Spadra Haunting....the Final Contact??

As I sit here and try to reason out tonight's events, I find myself with more questions than answers. So I will simply relate what happened and what I saw, so forth. I will try to reason and separate later with logic if that is possible. Tonight around 6:30pm, we arrived at Spadra. We drive past it and around up Humane Avel (the other side of the steep hill) and back around. Nothing to really report. Nothing out of the ordinary. The cemetery sits back behind the railroad tracks next to the 57 Fwy and behind industries. You would miss it if you did not know what you were looking for. No cars parked around. A lot of the industry looked done for the day. We drove up and saw this:

Well...gotta be honest. I never really let a locked gate deter me. After all, there is no sign that says do not trespass. You can see there are three large locks on the gate. The road goes down and across a train track and down a bit further to the cemetery. To the right is the freeway. Now you can see a fence is fallen on the right...unfortunately, there are 2 more formidable fences to climb to get to that one. Not going to work for me. So I call my friend Mary. I tell her what I have encountered and does she know another way in? She always knows another way in. Under the freeway pass, further to the right in this picture is a fire road and gate. Not an actual gate, like a swinging pole. I walk over there. No signs to keep out. The fire road is really a road over an aquaduct and then a huge dirt field. The size is from the gate here to that tree at the end of the brick wall. I slip under the pole and walk on. Cammy following behind me. I am still on the phone with Mary. I am reasoning with her on why I am not trespassing and she is agreeing. I get to the underpass and I smell weed. I tell that to Mary and tell her I must not be alone here. I round the corner and there is a guy. Smallish. Glasses. Painting with spray paint an art piece. I say HEY. He says HEY. I am still on the phone with Mary. I ask him if he knows if the cemetery is open. He says, I think it is over there. I continue talking to Mary and telling her that if I should get arrested...Bail me out please. I cross the tracks and hear Cammy talking to the graffiti guy. I continue down and the cemetery is indeed, open. No signs. I look up about 50 feet in and there is a No Trespass Sign as the grounds are for "Tenants Use Only". I chuckle and choose to act as if I do not see and prepare to act dumb if caught. What tenants exactly? hmmmm I take pictures. I catch nothing of great intrigue and decide to turn on my phone recorder and place at the base of the tombstone of the towns creator, Phillips. I see no one and hear no one, so I feel confident with my phone there while I scoot around the place. It is not a big place and supposedly there are 212 bodies there...where? On top of each other? A mass grave? I dunno. So Cammy and I walk around. I keep hearing movement around me. In the leaves. In the trees. I catch a shadow or two in the corner of my eye. I blow it off as the wind with the hope that if it is someone, they will speak to my phone and I will get info. Cammy walks up to me and says "I hear keys shaking at me...like right behind me." I never comment on an investigation as I do not feed into hysteria or mind tricks. I let everyone experience. Mental note taken. I decide to walk over to my phone and take a last spin around using the a ghost box app. Calling it eventful but in a soft, kinda...yeah there is energy but whatever, kinda way. I look up and there is a gentleman at the fence. Wearing all white. I stop and look at him. He does not move. At first I squint to see if he might be peeing. Maybe he does not see us or does not care. Nope. Not peeing. Just standing and staring. I cannot make out any features on him other than tall and wearing white. He walks towards the steep hill not the other way which is out. I look and Cams and say...we should probably go ahead and go. I do not like the human visitor. She says okay. I grab my phone and turn off the recorder and see I have messages. I look at them. From Mary. She had decided it was important for her to drive down to Spadra to make sure I got in but not to join me. I look up to see if I see the man and the side of the mountain catches my eye. There is a black line of what I think could be people. Same height. In Black. Moving quickly and like a snake down the mountain. I cannot see any features nor faces. I can see heads. I can see shoulders. I can see arms. I can see legs. I see no separation between their torsos. I chuckle to