EK's Star Log

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2010-10-27T23:37:00.001-04:00

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New Pictures and Updating my Etsy Store Today

2010-08-04T14:04:00.000-04:00

EelKat Wendy C. Allen New pictures of me, so, new profile pic! I am sitting on the stump of "The White Money tree", the site most of the poltergiest activity that has happened in our yard. There shouldbe water all around me, but the swamp has gone dry.

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EelKat Wendy C. Allen

Me modeling for my new line of gypsy wear. :)

Watch for my Gypsy fashions to show up at my Etsy shop this fall!

EelKat Wendy C Allen August 2010

16 new photos

EelKat Wendy C. Allen Working on my Etsy shop today. It's getting a magor overhaul in preparation for the new iems that will be listed this fall. It was a "doll shop" but now it is going to be an online extention of my new brick and mortar off line shop. There's no brick and no mortar in my store. hhhmmm...wheels and metal? =P :)Hey, gotta rebuild my car anyways , why not turn it into a travleing store?

- EelKat Wendy C. Allen
  I read this article about a woman that wanted a store and couldn't afford the rent, so she turned her car into a store and went on the road, and every where she went, she just took her shop with her. I thought, boy what a great idea!
  
  I've ...spent more than half my life living in a car, I love living in a car, I love working retail, I want a shop, can't afford the $500 per week rent for a shop here in Old Orchard Beach, I'm in the middle of rebuilding both of my vandalised cars (the Dodge in 2 peices and the Volvo keyed to hell) so, why not combine everything all into one big giant project and turn one car into a house and the other into a store?
  
  Been musing over this idea for a couple of months now, wrote up this big business plan sort of thing to try to work it all out and see if it could be done, did lots of Googling trying to find out if any one else has ever done anything like this and OMG
  
  I found tons and tons of folks who live and work out of theircars and they are all full of advice on how they did it and what works and what doesn't and, so now the project itself is underway and, so since it's started.
  
  So, that's where I'm at today. Setting up the online extention of the shop now, and the offline out of the car exstention of the shop will hit the road next spring.
  
  Now to learn how to drive. Written driving test next week. The Volvo should be running befoe the end of the month. I have a very busy summer going on this year.

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Stolen Car: Please ReTweet & RePost: Help us find the Goldeneagle! Maine's Famous "Haunted Car" Has Been Stolen by religion crazed fanatics!

2010-05-05T22:14:00.000-04:00

Stolen Car: Please ReTweet & RePost: Help us find the Goldeneagle!

On May 5th, 2010 between 1PM and 4PM Maine's famous "Haunted Car" The Goldeneagle, a 1964 Dodge 330 was stolen from my home at 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine. We know who stole it, but they are refusing to give any information about what they did with it.

Please if you have any information about the whereabouts of this car, please contact: Old Orchard Beach Police Officer: Joshua Robbins at 207-934-4911 ext 653

The car thieves are Jeannie and Wayne Whitten of Summer St, Biddeford, Maine. They are boldly bragging that they had the car removed on a flat bed and taken to a salvage yard to be crushed. This raving lunatic claims that my car has a demon living in it, she says crushing the car will kill the demon. She admits proudly to having stolen the car, but is refusig to give any information about what she did with it after stealing it. They are the same couple who a few weeks ago did this to the same car in question:

Vandals Members of the LDS Saco Ward/Mormon Church Do $50,000 in Damage to The Goldeneagle

Thursday, March 18, 2010 · Leave a Comment

I am getting sick an tired of dealing with increasingly psychotic and childish people. The vandals have struck once again – but this time, they got caught in the act and I know WHO they are. There are two vandals, a man and a woman – husband and wife, from the Saco ward of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints in Maine.

I arrived home tonight to find them IN my car. In my locked car, which they had removed the door of to get into. They broke the lock off the back passenger side door. They removed both the front and back seats from my car. They slashed the seats of my car and ripped out the stuffing. They slashed the headliner of my car and pulled it off. They took the arm rests off the insides of the doors.

This car – being a 1964 Dodge 330 worth approx $50,000 has just received nearly it’s value in damage at the hands of 2 “good Christians”.

I will be posting pictures of the damage tomorrow – both here and in a new chapter of For Fear of Little Men, which I shall write tonight.

The worst part of it is – it’s one of my relatives.

I fail to see the logic behind these increasingly idiotic and senceless acts of vandalism. This is the same relative who broke into my house a few years back and burned all of my manuscripts and artwork too.

I’m seriously questioning her sanity and wondering how to go about having her institutionalized as criminally insane, if any one has any advice on how to go about institutionalizing this woman before her acts of violence get any worse – please let me know.

She is doing this, because she claims that I have a demon. She says it is alright to do these things to me, my pets, and my belongings, because she says God tells her it is alright. She says that God wants her to drive out my demons. Her constant talk about her belief that I have a demon is baffling.

While I am not the only person she accuses of being demon possessed, I seem to be the only person she consistently vandalizes in this manner.

This is the same woman who goes to my church and tells my Bishop I am a witch, the same woman who has tried for several years to have me excommunicated from the church, her reason being that a am “a demon possessed witch who puts curses on her”. That accusation alone should have told the Bishop and other church leaders that she is a raving lunatic.

This is the same woman who on multiple occasions attacked my dad with an ax – twice sending him to the hospital.

She is the woman suspected of having burned my house down 4 years ago.

She was once caught by a police office, smashing windows out of my grandmother’s house next door to us. She was caught while climbing into the building through the window after she had smashed in. The next day she was caught again – this time inside the house, smashing my brothers 33LP collection. This was in November 2006, one month after the fire that burned my house down.

She is the same woman suspected of being behind the vandalism of April 2007 – the day my books had all their pages torn out and the pages torn up. The day some one took an ax to my furniture. The day some one took an ax to my Liberace records.

Whenever something is done with an ax, me and my family automatically suspect her, as the ax seems to be her reoccurring weapon of choice.

This is the same woman who started a bonfire on my lawn 3 years ago – to burn her husbands clothes, after she falsely accused him of having an affair. Why she choice to burn his clothes on my lawn, still remains a mystery.

This is the same woman who keeps her 3 teenaged boys locked up in the house not allowing them to have contact with ANY ONE. She claims that Satan is after her sons, thus why they are not allowed outside.

There are a good dozen people on my FaceBook account who KNOW about the 3 boys and what she is doing to them, you people know who she is and what she is doing – PLEASE – don’t let her get away with these things – you know who she is – you know what she is doing. Why do you turn a blind eye to her acts of violence and hate?

She is very, very, VERY dangerous and this farther act of violence is just one more thing in her ever growing list of utter insanity. PLEASE do something to stop her before she kills someone.

I have already been to the police about her dozens of times over the past 20 years. She was arrested once when a neighbor caught her beating her first husband with a brick. He refused to file charges than and the police was forced to release her. They will do nothing until a second party comes forward. Please – I know several of you who are reading this are fully aware of the things this woman has done and is doing and you know how dangerous she is.

I am very, very disturbed right now. It bothers me that there is some one out there who hates me so much that they could do something like this. It’s scary.

PLEASE STOP BEING AFRAID OF HER! THE POLICE CAN DO NOTHING UNLESS MORE THAN ONE VICTIM COMES FORWARD.

PLEASE HELP ME TAKE A STAND AGAINST THIS WOMAN!

Please, before she goes to far, before she kills some one – please do something to stop her!

Joel Bailey

If it was on YOUR property, then no second party is needed. If your property was vandalized, then Call the police. Otherwise it’s just your word against theirs…

2 HOURS AGO ·

EelKat Wendy C. Allen

I keep telling the police – that’s the problem – I”M the ONLY one telling the police – for some 20 years now – they won’t do anything until somebody WHO IS NOT ME contacts them. I have Autism, my ability to speak verbally is limited at best – they pass me off as retarded – they require some one who they do not think of as retarded to make an additional complaint, but in 20 years, no one else has dared come forward about her keeping in mind I’m one of the few she has not beaten physically, seeing how I’m not scared to hit her back just as hard as she hit me – I’m bigger and stronger tha she is, that’s why she no longer hurts me physically and goes around destroying my belongings instead

38 MINUTES AGO ·

EelKat Wendy C. Allen

that’s why I’m stronger not only than she is, but stronger than most men bigger than myself – no one has EVER made an attempt to defend me from her – I started building up my muscle when I was 10 years old, because I had to defend myself constantly. Now she knows she can’t hurt me physically anymore so she tries other ways instead – this newincident with my car, is only one of many such attacks – they are getting progressively more violent as each year passes. She is getting bolder and bolder because she KNOWS that NO ONE will stand up to her, and she KNOWS the BISHOPS will always take her side and back her up, just like they always have

33 MINUTES AGO ·

Joel Bailey

I can help you, Wendy. But you must know it is not the church sanctioning anything like this, as your post suggests. You lash out at the very people who want to help…

2 HOURS AGO ·

EelKat Wendy C. Allen

I have gone to 12 Bishops asking for help – not one of them would help me, because she goes to church every week – she’s the reason I don’t go – every time I go she’s right there in my face calling me demon possessed

2 HOURS AGO ·

EelKat Wendy C. Allen

She needs help – ask Dr Abude – he tried to send her to Dr Collin a good 20 years ago because he thought she was dangerous and need psychiatric help

ABOUT AN HOUR AGO ·

EelKat Wendy C. Allen

You know what she’s like – YOU KNOW WHAT SHE”S DOING TO MY BROTHERS – YOU KNOW- YOU”VE SEEN IT FIRST HAND!

ABOUT AN HOUR AGO ·

EelKat Wendy C. Allen

and that thing she keeps saying about me killing her dog – it’s on a report at the Old Orchard Beach police station – Wayne killed her dog – she was doing one of her ax fits, Wayne took the ax, beat Toby, than attack her – her neighbor called the police,5 police cars were there in the yard – 4 police officers dragged him away in arm and leg chains- the police have the ax down there at the station – Wayne did 2 weeks in jail for it. – half the police department was a witness to it, so why she keeps saying I killed Toby is beyond me.

ABOUT AN HOUR AGO ·

EelKat Wendy C. Allen

explain why Bishop K called me in to his office July 2009 – accusing me of witchcraft – quoting her words, word for word – a man who is a complete stranger to me – he had NO RIGHT to falsely accuse me – than threaten to excommunicate me BASED ON HER SICK LIES about me – anyone who believes in demons and spell casting and demon possession is insane - why he believed her lies about me is beyond me – don’t tell me the church is not sanctioning her actions – they protect her, they do nothing to stop her, and they than act upon her lies and accuse me and threaten to excommunicate me because of it. If that isn’t the church sanctioning her actions, I don’t know what is

26 MINUTES AGO ·

EelKat Wendy C. Allen

do you realize that is the last time I had face-to-face contact with another living Human being – and that it was the first face-to-face contact I had had in years – that day with Bishop K? I have agoraphobia and PTSD as a result of this woman and her utter insanity – I can’t have face to face contact with Humans any more, because for 27 years she kept me locked up – just like she’s doing to my brothers – Johnny’s 19 years old – you see what she’s doing to him – do you have any idea the hell he is going through right now because he wants to go to a camp out next week? She’s been ripping up his things, trashing is belongs – threaten to kill him every word out of her lips – he came to me last night and begged me to take him to the camp out next Friday, because he knows I’m the only one with the guts to stand up to her and help him get out of the house long enough to spend some time with people.

21 MINUTES AGO ·

EelKat Wendy C. Allen

ask Johnny why he stopped drawing and painting – ASK HIM! He had one hell of an art career ahead of him. ASK HIM WHAT SHE DID TO ALL OF HIS PAINTINGS! She burned them in a bon fire – saying that he was evil, saying that Satan made him draw his pictures. He’s terrified to draw anything now!

17 MINUTES AGO ·

EelKat Wendy C. Allen

Ask Johnny age 19, and Josh age 17 why they do not have driver’s licenses. ASK THEM WHY! They try and try and try to sneak out so they can learn to drive – she punishes them if they even mention it. She says Satan put them up to it. What kind of a woman tells her sons they can’t get jobs or driver’s licenses because Satan was the one who told them to try to get a job? Tell me how that is not insane?

13 MINUTES AGO ·

EelKat Wendy C. Allen

I was in solitary confinement locked up in her house for 27 years – but I finally escaped from her. And now she’s doing the same thing to my brothers. The have the right to have a life. They have the right to have friends. But just like she did to me, she keeps them under lock and key – literary – padlocks line the doors – padlocks that only she has the keys to. She is insane.

9 MINUTES AGO ·

EelKat Wendy C. Allen

I don’t know how to talk, because no one ever talked to me – no one ever taught me how to talk. That’s why I write – I learned to write, but I’m only just now learning how to talk. You’ve seen Josh – you’ve talked to him. She did the same thing to him. That’s why he doesn’t talk. That’s why now that he’s going to church meetings, his starting to learn how to talk for the first time. Don’t tell me it’s normal for a woman to do these sorts of things to her children. She needs psychiatric help. And she needs it bad, before she destroys my brothers lives the way she did mine.

5 MINUTES AGO ·

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As Requested - The Previously unposted except of "For Fear of Little Men" - Why I Kept The Goldeneagle All These Years - An Inside Look at Life Behind the Padlocked Doors of The Atwater Family Compound and the Story of How The Infamous Saco Ward of Maine got it's Start and Created a Religious Monster

2010-04-12T15:42:00.000-04:00

The following in part of my book For Fear of Little Men, (if you want to read all of it, a free copy of this 640+ page book can be obtained from here: http://www.lulu.com/product/download/for-fear-of-little-men/10271774 )

=======================================

Q: So, this incident was what caused every thing else that followed afterwards, is that correct?

EelKat: Yes. That one little tiny five minute segment of one day, in one summer of my life when I was 4 years old, is what snowballed to cause everything else. I mean, I was barely more than a baby, but they base everything on that one event. I’ve got 2 uncles who, if I try to talk, they put their hand up and say “Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Oh no! No! Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. No! You’re crazy, I don’t want to hear it. I remember the White Monkey. No. No. No. No. No. You’re the crazy girl that ran from the temple. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Your evil spirit will get me. I‘m not going to listen to you. Lalalalalalalalalalalalala….see I can‘t hear you. I‘m not listening. Lalalalalalalalalalalalala…. This is me. Lalalalalalalalalalalalala…. Not listening. See? Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope.” I look at him standing there with his fingers in his ears and think: “And he’s calling ME crazy? I mean - I’m a kid, he’s 60. What, you‘re telling THAT‘S normal? If he‘s normal I want no part of normal!” But it was like that my whole childhood. And my teen years. And my young adult years. And now in my middle age years. As a result, you well very rarely if ever, hear me saying the word “No” vocally. I have a deep dislike of the word, after hearing it repeated 3 dozen times every single time I open my mouth.

But it was every body. My mom, my uncles, my cousins, they all treated me like that. My dad and my 2 grandmothers and my Aunt B. were the only ones who didn’t treat my like I belonged in a straight jacket. They were constantly telling me I needed to be in a straight jacket, ever since I was 4, ever since “The White Monkey”. My mom wouldn’t let me talk to anyone after the whole “White Monkey” thing. She had this invisible 2 foot barrier around her and I had to stay in it or else. If I stepped just 2 feet 1 inch away from her, she flew down on me shrieking at the top of her lungs “You little bitch! Trying to run away are you?” than she’d slap me across the face and I’d fall down on my bum. By the time I was 6 years old, I didn’t dare get more than 4 inches off her heels, I knew she’d whollop me if I did.

I wasn’t allowed to talk to anyone either. If I tried to speak, my mom would grab my arm, shove me behind her, and than explain “She’s crazy, don’t listen to her, we don’t. She has an evil spirit you know. Remember the White Monkey?” It didn’t matter what it was I was going to say or who it was I was going to say it too, it was always “Don’t talk to her. She’s crazy. Remember the White Monkey.” The adults in my life made sure that I would never ever forget the White Monkey, they brought it up every day in every conversation. Normally, I probably would have forgotten the whole thing with in a week. I mean, I was four years old for crying out loud! I don’t remember hardly anything that happened to me when I was four. I remember the White Monkey and I remember the temple trip. Why? Because every day I was shushed up, told not to speak, and whomever I was trying to speak to was told “She’s crazy. Don’t talk to her. Remember the White Monkey.” or “That’s the girl that ran away from the temple. Stay away from her. She’s nuts!” Both incidents happened when I was 4 years old, and they are the only two things I can remember from that year, because no one ever allowed me to forget them.

I got used to the name calling early. My high priest/Sunday school teacher used to think it was weird that when he’d call my name in class, I acted like I was deaf and not respond at all. One day he asked me about it. I was 12, I could not understand why he’d be using my name at all. He tried to explain that that was what people did, but I did not understand him, because no one had ever used my name before. After he met my mom, and her the way she talked about me (she never talked to me, always about me), he realized why I had been so confused by his using my name. After that he made sure to use my name every day. He come over to the house to talk to me and said my name several times. I guess he realized that, I didn’t really even know what my name was, because it was not a word I’d ever heard before.

One day a man at church gave her hell because of it. She was sitting in the chair at a church meeting crying her eyes out. (She always sits in church or court or doctor’s office’s crying her eyes out - it’s called “Crocodile’s Tears” or “crying for sympathy - she’s good at it too - had years of practice, most people fall for it.) And this guy came over and asked her what was wrong, and she said:

“I can’t have any children, the doctors don’t know what’s wrong. All my life I wanted a baby.”

He looked at her funny and said:

“But I thought that was your daughter” pointing to me. I was about 12 years old at the time, and was sitting with less than 4 inches between myself and my mother..

Suddenly she stopped crying, She went into a rage and started growling with disgust.

“Her? She’s a bitch. That’s the child of Satan. That filthy evil low life bitch. She’s a female. She’s competition. I don’t want no competition. Little bitch from hell. I wanted a boy, not some damn female.”

The man flew into a rage, you could hear him screaming all through the church. Every one stopped and stared:

“How dare you say things like that about her. And right in front of her too! You should be grateful God blessed you with that beautiful little girl. What kind of a mother are you? No wonder God won’t give you a son. If I was Him, I wouldn’t give you one either. You don’t even deserve the child you do have, why should he give you more?”

