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December 15th. 2013 ...
The Hex Murder of 1928
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The Tarot as a Tool for Raising Consciousness
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The Mundane/Spiritual Mirror: What Does it Say About Your Life?
October 27th. 2013 ...
Thoughts On a Miley-Cyrus/ Robin-Thicke Society
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Bottle Spells and Magick in Hoodoo Tradition
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Six Reasons Why Covens are Here to Stay
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Death of a Friendship within the Craft
NOTE: For a complete list of articles related to this chapter... Visit the Main Index FOR this section.
Talkin' With the Devil
Article ID: 14186
Age Group: Adult
Days Up: 1,185
Times Read: 3,114
RSS Views: 16,806
Author: Moon Panther
Posted: December 12th. 2010
Times Viewed: 3,114
I used to have an interesting part time job as a security guard. My beat? A sub-development in suburban Maryland where I drove around in a security vehicle and walked through areas to maintain the peace.
As an ever-studying witch I took time in between rounds to study up on all things occult. This particular evening was no different.
I was finishing a book on Psychic Self Defense – I had just finished the section on “elementals” – little bits of consciousness that float around and feed on human energies. They can feed on alcoholism, sexual addictions, etc. The book itself taught lessons on how to protect yourself from being fed upon by these elementals, being attacked psychically by other occultists and general aura protection.
Lt. Jones visited me for my nightly security inspection and for the most part things were normal.
Synchronicities are nothing without really good timing.
I had the strangest conversation with a resident who lived in the neighborhood that I guarded. The resident, a thin, crack smoking, hard-drinking African-American of 40 years who’s proudly dealt with the streets and lived to tell the tale. He’s incredibly smart, has 2 bright kids and an angelic wife who has healing abilities that are not fully tapped into yet.
In the midst of all the foul-mouthed bravado he brings to the table, there’s something else about this man; something intangible and subtle as an elephant covered by a blanket. An unnerving spirituality and charisma that’s quite spooky. Upon meeting him you are drawn to his energies, he is manic, loud and bossy. He makes sure you are shown hospitality in proper form.
Tonight was the typical night, “Hey dude, c’mon in; can I fix you a drink, juice, water, milk? Piss? C’mon mother***er what do you want?” Nothing, thanks... "O.K., *** you then." We walked into the kitchen, my host stood in front of the dishwasher, and I remained in the doorway.
“Stan the Man” he liked to call himself then went into a drunken monologue about loving his wife, about being untouchable; yes, untouchable. This man went into his thing about being the youngest of 10 children, working for “the family” in Philly and what happened to folks about who went against “the family…”
One thing he likes to do is say that he is watched over by God, God provides all, is all, etc. Of course when not talking about how God blesses him he uses the word Goddamn about 50 times in the average conversation… (???) When he really gets going he actually says he IS God – straight faced and honest as hell.
This night was no different; I heard the usual repeated monologues but this time things were different.
Stan talked about being on the dark side and mentioned demons. He told me that he had become so powerful in Philly that he was shot 5 times and stabbed 3 times – naturally in typical macho guy fashion he showed me the scars – he not only lived to tell the tale but got the guys back who shot him. YES I mean they’re dead now – according to him.
Stan then mentioned that his father had demons – drank and beat up his mother. Stan’s tone then changed.
His speech slowed way down, he slid down the front of his sink and rested on his heels and mimed towards the floor shaking his fists and said when he goes to hell, he will make his fists like iron and just punish his dad. By this time his speech was barely above a whisper. I was starting to feel quite uncomfortable by this part of the conversation.
I was hoping to interject – “HEY, I just read about elementals, wanna hear??” He didn’t. He just looked at me like one would look at an idiot who just didn’t get it and said, “You trying to impress me, son? You can’t.” He said this in a tone of voice from a man already damned; who knew where his path ended and was resigned to that fate. He was enraged and scared to death at the same time.
The conversation went on – Stan said, “My father had demons, I’ve inherited the same demons. Just like Bruce Lee had demons, his son inherited the same from him. I don’t want my son to have to deal with my demons. He’s already seen one… I don’t want him harmed by my demons.”
I asked what they looked like. Stan told me that he was smoking lots of crack in the ‘80’s when he first saw them. He described a skeleton running around the room being chased by laughing gnarly red clown looking demon.
I really wanted to be supportive and SAY SOMETHING but all I could do was listen.