myself...fucking human centipede. Right?! My mind goes to a warped movie where humans are sewn together and I chuckle. Awesome brain...just awesome. However, something about the movement and the quickness unsettles me. You know when someone runs down a steep hill, you can see them do so in jumps and jerky movements? This did not and they moved in synch....like they were just one. Impossible. But unsettling all the same. I look at my final message from Mary as we are beating feet to the exit (about 200 yards) to leave. "I saw a black shadow...in a line...at the gate. Heading towards you. Are you alone?" I tell Cammy...go. Fucking go. We get to the exit and look toward the hill. The man in white is sitting on a rock at the base. I still cannot see any features and the black line of whatever, it is already there. It moved ridiculously fast. Impossibly fast. No features. No sound. Silent. Cam and I head out towards the tracks to the tunnel. The black line is behind us...no sound but moving in a straight line...not side by side...straight line. My first thought? Awesome...fucking gang members or some death metal goddamn satanic wannabes. Perfect. We go through the tunnel. Cammy way ahead of me as I keep slowing down to look behind me and try to grasp a feature. Any feature. Something. An eye. A mouth. A nose. Lips. Something. There is nothing and I am wondering if there are masks although you can tell a mask and nope...not a mask. I come into the tunnel and the painter guy startles me with a "hello" "Have fun?" I said I had. I said...getting a bit intense. No one follows me. I feel like I can take a breath. Stupid, paranoid me. Kids went to the cemetery. He said he was not aware of the cemetery until I had said something. He thought it was a park. We chuckled. Then we hear rocks being stepped on in the tunnel. We look. No one. Well, to be fair there is a wall between the tunnel and the tracks. I assume they are walking there. I yell at Cammy to move on. She is already out of the tunnel and in the dirt field. The painter guy looks at me like...Who the hell? I said...there is a group of people behind me and I do not know about them. He says he does not either. Has not seen anyone but me. We hear the rocks...but the sound stays coming from the same spot. He says well, move on. I said...yep. I take off walking towards the end of the tunnel to leave. He grabs his pack and walks towards the other end where the rocks are crunching. I look back and I see him at the end looking back at me. I asked him...you going to be okay? He scoffs and says..YEAH. He looks around the wall to the other side. Flies back, up straight. He turns to look at me...pale. He says... GO... RUN....and he takes off down the tracks in the other direction. I turn and move it. I hear the same beat of movement in the rocks but this time they are moving in leaps and bounds towards me. I leave the tunnel. I get outside and I see Cammy up ahead. Almost out of the field and to the car. I move a bit faster. I keep looking behind me. I see no one. No one exits the tunnel. I am half way through the field now. I look back again. No one. I look forward at Cammy and smile because I am home free and feeling stupid for letting a small panic hit. I see her face and her eyes widen. I turn around...the line of black thing...it is right up behind me. I mean right up behind me. No sound. No footsteps. Right up behind me. I can still see no features. I move forward a bit faster. I grab my phone and call Mary. I want someone to know where I am when I am killed. Find the body here please...but I do not panic. I talk about the clouds. The tombstones. The fact that I am leaving now. I am on her voicemail. I continue to look backwards. This is odd behavior for me. Not the looking backwards part, the running. I do not run if I feel threatened. I move aggressively towards the object presenting the threat. Sometimes I con the people I am with to walk towards the paranormal activity so that I can get a picture with a measurable human there. I am that asshole. This time, I moved and I moved quickly. I turned again and they are were far behind. I looked towards Cammy and back again and they were up on me again. I got the water crossing and slipped through the pole. I looked back and they, or it, was back at the middle of the field still facing me and walking towards me but somehow quite a bit behind me. I got in the car. They, it, never did leave the dirt field. I am left unsettled. I am left startled. I have faced some of the most vicious and sometimes demonic energies and laughed...this was somehow different and I do not like it one bit.