On another occasion when I was 21 years old, she dragged me out of services and made me sit in the mother’s lounge by myself. She was screaming all the way down the hall as she dragged me saying: “You bitch! You filthy dirty bitch! You son of a whore bitch you! I don’t need your competition! You damn competitive filthy bitch! Why don’t you die and go back to Hell were you belong. Filthy bitch. Competition bitch!”

Later a woman asked my mom what was going on. She told her: “I was talking to Mike, but he was lusting after that bitch the whole time instead of listening to me. I don’t need her competition.”

“But aren’t you married?” the woman asked.

“That bastard! I can’t wait to get rid of him. He lusts after that filthy bitch all the time too. He lusts after every bitch. He lusts after you, and you encourage it. I’ve seen the way you parade around in front him. Satan’s the father of both of them. That filthy bitch son of a bastard whore, she’s nothing but competition. All my men are always lusting after her.”

“But doesn’t she have that **** guy?”

“Yeah. He was supposed to be mine too. Damn bastard, went lusting after her. He was supposed to marry me, not her. He ought to be excommunicated. Damn bitch, he’s 30 years older than her. Filthy competition bitch. Why don’t she just die. Bitch.”

Some one once whispered to me from the pew behind us: “I’m so sorry for you, you’re mom is like the Evil Queen and treats you like Snow White.” I never thought of it that way before, but I guess she did have a point there.

One of our neighbors, nicknamed my mom “The Jealousy Bitch”, than my mom started calling her “The Hysterectomy Bitch”, they used to go out in the driveway and scream those names out at each other back and forth. An all out feud broke out between them, and the police had to come in a separate them. The court ordered a restraining order for each of them on the other, and after that they took too opening the window to yell at each other from the windows without going near each other. A few weeks later their house burnt to the ground. They blamed my mom, but never had any proof. Their daughter was the girl who saw the uhm “UFO thingy” with me. They moved when I was 9, and I was pulled out of school when I was 8, and things got really freaky after that.

The Goldeneagle, my 1964 Dodge, stopped running when I was 9, but before that, when I was 9 and younger, she used to make me sit in the car. Someone would try talking to me, usually a Sunday School teacher, and she’d freak out if I dared look up at them. I was always supposed to look at my feet, and she yelled and threatened me, if I looked up. I guess that’s why I don’t look at people when I talk now. I know that seems to upset people, and I try to look at them when I talk, but it’s like I’m “gun shy” over it, because for years I was punished for looking at people while talking. I guess in the back of my mind, it’s like, I keep hearing her telling me it’s sinful and I get all jumpy and nervous about it and stare down at my feet or my hands instead of looking at you when I talk. But than, she’d drag me out of the church and make me sit out in the car. She’d give me “the silent treatment” which I sort of liked in a way, because it was really the only time she ever shut up. I mean, her mouth was always going steady. If she was awake her mouth was flapping, and it was always bitter and filled with anger and hate. I can’t remember her ever saying a kind or loving thought about any one. She’s just so full of hate. Every other word out of her mouth was bitch, slut, whore, whoremonger, bastard whoremonger, filth bitch, lust, or some other variation of all of the above. I don’t remember her ever addressing me by my name. I was always “the filthy bitch”, “that child of Satan”, “that evil demon possessed witch”, “little piece of trash”, “the competition bitch”, or “that slut assed whore”. So, locking me in the car and than sitting there glaring in at me, not saying a word, was sort of relief for me, because I could finally get some piece and quiet for a few minutes. I mean, just for a few minutes to pass without having to hear the word “bitch” twenty times was a blessing!

I spent probably 70% of my childhood sitting in that car. The only times I got let out of my room, was to get in the car and drive to church, get in the car and drive to her hundreds of doctor appointments, or “get in the car you bitch and think about what you did”. I did a lot of getting in the car and thinking. And talking. To the car. There wasn’t any one else to talk to. After she’d lock me in the car (which was pointless, cause I could unlock it from the inside), she’d turn around and start yelling at my dad. Sometimes I wonder if she didn’t put me in the car, just so that she COULD yell at him, without having to keep an eye on me. I liked being in the car when she started yelling at him, because it was safe in there. Safe from the bricks, which she always seemed to have. I never realized it than, but thinking back now, I wonder, why we always had bricks in the house? They were just laying around on the floor and on the table, and when she got mad she’d grab them and start throwing them. I never thought it strange as a kid, because they was just always there, but looking back now, I don’t it’s normal to have bricks laying around the house like that is it? I mean, I’ve never heard of any one else doing that? I have no idea why the bricks were there.

Sometimes, when the fighting got really bad, I’d go hide in the car. When the fighting started outside, she’d grab an axe off the woodpile and chase my dad with it. I’d run for the car, take the keys with me, and lock myself inside. I always had the keys to that car. My dad gave them to me when I was like 5 or 6 years old. That’s how it became my car in the first place. If any one wanted to drive that car, they had to get the keys from me. I was about 8, when my mom started calling the car “demon possessed” and tried to sell it. My dad put a stop to it saying “That’s her car, you can’t sell it unless she says you can.” After that my dad made it very clear to every one, that the Dodge was mine, and no one was to touch it. I didn’t own much, and birthdays and Christmas were not a big deal because I was a female and thus did not deserve parties and presents and stuff. I had one sort of a party when I was 6 and another when I was 8, both involved 3 cousins coming over to help me blow up balloons, than eat cake, than leave. But the rest of my years it was “that bitch don’t deserve a birthday.” So, the car, was pretty much the only thing I was ever allowed to own.

Over the years it became my safe haven, my only means of escape from the mad house I lived in. It’s the only place I’ve ever felt safe. Ever. Even still today 40 years later - inside that car, is the ONLY place, I feel safe. I got really bad off, as a teenager. I became very suicidal, well, I still am actually, just not quite as bad as I was back than. Tajid’s murder, really, pushed me to my limits, I mean, it’s not every day you walk into your garden and find your best friend laying there chopped up. You know. I did not deal with it well. And the court trail, just week after week and month after month and for what? My best friend was still dead, and than Lisa B. was dead too. I remember, she was standing over him and I came around the corner, and she was right there, just two inches from my face, we were eye to eye, I looked at her, and than I saw Tajid on the ground, and I knew what happened, and she knew, I knew what happened. I turned and ran like hell, screaming all the way back to the house, and she ran right after me, right on my heels the whole way. My dad heard me screaming and came out of the house, just as I ran running in past him, and he grabbed Lisa, and I don’t know how the police got there but next thing I knew there were police all over the whole yard, and Lisa B. was dragged away and I had all these people all around me asking every question under the sun, and than some one handed me a paper and said they’d let me know when the court date was. And Tajid was just laying there. He was still alive and he was just laying there, and Anistatia was still alive too, but her legs were both cut off and her intestines were pull out and her breakfast was falling out of her stomach and the others were dead, John had been drowned in the brook, his neck was broken, by the end of the day Tajid and Ann were dead, I was the only one left alive. I was just so, sick…I couldn’t get them out of my head. I couldn’t eat for the longest while, not after what happen to Ann, seeing her food just pouring out of her stomach like that. I just. I went numb. That’s when I stopped talking. I just shut down. I couldn’t deal with it. After the court stuff was over, I retreated to the car, to my Dodge, my Goldeneagle. I stayed there, in the car, for days, and days, and days. I didn’t move. I couldn’t. There have been so many time, that if I had not had that Dodge, I really don’t think I’d be alive now. Just having that car, having a place that I felt safe and protected in, made me feel, comforted and less like wanting to kill myself. I wouldn’t be alive today, if I had not had that car to turn to, because I didn’t have any one or anything else to turn to. It’s the only place, I’ve ever felt safe.

In 2003, when I was 28, when I lost my high priest, I took Buddy, my dog, and we walked for miles. We walked to the beach. Than walked the length of the beach. We turned around, and walked back the length of the beach, which is 7 miles each way We got to Pine Point, and we walked down the train tracks. Than we walked back home, and sat in the Dodge for days. And than every day after that, rain, snow or shine, until Buddy, got to old last year, we walked that same roght, than came home and sat in the Dodge. I didn’t know what else to do. I’d never been without out him before, my high priest that is. And than suddenly I was completely alone. Just me and Buddy, and my car.

Q: And this is why Etiole stays around the car, than correct?

EelKat: Yes. He lives in the swamp. He was not originally ever near the car, I don’t think. It was because I was always in the car, and than when the car stopped running we parked it just 50 feet from the swamp, so it’s like a matter of seconds to get from the car to the swamp. You can walk it in way under a minute. Over the years he’d slowly creep closer to it. I don’t know why he’s not scared of me. He’s very skittish, very nervous, scared right out of his skin half the time. Any one else gets near, he dashes off. But he started staying around me, and I was spending all of my time outside of the house, inside of the car, so he just sort of started staying in the car with me. I’d talk to the car and I’d talk to him, and he never said anything for years and years, almost like he couldn’t actually speak English, which he sort of can’t too good, it’s a bad broken English, with a thick French accent. He’s very French. There is no mistaking that he is French. And that’s one of the problems my relatives had too. I don’t know what it is, but almost every single member of the Atwater Clan, acts like French people are the evilest creatures to walk the planet. It’s bizarre and I’ve never understood it, but they, really, really, really HATE French people. If they get mad at you they’ll say: “Stop being a damn stupid ass Frenchmen.” But anyways, when I started saying Etiole was French, that really sealed their belief he was a demon, because they kind of just think any one who is French is evil to begin with, and they already thought he was evil, so him + French = super way beyond evilest of evils. At least in their minds, anyways. Someone said once that they thought Etiole was the ghost of an early French settler, seeing how this was French territory right up until the late 1800’s. He didn’t start talking though, until I was like 15 or 16 years old, it was after Tajid died. He’d just come over and sit there and stare at me, almost like he was wondering if I could see him or not, like he wasn’t sure, like he thought I could see him, but didn‘t know why I could see him, because no one else ever does, he just always had this puzzled look on his face. When I was upset and crying he’d sit right beside me and hug me. Still never said a word. He didn’t start speaking to me, until after Tajid’s death, after those days, and days, and days, of just sitting and counting the perforations in the headliner. Even when he does talk, it ain’t much and not full sentences. But yeah, I was always sitting in the car, so that’s why he’d come over and sit in the car.

Q: Now this place you grew up in, it was what exactly? A mini-cult compound of some sort, correct? It was where they kept you locked up in a small room for 27 years, because of what you had said you saw that day when you was 4 years old. What was this place like?

EelKat: The Royal Highland Atwater Family Clan Compound. I guess, it’s time for a history lesson.

An Inside Look at Life Behind the Padlocked Doors of The Atwater Family Compound

and

The Story of How The Infamous Saco Ward of Maine got it's Start and Created a Religious Monster

It was started by the Canadian grandson of a Scottish immigrant. David Henry Atwater, grandson of Captain John Drake Nova Scotia’s infamous one legged pirate who used wild Maine blueberries to dye the sails on his ship blue, and who was the 12th great-nephew of Admiral Sir Francis Drake the Dragon. (This is important - I’ll get to that in a minute). So, I got pirates in my family from both my mom’s side and my dad’s side (Thomas Rodgers founder of Old Orchard Beach, comes in from my dad’s side). David H. Atwater’s mom, was the daughter of Captain John Drake and she hated females with a vengeance. I guess being crazy sort of runs in Atwater side of my family (my mom’s side), because there’s a lot of it. Anyways, my great-grand mother was a loony, and she hated females, than ended up having all girls and hated all of them and treated them like they were slaves. Finally her last baby was a boy, David Henry Atwater. He was named after King David in the Bible. She told him he was a Prince. The woman was delusional, and Bible crazy, and raised a monster. She raised him to believe that all females were worthless (odd, I guess she forgot she was a female herself), he was given all sorts of things, while his sisters were left with nothing, he was praised while they were beaten, and all the while she was telling him he was a prince, and special, and a “chosen one”, and would be a great leader, and a king when he grew up.

At age 12, he got scarlet fever and went blind. He was removed from school and taught my his mother, who began telling him, his blindness was a “curse”, saying that he had sinned a great sin and must daily beg God’s forgiveness. She told him that he must find a way to speak to God Himself and beg for mercy in order to regain his eyesight. (This is important too, you’ll see in a minute).

As a teenager, he got involved with the Kennedy family, who ran a casino on The Pier here in Old Orchard Beach, during the 1920s. I don’t know what exactly it was they needed a blind boy for, he was never quite clear on that point, but in any case, he got involved with the Kennedy’s moonshine-bootlegging-rumrunner operations, and got heavily involved in the gang wars and crime lords of the area, which in Old Orchard, were nearly as bad as they were in Chicago at that same time, it’s just that Old Orchard was only a tiny town so there were not as many gangsters here as in the big cities. George Ricker (my dad’s grandfather) and E. Cummings (a black man, which made Old Orchard a highly unusual town back than) along with a few others, were the government of Old Orchard Beach, and they were constantly trying to clean the place up and get the gangs out, which eventually they did, and that’s when the big band hall where Louie Armstrong used to play got built on top of the Casino that the Kennedy family used to run. (Armstrong lived on Portland Avenue about 5 houses down from the house I grew up in - Old Orchard Beach was his part-time summer home for several years.) In any case, they finally drove the gangsters out, and that included David Henry Atwater, who from there, moved to Harmon, Maine where he bought an apple orchard - hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of acres of apples. If you go up there today - the farm is still there, all the original buildings, trees and everything. My grandfather only had the farm a very short while, less than a year I believe he said, he sold it a few weeks before harvest, because in his own words: “Satan sent a weather demon to bring hail only to my farm and no where else and he made sure to shoot a giant hail stone into the center of every single apple on every single tree” - unquote.

From there he went to Portland, where he meet my Kickapoo Indian grandmother Eva Viola Dyer. They married and he “discovered God”. According to him, an angel came to the house and told him to join the Mormon Church (a church that at that time was banned by state law, from coming into Maine). The Atwater family has had a long history with the Mormon Church (they are the same Atwaters of the Atwater and Mormon Trails who helped Brigham Young’s Mormons on their trek West in the 1800‘s), but my grandfather was the first Atwater to actually join the Church itself. Stories vary depending on who’s telling it, but as near as I can determine, my grandfather, 2 missionaries from Utah, and four others, ended up on York Hill in Saco Maine, where they unofficial founded what they called “The Saco Ward of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints”. It was there that they poured holy blessing oil into the Saco River, to “drive out the demon and end the 300 year Saco River Curse”. It should be noted at this point the Mormon Church was still banned from entering Maine, and the Salt Lake Church itself, never actually approved nor authorized the “original” Saco Ward. And that is where the problem came in. Because the Salt Lake Church refused to officially recognize the Saco Ward as an actual branch of their Church, my grandfather David Henery Atwater, went into a raging fury, and declared that the Prophet was not chosen by God, but had been put in Salt Lake by Satan to deceive the members and lead them astray. Grandpa said that an “angel of the Lord” had appeared there and bless the new Saco Ward, and it was an actual Ward wither Salt Lake said it was or not. (And for the record, the Saco Ward was never officially recognized as an ACTUAL LDS/Mormon Ward by Salt Lake City Headquarters, until 1997 nearly 60 years later, prior to that date, none of it‘s members were considered to be actual official members of the Mormon Church and were considered to be a branch of the Reorganized LDS Church, even though the members themselves denied any affiliation to the RLDS Church.)

Angry at the Church for not recognizing his Saco Ward as an official branch of the Church, he declared himself the “TRUE and RIGHTFUL Prophet of the Mormon Church” and moved to Canton Maine, which is clear up almost to Canada. (Saco is just off the boarder of Massachusetts in the South of Maine)

So what we have here, is a very angry, bitter blind man, who hated females, quoted Bible verses constantly steady 24 hours a day none stop, had been a gangster in some sort of Mafia/Mob type gang in the 1920’s, was talking to angels sent by God, had lost several hundreds of acres of apples to a hail storm, was now at odds with the Mormon Church, had started calling himself the True LDS Prophet, and was now heading into the heart of one of the largest, deepest, and wildest woods in Maine - The Haysville Woods itself, second in size only to the Allagash Forest, just a few more miles north of it. Even today in the 21st century, no one drives the Haysville Woods -sane people take the long roads around it, only loggers take the roads through it- the guard-rail-less single lane roads are dirt, and circle up the sides of mountains, rising straight up at one side and dropping straight down on the other. There is absolutely nothing up there, but giant pine trees for hundreds and hundreds of miles, cover vast thousands of acres. It’s logging territory and no one but loggers go up there, and what few house there are up there are 5 or 6 miles off the main road with 20 or 30 miles between each of them. That’s what it was like in 1991 the last time I was up there, so you can imagine how much more isolated it was in the 1930s and 1940’s. And so began, the Atwater Camp of Canton, or the first Royal Highland Atwater Family Clan Compound, as grandpa himself called it.

He set out the restoring the “Old Church” the one “Joseph Smith was SUPPOSED to start” (according to Grandpa), complete with goat and rabbit sacrifices, which resulted in his setting up a goat farm up there in the center of no where - goats he raised only to kill as described in Leviticus of the Old Testament. Somewhere at this point the started calling himself “Israel Reborn” and commanded his wife to give him 12 sons so that he could resurrect the Lost Twelve Tribes of Israel (because he said the Mormon Church was doing it all wrong). He beat her when ever a girl was born (which happened 4 times), and punished for not giving birth to sons, by locking her in a closest and leaving her there with no food or water, for days at a time, and telling her to count backwards, the alphabet from Z to A, without making a mistake, in order to be released from her prison. He forced his wife and children (and later grand children and great grand children) to call him “Patriarch” instead of father or dad. The oldest girl April Dawn, received the worst of his torture, and spent nearly her entire childhood and teen years locked in a 2 foot x 4 foot closet. They had one neighbor (about a mile away) who visited and suspected they had a daughter but was never able to find proof of April Dawn’s existence, due to the fact that she was beaten if she dared make a sound, and was locked in the closet whenever company arrived. For many years she was the only daughter.

After the first twelve babies were born, 8 boys and 4 girls, he commanded his wife to stop getting pregnant (like she had the power to turn herself off or something). She had three more pregnancies, and he beat her into an abortion/miscarriage each time.

