posted on Sep, 3 2007 @ 04:19 PM
I hesitate to post this story here, I’m not much on revealing the stranger aspects of who I am, but after reading a thread here yesterday about mind
control and a conversation I had last night I feel compelled to seek input.
I was born in Georgia in the middle 60s, the youngest of four and the youngest of seventeen grandkids. My father was a WWII vet and my grandfather
(my mother’s father), a mason, was a WWI vet. My father rubbed shoulders with shady folks and politicians.
I grew up in alcoholism and abuse and although I have no memory of sexual abuse, I was a sexualized young kid. I had imaginary playmates that seemed
quite real, one was good and protected me, and the other was mean, big and harassed me.
I also remember at four years old, hating my father with such fervor it didn’t seem possible to come from my little body. And above all else during
this period of imaginary friends and hatred, I have a strange memory. For years I’ve only mentioned it to a couple people, because it is so out
there, but I remember some kind of frightening ritual with fire and people in robes, in a clearing in the woods late at night.
Over the years I’ve tossed it back and forth in my mind, was it a memory or something I saw on television? I guess that was one reason I didn’t
mention it much, I mean I was four, it could have been some strange sixties movie I saw and there were a lot of them back then.
Last night I was talking to my cousin and she was telling me about a church camp she went to when she was eight with my siblings (at the time I was
four and she said I was at home). She talked about how scared she was and how my sister took care of her during the two week retreat in Elberton, Ga.
The camp was put on by The Harvest Church. And then she began telling me about a ritual where a boat comes across the lake with candles or some sort
of fire on it. This was the final night of camp and my cousin said my sister was in the boat, because my sister was older (13). My cousin’s memory
was rather spotty, but she remembered fear. And later she seemed to recall that I was there for this ritual.
As she’s telling me this story, my stomach does a huge flip and the hair at the back of my neck stood on end. And I don’t have any concrete
memories to confirm why. She also mentioned the name of the preacher, which jolted me again. We lived in Ga. at the time of this camp, but
coincidentally, when we moved to SC, the name of the preacher was the same as the name of the man who ran the funeral home where both my sister (at 18
in 1974) and my son (at 18 in 2002) had their funerals. Both died in accidents, my sister as a passenger in a car, my son as a pedestrian, both in
autumn, both in the same part of town, a few miles apart.
Stranger still, in the investigation after my son’s death, I was asking if they would trace the vehicle that hit him through his blood still being
on the vehicle and the investigator said, “There was no blood.” And oddly, when my sister died, I remember some similar statement by the
You don’t have to go too far on the Internet these days to learn of a myriad of ritual abuse stories, Satanism and Bohemian Grove type places. When
I began looking into the Skull and Bones and Bohemian Grove theories I noticed some personal coincidences. The first being an accident of birth in
that I was born on 322nd day of the year, but there is a stranger one.
Although I come from a long line of vets and service men going back to the Revolutionary War, no one is tattooed. But I always knew I would get a
tattoo and I always knew it would be an owl. Owls are in no way my favorite animal, I like turtles and damn near every mammal, except goats, but at
28, pissing off my middle class family, I got a tattoo on my back. At the time, I explained it as a road mark, “So I can remember where I have
been.” When I saw the Owl Logo for Bohemian Grove a couple years ago, the similarities between it and the one on my back blew my mind.
When I have attempted to do any real study into mind control programs funded by the government, I have gotten sick or overwhelmed in a strange way
that is hard to explain. And I do understand that growing up as I did, abuse and brain washing go hand and hand. I have come a long way from where I
was when I walked out of my father’s house at 17 and maybe the challenges I face are not from some exotic, ritual abuses, but simply good, old
fashioned child abuse.
Although there has always been an inkling in the back of my mind that something very strange happened when I was a child, there are some things you
just can’t dwell on too often and stay sane, so I probably wouldn’t have written this if not for the conversation last night. So I guess I am
asking if anyone has some insight or any knowledge about rituals in Ga. I know someone built the Georgia Guide Stones in Elberton, but I believe that
was after our camp experience. And I figure when curious, it’s best to ask questions, although I don’t feel I can ask my family as they are
Thanks for reading.