Spadra Cemetery Haunting Part 1....The Initial Contact

I am heading out to Spadra Cemetery in a few moments. I want to give a beginning blog on my history and Spadra history. Part 2 will be written upon my return. Origin of Spadra The land that became Spadra was once part of Rancho San Jose, a Mexican ranch created in 1837 by the Mexican Governor of California, Juan Bautista Alvarado. It was given to horse and cattle owners Ygnacio Palomares and Ricardo Vejar. When the Mexican-American War ended in 1848, Rancho San Jose became part of the United States. In order to improve mail transportation between the coasts of the United States, the Butterfield stagecoach route was built in 1859 from San Francisco to St. Louis and Memphis. Within California, the route would pass south from San Francisco to Los Angeles, then across the desert to Yuma, Arizona. “The task was huge, but within a year a series of stations stocked with fresh horses was set up all along the 2,866 mostly empty, often dangerous miles.” Stagecoach stops, or “stations,” were periodically placed throughout the line. One station was placed in eastern Los Angeles County, and named the “San Jose” station. This stagecoach station was the beginning of Spadra’s existence. In 1864, debt and poor business decisions forced the owners of Rancho San Jose to sell 12,000 acres of Rancho San Jose to German immigrant Louis Phillips at the price of $30,000. By purchasing the land, Phillips hoped to sell smaller parcels to future residents to create a profit. The first person who bought land from Louis Phillips was the notorious criminal Billy Rubottom in 1866. “A rough frontiersman, he was wanted in his native Arkansas for killing two men with a knife. And in El Monte, Rubottom shot his own son-in-law to death.” Rubottom was also credited (or blamed) with the introduction of opossums in Southern California. Louis Phillips’ empty land very likely appealed to Rubottom as way to begin a fresh start. Seeing the number of people who travelled through the stagecoach station, he built a combination hotel and bar as he had previously done in El Monte. “His bar at the Rubottom Hotel served anything you wanted and was a place where one could drink away all of their woes and wages. It was open every night of the week until 1, 2, or 3 in the morning.” Very quickly other small businesses began to appear and Rubottom named the growing town “Spadra,” after his hometown in Arkansas. Spadra continued as a rural town, comparable with others in the area such as Pomona, Azusa, and Ontario. The earliest mention of Spadra in the Los Angeles Times is from 1885, which describes it as a small country town with a population between four and five hundred. “The products are principally barley, wheat, hay, corn, and potatoes. There are numerous bands of sheep in the neighborhood.”With a small growing population located near a major railroad station, Spadra appeared that it would mirror other rural towns in Southern California. However, the fate of Spadra would be irreversibly altered by the remarkable, almost deliberate success of its smaller neighbor Pomona. Decline and Disappearance Spadra began to decline further due to most of its population moving to Pomona. The final blows to its disappearance were caused by decisions made by those outside Spadra. In 1919, the California State Legislature selected Spadra as the site of a mental hospital, named the “Pacific Colony.” At that time, people with mental disabilities were considered to be a nuisance with patients called “inmates” and hospitals that catered to them operating more similar to prisons. The Pacific Colony was complete and opened on May 2, 1927. “It was designed to be almost a self-sufficient city unto itself, isolated from the rest of society by more than just its physical location.” Because of its independence, the Pacific Colony did not assist Spadra in any major way, and likely reduced its appeal to any future residents. All that is left now is the Cemetery and the closed landfill. The Cemetery Why is the above important? Well, it gives a bit of background to the town and to the energy there. So that you understand, when I do investigations, I go to disprove not prove a haunting. I want to be able to show the huey of modern ghost hunting hysteria. Not that I do not believe, I do actually believe in the paranormal. I just believe that a ton of stuff is mass group hysteria and power of suggestion. So I went. I went a few times. There is no huey here. So through more research and understanding of culture and theology, I found that the Spadra Cemetery was a protestant cemetery. Not completely the key of importance on it's own but just another piece to the puzzle. So, Spadra was a bit of an inclusive little community. Large and then small and then secluded and then crazy...to be brief. So I know that there is one of the last natives of a certain tribe there. That her stillborn twins are there. I knew it was old. I knew the history of the town. I knew a bit about the cemetery. I like to go in a bit cold and then research if it is worth further research and finally return. This I have done. And yet, I find myself drawn to return again. The Investigation It was interesting. I went in with a group. Small and trustworthy. The energy seemed to be absolutely hopping. Just flying. I looked for electrical possibilities that made the meters go insane. None. I looked for underground water possibilities that made the