After a big feud with some locals, the Atwaters left Canton, and from than on in, moved (was chased out of town) about every 6 months. They skipped around a lot, all over Maine, before ending up back in Old Orchard Beach, this time on Atlantic Avenue in the cedar shake house across the street from Reverend Pier’s Faith Chapel Church. This house, was where David had his weird series of “revelations”. It is also one of Old Orchard Beach’s two infamous haunted houses - the other is the house I grew up in on Portland Avenue. The Atlantic Avenue house is where the “woman in blue” (a ghost) visited him many times. It is the house that had a poltergeist that daily smashed vases, dishes, and a giant rose quartz stone, and on several occasions grabbed the than 3 years old Mervin and hurdled him across the room. This was not the only house the Atwater’s lived in that suffered poltergeist activity, but it was where the activity was the worst. The Canton house, the Portland Ave house (where I lived), one of the Saco houses, and two of the Biddeford houses, also suffered a series of poltergeist activities. Because the activity went from house to house with them, grandpa suspected and loudly announced to all who would listen, that his wife was possessed by an evil spirit. He took up hypnotism, and began his early attempts at exorcism and casting out demons. Because the poltergeist activity stopped following them, when my mother left home, and then went on heavily in the house I grew up in, it was than later suspected that my mother also had an evil spirit living in her. After I was born, he began saying it than passed on to me.

Members of Reverend Pier’s Church across the street, grew very concerned about the long absences of the daughters, and many people were afraid of grandpa and his fiery temper, as he would walk up and down the sidewalk, calling himself a Prophet and telling people they were followers of Satan and needed to “repent or die”. Reverend Pier called a social worker, to check in on the often missing daughters. One girl was found locked in a closet. Police went to the Old Orchard Beach school in attempt to take the children out of school and put them in Catholic orphanage in Scarborough. What happened after that is not clear, and stories vary wildly. What is known, is that the following night Grandpa had his most monumental revelation to date:

According to Grandpa: An angel came that night, and said he would give him back his eye sight and than take him to see anything he wanted to see anywhere in the world. Grandpa said “I want to see Hell”. The angel said “I can not do this, it is not in my power.” and than left. This event repeated itself for three days. Finally the angel said: "I will show you Hell, but I can not go with you." The angel left and Grandpa found himself standing inside what looked like a giant volcano filled with many round tar pits. In each pit lived green demons with no skin and no feet, who tried to walk forwards, but for each step they took, they were dragged two steps backwards. In front of each demon stood a woman (for this was the part of Hell were women went to). They were adulteresses and whores and prostitutes. In the pit before him, he saw his mother, begging him to pull her out. In another pit he saw his sister, and in another his other sister. Than he turned and saw his wife and daughters in the pit behind him. He felt loathing and hate for his wife and saw her now “as she really was” an “evil demon from hell” who had “given birth to vile evil spirits”.

From that point the story changed every time he told it. Usually it changed to include the names of which ever female was in hearing distance of him, and sometimes included his granddaughters, once he told it, saying that I was there too, saying I was the evilest one of all the vile female that had been cast into hell.

The end is always the same however: he returned to his house, and meet with the angel again. The angel than told him to go to Salt Lake City, Utah, and do God’s work. By “God’s Work” Grandpa meant - move in next door to whomever was the current LDS Prophet and daily write him letters telling what new revelation God had given him to give to the Prophet.

By the end of the week, he packed up the family and him, his first wife, and their twelve children, escaped from the police and social workers of Old Orchard Beach, Maine, leaving their house and everything they owned behind, to flee to Utah, in what some locals still remember today and describe as “the leaving of the gypsy caravan, lead by a VW Bus and a yellow Willies Jeep”.

About 2 years later, in the mid-1960’s my grandmother, one day grabbed her four youngest babies and fled the house. She never said what happened, only that he was “about to kill the two girls and I had to get them out of there fast”, with nothing but her four youngest children, ages 2 to 12, she WALKED all the way from Salt Lake City, Utah to Biddeford, Maine, once in a while hitching rides with bands of hippies. She remained in Biddeford for the rest of her life, and became known as “the crazy roller skater with the 3 wheel bike”. There was no mistaking her in her bright colored Hawaiian muu-muus, silk kimono, twin pig tails, and roller skates. The VERY SAME muu-muus and kimono that I wear today.

A short time later, grandpa married his second wife, whom was found strangled to death a few years after that. Officially it was listed as a suicide, but other reports came out later, saying she had died of a heart attack, diabetes, and other things. Some suspected murder. Today no one ever seems to know for sure what had happened to her, and the story has changed many times over the years.

Grandpa moved depending on where various LDS Church leaders lived. Each time he moved, at least one of his neighbors were found murdered shortly after. He was very vocal in saying that in each case they deserved it, because they were “dirty Mexicans anyways”. At the time of each death, he had one of his sons living with him, and rumors soon started up, that the son was a hit man or a member of a group in Utah whom call themselves “The Avenging Angels”. This rumor began circulating due to the fact that he spent more time in jail and prison than out of it. The rest of the family stay far away from him and tell wild tales about him. I only meet him once, but he was drunk out of his mind and running down a driveway throwing furniture at an on coming car - ours, and that was enough to scare me into never getting near him again.

From the 1960’s onward, the eleven of the twelve surviving children (the youngest boy had died before my grandmother’s terrified flight back to Maine; officially died of whooping cough, though both parents loudly accused the other of murder) grew up, got married, and went on to start promoting what they called “The Royal Atwater Clan”, complete with newsletters and instructions being printed up and mailed out to each of the “Twelve Tribes“. Compounds began to pop up all over the place: in Maine, Wyoming, Utah, Australia, and elsewhere. They started spreading out and what was weird - their children don’t leave home. They get married, and their spouses move in with them. Children, grandchildren, and in the biggest one, there are now even great grand children. Multi generations live in one small series of cabins, sheds, tents, trailers, rarely actual houses, there’s one living in this thing built out of some sort of old gas tanks or oil barrels - those type that sit out behind a house, and another that’s built a make shift house by connecting lots of trailers together in every direction, but no matter what they live in, always they are all clumped onto tiny plots of land. Each group was lead by “a Patriarch“, except one which was lead by the “Matriarch“ instead (this being the one I grew up in). And when you visit them, they great you and say “Welcome to the Atwater Family Compound”, and one will tell you, that he‘s single handedly trying to have enough children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren (15, 37, and 4 at last count) to increase the LDS/Mormon church population enough for the church to put a Temple in Maine. He than gives all his daughters, granddaughters and great grand daughters hell if they are not popping out at least one baby a year, any girl over 16 without a husband and a baby is condemned to Hell in his book, and he praises the one who had two sets of twins in 2 years, on top of the 3 she already had. It’s like he’s running a baby mill or something. Crazy is as crazy does, I say. He made his wife have 15, and gives the daughters and granddaughters and nieces and daughter-in-laws, and even non-relative females at his local church, hell if they can’t keep up with his poor worn out wife. It’s like a competition to see who can have the highest amount of kids before they drop. It’s sick. All he cares about are the numbers.

Not all of the even children built up “compounds” or set out to putting David H’s plan into action. The oldest daughter, and by far the child who received the worst of the torture, escaped with the help of a Bishop and his wife, who allowed her to hid out in their house until she was old enough to go on a mission. In an attempt to live a normal life she married, had children, and than lived in mortal terror when her father arrived unannounced and took over her life. After a series of hypnotherapy sessions with David H (who was now a professional hypnotist), her husband transformed into one of the most psychotic and brutal members of the Atwater Clan. His first job of order was to buy a shot gun and shoot all of her pets in the head, and than leave the dead cats and dogs hanging from the porch as ornaments. Today, 50 years and 8 husbands later, she still lives in mortal terror of her first husband who currently lives in a tent on her front porch and refuses to allow her out of her sight for a second. She stopped trying to escape him in the late 1990’s after the brutal murder of her teenaged son, which remains to this day, an unsolved mystery, and is officially listed as “an accidental shooting”.

Likewise the youngest daughter, escaped at the age of 15, changed her name, and never looked back. Today, she remains the only one of the original “Twelve” to have succeeded in living a normal life. She does however have to yearly deal with the infamous Palmyra Compound group, landing on her doorstep ever year or so, and staging their own mini-protest telling her that she is going to Hell for disowning the family. The Palmyra Patriarch goes down his list of every single sin she has ever committed, demanding she repent and be baptized or else. Of course, none of her children have ever been in prison or are listed on the national registry of sex offenders and pedophiles, a fact that can not be said of his children.

One of the more infamous groups, and by far the biggest and most successful at putting David H’s dream into action, is a wild lot, where incest is the norm and the sons routinely rape their sisters. One son, never having been taught to keep his rape habit a secret, did so at a church camp meeting and ended up doing 3 years in prison. The girls are forced to marry priests, much older than themselves, as soon as they are old enough to have their periods, just to keep them from giving birth to their own siblings. Their father, a proud promoter of this bizarre practice, says the LDS Church doctrine says it is okay because “it’s only fornication” and therefore not a sin! They were run out of Wyoming at gunpoint, by a mob of angry townspeople, all of their dogs and cats got shot to death in the chase. This was the 1980’s. They hid out in the woods behind our house for a few weeks, before moving on, to Bangor, and trying to find a way to get their son out of prison. During their time in our yard, I was shocked and appalled, that these, the most outspoken and bold preaching of the entire Clan, had no morals what so ever, and their NUDE teenaged and young adult children spent much of their time in our yard perusing sexual activities with one another. From the wild acts I saw going on right on our front lawn, it seemed the girls had not choice in the matter and the boys had free reign to do whatever the hell they pleased to their sisters. I can’t help but wonder if they have ever inspired Stephen King in his books. Go to Stephen King’s house, than head to the woods and drive for 20 minutes, and voila - there they are. The wildest, most insane pack of raving lunatics I have ever encountered. With neighbors like that, it’s no wonder King’s books are wonky.

One of the older Palmyra girls got divorced last year, much of the rest of the family disowned her. She told me: “It was 18 years old hell, I’m so glad I got out of it, FINALLY, I can live my life, but my children are going to need years of counseling.” I can’t help but wonder - I thought that exact same thing once. But there’s no getting out of it. The Twelve original Clansmen are relentless and they have friends every where. You can’t get away from them. I know. I’ve tried. I’m still trying. They just don’t give up. They won’t let you go. They won’t leave you alone. They won’t let you have a minute’s peace. They will not let you live your life. If they can not control you, they will do every thing in their power to make you wish you were dead. It’s the way they are. It’s the way their father taught them to be.

Fortunately, after the death of “The Patriarch”, David Henry Atwater, my grandfather, most of the compounds just sort of fizzled and died out. I think there is only one, maybe two, left today. It seems, that without his constant lording over them and telling them how to live, they sort of “fell astray” of his “great big dream” and didn’t continue onward in his ever stranger path of bitterness, hatred, dominating male ego, slave females, and unwanted babies left and right. My high priest whom has meet with many of the Clansmen, included David H, himself, described them as “A band of gypsies, crossed with the Mafia and a hive of angry bees”. Seeing the change in many of the Clansmen, after David H’s death, he also commented, that it seemed the family had been hypnotized into doing the things they had done, and with David H’s death the spell was broken, for several of them soon after the funeral, suddenly started acting “normal” people, for the first time. The death of the Patriarch, ultimately brought about an end of The Twelve Tribes of David Henry Atwater, and today only a few of it’s most devoted members, continue on trying to live David H’s bizarre dream.

The original compound is still in the family. It get sifted back and forth between various members of the original twelve, depending on who happens to have enough money to pay the taxes on it at the time. It’s a monstrous piece of land many hundreds of acres, all dense forest, and include a giant swamp and Canton Pond. It has no road access. You have to drive a tiny dirt path for nine miles, than park your car and hike the rest of the way, for about 2 miles.

One of the strangest traditions of the Atwater Clan is the yearly pilgrimage to Canton. That being the case, I myself have been to Canton many times, but not, because they wanted me there, but rather, because I had something they needed to get there with: my giant old Dodge.

There are well over 200 people in the Atwater family and to take everybody anywhere requires an entire gypsy caravan, with as many people as possible, bringing along as many of the biggest cars they could get their hands on, and well, my 19 foot long Dodge, topped even the biggest car anyone else could come up with. Even a big car rarely reaches 14 feet, most are big at only 12 feet. The average car is just 9 feet. My Dodge at 19 feet, is bigger than an 18 foot Limo. And it’s wide. If you pack in right, you can sit 8 people across the back and 4 across the front, more if people sit on other people laps, which in a family this size, happens often, in some cases, triple decker happens. Dangerous, illegal, and they don’t give a damn.

They are like Salmon returning to their spawning grounds and nothing can get in the way of them and Canton once they’ve set their mind to making the trip up there. It’s a 6 hour drive from my house. They’d all land in my yard (usually unannounced) at 3AM, declare they was going to Canton, and they was going to go in my car or else. By selectively packing people in, the trip was usually made in four cars, though there should have been 10 or 12 cars to legally take the trip. The trip to Canton when I was 9 years old, was one of the last things my car did, and I think it was what killed it. The car was dangerously overloaded with people, and after only 3 miles into the woods, we hit a tree root and sunk to the ground, as the giant leaf springs snapped and gave way to the extra weight in the back seat, bringing the body panels down hard on the axel, and setting the gas tank right on the ground. People unloaded, and they very bitchingly walked the rest of the nine miles into the woods. If you look up under the car today, 30 years later, you can see the extent of the damage that was done that day - the springs are laid out flat, the rear axel is twisted, and the rocker panels are cracked. Did they care? No! Did they pay for the damage they did to my car? Of course not! They are Atwaters, since when did an Atwater take responsibility for ANYTHING they did. Not once. Not ever. Not to nobody. And if you ask them, they proudly boast as much. Why? They will gladly answer that with “Because I’m an Atwater. I don’t have to. I’m better you. You’re nothing but trash. I don‘t own you a thing.” That’s why my car died. And that why it never got fixed, because I was a prisoner of a clan of inconsiderate pompous jerks.

Well, after the Goldeneagle died, of course they no longer asked me to go on the trip to Canton, because they never wanted me there to begin with, they just needed my car. So that was the last time I would to Canton, until 1991, when the All High and Mighty Lord Patriarch David H, himself made the trip from Utah to Canton Maine - and for him, nothing but the “newest and most expensive car” would do, because he was by this point calling himself “The Right Hand of God”, after he had pushed Jesus Christ out of that spot of course. At 90 years old, his delusions had grown dramatically and he was now way beyond being “The True LDS Prophet”, he had squashed Jesus right out of second place behind God and was dangerously close to actually claiming he was God. And in spite of his advanced age, at 6 foot 4 he still towered over every one and now had the addition of a cane to whack you with if you disobeyed him, so every one was still terrified of him. Three stomps of the cane, and all the Utah Atwaters stood board stiff at attention, three more stomps of the cane, and they marched like soldiers. Talk about brainwashing, I had never seen anything like it before or since. When the younger Maine Atwaters questioned this, he started laughing like the Joker out of Batman, than waving his cane dramatically in front of these zombie like drones, said “My slaves! I hypnotized them. They’ll follow me to Hell hook, line, and sinker.” Every one went all “oooooo” and “aaaahhh” and marveled “He has the power of God to command armies” or “we a blessed to have such a powerful prophet in our family”…. I said: “You’re sick.” right to his face.

It was like a bomb had dropped. Dead silence. Not a peep. Every one went white as a ghost and no one dared breathe, I don‘t think any one had ever defied him before. Grandpa’s face went from red to purple and back again, and suddenly the cane went flying in a flurry over his head and through the air as every Bible scripture with the word Hell or Satan in it came pouring from his mouth, quickly followed by Book of Mormon scriptures about sinners in lakes of fire, and than every Doctrine and Covenant Scripture that condemned a person to Outer Darkness. I spouted right back at him, and this, stunned every one, for it seemed, that though Grandpa was a walking Bible, no one else among them, had any real knowledge of scripture. It was one of the things that made Grandpa “The Prophet” and yet, here I was a 14 year old kid, matching his scriptures turn for turn. In my many years of isolation, I did a lot of reading and nine times out of ten I was reading the Bible. I knew it very well, possibly better that he did. It baffled and confused them, no one was supposed to know scripture as well as he did - not one single person in the entire world - they said so, many times, they just could not understand how I was keeping up with him, and Grandpa had the solution:

“Satan is among us!” he declared. Waving the cane in my direction, he babbled on about how only Satan would know the scriptures so well, to be able to challenge God’s Prophet (him). Than came a rant about the anti-Christ, 666, the beast, demons, (all of which he said I was) and finally the declaration:

“You’ve been possessed by your grandmother’s evil spirit! OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH the dark days are ahead! OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOh, Lord hear our prayers! OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOh Lord! Cast this evil out from among us! OOOOOOh….”

He did the OOOOOhs good, you had to admit, got the right pitch and every thing, to really carry it off and penetrate to your very soul. Well, he had been doing this for 90 years now. While I had meet him on a few quick passing occasions before, this was just my first confrontation with the Almighty Prophet face to face, and well, I had to admit, I wasn’t all that impressed. The fact that he made a few mistakes in his scripture quoting, and I corrected them, did not help matters any either. “The Prophet does NOT MAKE mistakes!” he roared. “I guess you aren’t a prophet than, are you?“ And we hadn’t even gotten in the car yet. This was going to be one hell of a trip.

Well, I had heard the stories about Grandpa and his hatred of all things female, and his delight at locking up females in small dark places, and I was about to get a look at that first hand too. The most expensive (and therefore the best, according to him) car in the family that year, was my mom’s brand new, two week old, fresh off the showroom, less than a 1,000 miles on it, Honda Civic. A small car, but, when all the other cars that had been brought along were gypsy jalopies 20 to 30 years old, it was the brand new car, that had to cart Grandpa’s royal red ass to Canton that year. Every one piled into the cars, I was shoved into the trunk, and quickly buried under several food and drink coolers, and than a dog was thrown in on top of that. And for the next six hours I was not allowed to move as I was driven against my will to Canton in the trunk. This day did not do nice things to my spell casting witchcraft reputation, that’s for sure, because once out of the trunk, my raging fury was to scream every single “curse you to hell” type scripture I could thing of, than grab the dog, and storm off into the unknown forests of Canton alone. I did something than, that deeply confirmed Grandpa’s fears and quickly terrified every member of the Atwater Clan into firmly believing without a doubt I was a witch, and not only was a witch, but I was an evil Voodoo witch at that, though I did not know this at the time.