Stan then went into his thing about after that incident talking to people and disappearing in the middle of the conversations – by this time I was staring blankly and thinking, this guy is just completely insane – why am I even here? I think I was just watching the train wreck and couldn’t turn away…. There was more here than some crack head just babbling about his delusions. I ***ing felt it.
Then the conversation took another strange turn – Stan talked about how he’s done astral projection many times and seen many things. He talked about traveling to distant galaxies and seeing many worlds at his will. - The mystic in me is enjoying the subject matter but annoyed with the source. I kept thinking this just feels really weird, this time.
Then it just seemed to get dark in there – Stan talked about how he’s been reincarnated many, many times – how he knows that there are so many people in the world and how he wants to let George and Saddam “start the sh*t –already” so we can have “contained nuclear strikes” and the like. He talked about destroying and rebuilding the world. How it wont be hard and how he can get what he needs because all he has to do is call “Daddy”
Daddy? He said, daddy… I felt he meant somebody other than the man who helped make him. He then reminded me of when I first met him and his wife and of when he asked her, “Can I have him?” At the time I didn’t like the comment but passed it off as him trying to be cute. He restated that he is God and that he collects people. I said souls? He said that I might find myself out on the street doing things that I’ve never done and not knowing who I am…. I simply said, “no you can’t have me” and smiled. He said, “Normally I’d take that as a challenge but don’t feel like ***ing with you just now.”
By now I was trying to figure out – o.k. He’s either possessed, completely insane or both. At least I thought he was a very strong energy vampire who was trying to get to yours truly.
He continued, “As far as I’m concerned, you’re dead. I can either save you, or destroy you.” This madman then stood up and looked right at me. He continued, “ Just like G. W. you’re either with me or against me. Which are you?” I held my answer and just looked at this spectacle.
Stan then went into the other room, gestured me to follow and said, “Behold I send you out amongst the wolves as sheep….” By this time I was starting to get spooked but maintained a neutral exterior…
We entered the living room; like the other townhouses on this street his living room ended with a bay window that reached out into the night. Stan situated himself on the modest couch that sat across the space of the bay window. A small floor lamp was next to his right side as he faced me. I sat in a chair that faced the TV this time, turned toward Stan.
I kept doing my protection visualizations tried in vain to control my emotions and thought about how strange this all is. Stan then talked about how he’s able to manifest what he needs, how he’s untouchable and how he met me. He said that he needed a partner. At this time I started having thoughts about Faust and his deal with the devil. Stan mentioned meeting his wife… (Whew) I still felt that he was leading up to something.
Stan said, “All my associates are waiting for me to “click” to the next level – I’m almost there. Now I have a question for you…what do you want?” I said, ”What do you mean?”
He said, “Of all of my blessings, all of the things I can get for you, all of the things I can do for you…what do you want? I can get you anything you want…” I calmly said, “I don’t have an answer for you…”
I was thinking when is he going to break out the pen and the knife so I can sign in blood? I also kept thinking, sorry dude...I AM my soul; you don’t get squat.
By this time, Stan was sitting on his couch with the a dim floor lamp next to him and his voice was slow and deeper than normal – I had a hard time seeing his face….It appeared that the longer this conversation went on the less light actually seemed to reach his face from the floor lamp he was sitting next to.
By the time I was sufficiently scared, yes SCARED of this dark vision; it seemed like he was covered in darkness and I couldn’t see his face at all.
Before the conversation got any more bizarre, for some reason the bay window had exploded in bright light. It was a searchlight's beam that entered through the bay window. Stan snapped out of it and asked, “Who is that? 5-0?” I said, “No, that’s one of ours.”
The funny thing is that my other supervisor showed up at THAT moment and that I had already been inspected once that night. He wasn’t even supposed to be there.
I went out and found that who had come by was a supervisor I had befriended. I talked to him and told him that angels must have sent him.
I asked the supervisor what he was doing there and he told me that he was on the other side of town and got the sudden, urgent feeling that I needed him, so he came to visit me. Not only did the supervisor show up at the right time, he actually managed to shine his spotlight on the correct townhouse; the very one that I happened to be in…. I thanked him for coming to see me then got out of there.
I jumped in the car, finished my paperwork and got out of that neighborhood. I turned right onto Good Hope Road and punched it…
I almost swerved off the road when I saw a huge raccoon in the middle of my lane. The bloated looking zombie raccoon that was in the middle of the road had found a deer carcass on the right shoulder to snack on.
I collected myself with a very frightened laugh and got the hell out of there.
Moon ) O (
Adult Language, psychic protection, demon, possession, elemental.
Copyright: not yet
Location: Clearwater, Florida
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