meters go insane. None. So now, I am interested. No transformers. No generators. No wiring. No underground items. Pure 'dead' space. Interested. I find that the twins are buried oddly positioned to the mother. Not in typical culture fashion of the time for respect but definitely screaming another type of cultural disrespect. They are buried on unhallowed ground. Weird. Odd. Why? Notes taken for later research. Next, I move on towards the rest of the cemetery. Making my way towards the founders area. Suddenly and without warning, the energy not only drops to nothing, it is the most eerily nothing I have ever felt. All machines go silent. Dowsing rods stop dead in place. Notes taken. Why? Seems the closer we get to the founder, the more it seems to be a warning. A member of the group speaks "Why are you quiet? Are you scared?" Every machine goes insane and then silent. "Is it the founder?" Insanity and silence again. Notes taken. Experience complete for that trip. Research It is a lot harder to find info than you think for some places. You go blind in MicroFich. However, this is what I could find and what could be pieced together. In the hey day of the town of Spadra, the head of the town had a very handsome and incredible son. He fell in love with that native girl there. Now, I am unsure how or when she arrived nor why she was there. All that is mentioned next is that she is pregnant. Rumors are the son is the father. Culture dictates a very large NO NO. Now, again, we have no idea if it was love, if it was rape, if it was something else...no clue. We do know that according to the talks of tribes, it was a rape by intimidation and that is why she ended up dead. Unsure whether this was murder or otherwise, we can only assume knowing the mindset of the times. She goes to give birth and the town head, his son and the doctor are the only three people who know the truth as well as the dead girl. She dies giving birth. The twins die too. Seems that is the turning point for the town becoming weirdly isolated and their decline. The twins are buried but unhallowed ground. Their mother...close but on hallowed ground. I go to get council from the Chumash Tribe elders. They say that is to keep the spirits apart. I find that unfair. I am not protestant so I am not about to bless the land of the twins. So I do a blessing on her grave and theirs in their native tradition. Ok. So now I must return. The fear is now within a reason of understanding. My Return So we return. This time, I bring my alchemy kit and I bring a few more people. So, this now a mission of mercy to spirits. I do the blessings. Everyone is doing their investigations. I get called over as the silence hit again in every spot but the founder. I walk over. A strange mist comes up from the ground. Well, in fairness, the temperature dropped and the ground was still warm and moisture was setting in. Explainable...fully. Then there is a sonic boom. I look for planes. I look for people. I look for a train. I look for anything. I look for the birds to fly. Nothing. It happens again. It is coming from the same place as the mist. I place a meter on the ground. Perhaps this is our answer...a fault line. Nothing. Boom. Meter...NOTHING. I decide that we should probably wrap up as I may have just pissed off a very evil and angry disembodied spirit with my actions. What you must know about me. I have two injured knees from the military and I have a TBI that causes my hands to move. No it's not parkinsons...was tested. No it's not schizophrenia...was tested. No it's not drugs...I am not an addict. It is a simple nerve problem that the VA is chalking up as a combo of chemical exposure, the TBI and another injury. So I do not move fast. I do not feel fear really and I do not react to hysteria nor do I move fast. Did I mention, I do not move fast?! That moment I did. I ran past one team member. All you can hear on her recorder...me yelling RUN as I pass...so it sounds more like rrrrRRUNNnnnn At the same moment, she is commenting Wow, it just got really creepy like peaceful. BOOM on the recorder. Then she begins to run. The rest of the team is already alerted by their own feelings and machines and have begun to move towards the exit. Did I mention that the cemetery is behind railroad tracks. Now, this is like midnight and suddenly a train comes. It locks us into the cemetery. If I had not seen it with my own eyes, I would be rolling my eyes at this moment in the blog. The mist was creeping down the road. I looked at the Chumash elder and said...hmm....kinda Stephen King, no?! He screams at me...NOT FUNNY, JYMIE. I laugh. At the same time, him and I start running sacred circles and King Solomon blessings. The damn train stops. Locking us completely in. We say...FUCK THAT and we all climb through and under the damn train. We get to our cars and we calm ourselves. 7 of us left the cemetery. 7 kids were entering with a case of beer. The train leaves. I am loading the equipment into my 67 Mustang. A car I rebuilt with my own hands. I get in and the car refuses to start. My basic 1967 electrical system is going berserk. Not a good sign. We hear the another train. What? At this time? Another one? Not usual. Not on the time schedule either. We think...Oh no, the kids. Suddenly, one kid returns shaking. Pale. stuttering. Calling 911. No idea what happened. I jumped my car forward by continually starting it in neutral. I pass the cemetery gates and my car starts.