In my wandering rage, I got myself lost and came out at the edge of the vast acres upon acres, wide swamp. I sat there with the dog, a small white terrier, and counted frogs. Out in the water, I noticed a huge leather back turtle basking in the sun. I was looking at the turtle, when a long loud blast than a crash, went out over the woods, it was nothing I had ever heard before. It happened again and again, and than it occurred to me, I had walked right into moose territory at mating season and up ahead of me were two bull moose battling it out and bellowing between the blows. I took the dog and ran back towards the camp, turned myself around, and ran into a poachers den, where lay stacks of headless moose. Bones every where. There must have been twenty dead moose. Now me, I’m weird. I know, but it occurred to me that if I told any one what I had seen and heard, they would start quoting “White Monkeyisms” at me, say I was “crazy”, and not believe me, seeing how once again, I had seen something with no witnesses, so, I put down the dog, took off my coat, and filled it with as many bones as I could carry, and than walked back to the car, and filled the trunk. I made three or four trips, until I filled the trunk with so many bones that there was no way they could throw me back in there again, they were going to have to let me ride in the car, on the trip back home. And they did, they made me sit next to Grandpa, and we railed scriptures at each other all the way home steady, none stop, for 6 hours. In their crazy superstitions, no one dared touch the bones. But also in their crazy superstitions, only an evil and very powerful Voodoo priestess witch would have touched the bones to begin with. Grandpa called me a Black Mamba, and by the end of the day he had the entire Clan totally, completely, and thoroughly convinced that I was a witch of the evilest repute, had a demon living in me, and was practicing very powerful Voodoo magic, thus was his explanation as to why I “needed“ all those bones. It never once occurred to a single one of them, to think that I just didn’t want to ride back home in the trunk.

Well, that was the “Clan“, that kept my captive in this house for 27 years. As for the house I grew up in, there really is no way to describe my room. Whenever I tell people at church about it they say “You’re lying” or “Your exaggerating” or “No house has a room like that in it.” They never believe me. On Sundays, I would ask the Bishops to help me, I would tell them what my room was like, and they’d laugh and say “Good one.” No one would ever listen. No one would believe me. The room I was kept locked up in, had no floor. It had no ceiling. Rats came up through the ground at night. Snow or rain came down through the ceiling. I have found that it’s easier to show you the room I spent 27 years of my life in, rather that describe it, because pictures speak louder than words, so here it is, the room I was kept in for 27 years, and as you can see, there was no exaggeration:

There was no floor, just a few tiles laid on dirt, which washed out, by an ever expanding natural sink hole. There was no ceiling, and not much roof, the rain washed in and flooded the room, even in a slight shower. There was no form of heating system what so ever. It was more of a woodshed attacked to the back of the house, than and actual room with in the house. (My brother’s room was nearly identical, except that the sink hole under his floor had already given way, living a deep and dangerous well-like pit in his room. My other two brothers did not have a room at all, and were forced to sleep in our mother’s bed with her, one on either side of her, until they were 15 years old. They were 12 before she would let them shower alone, and only than after they made a huge protest about how they did not like taking a shower in the tiny 2 foot square stall with her at the same time she was taking one, and than told her she needed to grow up, put some clothes on and stop parading around naked in front of them like a slut - that came from a 12 year old boy to his 40+ year old mother!)

I lived in this room for 27 years of my life. Now you can see why I said my tarp “tent” was drier and warmer there where I had lived before, so adapting to being homeless was pretty easy for me, because even that was still a step up from what I was living in before than!

That room is also why today I have and use, no bed. I had no bed in that place. I had a mattress that the rats lived inside of, therefore I did not use it. I slept on the floor, in a torn up, cast off sleeping bag. I have difficulty talking today, because in all that time, no one ever talked to me. I have bizarre eating habits today, and often go days with out food, nibbling on things here and there, because that is how I ate in this room. No one ever talked to me, and I ate whatever food scraps and leftovers I could find, after every one else was done eating. I was never allowed to eat with the others, nor was I allowed to use a chair or the table and eat instead on the floor. When in a fit of rage, which often happened, the Matriarch would take a dish and smash it, just to prevent me from eating off of it. Her temper was fierce.

When I was 12 years old, I meet the first and only person to ever make any attempt to help me, a man who, addmitingtly was not mentally stable himself, but did try to help out in his own strange way, as best as he knew how, he is the man who would later become known as my beloved high priest. I was 16, when he saw my room for the first time and was shocked and appalled by the living conditions, and my mother’s extreme neglect and outright animosity towards me. On one of his very first visits, he witnessed her grab a plate of food out of my hand and throw it at the wall shattering the plate. She told him the dish could not be used again anyways, because my “vile germs” had come into contact with it. He returned the next day with a set of dishes for me to use so I did not have to contaminate my mother’s.

In a few weeks time, he discovered that my “food” consisted of me scrapping off the burned edges of saucepans, at 1 AM after every one was asleep, because I was not allowed to get food otherwise. (He had a weird work schedule and showed up at the house at the oddest of times). The next day he stormed in, told my mother he was taking me to the store, and bought me a set of sauce pans to cook with, and than made a habit of buying food every month, and putting it up on a high shelf hidden in the ceiling of my room, so that I could sneak out into the kitchen after my mother had gone to sleep, and cook and actual meal, rather than try to survive on scraps. He brought me a roll up foam mattress on another visit, and a pillow and blankets on another, so that I could at least have something soft to sleep on, and something to keep me warm. If it had not been for this man, I would never have known about “normal” meals, “normal” shopping.

He would continue to daily visit me in this manner until March of 2003. Other problems were soon discovered however, when he realized that as fast as he was bringing things over to help change my living conditions, these very things were also vanishing just as quickly, due to the fact my mother was throwing them in the woodstove saying “You don’t deserve this, you filthy bitch.” He arrived one day, to see the fire in a roaring blaze during an August heat wave, and upon looking inside found many of my drawings, art, and manuscripts reduced to ash. He returned the next day with the infamous safe that would eventually house the only surviving copy of my 1993 anniversary edition of Friends Are Forever: The Twighlight Manor Series Volume #1. My books, though more than 30 volumes were written and published, fast became obscure and desperately hard to find, due to the fact that she would gather up things from in my room every Sunday whilst I was in church with my high priest, and by the time services were over, all the books had been burned. Only the one that had been locked in the safe, is known to still exist today. Even the original manuscripts and the original paintings of the books’ illustrations were burned, making the republication of these obscure books, nearly impossible.

This man would also become, the only person, whom, to date, in nearly 40 years, I have been able to carry on a full conversation with, without the horrible stutter than makes understanding my spoken words nearly impossible. Around strangers, I either talk at hyper speeds so fast that no one can make out a single word, or I talk with a stutter that trips up my words to the point that you can’t tell what the words are. But with this one man, I am able to talk, slow and normal, with no stutter and no problems at all. Logic would seem to say that if I could talk normal to one person, I should be able to talk normal to anyone, but for some reason this logic does not hold true, and most times my verbal words are a jumbled unintelligible mess no matter how hard I try to speak normally.

It was my high priest who taught me about such things as using toothpaste, brushing my teeth, wearing deodorant, and that I should take weekly showers and baths instead of washing my hands and face in the sink once every month or so. Before he told me about them I did not know you was supposed to do any of those things. More recently he’s tried to teach me about shaving. He says women are supposed to shave under their arms and their legs. I’ve figured out how to shave under my arms, but not how to shave my legs. I’ve cut myself terrible several times and gave up, because I don’t know what I am doing wrong, and I don’t know any women, and my high priest is the only man I know (not including Etiole, of course), so I don’t have any one I can ask, to show me how to use a razor or how to shave my legs without cutting myself.

My high priest was often infuriated by the fact, that though my parents had the money to repair the roof and floor of my room, they considered such a project “unnecessary” and “an extravagance”, though this did not stop the Matriarch from buying a new pair of $100 shoes ever few weeks, nor buying an $800 TV for her own room, or an equally expensive karaoke machine, quickly followed by two more karaoke machines, 3 guitars each over $400, or spending $200 for Avon orders twice per month, or her weekly shopping sprees at JCPenny’s for new clothes because “I can’t wear the same thing to Church more than once” and lets not forget get her brand new, two week old, right off the showroom, less than 1,000 miles on it Honda Civic mentioned earlier, or the fact that it was only one of more than 20 cars she had owned in those 27 years I was in that room. My mom’s overbearing spending habit’s proved to be my dad’s downfall, however, when, she got out credit cards, attached them to his bank account and than in a matter of weeks, racked up nearly $20,000 in debts. When my father was laid off from his job, during my teen years, things went from bad to worse, as my mother, using what she called “Kenneth Copeland’s power of positive thinking” to spend even more money than ever before, running my father into bankruptcy. “Kenneth Copeland’s power of positive thinking” method, involved, thinking about something you wanted, than buying it, even though you do not have the money for it, and than by praising God loud enough, He’ll pay the bill for you, so you don’t have to. Ludicrous and something I thought my mother had made up, until I read some of Kenneth Copeland’s books, a listened to his tapes. Yep. He DID tell people to do exactly that! People actually BELIEVE that God is going to come floating down and pay your bills for you? I don’t know, but I think the day God does something like that the whole world would know because it’d make front page news, just if God ever showed his face at all!

My high priest was even more infuriated, when HE bought the materials to fix the roof of my room, than my mom ordered my dad to use them to put a new roof over HER room instead! The next week, my high priest returned and fixed the roof of my room himself. Two days later, he took me to Church services, and that night we returned to find all his work undone, and my roof, now far worse off than it had been BEFORE he had fixed it!

One summer a huge hurricane hit. We get hurricanes every year, but only rarely does one hit hard enough to evacuate the town. Old Orchard Beach was being evacuated for this one, but we did not leave because “God was with us and would protect us”. My high priest, being very worried about us after the storm, came immediately to our house to find out how we were. He was deeply concerned about me, due to the fact it only took a light shower to flood my room, and he was seriously questioning if my room would even hold up to the wind. My mom’s answer to his worries and concerns were: “She’s fine, the hurricane didn’t do any damage.” Relieved he came into my room.

Upon entering my room, however, he was meet with the 20 foot top of a 150 foot pine tree, that had been hit by lightening and came done point first like a spear through my roof, through my sleeping bag, through my floor and deep into the dirt below. Had I been in my sleeping bag when it came down, it would have beheaded me. He was horrified, not only by the fact that it had happened, but also by the fact that my mother passing it off as not of any importance, seeing how it had happened to me and not her. Saying that, “She’s fine, the hurricane didn’t do any damage,” was my mother’s way of saying “Damn it missed her, better luck next time”, and what she ment when she said it was, that I was nothing but a worthless, insignificant, unimportant nothing, and since the damage was only to my room, therefore no harm had been done because, only I had been harmed. If my high priest had not removed the tree from my room, it would probably still be there today, because my mother would not have done it, and she would have beaten my father if he had removed it. And as you can see from these photos all these years later, the hole in both the roof and the floor, were never fixed.

The addition of the hole in the floor, now left my room open to visits from snakes, skunks, brown rats, river rats, muskrats, squirrels, raccoons, wild cats, and opossums, which became nightly problems. I would stay awake at night, crouched on the floor, in the corner by the door, holding a pitchfork, and fighting off the herds of rats that poured in each night. The pitchfork was to keep the rats from biting me.

When I told my high priest about the rats, he thought 1 or 2 rats, not 100 or 200 rats. He stayed one night and waited to see, and see he did - hundreds of rats. He was horrified, and returned the next day with cases of Decon which he poured down the hole and under the rotted floor boards. Eventually, due to many months of his persistence, he finally eradicated the rats and I was once again able to sleep at night, or was I? Since the invasion of the rats, I have not been able to sleep at night without every light in the house on. To this day I have a phobia of darkrooms and being bitten by rats.

There was no way to get out of this house. It had two doors, one on the front and one on the back, both, had padlocks, deadbolts, piano hook latches, and chain locks, in addition to the regular key locks.

There were only a few windows in the house, but all were nail shut so they could not be opened, and had deadbolts on them as well. Some had wire fencing nailed over them, others have boards nailed over them to create wooden “bars”, all had sunblocking curtains which where nailed down to prevent their being opened.

This window, looks out, at the spot where Tajid was killed. Had this window not had a black curtain nailed over it in August of 1991, Tajid might still be alive today, for this window is over the kitchen sick, and I had been standing at eye level with the window washing dishes, when I heard his horrendous screams.

And this padlock, is the one that ultimately cost Tajid his life, for though I ran to the door when I heard his screams - I had to get through this lock to get out side, and only the Clan Matriarch, my mother, had the keys, and when I asked her to unlock the door, she said “You’re just lying to run away.” As usually she was in bed, still not up, and it was well past none. I knew from Tajid’s scream, something was terribly wrong, but with the windows black out there was no way to see outside to see what was happening, and with the padlocks on the doors there was no way to get out of the house to find out what was happening. It took 20 minutes of pleading and begging before she would drag her ass out of bed, hunt out the secret hidden key, and than stand there lecturing me on all the reason why I was evil for asking the door to be unlock, before she would finally unlock to door. As you know, by the time I found Tajid and the others, it was too later, 3 of them were already dead, and the other two beyond saving. That day effected my life in mores ways than one - besides everything else, I developed a fear of padlocks, deadbolts, and overall locks in general. And so began the summer of 1991, my 14th year of life and the murder trail that turned my world upside down and drove me to deep depression and fits of suicide.

Thankfully, the Old Orchard Beach division which I grew up in, no longer exists. It ceased to exist in April of 2005. The Old Orchard Beach Police unknowingly shut it down, the night they carried off it’s Matriarch, and forced her to leave the town. She moved to Biddeford with her three boys and continues to run the cult operation on a much smaller scale, jumping through huge loophole in attempt to keep it hidden from the public. She is the same woman who is behind about 70% or more of the vandalism and violence that has been directed towards me in the last 10 years. The police were here on a domestic violence call - one of many - prior to 2005, the Old Orchard Beach Police were at our house 4 or 5 times a month, but because no one would press charges against her, the only times they actually did anything was the summer in 1994 when they arrested her for beating her husband in the head with first a brick and than a jelly jar, and than in April 2005, when they came because SHE called them.

It was the day I officially escaped from the Atwater Clan. (Though unofficially I had established my freedom in 2001, I had returned to help get my 3 brothers out.) She left the house, and left me alone in it, for the first time, which meant for the first time, I was inside the house WITHOUT the padlocks locked. I ran to my dad’s house which was just down the street and told him what had been going on, he came to the house, my dad, a retired Old Orchard Beach fire man who had seen countless deaths caused by people who could not unlock a dead bolted door fast enough, took one look inside and than took down the padlocks, deadbolts, chain lock, piano hook locks and all of the other assorted locks than ran up and down the whole length of the front door, changed the key locks, and gave me the keys. (My dad, btw, owned the house, my mom was renting it from him.) When she returned home that night, to find the padlocks removed and the key lock changed, she went into one of the worst rages I have ever seen, and began tearing the siding off the house and than started punching her way through the wall (the hole is still there today). She than started smashing the glass out of the windows, but forgot that she had boarded up the windows from the inside and could not get in due to the means she had gone to prevent me from getting out. She called the police, than tore the shutters off the house and proceeded to use them as a battering ram to try to break down the boards, she herself had nailed over the windows, while screaming at the top of her lungs “I‘m going to kill you, you demon possessed bitch child of Satan“ over and over again. That is what she was doing when the police arrived (the station being about 2 minutes from our house). Two officers leapt from their cars and with out saying a word ran to the house grabbed her and put her in a patrol car, while they called a med team to come in for a psych back up, and female officer to do an arrest.

I don’t know what happened after that, because they than went to my dad’s house and were over there for a long time. Next thing I knew one officer came in to take all of my mom’s belongings out of the house, while telling us that she had married some guy in Biddeford and was moving out. He assured us (me and me three brothers) several times that we would be safe now. (I don’t know his name, but this officer is one who had been here many times before, so he knew there had been a multi-year history of domestic violence calls; if anybody ever wrote out a report, it was usually him; if you go to the station and ask for “the young bald guy, name begins with L” they always know who you mean, and that’s him.) Apparently my mom had been married for a month or so, but no one knew about it, it was yet another of her many secrets she kept from every one. She’s good at that, to the pint that there are several members at church who behind her back call her “The Sneaky Snake”.

And that, I thought, was the end of it. I was wrong, of course, things got ten times worse after that, and without me under lock and key any more, she was more violent than ever. But, anyways. Does that answer your question?

Q. There has been quite a bit of talk about sending you to see a psychiatrist or a psychologist, along with accusations which say you refuse to go to one. Different people are saying different things. Which is true?

EelKat: Well, first off, it’s the psychiatrists and psychologists who are refusing to see me, not the other way around. I’d like to see a psychologist, I want to see a psychologist, but they won’t take me. A case like mine, it ain’t a three visits and you’re cured case, it’s a three visit’s a week for the next 30 years and you still got another 40 years of 3 meetings to go case. In other words, it’s all about the money. If I was a millionaire I’d have psychiatrists and psychologists lined up at my front door fighting each other off so they could get the exclusive on my case. But, I have no money, which means I get told “Yes, this is an interesting case, but my rate is $200 an hour…”

I did go the a psychologist once, in 2005, on court orders. He wanted to study me. He said I was an “bizarre anomaly”, but he said he lacked the funding to take my case. The State paid for one visit.

My limited income (rarely more than $200 per month, and often much less) and my ineligibility to get medical insurance of any form has prevented me from going to one. So people, like my mom, who go around loudly saying I am refusing to get help, are lying to you, because I WANT help, I’ve tried to get help, I’m being DENIED help, because I’m poor and can’t afford to pay for help. I know I need to talk to some one. I know it would help me if there was one single solitary person on this planet who would sit down and actually have a decent conversation with me, without yelling at me, without screaming at me, with out calling me demon possessed, with out saying I’m a witch, with out telling me I’m a filthy bitch, without saying I’m evil and going to hell. I would love for there to be a person out there somewhere who would talk to me just once - for once in my entire life - to have some one actually talk with me in a nice kind, friendly, none condemning, non judgmental way - I would love that, I want that. No one has ever talked with me before. That’s the real reason I don’t talk - there is no one for me to talk WITH.

