Resident A

 (cont’d)

Considering that one or two of my invisible friends are representing my salvation, ergo exoneration from hellfire, it seems cruel to tear them away from me. The lead personalities are very special beings who I visualise alongside me almost everywhere I go. I found them on various JPEGs throughout my travels on Earth. One of them is a baker. One of them is a nightclub bouncer. Yet another likes to pretend to be the Terminator. I like to observe them because they are beautiful.

The next time I encounter heartache, this blog might well be over. I’ve hauled myself up from the Grimstone to head towards the everlasting rainbows, where the Son of the Sun and the Phoenix are shining fair. There are no sociopaths, no lunatics, no maniacs, no thieves or liars or fornicators upon these blissfully tranquil and pleasingly revolutionary beachfronts. There is no typical grime from adulthood, only the fresh reinvigorating flair and flavour of the youthful. The youthfully naïve, to watch over, the youthfully gullible, to protect; embellished with the kraft of the bold and the wisdom of the brave.

I stand as an Appropriate Adult to my children, as they are Holy Spirit to me. We all dance along to what you might consider the dumbed-down, cheesy, jarring, tuneless brainwash of illuminati chart music, as we believe that the Holy Spirit is manifest in the cheery singsong of old. Don’t forget the Gospel, too. I’m all about the Gospel, and its fantastic revelatory message for good living.

We add our own dollop of magic (we call magic ‘bubblegum’) to our favourite movies by watching them with torchlights and magnifying glasses aimed at the screen to highlight the best action bits. This falling in love with The Arts all over again is made possible by the substantial joy I feel in getting over my frightening mini-episode of anhedonia (the inability to experience pleasure). Now, I don’t even mind watching Cricket! And did I disclose my newfound interest in the piano?

See, life is lightening up. I’ve nearly finished, and I haven’t mention Chinese terrorists or Russian spies once. Oops!

All things against joy and pleasure get slammed into Room 101 pronto! That means practically the entirety of my meddlesome social circle!

Incidentally, I’ve realised recently that a secretive and more local network of people have been ‘hard at work’ trying to keep me apart from those I love. The term ‘perpetrator’ or ‘gangstalker’ doesn’t cut the mustard with these impossibly negative folk. It wouldn’t surprise me if they staged a car accident to stop me saying hi to a girl I fancy. They are petty in magnificent ways. They are obsessed with taking photos of me in my pyjamas on the cheese run.

I have regressive past-life fantasies about the Salem Witch Trials. During the morbid Inquisitions, I put my life on the line to defend several of them. I wrote about it in a haunting story entitled The Torturous Confession Of A Heretical Whore in 2015. It included depictions of torture techniques which I regretted researching, the phenomena of suspended animation, and abounding love trysts across timelines. Rather spookily, I read it out aloud along with a real present day Satanist, when she worked as rule-breaking nurse in an asylum I was in, and offered me sweet delights beneath the sheets as soon as the bulbs were dimmed (I was described as Resident A when she was disqualified after our kinky exploits made the local rag). You’ll know her as the woman with the scary mantra who feeds on and steals my inner-force life energies. More at the links below, if you're into a powerful & wicked dominatrix picking on a vulnerable enfeebled man.

https://piebald77.blogspot.com/2025/03/what-dwells-within-dk-wants.html

https://piebald77.blogspot.com/2025/02/enslaved-by-dk.html

The Inquisitors, in one of my previous lives, killed me as well as them, hence my shameful and thankfully finished involvement with Satanists during this term, and here I am, reincarnated again, and still banging on about my unfailing love for those I tried to save*:

x Morgan, Willow, Minerva, Wanda, Tabitha, Mathilda x

These names are very special to me. I have to also admit here that my doings with witches have led to me losing an angel. My life and eternity were ended overnight in her passing, or my forsaking of her, leading to a grave and long-lasting bottomless depression. So now you’ll understand why I am so buoyant, because dear precious Abihail, who is mentioned in the Bible, has been replaced, if that is not too cold a word. I HAVE ANOTHER ANGEL! WELL, TWO OR THREE ACTUALLY! Amen and amen if ya know wadda mean!

*Not all witches are satanists