Oh...the Sights My Eyes Have Seen....

19 years in the nations oldest store...not JUST the oldest but located in Hollywood CA. Oh the sites I have seen...oh the stories I have to tell. Heart of Hollywood. 7 days a week at one point...no less than 5 at other times. Some of the best times, some of the most trying times but I enjoyed owning Panpipes Magickal Marketplace. Let me tell you one...gather round and listen close....this story takes place in the summer at Panpipes in Hollywood, CA. It was a Saturday afternoon, how do i know this? Because my interns were in. I will use nicknames... lex Luther and beeker had opened the Shoppe that day. They were my Saturday interns. I had run errands before coming in so it was around 1 pm. I walk in and saw a customer leaning over the tarot case by the formulary. I did not take great notice. I saw Lex's face as I smiled at her. Her eyeswere went big and she smirked. Looked straight at the girl at the counter. I winked and she gave the..."nooooo....take a better look" look. I took a better look at the girl. Dark curly hair. 70's headband. 70's tank top. Short shorts. Long socks. Sneakers. Exactly what you think when you think roller girl circa 1970. I have a "am I missing something?"expression. Lex tilts head and wide eyed looks at me again. I look closer again....oh lord... Between the legs the girl's penis has fallen out of the shorts. I about died trying to hold a straight face. She continues to bend over the counter and the penis swings to and fro. I walk fully into the store. Come around the counter to save my interns. I ask "how may I help you?". She replies "I lost my demon." Holding it together I say/ask "good?!?" She looks me in the face. Her eyebrows are done by a marker, sharpie I presume, and way up on her forehead so she looks startled. She stands up. Tucks her junk and continues while I die of hysterics inside "I just got out of jail and when I was there, I got scared and prayed to Jesus. My demon left." I said/asked "sorry?!?!" She gets annoyed and turns with hands on hips, eyebrows in full sharpie startled mode and screams at me "I miss my Fucking demon. I miss the smell of my burning flesh." I apologized and asked how could help. She replied "you would not know. The demon is Gaelic." Now, I am not only an alchemist and Occultist, I am a well studied demonologist...so interest peaked as I know not of trueto Gaelic demons who smell lightning flesh...I invite her to try me. She look at me and says "you would not know. It speaks Gaelic and I know Gaelic" So did one of my great grandmothers...I do not...but I would recognize...so I say "do you now?" She says "yes. I will prove it." She walks over to my cat and says (now roll your T's here to fully understand) " Kittttttty Catttttt" She looks at me and says "that is Gaelic for kitty cat" I stand there nodding trying to hold myself together...my interns have both dived into my office to control their laughter. I apologize for doubting her, tell her I cannot help as I am just not that knowledgeable and wish her luck with the biodegradable will soon smell her flesh burning again. Proud to have stumped me, she left.

The Haunting of Utica Ave...True Story by Jymie Darling

The Haunting of Utica Ave by Jymie Darling

Everyone has that one thing that begins a life obsession with something obscure. When asked “why do you investigate hauntings?” I have never really thought of why. When asked “what made you become a demonologist?” I have never really thought of why. When asked “what is your obsession with demons that you would dedicate your life to investigating, working and understanding such entities?” I have never really thought of why. Why do I? Every obsession has a story line, a beginning. Especially demons. This is mine…. When I was young, must have been around 12 years old (give or take a year…remember…I have a damn brain injury from the military and I cannot remember exact dates…usually off by a year), I went to a summer camp with the local park in Whittier, CA called Mayberry. I grew up around the corner from there. When I returned, my mom had moved in a boyfriend that I had never met. Yaaay! Not yaay at that time…I was shit to him but he is my dad now for more than 35 years and I love him deeply. He had not moved in completely. So one evening it was dusk and summer, my mom told me to go help him grab some more of his stuff from his old house. His house was on Utica and not far from us…maybe 7 minutes. I rolled my eyes and said “if I hafta”. I had to.

We pull up to the house.