As for what they say about my not wanting to go to psychiatrists and psychologists, I can explain what it is they are referring to when they say those things about me. When I was a kid, I was constantly threatened with being sent to Pine Land Center. Oh, I knew what Pine Land Center was all right. I knew where it was and what it looked like, because we went there lots of times throughout my childhood.

My mom would load me into the car and we’d drive for hours with her screaming at the top of her lungs. We’d drive halfway across the state to New Glouster. We’d drive past the big horse farm and the place with the giant angus bulls and an ancient stone tower, and we drive past the weird weather station thing, and than we’d reach the miles of long white fences, and there it was: Pine Land Center. We’d drive around back and she’d leap out of the car and point up at the huge brick building with the prison bars on the windows, screaming: “Look at that! You see that! Those people live behind bars. They never go outside. You have a garden. Do you see any gardens around here? They’re all crazy. That’s what happens to crazy people. They get locked up in Pine Land Center and we forget about them because no one wants them. Once they get in there they never come out. No one ever comes back for them. Do you want to live here? Answer me you filthy bitch! You want to live in this place for the rest of your life and never see the light of day again? Well than you’d better wise up or that’s where I’m putting you! It’s where trash like you belongs. Every one in that place would be glad to be in your position. They don’t want to be in there. No one wants to be in there. You don’t wise up, that’s where you are going. We can go in and talk to Dr. Collins right now or you can get back in the car and go home.”

Some times I wondered, by the way she talked, if she had ever been in Pine Land Center herself at some point, because she talked about it like she knew the inside of the place pretty well. And I always wondered if we had some relative locked up in there, whom no one ever mentioned. There were rumors about my mom’s mother having a “crazy sister”. And a few years after Pine Land Center closed it’s doors, I meet for the first and only time, my Great Aunt Josephine, who told me I was the first visitor she had had in nearly 30 years, she said no one in the family visited her, ever since the accident. She explained someone had hit her in the head with a baseball bat and it messed up her brain (and her face, which was a twisted mess) and that she was alone in the hospital for years and had thought her family had forgotten about her. She died about 2 weeks later, so I never got to ask her for more information about who had beaten her with a base ball bat or what hospital she had been locked away in all those years and years. And after I meet her, I always wondered, if the hospital she kept talking about was Pine Land Center, and if that’s why my mom was so obsessed with that place.

And what inspired these trips? Well, on one occasion I wanted to watch the Smurfs on TV and next thing I knew we was driving for Pine Land Center. I was about 6 at the time. I used to watch Smurfs on my mom’s TV - I was allowed to watch one TV show per week and from age 6 to 8 all I wanted to watch was Smurfs. One day my mom watched it and realized there was wizards on it and she went screaming through the house about “those evil Satanic Dungeons and Dragons shows” and I was never allowed to watch Smurfs again. In her mind, I wanted to watch Smurfs, therefore I was evil and should be locked up in Pine Land Center. All the trips to Pine Land Center started off over something like this. Scooby Doo cartoons set off a couple of them - you know, all those evil ghosts.

But yeah, we drove up to Pine Land Center a good 4 hour drive four or five times a year for about ten years. It was her big threat to me, if I didn’t stop talking about Etiole and saying he was real. She got the shock of her life, the day we drove all the way up there to find the place closed down, boarded up, empty and abandoned, with a big “for sale” sign standing out front. It became one of the old abandoned mental hospitals after that. That didn’t stop the yearly trips up there though. We’d still go up there a couple of times a year and drive around the grounds, which are huge and spread on for like 2 or 3 thousand acres - the place is just monstrous in size.

A few years ago some working farm group bought it and now it’s open to the public, so, yep, I’ve actually been inside several times now as well, because, my mom, she still drives up there every year. Usually on “open farm day” in July, she goes, because that’s when thousands of people go, because they open up the gardens to the public than. It’s like a big local agricultural holiday here in Maine, and lots of people spend all year waiting to go to Pine Land Center now. The last time she dragged me up there was in 2004, I was 29 years old.

I was about 17 when Pine Land Center shut down, and after that she had to find another mental health hospital type place to threaten me with. She choose the Sweetser Home in Saco. We’d drive up the mile long driveway and there were the llamas and little bantam roosters running around the big old Victorian farm house. It didn’t look bad really. Pine Land Center was all cold and dead looking, but this place was warm and friendly, and it had roosters, my favorite animals, running all over the yard, and I could see from looking at the place from the drive way, the patients were right out there taking care of the animals themselves. Pine Land Center terrified me. I’ve always had a problem with my phobia of hospitals. Sweetser Home, looked nothing like a hospital, it looked like a farm. I like farms.

The Sweetser Home threat did not work out like she planned. I was supposed to be terrified of it, and want to go back home with her, but I was all ready to get out of the car and go hug the Red Pile Old English Game Rooster that was walking towards the building. I’d always wanted a Red Pile OEG but they are rare and hard to find. This was my first time seeing a real one instead of just seeing them in poultry books. (At the time, I was studying to be a judge of exotic breeds of poultry, so I was like a walking poultry encyclopedia, I could tell you the breed and history of any type chicken you showed me, and I could tell you every thing that would disqualify the bird from a show.) We only went to Sweetser Home 2 or 3 times, because the more she drove me there to threaten me with leaving me there, the more I anted her to leave me there, and it seemed, since the whole thing was nothing more than a threat and a bluff to scare me, that it became pointless to take me there if I actually wanted to stay there.

But yeah, that’s where the whole rumor about me refusing to get mental health help comes from - it comes from the fact that I was terrified of Pine Land Center, after having been dragged up there 30 or 40 times in the first ten years of my life, and has nothing what so ever to do with wither or not I actually wanted to talk to a psychiatrist or psychologist. What you got to understand here is, that I was scared of the building itself, not the doctors inside the building. That’s why she never dragged me to a local doctor’s office. I wasn’t scared of a doctor’s office, and would have gone right in. I wasn’t scared of the doctors and would gladly have talked to them. It was the building that I was scared of. Pine Land Center was a damn big building. Biggest building I’d ever seen, at least. And the building just completely terrified me. She’d start dragging me towards the building and I’d start creaming and crying and trying to run for the car. I looked up at those big windows with all the bars and it was like the building had a face, with eyes and teeth. I was terrified that the building would eat me. I completely totally believed that people were trapped inside that place, because the building had eaten them and there was no way out. Yu could not get me out of the car when we were near that building, I’d grab hold of the doors and not let go. The car was my safety net. Inside my Goldeneagle (the 1964 Dodge) I was safe. Outside of my car though, there was Pine Land Center towering down on me ready to eat me alive. You have never seen such terror as you would have seen had you been there those days while I was in the Pine Land Center being threatened with that place.

That’s why I freaked out as a teenager when Bishop Mo showed up in church one Sunday with doctors from Pine Land Center, saying there was here in church to take me away. I was in the Cape Elizabeth Church, a good 2 hour drive away from my Goldeneagle, I was trapped. I was terrified. I loved going to Church but after that day, Church was no longer “safe” and my phobia of going to church has grown steadily ever since. Thankfully the Pine Land Center doctors left the church that day, telling me there was nothing wrong with me that my finding a friend wouldn’t cure, they described me as “a very lonely child”, while they told Bishop Mo, HE needed to get psychiatric help. Well, he was standing there telling the Pine Land Center doctors that I had a demon living inside of me, after all.

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When Next You See Me I'll Look Like This:

GRAND THEFT AUTO attempt on the GoldenEagle ... A longer more detailed explanation about why I have not sleep or eaten in 4 days...Or operation rescue The Goldeneagle from car thieves, than stand guard 24 hours.

2010-04-09T06:02:00.000-04:00

I haven't eaten in 3 days, barely had anything to eat last week - why won't she get a job or a hobby so harassing me isn't her career? I have not slept in almost 70 hours - I need a break from the vandals - how do you take a vacation from stalkers? hmmm - thanks to my taking my Samuel the Lamenite persona to a new level - I've missed 2 days of #scriptfrenzy and 3 days of sleep, but the wall is built, I've been on my feet over 24 hours straight to build it, have not stopped to sit down once - I was working against a fast ticking clock, but it's built! A wall that's a foot taller than my head. It's amazing the things you can lift when you are not stopping to think about it - some of those beams weighed over 100lbs each and I had to carry each one from the "tent" to the car, a distance of 150 feet, down a cliff, across a brook, and over hilly terrine.

I sprained my ankle a few hours in, but I didn't stop, just kept right on going. Didn't check it until about 8 hours after I had sprained it, when I was wondering why my shoe was soaking wet and full of water - whoops, nope, blood. No wonder it hurt so much, don't know what I did it on, but I've not only sprained my ankle, I also have a gash from my heel to my calf, that spreads all the way around, and left a wound 4 inches across with no flesh on it anymore. Icky. I can't even look at it - it's so awful.

My first aid kit is in the Volvo and that on York Hill in Biddeford, some 15 miles away. So, I just took to walking barefoot in the water of the brook instead of across the bridge, cause the water is ice cold. That stopped the bleeding, but now today, my whole foot and lower leg is all swollen up and black and blue. Probably infected by the look of it. I'd go to the hospital if I had someone to stay here and stand guard over my car, whoops, scratch that, I've no medical insurance, hospital refused to let me in last time I had a medical emergency - no medical insurance = no admittance. :( So, I just went back to building my wall, and pretended I couldn't feel my leg. Of course, now I can't feel it, nor can I walk on it. oooh can't even touch it. Hurts like hell. But, there is no one willing help me protect my car from these vandals so, I'll worry about my leg later when I don't have more important things to worry about.

oh - and OOB, Maine tourists who've stopped over the past couple of years and asked where it went, will be glad to know my life size cross is back up. And it now has the addition of a crown of harthorns added to it - and there are people who wonder why some people call me a Jesus freak =P The Wall of Samuel the Lamenite is up, and now it's off to build Golgotha.

Do you have any idea how HEAVY a ten foot cross is? Or to hard it is to carry on your back? or how hard it is to get it up on the roof of a car? It used to be a big thing around Easter and Christmas when I put it up each year, it has lights on it, and people used to stop to get pictures of it. I put it up every year for years and years and years - than one year it didn't go up, and people wanted to know why - uhm - yeah, well, when I became homeless after the fire, I had to tie my tarp down over something so it would be shaped like a tent - the cross was being used as the support beam down the middle of the "tent". So, for three years the cross didn't go up, because I was living under it.

But it's back, my giant cross in all it's glory is standing tall and proud once again. yep - you guessed it - the cross now stands on the roof of the Goldeneagle :)

And due to the vast change in landscape - having had all my roses and lilacs pulled up - I had to change the landscape to hide the car from the view of the road - strange the things you can think to do when you have no other option. The cross isn't just standing on the roof of the car - no - that'd be too simple for me: I buried the car - the cross stands on Golgotha now. Now where once sat a car, sits a 6 foot by 19 foot hill with a 10 foot cross on top of it. Well, I'm still burying the car - it's a big car, it make Lincolns and Cadillacs and Limos look tiny. It's a huge car. I got a lot of burying to do.

The town only requested that the car not be seen from the road, that's why it was where it was and why the plants in front of and around it were planted there - and for 26 years you couldn't see it from the road, not until 2 days ago, when all my roses and lilacs got cut down and yanked up - I can't afford to buy new trees and bushes, so I had to think of another way to hide it from view of the road - well, you can't see something that's underground now can you?

Think of it as a very large grave. Well, the car IS sitting on top of an old graveyard after all (which is why I can't dig down and have to bring dirt in and build up instead - you only have to go down about two feet before you hit bones - lots of them - the whole hill on that side of the yard is one big giant unmarked grave yard - dozens of graves - that's why the hill has got all those weird sink-hole depressions in it, and how I know where not to dig). So, I'm just building a giant grave one top of a grave yard that's already there.

If you go back about 200 feet from the car, and ahead about 300 feet (and across the street) from the car, you'll find a lot more graves too but only a few random ancient headstones are there now, so almost no one knows the graves are here under and around my car and all over my yard and across our neighbors yards (3 different neighbors) - all of the Googings and Rodgers, and Rickers and Allens and Stackpoles - my family - 400 years of them, are buried here, and that's one of the reasons some folks think my car has an evil spirit in it - because it's sitting on top of an ancient Indian graveyard.

I don't know how many grave there are. The town hall burned down years ago (twice - the one now it the third one) and all the records were lost in the fire so we have no way of know who most of the people buried here are. I've got the Stackpole family Bible though, and we at least know the names of most of the people buried here, from this ancient 200+ year old Bible.

There apparently are graves pretty close to the water too, because a couple of times, long leg bones have washed up during storms. I was about 8 the first time that happened - freaked the hell out of me, I was out there looking for frogs in the swamp and all of a sudden there's these giant bones sticking up out of the mud from under the swamp.

A police officer came out and checked it out - that's when I first found out about the graves out there in the woods. He said he knew about the unmarked graves all over the woods behind our house, because some of his relatives were supposed to be buried out there, he said the whole area is littered with graves, but mostly unmarked because they were Indians. The graves are about 200 to 300 years old, and in the 1500 - 1600 this area was a huge apple orchard field, the pine trees were not here yet, back than, and the French settlers lived with the Indians and both used the field to bury their dead. The brook, was much smaller than, and the giant pines had not taken over yet, so over the years, the graves got damaged by the tree roots and the ever expanding swamp lands. (If you look at the land scape, you can see the old stone walls and foundations around the pine trees you have to dig down about 8 or 9 inches under the dirt to find the stones - they are really deep - but I've looked for them and they are there - so he was right, the pine trees were not here yet when the graves were first buried.) So he figured the brook opened up one of the graves and washed the bones down into the swamp.

But than again - the swamp is a peat bog with quick sand in it, so it could have been someone lost their footing out there years ago. I know the path through the swamp so I've got no problems skipping the quicksand, but I wold not recommend any one else try going out into the swamp, because I have no idea how deep those quicksand traps go and if they are deep enough you could get pulled under fast. There have been times when I've slipped and gotten my leg stuck and I know for a fact that they go as deep at least to my thigh, and likely much deeper. The swamp looks calm and peaceful, but it is dangerous to walk in if you don't know it well.

It's because of the graves, and the fact that Etiole never leaves this spot, (never except to head back to France or to York Hill in Saco, that is - I've never known him to go any place else), he pretty much stays in the 4 or 5 acre spot that the graves cover - that is why it was once suggested that Etiole was in fact a ghost. Actually, his clothing style, which is very, very 1600's and he speech being a very old style French, and all his memories of things back than, does in fact suggest that his being the ghost of one of the people buried on this hill, a very good possibility. It would explain a lot, though it does not explain every thing, but it would explain a lot. Like why Etiole gets so pissed whenever any one starts digging in the ground around here. That's also why it's so silly for these vandals to say that getting rid of my car will get rid of Etiole, because he's been here for some 360 years now and the car is only 40 odd years old!

But anyways, getting back to me building Golgotha...just think of it as a very large grave. And now when I eventually restore my car, it really will be a resurrection, because I'll have to dig it back up first =P

4 days with out food now - I still can't eat, my stomach is just so twisted up - does any one know how to settle an over stressed stomach? Still no sleep yet either - I don't think I've ever gone longer than 3 days without sleep before - same as my stomach - too stressed. My body feels like it's gone way beyond numb, but I can't fall asleep - it's never been this bad before. I'm like, gone way beyond stressed now and it's like I'm not in my body at all any more. I feel really, really weird and light headed, and I feel like I'm up over my body looking down at it. My eyes hurt, every thing is blurry and it's hard to type. I don't know, I've never felt like this before. My heart has been going at a wicked fast pace steady all day and night for the past couple of days, but now it's like it's going so fast that I can't feel it at all any more. It's just a really weird feeling. My leg doesn't hurt right now though, nothing hurts right now. I'm all like numb and can't feel anything. My fingers are not really feeling the keyboard as I type either. It's like I'm across the room watching myself type. It's just so...weird. I think I've gone waaay beyond my limit for lack of food and sleep.

It's like July 2, 2002 all over again - Ananias and Sapphira Day - or the day others call: The Day of the Stolen House. I didn't get any food or sleep for a few days than too, and I felt like this than, but it wasn't this bad that time. I've gone a lot longer without food or sleep this time than I did last time. It was to date - until today - the worst day of violence and vandalism yet and the day the OOB police called the state police and the state police called ABC-News. It was the day my agoraphobia hit rock bottom 'cause we had to deal with paparazzi reporters after that than spent 6 months in court every week. It was the day I officially became "famous" and was on front page news - a nightmare I never want to repeat, and why I now barricade myself in the house at the drop of a pin.

It was suggested by several people at the time, that Ananias and Sapphira Day pushed my stress levels to their limits and caused me to have a nervous break down. I think they mat be right, because I've been a jumpy nervous wreck, ever since that day, jumping at every little sound or movement now, and falling to the ground in horrible shaking fits whenever I set foot inside a Mormon Church building now, and I wasn't like that before than. Last time I entered a Mormon Church, a doctor had to take me out - it was my worst panic attack to date and it scared me so bad that I have not dared try set foot in a Mormon Church again - I didn't realize how bad my phobia of the vandals had gotten until that day. And no, the events of Ananias and Sapphira Day are not detailed in this book, because like I said, it was a stress overload for me and I can't deal with even thinking about that day, let alone trying to write about it.

But like now, Ananias and Sapphira Day was the day my panic attacks went into a super hyper overdrive and it was days before I could eat or sleep again, even though I was tired and hunger, I couldn't keep anything down, I'd start vomiting as soon as I tried eating and every time I laid down I'd just stare at the ceiling for hours wondering why I was still awake.

And while I'm thinking of dates, here is why the LDS/Mormon Church wants to excommunicate me:

July 2, 2002 all over again - Ananias and Sapphira day - or The Day of the Stolen House

July 2, 2009 - the day of a very big explosion and the man whom we called "Ananias" blew up in a freak gas explosion accident.

Exactly 7 years to the day, and hour.

July 22, 2009 - the day Bishop K called me a witch, accused me of having put a curse on "Ananias" and threatened to excommunicate me on ground of spell casting and witchcraft.

Why is it I can't remember an appointment date, but I can't get these other dates out of my head?

