

This was not my first experience with evil, nor, I suppose will it be my last.  Thankfully, God protected me from losing my proverbial shit.  I sat down on the couch, turned OFF the video, and prayed Psalm 91, out loud.  I could feel the energy in the room shift, and I let out a sigh of relief.  Please don’t watch this video.   Hundreds and hundreds of people just like myself have experienced bad juju, and it could have been worse.

So, today, while on my daily jaunt at Middlecreek Wildlife Sanctuary, I came across a foot print on the trail that stopped me dead in my tracks.  It wasn’t the first time I has seen this phenomena, as a matter of fact I had seen these prints throughout the year, only in the Winter months did I find it strange.  Who the bloody hell is going to walk around barefoot when it’s 23 degrees in the sun?  My husband and I would joke, it’s my old Reiki Master, she walks barefoot to feel the earth’s “vibrations,” what a silly girl.

But today?  Today I saw, with my very own eyes, a footprint not of man nor beast.  It was huge, and whatever it was had 5 toes, just like the rest of us, but as I looked closer I let out an unholy yelp.

I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that this was not Lydia’s footprint.  I also knew that no animal I know of would make this footprint.  It was fresh, and it scared the life force out of me.  I looked up to the heavens, pled his blood and ran, as if our very lives depended upon it~

 

 

 

 

SHOCK THE MONKEY

TRIGGER WARNING     TRIGGER WARNING    TRIGGER WARNING    TRIGGER WARNING

This posting is not suitable for young audiences.  The following stories are true, and if you frighten easily, or are impressionable you may want to move on to the next blogger-but please come back, I love my subs!!!!!!!!!

It all began about two and a half years ago.  It was Summer, and my sister, her family and my brother’s family were up in Lake George, without me, again.  My sister had announced, unceremoniously at that, on a day in Lititz, on my birthday, to tell me that I was not invited-for the 21st year in a row.  The excuses bordered on the ludicrous, we drink, you don’t, etc.  That particular day, on the way home, I asked her to light me a cigarette-I was under the false hope that things had changed, but she remained paranoid-that I would get the attention, that her children would love me more than she-only it took me these past few years to figure that out.   I have maintained no contact, and I know everything there is to know about NPD, however, I miss her, I miss my nephew and nieces, my Godchild, my babies.

So, Craig and the rest of my family were coming for a visit.  They weren’t coming to eat, but I had arranged a surprise for my brother: his childhood report cards and other keepsakes found in my father’s filing cabinet, after his death.  He was delighted, but my sister sat there-visibly nervous, on edge-she knew I was pissed, and she knew not to mess with me.

Prior to their arrival, I had found an old toy gun, solid metal, covered in mud.  I washed it off, and cradled it in my shaky hands.  What is this?  I had been digging in my garden for years and hadn’t come across the likes of this.  I placed the gun on my grandmother’s desk, and went into the kitchen to do the dishes before their arrival.  I turned on the radio, and this is the song that was playing

Thought nothing of it, never heard it before-but I liked it so much the first time, it became a therapeutic melody I could not resist.  I rushed upstairs to get ready for their arrival, still in my hiking clothes from this morning.  As I looked down at my feet, I almost fell off of the commode:

The socks I was wearing.  Red and black, toy guns on both sides.

How could this be and what the bloody hell was going on?

I am what they call a Sensitive.  I am not a prophet, nor a seer, I don’t read palms and I don’t read minds-but I see things or sense things that other people don’t.  This has been both heaven on earth, and hell at its worst.   I have learned to remain calm, cover myself in the blood of Jesus, and put on the full armor of God.

The other day, a vlog I follow-Philia Ministries-had an expose on the Hillsong single, Grace.  I quickly dropped the vlog in favor of listening to the song, as I believe these people to be quite judgmental at times, but hey, that’s their business.  As I turned on the vid, I felt every hair stand on end.  Then time stood still.  Suddenly, my cellar door handle began to turn, then a banging on the door-as if to say, LET ME IN.  I was backed up by my dog and cats, whose eyes were as big as fifty cent pieces.  In a fog I cannot describe, I went to the outside cellar entrance and lifted the heavy doors-convinced a cat had somehow been locked within.  I pulled away sheet after sheet of insulation, and found the cellar entrance.  There was no way anything had weaseled its way into my basement, and the insulation had been there for months.

This was not my first experience with evil, nor, I suppose will it be my last.  Thankfully, God protected me from losing my proverbial shit.  I sat down on the couch, turned OFF the video, and prayed Psalm 91, out loud.  I could feel the energy in the room shift, and I let out a sigh of relief.  Please don’t watch this video.   Hundreds and hundreds of people just like myself have experienced bad juju, and it could have been worse.

So, today, while on my daily jaunt at Middlecreek Wildlife Sanctuary, I came across a foot print on the trail that stopped me dead in my tracks.  It wasn’t the first time I has seen this phenomena, as a matter of fact I had seen these prints throughout the year, only in the Winter months did I find it strange.  Who the bloody hell is going to walk around barefoot when it’s 23 degrees in the sun?  My husband and I would joke, it’s my old Reiki Master, she walks barefoot to feel the earth’s “vibrations,” what a silly girl.

But today?  Today I saw, with my very own eyes, a footprint not of man nor beast.  It was huge, and whatever it was had 5 toes, just like the rest of us, but as I looked closer I let out an unholy yelp.

I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that this was not Lydia’s footprint.  I also knew that no animal I know of would make this footprint.  It was fresh, and it scared the life force out of me.  I looked up to the heavens, pled his blood and ran, as if our very lives depended upon it~