Here's another one:

October 21, 2001 - The Day Bush announced his war on terrorism.

October 21, 2001 - the day every thing I owned was packed up and taken to the house of mu high priest an hour's drive away.

October 21, 2001 - The day my high priest announced to the church, we were going to legalize our secret marriage.

October 21, 2001 - The first time that McEvoy guy threatened me.

That was a long and busy Sunday.

October 21, 2006 - The day vandals burnt my house down and I became homeless.

October 19, 2009 - The second time Bishop K accused me of being a witch and causing the death of some church member by casting a curse, this time a guy I didn't even know.

October 20, 2009 - The day I had a stoke - 4 hours after the Bishop's accusations, and a few hour til the 3rd anniversary of the burnt house, and 7 hours before the anniversary of the legalizing our marriage was announced.

And here's why I said that:

July 2, 2002 - The first time I felt like I do right now, and had a nervous breakdown.

October 20, 2009 - The second time I felt the way I do right now, and had a stroke.

April 9, 2010 - Today. I feel like I did those other two days again, only worse than before. Those are the dates my panic attacks went in to super major wicked hyper overdrive and I could not relax no matter what I did - like is happening this week. But it's never lasted this long before - I've been 4 days without food and nearly a week without sleep and I don't know how to fix it. It's been what - almost 70 hours now? It's like, I've gone to a point where you are beyond the ability to sleep at all anymore. Is such a thing possible?

Oh yeah somewhere out there is a picture of me in my Doctor Who CosPlay carrying a bucket of water to the hens (yes, I did see you take it).

I got pictures of my new Golgotha, will upload them later - thinking of planting flowers on the roof of my car. I turned my car into Golgotha - still burying it; I think I should make two more crosses to go on top. Hey - that was tweet # 14,000! boy, I tweet a lot don't I? (Yes, I'm typing this from Twitter, as I have done with much of the rest of this book).

Suppose I could leave an access point and just live in the car underground? There would be more room in the car than the tent - a 19 foot X 6 foot car is much bigger than a 4 foot X 6foot tarp after all - and drier too. HUGE car - yes - it's longer than some Limos - big, big, big, big car. Push button car, with an 8-track player, and when it did run it ran on weird leaded gas that I don't think they sell anymore, which means I'll have to do something about converting the gas line over when I do rebuild it.

And - the 8 track player is gone - there's a big gapping hole in the dashboard where someone cut it right out. I'm not too happy about that. Not that I would use the 8 track player, no, it's the 2 foot diameter hole in the dashboard that I'm pissed about. One more thing that needs fixing. Pitiful. And where is the chrome? All the Goldeneagle's lovely beautiful shinny sparkling 100% real chrome - chrome! And the chrome mirrors are gone, as is some of the chrome trim. I'm not too happy about that either - chrome, real chrome, not the fake stuff, is not exactly cheap, in fact, it's damn darn expensive! And why are the break drums out of the wheels and sitting on the windshield?

And what is this big hole in the fender? I mean - big hole, IN THE FENDER! A hole in the body panels! Do you have any idea how hard it is to get body panels for this car?!?!? Some one cut a hole - no, not cut - gouged and stabbed and twisted the metal all to hell, like they did it with a crow bar or something! There is a hole in my car! A hole! I can put my fist through it and touch the engine under the hood. It's like 9 inches across - and there's one on the other fender too. Not just one hole - two! There are two HOLES in my car. HOLES! Big fricking holes! Holes in each front fender in the same spot - what did they do, stick grappling hooks in it to pull it with? And let's not even start on the hood - it's like over here and the car is over there, and I'm really wanting to strangle some one right now. I've got like this giant 19 foot long jigsaw puzzle I have to put back together. What did they do to my poor car? They started stripping it down, by the look of it! EVIL! EVIL! EVIL! EVIL! EVIL! people!

I haven't written anything for the contest or updated my Script Frenzy in 3 days thanks to these stupid ass vandals. I don't even know if I'm going to be able to go to the Write In meetings any more, I mean it's not like I have a way to get there, or even if I did, like I'd dare leave my car long enough to sit through a meeting. I have to stay here in the yard on 24 hour guard duty without sleep to make sure they don't come sneaking back and try to steal my car again. Evil people. Evil people. I hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, evil destructive, cruel, no good heartless people. Well, at least I wrote 51 pages the first 3 days of the contest, and it's only day 9 now, so I'm not behind yet, at least. I havn't written anything because I write in my garden or in my car and both got trashed this week. Those sick vandals - you know - the same ones that stalk me online leaving all those nasty comments? Yeah, same ones, them again.

I don't know, I think it a waste of existance to spend your entire life stalking and vandalizing someone. Neither one of them have EVER had jobs, both are welfare bums. Not legit people who actually need help because they can't work, but the scum bags lazy types who leach off the State because they refuse to work. It's pitiful really, the way they waste time 24 hours a day following me around both online and offline. You'd think they could think of a better way to spend their time. They both need jobs to fill their time and hobbies to give them something to do other than vandalism me.

You know - maybe I should write a stage play about it? or a movie? "The Vandal Stalks at Midnight". I really need to get back to writing my script for the Script Frenzy contest, but I'm just so upset right now I can't even think about script writing right now. Than again, writing a script about what has been happening...I think I'll do that, write down every act of violence they did and write a movie about it for Script Frenzy. The Goldeneagle has been on TV and is in 30+ books and has it's own website but it's never been in a movie yet. I could write a movie script about this, and have the actual car in it's vandalized condition, in the movie.

It did almost get in a Stephen King movie accidentally, when we drove into the filming area of Thinner. You know, that scene in Thinner when all the gypsy cars are driving by? I live on that road they drove by our house. We get one hell of a weird fog that rolls in off the beach here - King wanted the cars driving through it. hhhmmmm --- I just thought of something - Steven King's seen the Goldeneagle - I wonder if he based Christine on it? A haunted demon possessed car from the 1960's and all - right where King grew up - I never thought of that before. Does anyone know where Stephen King got the idea for Christine? The timings right and he lived here than and when the Goldeneagle was on the road - it was damn famous locally - the gigantic super sized orange glittering metallic thing stood out like a soar thumb. Chrome shinning in ever direction. All that chrome. Gone. Pitiful. That's going to be so hard to replace.

But it was sort of a weird car when we got it, before we tore it down to nothing and rebuilt is from the ground up and ended up with a completely one of a kind irreplaceable custom built car.Rebuilding it in 1975 - 1976 did nothing to help it's being haunted rumors (which it already had before we bought it, for practically nothing because no body would get near the creepy thing). And the complete lack of control any one had while driving it was what started the haunted car rumors, and it's 80mph nose dive off the beach into the ocean is what killed it - the trans it full of salt and sand. It did that, while I was in the back seat of it, I might add - which is where the my being a poltergeist rumors got started from. A VW Rabbit, less than a quarter it's size, pulled it out of the ocean and back home - parked it in my garden, and it has never moved again.

It had a bad habit of reving up and speeding off by itself, than all 4 door flew open - people were terrified of it. Mechanics said it did that because it was a push button car, they figured the buttons were getting stuck down and switching the car on - church members said it did it because it had a demon living in it. We used to have to tie the door handles to the seat beats, to keep the doors shut while driving down the road. They kept popping open ever time we started going over the speed limit. Some church members, we used to take to church with us, said they felt like the car was trying to throw them out of it. Others said the "demon" didn't like folks speeding so he opened the doors and tried to push the people out whenever it went over the speed limit. In any case, after a while, the only people who would get near the car, was me, my dad, and my two grandmothers. Every one else was terrified that "that thing is out to get me".

And that's something to consider. The car was always nutty like that, and we bought it September 23, 1975, but than it wasn't until 4 years later that I first saw Etiole, and he always did sort of just stay in whatever part of the yard the car was sitting in, which is how the rumors he was the demon living in the car and causing it to act weird, got started to begin with. He showed up in our yard after we bought the car, which is how these vandals rationalize their theory that getting rid of the car will get rid of Etiole. Back in 1973 our neighbor got so freaked out over the Dodge that they filled it's gas tank with sand, to prevent it from moving. Throughout the 1970's and 1980's it was constantly getting egged or shaving creamed or toilet papered, we never found out who was do those things to it. It took it's fatal jump into the ocean in 1986, same time Etiole has his heart attack that left him crippled and nearly immobile. After we parked it in my garden, people still kept coming up in the yard - 150 back off the road - and egging the windshield. It was just, like it was the "thing to do" the whole "I'm bored lets go put shaving cream on the Allen's haunted car". That's why I originally planted the rose bushes and blackberries all around it - to stop people from doing things to it. But in 26 years, the bushes grew right up over it and wrapped it all up and it's been years since anyone has even seen it, because it can not be seen from any angle, at least, not until 2 days ago that is, when all the bushes got chopped down.

It used to be one of Old Orchard Beach's police cars, but they got rid of it because no one could handle it. Than some old guy had it and painted it a dull gold leaf, with a paint brush. Than it sat unused for ages in the back of a used car lot in Old Orchard, because no one wanted it or knew what to do with it. It got rusted out real bad during that time. In 1975 we bought it, restored it, and than put 200,000 miles on it. It's a strange car. It was a mistake - it's the 1964 limited edition version, but it's also a 1963 police car, that wasn't supposed to be a police model, but was both in one. That's why it's got that weird VIN that all out of whack. Apparently it was one of, if not the, very first 1964 built, as well as one of if not the last 1963 built. In any case, it's a factory mistake model of an already rare model, making it a super rare model. There is not known to be another one of this EXACT same mistake model made - that's why it's worth $50k even in it's current condition, because it may very well be the only one of it's kind ever built. Less than 5000 of the limited edition model was made, and less than 1000 of those were 4 door sedans, so even if it had not been a mistake, it'd still be wicked super rare. Of those original 1,000 less than 100 are known to exist today worldwide - that's why I'm so super pissed at what the vandals did to it. It's utterly impossible to buy parts for - you have to have parts custom built that's why I've not been able to get it running again. These people, know about how rare this car is - and the audacity - they still tried to steal it and sell it for junk?!!!!!!? EVIL ! EVIL! EVIL! EVIL! EVIL! EVIL! people! How do such evil people exist on this planet? But that's why no Script Frenzy writing is getting done I've been on 24 hour guard, building a wall, burying my car, and sitting on the hood of my car with no food or sleep 4-days.

I just noticed my finger is swollen up. I wonder what I did to that? I don't remember hurting it. Well, I didn't know I hurt my leg for several hours either though. I guess I was just so worked up about her stealing my car and selling it to a junk yard, that I didn't notice anything else at all for the past few day. Of course, now that I'm looking at it, my whole hand doesn't look to good and neither does my other foot - not the one that's all gashed open. I wonder if my ankle is actually broken and not sprained - it was really hurting way beyond what I should have been walking on. It's not hurting right now because I'm sitting down on the floor, with it propped up so the swelling will go down. I don't think I can walk on it now, I was so worked up that I didn't even think about it, but now that I'm sitting down, when I try to move it, it's uhm, I can't really move it. It hurts if I try to move it at all, so I have been sitting in this same position for about 5 hours now. I'm hoping it'll stop hurting by the time I have to go to my Script Frenzy Writer's Meeting tomorrow, I won't be able to go if I can't walk. I mean, it's not like I've got a car that runs at the moment, not with the Volvo going all wonky and the Dodge in the process of being buried under a 6 foot tall mound of dirt.

Well, I'm going to lay down and see if I can get a few minutes of sleep at least, I'll worry about food later, cause I think right now I'm needing sleep a lot more than food.

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How To Access and Read For Fear of Little Men for free...and why I'm doing it.

2010-04-04T06:12:00.002-04:00

Okay, over the past few days there has been much heated debate over my book For Fear of Little Men. Many rumors (all of them false) have been be heavily circulated about the book, by several members of my church. Most of these rumors are saying that my book is and I quote "anti-Mormon propaganda". I would like to comment on this accusation, and point out the fact, that I myself am a Mormon, in fact, other Mormons refer to me as "an Orthodox Saint", a term which means to say that I am one of the strictest, most serverly church-law abiding members of the Mormon church which you will ever encounter. I live the doctrines, to the letter, EXACTLY as they were laid down by Joesph Smith BEFORE they were corrupted by Brigham Young and I do not classify ANY changes made to the church AFTER Smith's death as valid or ordained by God. Even the FLDS and RLDS members have a hard time fathoming or living up to those strict standards, and as strict as they are, their members consider me and my unyielding rigid adherence to Smith's original pre-1840's church to be more than they could ever hope to live.

Their have also been rumors (also being spread by members) circulating which say that I am not LDS but rather RLDS or FLDS. These are also not true. I have never had any affiliation with either the FLDS or the RLDS churches and I wouldn't even know where to look to find them.

I was born and raised in the Cape Elizabeth Ward of the LDS Church in Cape Elizabeth, Maine, the building itself was built by hand, one brick at a time by my family, who were the FIRST, ONLY, AND ORIGINAL members of the LDS church in the State of Maine. If it had not been for my family - there would not be any LDS church buildings in Maine at all, due to an old law which forbid the LDS church from entering into Maine - my family fought to change that law to enable the LDS church to build it's very first church building in Maine - The Cape Elizabeth Ward

Later on, two Wards meet in that same building each Sunday - both the Cape Elizabeth Ward and the Portland Ward. In the 1970's the Whindam Ward broke off of it. In the 1980's the Sanford and Cornish Wards broke off of it. I than began attending the Sanford Ward, due to it's being 40 minutes closer to my home in Old Orchard Beach. In the 1990's after I had already started attending the Sanford Ward, the Saco Ward broke off of Cape Elizabeth, and the Cape Elizabeth Ward dissolved and ceased to exist leaving only the Portland Ward meeting in the building in Cape Elizabeth.

Unknown to me and without my permission or approval, the Sanford Ward sent my membership records to the Bishop of the Saco Ward, a Ward which I HAVE NEVER ATTENDED not once in my entire life. I remained in the Sanford Ward 3 years after this event took place, before I was told I could no longer attend the Sanford Ward due to the fact that the Saco ward had my records, and members are FORCED AGAINST THEIR WILL to attend which ever building hold their membership records. LDS members are, my Bishop informed me, NEVER ALLOWED THE FREE CHOICE to attend a Ward of their own chooseing and MUST BE DIS-FELLOWSHIPPED if they do not attend services in the building which church leaders have declared should hold their membership records.

How or why they choose to transfer my membership records to a building which I have never in my life attended, remains to this day, a mystery to me, as does this bizarre new law able not having any choice in which building you attend services in.

In any case. For many years, as many of you well know, I have received much violence at the hands of a few of the members - a small group, of outlandish "cultists" who are a far cry from anything the LDS church preaches or promotes. Indeed, their acts of heriacy and polygamy brand them to be followers of the FLDS church, not the LDS church which they attend. They are a small group, described by other members as "cultists" or "gypsies". They have a long history with the church, both in Maine and Utah, and are legendary for their several past attempts to overthrow the Prophet himself in Salt Lake. This bizarre family group and their multitudes of wives and at last count 264 children are behind nearly every single act of vandalism that has happened to me, my pets, and my home.

For many years they attended the Cape Elizabeth Ward and I had no peace from them. When I switched to the Sanford Ward, I FINALLY, for 3 short years, had peace and quite and was finally breaking out of my debilitating agoraphobia. Than, my Bishop in Sanford informed me that the Saco ward now had my records and I was no longer allowed to attend Sanford, and on the 2 occasions I returned since than, both times I was forcibly removed from the building and told not to set foot in it again - by my own husband, no less.

There is a reason I do not attend the Saco Ward, and why I never will. Those people - those vandals from Cape Elizabeth - now attend the Saco Ward. And two: because I will not attend ANY church service unaccompanied by my husband, for church doctrine forbids a wife to do so. I attended the Cape Elizabeth Ward with my husband - who drives. It is a 2 hour drive from my house, but I do not have a driver's license, nor am I able to get one due to my being nearly blind. I switched to the Sanford Ward when he did, but for some reason, in the move, the church sent my records to Saco instead of Sanford, and thus how this whole mess got started.

My husband still attends the Sanford ward, as that is where his records are, but he being even stricter with church laws than I am, will not even allow me to set foot in his car on Sunday, because the Bishop of the Saco Ward refuses to send my membership records back to the Sanford ward where they belong, and therefore not even my own husband will allow me to attend church services with him, because for some inexplicable reason, his records are in one building while mine are in another. And thus the church has cleanly divided my family, by forbidding us to attend services together on Sunday.

I was disfellowshiped for attending a building that did not hold my membership records 7 years ago this week. This week is the 7th anniversary since the last date on which I was allowed to attend church.

The word ALLOWED being the key here. I am not ALLOWED to attend church services in Sanford with my husband.

And I say all this to clarify the mad dash rumors that are currently circulating which say that I LEFT the church and am an INACTIVE member. I neither left the church nor became inactive. I have tried repeatedly to attend church services but am not allowed in the building when I get there.

I am deeply very traumatically upset by the actions of the men whom have gone to extremes to not allow me into the building. I have NEVER missed church not once in my entire life - not weekend, nor weekday nor morning nor night - I attended every class and every service throughout the week. You can't even begin to imagine how stressful these past seven years, of being not allowed to attend church, have been for me.

I have agoraphobia and I only ever left the house to attend church. The church was my one and only single access to Human contact. It's been 7 years since I've been allowed to have any contact with Humans on any level. I never stopped wanting to go to church. I never left the church. The fact that I am not allowed to so much as set foot in the building is tearing me apart, because it was my ONLY access to other living breathing Humans. I hate not being allowed to go to church.

All of these events are written out in a massive amount of detail, in my book For Fear of Little Men, and that is where the problem lays. You see, I have never in my entire life ever had contact with a single solitary non-Mormon. Not once. Because of this fact, every person involved in the acts of violence, was of course a Mormon - they couldn't be anything other than a Mormon because I have never known any one who was not a Mormon and these vandals were all people I knew.

So you see, there have been members (Mormons) reading my book and getting angry, saying that it is anti-Mormon propaganda, because of the fact that the vandals themselves were Mormons. These people are jumping to conclusions and adding more to my words than what I have actually said. Just because I am against these people and what they did, does not in anyway make me against the church. These people are not living up to the church doctrines and have no business calling themselves Mormons, but they are never the less.

You see, I am saying that these few members did things they should not have done, and any member in good standing would say the same thing. Now, if you are a Mormon - a true Mormon, one who actually lives the gospel and not just somebody who calls themselves a Mormon to sound "cool", than you too, would not want deviant criminals in your church corrupting it and giving it a bad name. But if you claim to be a Mormon and see nothing wrong with their actions, I really have to wonder - What the hell are you doing in a church which teaches these sorts of crimes are wrong, while you sanction those who commit those crimes?

Well, the thing is, people who are saying these things, accusing me, and spreading these false rumors about both me and my book, have not ACTUALLY read my book. What they read was bits and pieces of the DRAFT of my book, scattered about in random sections across this blog and other blogs. You see, I have Autism, and I can barely spell a simple three letter word, let alone try to spell every word in a 557 page book. To edit this massive sized book and all of it's 200,000+ words, required the help of my fellow online writers, and so, every few weeks, pieces of my book's draft were posted online on my blogs, in order they could help me with the spell checking.

In the end, only 238 pages of the book, ever got posted online, and none of that was formatted, and most of it was not in anything close to chronological order. As a result of reading only scattered bits and pieces here and there, and not reading the entire thing straight through beginning to end, people have taken much of what the book says out of context, and have twisted it's meaning into something completely different than what was intended. So, as you can see, what people read on my blog, wasn't even half of the entire book!

Because of the massive size of the book - 557 pages (in draft - the published book, comes out bigger - 578 pages I think) bigger than a Harry Potter book and is less than 10 pages shy of the Book of Mormon itself - it is thus hugely expensive to have printed up, and the publisher is unable to sell it for anything less than $27.99 (with me making only .68c per sale per copy!) I tried lowering the price, but they closed the listing when I did that, so I had to put it back up to the minimum of $27.99 to activate it again. They did let me add an eBook version, which was listed at $10, so that did bring the price down a bit.

After much tweaking and editing, I finally found a way that people can access the book for free, however, if you close the page, it goes back to page one again, and there does not seem to be a way to skip ahead, you have to click each page one at a time, to get back to where ever you were.

I tried copying the PDF into a blog post, but I'm afraid the PDF formatting comes out a bit wonky and loses it's formatting when pasted into RTF (which is what these blog posts are). That's why I couldn't copy and paste the entire file into a blog post before. The blog's formatting does not allow for 557 pages of text to be posted. That's why only half the draft (only 238 pages) got posted before. I tried posting a link to the PDF itself, but apparently no one could access it unless they came to my house and clicked the link from my personal computer itself, so that didn't work out either.

So, for now, the only way to read it for free, is via the "Preview page", but that does allow you to have the book itself right there on your screen and you turn the pages with a click of the mouse. You can read the entire PDF file, with all the proper formatting and illustrations HERE. Under the picture of the book cover, is a tiny almost unnoticeable link titled: "Preview". Click it. This will open the PDF file in a java popup, which allows you to read the entire book online for free. But as I said, there does not seem to be a way to skip ahead, you have to click each page one at a time, to get back to where ever you were, if you close the window.

For Fear of Little Men

BY

Wendy C. Allen

Illustrated by Wendy C. Allen

Text copyright @ Wendy C. Allen 2008
Twighlight Manor and all related characters and elements are TM & ã Wendy C. Allen
All Publishing Rights ã Wendy C. Allen
All rights reserved.
Published by Twighlight Manor Press

This book was art directed by Wendy C. Allen
Cover art created by Wendy C. Allen using MSPaint
Interior illustrations by Wendy C. Allen
The text was set in 12 pt Arial.
It was printed and bound by LuLu.com

No part of this publication may be reproduced or stored in any retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher and author. For information regarding permission, write to:

The Twighlight Manor Press
Attention: Permissions Department
146 Portland Ave
Old Orchard Beach, ME
04064-1520

Printed in the USA
First Edition, 2009
ISBN: 978-0-557-30877-4 (pbk)
ISBN: 978-0-557-30878-1

1. Ufology--Alien Abductions.
2. Mental Health--Autism
3. Society--Homelessness in America

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Vandals strike again! This time they were caught on camera.

2010-04-04T00:46:00.000-04:00

Vandals strike again; same LDS/Mormon husband and wife team from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints Saco Ward of Maine, who've been vandalizing me right along. This time they were caught on camera.

The vandals who did this http://eelkat.wordpress.com/2010/03/18/vandals-members-of-the-lds-saco-wardmormon-church-do-50000-in-damage-to-the-goldeneagle/ to my car 2 weeks ago and this http://eelkat.wordpress.com/2010/04/02/psycho-bitch-separates-mother-cat-from-her-3-hour-old-kittens/ to my cats 2 days ago, returned again tonight. I'm guessing seeing how this week is general conference (an LDS/Mormon Church meeting held twice a year) that they assummed I would not be home tonight.

Tonight's round of weekly harasment was to pul up my plants in my garden. This woman is a psychotic bitch - why will no one do anything to stop her? And still after 34 years of these weekly attacks, I still am clueless as to why she does it. As usual, she was railing on about me - saying I was insane had a demon and deserved this done to me. She said I did not deserve to have a garden and that God agreed with her -- ??? WTH? How is a person who is this delusional allowed to roam free? Why is she not in a mental institute or a prison or a straight jacket or a hospital or some place some where where she will not be allowed to keep hurting people like this?

After she did this http://eelkat.wordpress.com/2010/03/18/vandals-members-of-the-lds-saco-wardmormon-church-do-50000-in-damage-to-the-goldeneagle/ to my car 2 weeks ago, church leaders adviced I try to catch her on camera, so I've kept a camera with me and this time have photos.

Uploading the pictures to the internet now - will post them on my blog in a few minutes.

and as many of my readers already know - I also have pictures of what my garden looks like so you are about to see both the vbefore pictures and the after pictures - note those who've already seen my garden before, and know what it looks like, the "AFTER" pictures may shock you...and as you can plainly see, this is the the type of sick harassment I have to deal with on a daily basis - FOR MORE THAN 30 YEARS NOW!

She has taken down trees, cropped up my rose bushes - desimated my great-great-great grandmother's 200 year old 16 foot tall rose climber, smashed the arbor - ripped up the garden umbrella - took down the fences, and pretty much left nothing at all - my huge 30 year old flower/rose garden has been completely leveled to the ground! Nothing but bare dirt!

SICK, SICK, SICK, SICK, SICK! This woman is completely totally, and utterly sick in the head!

MY garden BEFORE:

My Garden AFTER:

As you will see from the photos, she was not alone - her husband was working at her side tearing down tearing down my garden along with her. Well, those of you (AND YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE) whom said you would not believe this woman was the one behind the harassment and ludicrous act of violence and vandalism until you saw her doing it with your own eye --- there she is - doing the very thing which you church members said "a good Christian/Mormon" like her would never do---

NOW WILL YOU BELIEVE ME AND GET OFF YOUR DAMNED ASS AND DO SOMETHING TO HELP ME AND PUT A STOP TO THIS WOMAN"S INSANE ACTS OF VIOLENCE SO I CAN HAVE SOME PEACE AND QUIET FOR ONCE IN MY LIFE??????????????

Why are such evil people allowed to roam free?

She is doing this, because she claims that I have a demon. She smashed my car 2 weeks ago, because she said IT has a demon. She's acting out violence, claiming God tells her to do these things, claiming she has to do them because I have a demon - AND THAT DOESN'T TELL YOU THE WOMAN IS INSANE?!?! She says it is alright to do these things to me, my pets, and my belongings, because she says God tells her it is alright. She says that God wants her to drive out my demons.

I AM GETTING SICK AND TIRED OF TELLING YOU IDIOTIC CHURCH LEADERS THAT I AM NOT DEMON POSSESSED AND NO MATTER HOW MANY TIMES THIS NUT SAYS GOD TELLS HER THAT I AM, IT STILL ISN'T GOING TO MAKE ME ONE!

This woman is freaking insane! Why will no one do anything to stop her violent madness?

Her constant talk about her belief that I have a demon is baffling. Equally baffling is the fact that so many church leaders believe her?

I have Autism and it make me act different and not talk. She uses my Autism as "proof" that I have a demon. And church leaders nod their heads and agree with her, saying "yes, she doesn't act normal, she has an evil spirit living in her."

????

WTH?

Even me, having Autism, even I know that kind of talk is nuts! I may be Autistic, but I'm not stupid enough to believe in demon possession and evil spirits.

While I am not the only person she accuses of being demon possessed, (she accuses Blacks, Asians, Downs Syndrome, Dwarfs, Midgets, Autistics, people in wheelchairs, and just about every one who does not look exactly like she does, demon possessed) I seem to be the only person she consistently vandalizes in this bizarre, crackpot manner.

This is the same woman who goes to my church and tells my Bishop I am a witch, the same woman who has tried for several years to have me excommunicated from the church, her reason being that a am “a demon possessed witch who puts curses on her”. That accusation alone should have told the Bishop and other church leaders that she is a raving lunatic!

And she - who won't make a move without first consulting her horoscope and tarot cards - SHE has the audacity to call ME a witch? SHE, the woman who makes poster board poster saying "____ ___ is dead" written in red ink, than sits in front of it days on end chanting the person's name and saying they are dead over and over again day in and day out --- SHE says I'M putting curses on people? She's the one who goes around calling herself "The Latter Mystic" or "A Mormon Witch" and than than when one of her Bishops (about 20 years ago) told her to stop doing these things, she started saying that I was the one doing them? I don't even believe in that sort of foolishness! She's the one with all that stuff, not me. And people who know me personally, know I don't have all those tarot card things, like she does.

You know what I think? I think she goes around saying I'm putting curses on her, because that's what SHE WOULD DO, therefor she THINKS I would do that sort of thing too. I'm a damn walking Bible/Book of Mormon encyclopedia for crying out loud! You talk to me face to face and you'll be lucky if I don't start spouting of Bible quotes at you. There's a reason I have fans who print up and sell T-Shirts saying "W.W.EK.D? - What Would EelKat Do?" and it's because practically every sentence I speak ends with the phrase: "What would Jesus do?"

I'm an online minister for crying out loud! Every Sunday I write sermons. I have preachers emailing me asking if they can print up my sermons to use in their churches! I spent 12 years going to Bible School, and another 2 years at another one, and that doesn't include the 27 years I went to the LDS/Mormon church and studied with them as well! People call me a "Jesus Freak", and yet, this woman, goes to my church, to 16 of my Bishops (over a period of 30+ years) and tells them I'm a witch, and accuses me of being demon possessed, and they believe her. And will do nothing to stop her violence - violence which she says God sanctions - Now I don't know what God she talks to, but it sure ain't the God I believe in, that's for sure! Even when church leaders have proof, including photos of her IN THE ACT OF COMMITTING THE CRIMES - even than, they do nothing, and say they do not believe that these things are being done.

What is it going to take for any one to stand up and put a stop to this? How long will you wait? How far does she have to go, before you will stop her. There have already been threats on my life. She says repeatedly that she wants me dead and will kill me. You've already seen, time and time again, that when she says she wants my pets dead, they are a few days later found slaughtered. I truly, honestly believe that this woman is dangerous enough to carry out her threats to kill me.

She threatened to destroy my car - and than she did.

She threatened to destroy my garden - and she did.

She threatened to burn my house done - and 4 years ago - some one DID burn my house down.

She continually threatens to kill my pets - and several times she has, and several more times pets have been killed days after her threats.

You people do nothing! WHY? Please - before she carries out her threat to kill me - PLEASE - STOP HER!

This is the same woman who started a bonfire on my lawn 3 years ago – to burn her husbands clothes.

I fail to understand why the church allows her to continue doing these things.

She is very, very, VERY dangerous and this farther act of violence is just one more thing in her ever growing list of utter insanity.

PLEASE do something to stop her before she kills someone.

I have already been to the police about her dozens of times over the past 20 years. They WON'T LISTEN TO ME! She was arrested once when a neighbor caught her beating her first husband with a brick. He refused to file charges than and the police was forced to release her. The police will do nothing until a second party comes forward. THE POLICE CAN DO NOTHING UNLESS MORE THAN ONE VICTIM COMES FORWARD. I have Autism, my ability to speak verbally is limited at best – they pass me off as retarded they require some one who they do not think of as retarded to make an additional complaint, SOME ONE WHO IS NOT ME - but in 20 years, no one else has dared come forward about her Please, before she goes to far, before she kills some one – please do something to stop her!

I have agoraphobia - and only leave the house to go to church meetings and NaNoWriMo/Script Frenzy Write In meetings- she knew tonight was general confrence - she did not think I would be home I can no longer leave the house because every time I do she does these things - PLEASE -
stop sitting back on your lazy asses and doing nohing while this violent psychopath does these things. Please – I know several of you who are reading this are fully aware of the things this woman has done and is doing and you know how dangerous she is. - you have seen many of her violent acts first hand.

In 34 years the only time I ever left the house was to go to church and I CAN'T EVEN DO THAT ANY MORE!

I have gone to 12 Bishops asking for help – not one of them would help me, because she still goes to church every week and I don't any more – she’s the reason I can’t go any more. Every time I go she’s right there in my face calling me demon possessed - than she heads to my house while I'm in class and smashes and/or burns my belongings - some of her worse acts of violence have occurred on Sunday while I was in church. I can not go to church because I have come home to dead pets, smashed windows, and my house burnt down. I have agoraphobia - and only ever left the house to go to church meetings - that is why most of the attacks are on Sunday or during meetings - like tonight - she knew tonight was general confrence - she knows I'm the strictest Mormon around she knows that for 27 years I never missed a single meeting - not one - day or night - weekend or weekday - she did not think I would be home tonight.

But it's because of her that I can't go to church any more. I can no longer leave the house because every time I do she does these sick violent things. PLEASE - you people who know who I'm talking about - PLEASE DO SOMETHING!

This new incident with my garden, is only one of many such attacks – they are getting progressively more violent as each year passes. She is getting bolder and bolder because she KNOWS that NO ONE will stand up to her, and she KNOWS the BISHOPS will always take her side and back her up, just like they always have. I have gone to 12 Bishops asking for help – not one of them would help me, A Bishop is a public servant - it is THEIR JOB to take action when they know a crime has been committed. When will we see a Bishop who is a Bishop in deed not just a Bishop in name? When will we see a Bishop who will get off his fat ass and do something to PROTECT HIS PEOPLE! IF YOU CAN'T TAKE CARE OF YOUR CHURCH AND PROTECT IT'S MEMBERS THAN GET THE HELL OUT OF IT BECAUSE YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO CALL YOURSELF A MORMON LET ALONE PRETEND TO BE A BISHOP! Let some one with the balls to be be a REAL Bishop and do the job take over and actually DO THE JOB RIGHT!

I am very, very disturbed right now. It bothers me that there is some one out there who hates me so much they could do something like this...and keep doing things like this - over and over and over again for years on end...and GET AWAY WITH IT! I'm even more disturbed that Bishops, so called men of God can watch the things she has done and sit on their asses doing NOTHING!

I have agoraphobia and PTSD as a result of this woman and her utter insanity. Please - I want to be able to leave my house with out having to come home to find more of my pets dead. I want to be able to leave my house with out having to come home to find my belongs and property burned, axed, smashed, or shredded. I just want to be able to leave my house again. PLEASE - SOMEBODY HELP ME! PLEASE - SOMEBODY DO SOMETHING TO STOP HER!

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Cat found!

2010-04-03T11:26:00.002-04:00

I just woke up, after FINALLY getting some rest after being up 18 hours straight, looking for a lost cat. She had just had kittens, and one of our neighbors went into the barn (without asking or letting us know) and took the mother cat out of the box and put her outside, so they could look at the new kittens (which were less than 3 hours old). STUPID! STUPID! STUPID neighbors I have! ARGH!

Than the woman sends her kid over and the kid tells me - "my mom went in your barn and let your cat out and she told me to tell you."

This, btw, is the same woman who did this: http://eelkat.wordpress.com/2010/03/18/vandals-members-of-the-lds-saco-wardmormon-church-do-50000-in-damage-to-the-goldeneagle/ last week.

Cleo (the mother cat) panicked and ran out into the woods, and me and my dad spent 18 hours chasing her before we finally caught her and got her back into the barn. Thankfully the kittens are alright and she's taking care of them again.

But I came in last night and dropped, and didn't wake up until this afternoon. I lost a whole day of writing, and am trying to catch up now. Anyways, that's why I wasn't on the forums yesterday.

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Psycho Bitch Separates Mother Cat from her 3 hour old kittens!

2010-04-02T20:12:00.003-04:00

The psycho bitch vandal, you know the woman who did this: http://eelkat.wordpress.com/2010/03/18/vandals-members-of-the-lds-saco-wardmormon-church-do-50000-in-damage-to-the-goldeneagle/ to my car last week, strikes again.

I am so tired of this stupid psychotic bitch. This is NOT the first time she has done this. About 15 years ago, she did the same thing to my cat Sliv. Sliv had kittens, and hours later she took Sliv threw her out side. Slive was easier to catch, but when I came back in the house with Sliv to reunite her with her minutes old kittens, I found the psycho bitch flushing them down the toilet. It was one of the first times I had gone to an LDS bishop asking for help to stop this nut job woman. She murdered Sliv's kittens. I've hated that woman ever since the day she flushed my cat's kittens down the toilet.

That for people who do not already know about this event, is what caused my super crazed phobia of open toilets.

Now, she does it again - breaks into my barn, takes the mother cat (Cleo) and throws her out into the woods, just hours after her kittens were born, knowing full well that with out their mother the kittens would die. Is there no end to the woman's insanity? Why will no one do anything to stop her from harassing me and hurting my pets like this? What the hell is wrong with her that she thinks she cane get away with these sick, sick shinanagins?

I fail to see the logic behind these increasingly idiotic and senceless acts of vandalism. This is the same relative who broke into my house a few years back and burned all of my manuscripts and artwork too.

I’m seriously questioning her sanity and wondering how to go about having her institutionalized as criminally insane, if any one has any advice on how to go about institutionalizing this woman before her acts of violence get any worse – please let me know.

She is doing this, because she claims that I have a demon. She says it is alright to do these things to me, my pets, and my belongings, because she says God tells her it is alright. She says that God wants her to drive out my demons. Her constant talk about her belief that I have a demon is baffling.

While I am not the only person she accuses of being demon possessed, I seem to be the only person she consistently vandalizes in this manner.

This is the same woman who goes to my church and tells my Bishop I am a witch, the same woman who has tried for several years to have me excommunicated from the church, her reason being that a am “a demon possessed witch who puts curses on her”. That accusation alone should have told the Bishop and other church leaders that she is a raving lunatic.

18 hours on my feet, I'm FINALLY able to sit down - I am dead tired, but Cleo has been found & reunited with her 3 day old babies

the mother cat and her 3 kittens got separated yesterday - she had the kittens in the barn, but than got frightened and ran into the woods

one of my other cats - Figaro - has had the kittens tucked in with her keeping them warm

I spent 18 hours looking for her - finally found her, and she's back in the barn, purring to her new day old kittens

well - seeing how I've been out looking for a lost cat for 18 hours - I have not written anything today

and I'm so tired after 18 hours of walking & panicking I think I'll go to sleep and write double tomorrow

last 2 days had me in a stress overload Cleo disappeared just before sunset & we didn't find her until 3 hours ago

all 18 cats all back at home, safe, happy, and purring - and yesterday I had only 15 cats - have you ever heard 18 cats purring at once?

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New Kittens Just Born This Morning!

2010-04-01T23:55:00.002-04:00

The feral cat that has been hiding out in my barn just had her kittens. There are three of them. They are only minutes old! Here they are:

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Vandals Members of the LDS Saco Ward/Mormon Church Do $50,000 in Damage to The Goldeneagle

2010-03-18T21:26:00.005-04:00

I am getting sick an tired of dealing with increasingly psychotic and childish people. The vandals have struck once again - but this time, they got caught in the act and I know WHO they are. There are two vandals, a man and a woman - husband and wife, from the Saco ward of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints in Maine.

This car - being a 1964 Dodge 330 worth approx $50,000 has just received nearly it's value in damage at the hands of 2 "good Christians".

I will be posting pictures of the damage tomorrow - both here and in a new chapter of For Fear of Little Men, which I shall write tonight.

The worst part of it is - it's one of my relatives.

I fail to see the logic behind these increasingly idiotic and senceless acts of vandalism. This is the same relative who broke into my house a few years back and burned all of my manuscripts and artwork too.

I'm seriously questioning her sanity and wondering how to go about having her institutionalized as criminally insane, if any one has any advice on how to go about institutionalizing this woman before her acts of violence get any worse - please let me know.

She is doing this, because she claims that I have a demon. She says it is alright to do these things to me, my pets, and my belongings, because she says God tells her it is alright. She says that God wants her to drive out my demons. Her constant talk about her belief that I have a demon is baffling.

While I am not the only person she accuses of being demon possessed, I seem to be the only person she consistently vandalizes in this manner.

This is the same woman who goes to my church and tells my Bishop I am a witch, the same woman who has tried for several years to have me excommunicated from the church, her reason being that a am "a demon possessed witch who puts curses on her". That accusation alone should have told the Bishop and other church leaders that she is a raving lunatic.

This is the same woman who on multiple occasions attacked my dad with an ax - twice sending him to the hospital.

She is the woman suspected of having burned my house down 4 years ago.

She was once caught by a police office, smashing windows out of my grandmother's house next door to us. She was caught while climbing into the building through the window after she had smashed in. The next day she was caught again - this time inside the house, smashing my brothers 33LP collection. This was in November 2006, one month after the fire that burned my house down.

She is the same woman suspected of being behind the vandalism of April 2007 - the day my books had all their pages torn out and the pages torn up. The day some one took an ax to my furniture. The day some one took an ax to my Liberace records.

Whenever something is done with an ax, me and my family automatically suspect her, as the ax seems to be her reoccurring weapon of choice.

This is the same woman who started a bonfire on my lawn 3 years ago - to burn her husbands clothes, after she falsely accused him of having an affair. Why she choice to burn his clothes on my lawn, still remains a mystery.

This is the same woman who keeps her 3 teenaged boys locked up in the house not allowing them to have contact with ANY ONE. She claims that Satan is after her sons, thus why they are not allowed outside.

There are a good dozen people on my FaceBook account who KNOW about the 3 boys and what she is doing to them, you people know who she is and what she is doing - PLEASE - don't let her get away with these things - you know who she is - you know what she is doing. Why do you turn a blind eye to her acts of violence and hate?

She is very, very, VERY dangerous and this farther act of violence is just one more thing in her ever growing list of utter insanity. PLEASE do something to stop her before she kills someone.

I have already been to the police about her dozens of times over the past 20 years. She was arrested once when a neighbor caught her beating her first husband with a brick. He refused to file charges than and the police was forced to release her. They will do nothing until a second party comes forward. Please - I know several of you who are reading this are fully aware of the things this woman has done and is doing and you know how dangerous she is.

I am very, very disturbed right now. It bothers me that there is some one out there who hates me so much that they could do something like this. It's scary.

PLEASE STOP BEING AFRAID OF HER! THE POLICE CAN DO NOTHING UNLESS MORE THAN ONE VICTIM COMES FORWARD.

PLEASE HELP ME TAKE A STAND AGAINST THIS WOMAN!

Please, before she goes to far, before she kills some one - please do something to stop her!

Joel Bailey

If it was on YOUR property, then no second party is needed. If your property was vandalized, then Call the police. Otherwise it's just your word against theirs...

2 hours ago ·

EelKat Wendy C. Allen

I keep telling the police - that's the problem - I"M the ONLY one telling the police - for some 20 years now - they won't do anything until somebody WHO IS NOT ME contacts them. I have Autism, my ability to speak verbally is limited at best - they pass me off as retarded - they require some one who they do not think of as retarded to make an additional complaint, but in 20 years, no one else has dared come forward about her :( keeping in mind I'm one of the few she has not beaten physically, seeing how I'm not scared to hit her back just as hard as she hit me - I'm bigger and stronger tha she is, that's why she no longer hurts me physically and goes around destroying my belongings instead

38 minutes ago ·

EelKat Wendy C. Allen

that's why I'm stronger not only than she is, but stronger than most men bigger than myself - no one has EVER made an attempt to defend me from her - I started building up my muscle when I was 10 years old, because I had to defend myself constantly. Now she knows she can't hurt me physically anymore so she tries other ways instead - this newincident with my car, is only one of many such attacks - they are getting progressively more violent as each year passes. She is getting bolder and bolder because she KNOWS that NO ONE will stand up to her, and she KNOWS the BISHOPS will always take her side and back her up, just like they always have

33 minutes ago ·

Joel Bailey

I can help you, Wendy. But you must know it is not the church sanctioning anything like this, as your post suggests. You lash out at the very people who want to help...

2 hours ago ·

EelKat Wendy C. Allen

I have gone to 12 Bishops asking for help - not one of them would help me, because she goes to church every week - she's the reason I don't go - every time I go she's right there in my face calling me demon possessed

2 hours ago ·

EelKat Wendy C. Allen

She needs help - ask Dr Abude - he tried to send her to Dr Collin a good 20 years ago because he thought she was dangerous and need psychiatric help

about an hour ago ·

EelKat Wendy C. Allen

You know what she's like - YOU KNOW WHAT SHE"S DOING TO MY BROTHERS - YOU KNOW- YOU"VE SEEN IT FIRST HAND!

about an hour ago ·

EelKat Wendy C. Allen

and that thing she keeps saying about me killing her dog - it's on a report at the Old Orchard Beach police station - Wayne killed her dog - she was doing one of her ax fits, Wayne took the ax, beat Toby, than attack her - her neighbor called the police,5 police cars were there in the yard - 4 police officers dragged him away in arm and leg chains- the police have the ax down there at the station - Wayne did 2 weeks in jail for it. - half the police department was a witness to it, so why she keeps saying I killed Toby is beyond me.

about an hour ago ·

EelKat Wendy C. Allen

explain why Bishop K called me in to his office July 2009 - accusing me of witchcraft - quoting her words, word for word - a man who is a complete stranger to me - he had NO RIGHT to falsely accuse me - than threaten to excommunicate me BASED ON HER SICK LIES about me - anyone who believes in demons and spell casting and demon possession is insane - why he believed her lies about me is beyond me - don't tell me the church is not sanctioning her actions - they protect her, they do nothing to stop her, and they than act upon her lies and accuse me and threaten to excommunicate me because of it. If that isn't the church sanctioning her actions, I don't know what is

26 minutes ago ·

EelKat Wendy C. Allen

do you realize that is the last time I had face-to-face contact with another living Human being - and that it was the first face-to-face contact I had had in years - that day with Bishop K? I have agoraphobia and PTSD as a result of this woman and her utter insanity - I can't have face to face contact with Humans any more, because for 27 years she kept me locked up - just like she's doing to my brothers - Johnny's 19 years old - you see what she's doing to him - do you have any idea the hell he is going through right now because he wants to go to a camp out next week? She's been ripping up his things, trashing is belongs - threaten to kill him every word out of her lips - he came to me last night and begged me to take him to the camp out next Friday, because he knows I'm the only one with the guts to stand up to her and help him get out of the house long enough to spend some time with people.

21 minutes ago ·

EelKat Wendy C. Allen

ask Johnny why he stopped drawing and painting - ASK HIM! He had one hell of an art career ahead of him. ASK HIM WHAT SHE DID TO ALL OF HIS PAINTINGS! She burned them in a bon fire - saying that he was evil, saying that Satan made him draw his pictures. He's terrified to draw anything now!

17 minutes ago ·

EelKat Wendy C. Allen

Ask Johnny age 19, and Josh age 17 why they do not have driver's licenses. ASK THEM WHY! They try and try and try to sneak out so they can learn to drive - she punishes them if they even mention it. She says Satan put them up to it. What kind of a woman tells her sons they can't get jobs or driver's licenses because Satan was the one who told them to try to get a job? Tell me how that is not insane?

13 minutes ago ·

EelKat Wendy C. Allen

I was in solitary confinement locked up in her house for 27 years - but I finally escaped from her. And now she's doing the same thing to my brothers. The have the right to have a life. They have the right to have friends. But just like she did to me, she keeps them under lock and key - literary - padlocks line the doors - padlocks that only she has the keys to. She is insane.

9 minutes ago ·

EelKat Wendy C. Allen

I don't know how to talk, because no one ever talked to me - no one ever taught me how to talk. That's why I write - I learned to write, but I'm only just now learning how to talk. You've seen Josh - you've talked to him. She did the same thing to him. That's why he doesn't talk. That's why now that he's going to church meetings, his starting to learn how to talk for the first time. Don't tell me it's normal for a woman to do these sorts of things to her children. She needs psychiatric help. And she needs it bad, before she destroys my brothers lives the way she did mine.

5 minutes ago ·

The contents of this blog, are taken from the second draft of the book "For Fear of Little Men" by Wendy C. Allen, and reprinted here with permission.

Find me on MySpace and be my friend!

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How old was Frédéric Chopin when he published his first composition?

2010-03-01T22:20:00.000-05:00

March 01, 2010

Frédéric Chopin

How old was Frédéric Chopin when he published his first composition? Frédéric Chopin published his first musical piece at age seven. A year later he was already performing in Warsaw salons. By the time he died at the age of 39, Chopin had written some 60 mazurkas, 27 études, 26 preludes, 21 nocturnes, 20 waltzes, 16 polonaises, 4 ballades, 4 scherzos, and 3 sonatas, all for solo piano, plus an additional six pieces for piano and orchestra, including two full piano concertos. Though his baptismal certificate listed his birthday as February 22, 1810, Chopin always claimed he was born on March 1. Today, the world celebrates Chopin's bicentennial with concerts, lectures and radio broadcasts of his music. Born in Poland, Chopin always remained devoted to his homeland, even though he lived the last half of his life in France. He instructed that his heart be buried in Poland. He was interred in a Paris cemetery, but his heart was brought back to Warsaw in an urn, which rests in a pillar of a church in the middle of the city.

Quote: "Simplicity is the final achievement. After one has played a vast quantity of notes and more notes, it is simplicity that emerges as the crowning reward of art." — Frédéric Chopin

See previous spotlights: Ben "Bugsy" Siegel, Chelsea Clinton, Victor Hugo

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Copper Cockeral Info - 6th Anniversary

2009-12-21T05:59:00.002-05:00

Photography, Art, and Designs by Maine artist and photographer Wendy C Allen aka EelKat © 1978 - Present

The postage stamp choices below represent some of the different designs and themes created EelKat for Copper Cockeral Cards & Gifts A Twighlight Manor Company.

Please Click Each Stamp Below To View It In A Larger Size

... . . .. ...........

....

............

Celebrate our 6 year anniversary with us! (Selling art on Zazzle since 2004!)

This is the sister gallery to The Pidgie Fund, both of which are owned by The Twighlight Manor Press.

Other galleries I run include: The Rabbit Hole and Old Orchard Beach, Maine Photography.

My mom and 3 brothers each have their own Zazzle Galleries, so be sure to check out their work as well @

Tiddledeewinks

FlashAllen

The Juiceman

Johnny 5 Allen

You can find out How I Became An Artist.

For those of you who have asked what I use to create my art work, here is info about My Art Equipment, and for those just starting out, I recommend using these books because they are the Best Art Instruction Books and the ones I use myself.

You can find out more about me @ Who is This EelKat Person Anyways?. And you can find out more about Copper Cockeral @Copper Cockeral Cards & Gifts

Thank you for visiting my sites.

~~EK

Like my designs? Want to sew cloths, tote bags, curtains, and pillows to match? Now you can using my line of custom fabrics created using the same designs sold here on Zazzle! http://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/eelkat Fabrics available in clothing, quilting, designer, or upholstery weights. Prices starting at just $18 a yard. Do you see one of my drawings that you like and want made into fabric? Let me know. All of my paintings will eventually become available as fabric, but it's a long process, so if there's one you want to see come out sooner than others, just tell me. Thanks!

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When Next You See Me I'll Look Like This:

PLEASE . . . . somebody, anybody. . . . PLEASE HELP ME!

2009-12-16T10:01:00.001-05:00

They just now, just called again. Again demanding that I come into the the bishop's office at the church tonight, again demanding that I meet with the Stake President. And again it has triggered a mass panic attack. It's happening again. JUST LIKE BEFORE. I can't stop shaking. My chest hurts and my lungs hurt. My hands are shaking so bad I can barely type this. It's like before. Only, I'm shaking a lot worse, it's so bad my glasses keep falling off. I can't stop shaking. I can't breath.

It's like before, like a panic attack, only really, really, really bad. Why won't they leave me alone. I need them to leave me alone. Please make them leave me alone. I don't know if I can live through many more of these stroke like attacks. I have one every time they call. Please make them stop calling me. Tell them to leave me a lone. Please help me. I can't stop shaking. My whole body is skaking all over I don't know what to do.

Please call the church at 607-9517 or 207-666-3481 and tell them to leave me alone (I find the 666 in their # ironic) Ask for Robert Taylor. He is the counselor in charge of handling phone calls to the Stake Presadent of the Augusta Maine Stake.

You can read more about this 31 year on going harassment at the following links:

Excommunication for publishing my 2008 NaNoWriMo Book – Update

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HELP! Any doctors out there? Medical advice?

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Health UPDATE – Stroke caused by panic attack triggered by LDS Church excommunication threats :(

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Still Planning on Doing NaNoWriMo this year in spite of recent health issues

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Eleven Days Til NaNoWriMo and Stroke Update

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My Aliens vs Your Demons – Yep – If I’m Crazy, What Are You???????

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The Poison Pen Letters Return – AGAIN

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Excommunication – 2008 NaNoWriMo book banned – Update – My Inbox if overloading – a mass reply going here

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REPOST: For Fear of Little Men: First Draft of my autobiography book to be published in 2010+/-

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Note - I have not been to the LDS/Mormon church in 13 years, and yet, they continue to harass me on an almost daily basis. :(

In 2004 I started writing “Faith Not Religion”, my infamous 900 page rant on why I left the Mormon church. It was during the two years where I just sat there doing nothing but writing that book that I finally realized for the first time in my life that I WASN’T evil, like so many bishop kept telling me! I wasn’t demon possessed, like so many bishop kept telling me . What I was, was a victim of 27 years of mental and emotional abuse at the hands of a bunch of crazy tyrants. While writing “Faith Not Religion” I learned quite a bit about myself. Among them I learned:

I’m tired of being told I’m a witch.
I’m tired of being told I’m evil.
I’m tired of being told I do the things I do because I’m possessed by a demon.
I’m tired of being told I’m going to hell.
I’m tired of being told I’m inferior because I’m a lowly female.
I’m tired of being told not to talk because that’s reserved for men.
I’m just plain tired of BEING TOLD.
Every one talks to me, no one ever talks with me.
I want freedom from BEING TOLD.
I wish, that there was someone who would actually treat me like I was a person. Like I was important. Like I mattered.
I’m tired of being harassed by these people.
I’m tired of it.
Putting up with the abuse all those years was killing me.
Them killing my pets was an evil act.
Them paintballing my car was an evil act.
Them throwing rocks at and blinding my horse, was an evil act.
Them burning my drawings in the woodstove was and evil act.
Them burning my manuscripts in the wood stove was an evil act.
Them saying I was evil was an evil act.
They were the ones who were evil, not me.
Not being allowed to get a job because I was a female, was an evil thing for them to do to me.
Them smashing my Liberace` records was an evil act.
Them stealing parts off of my car and leaving it in ruins was an evil act.
Them setting fire to my home and leaving me homeless was an evil act.

Please put an end to this before they cause my death. I don't think I can live through another stroke. PLEASE HELP ME!. Please call the church at 607-9517 or 207-666-3481 and tell them to leave me alone (I find the 666 in their # ironic) Ask for Robert Taylor. He is the counselor in charge of handling phone calls to the Stake Presadent of the Augusta Maine Stake. Please. call him. PLEASE! Why won't they leave me alone. I need them to leave me alone. Please make them leave me alone. I don't know if I can live through many more of these stroke like attacks. I have one every time they call. Please make them stop calling me. Tell them to leave me a lone. Please help me. I can't stop shaking. My whole body is shaking all over I don't know what to do. Please some one help me.

Waiting for Emmett to come.

http://twitter.com/EelKat
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http://eknano.blogspot.com

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