This is actually been rebuilt. They built a new house but left the foundation. The house is whatever. I look across the street and I recognize a school friend from St Gregory the Great (my catholic grade school), Janine Carver. I run over and say HEY. Her mom comes out and says hello. Asks what I was doing there. I said…ah..new boyfriend in the house and helping him grab stuff. There is an old man on the corner out watering his yard. Everyone calls him Penguin. He waddles. He has the nicest yard on the block. Just astounding green. Loretta laughs and says that he loves that lawn more than God. Pop yells at me to come help. Loretta stops me and says that her cat is having kittens, do I want one? I find this my moment to play the new guy. I scream over….when her cat is done, can I have one of the kittens? PLEASE??? He says of course! I say bye and run over to the house. I enter the house. No one is there. It smells bad. Really bad. Each few steps is a new and more horrible smell. I ask “Something die?” He shakes his head and keeps walking back to his room. A few more steps and the house goes cold in that spot. A few more steps and it is hot again. Each step a smell of death and rotten something…eggs? Food? Dead rats? My mind goes..awesome and he is moving in with us. Each few steps is a cold spot that makes me shiver. I cannot understand this. Even as a kid, I had a very logical mind…a very scientific mind and a math based understanding of things. That did not make me very popular at all but being a volleyball team 1st string player helped. None of this makes any sense to me. I look for the venting system. None. I shrug and move on to his room. He is at his closet grabbing things. Down the hall is another room with a padlock on it. I notice his had a padlock too. Roommate? He said we were there alone. That he lived alone. He turns and asks me if I want to see a neat trick. I shrug. Sure. He takes his watch which he states is his dad’s watch and places it on the top shelf. Near the edge at the front. He closes the door. Smiles at me and says “Get the watch.” I sigh and walk over, I reach up..the watch is gone. He lifts me up. The watch is at the very back of the shelf. I ask him how he does that and he smiles. Sets me down and closes the door. Opens it immediately. The watch is back at the front but to the left. He lifts me back up. I check for strings. It is wood. I move the watch by my hand…sliding it. It makes a sound on the wood. I push on the shelf. It does not move. He sets me down and chuckles. In the corner a bottle catches my eyes. It is a sparkletts water bottle. The big 5 gallon ones. At this time, they are glass. Now why does it catch me eye? The nuns had just showed me a physics trick of pressure breakage. Theirs was with an egg and a cup. One cup with an egg on it and one without. Each hit on the side with a small hammer. One broke outwards. One broke inwards. Pressure explosion. His bottle was also broken out on the side. Only his broke outwards and there was not a seal on top for pressure. I asked him “What happened?” He says “Oh. No idea. Everyday it breaks a little more. Why?” I say “There is no seal tho.” He shrugs and continues packing. The glass is perfectly lined on the outside of the bottle. Exactly 1 inch in width and exactly 1 inch from the bottle. Lined perfect. I place my hand inside the bottle and wipe the bottom…nothing but dust. Makes zero sense to what I had just learned that day. I turn to argue the impossibility of the physics when a machete leaning against the wall catches my eye and my attention. Now the following happens and I have a ZERO recall of it but overheard him later telling this to my mom: “She went over to the machete. Picked it up. Asked me if it was sharp. I told her it really was not all that sharp. Pretty dull actually. Toby, her face changed and she said in a voice that was not hers…I did not ask you if you could slice your wrists with it, I asked you if I swung it hard enough would it cut your head off. Toby, I told her that I guess so and she shrieked at me to get it the FUCK OUT OF THIS HOUSE.” I remember seeing the machete. I remember that suddenly I was putting it back against the wall and he was diving to snatch it up. I could not understand his problem. He looked pale. He said he had packed enough and it was time to leave. We left the room and he padlocked it. In the hallway, I walked over to the other room. Again…no memory. Only what I overheard him telling my mom later: “She walked over to the other room. Put her hands on it. Looked at me and screamed WHY ARE YOU HERE? RUN! OH I AM DEAD! RUN!” I remember walking to the hallway and turning on a light. There was a black velvet oil painting of some 70’s rocker playing a guitar. Eric Clapton, I believe. May not have been. All I know is that something about that picture scared the living hell out of me. I turned to him and begged to leave now. He said…yes. We started to move through the living room. I became frozen in my spot. I looked back at the painting. He left the house. The door slammed shut. I screamed. He had hanging candles…I know…so 1970. They began to swing wildly. The curtains were violently swinging. I am screaming but frozen in spot. The house smells like sweet but death. It is cold. So cold. I can hear him screaming outside “NO! OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR! NO!!! LEAVE HER ALONE!! GODDAMMIT!! LEAVE HER ALONE!!” Suddenly, everything stops swinging. The door opens. I run towards him. I grab the back of his levi’s and tear the pocket off pulling him with me. Takes hours to calm me down. HOURS. My family never again speaks of this night….but it does not end there…. So a little time goes by. The cat gives birth. I pick mine. I name Mai Tai. I overhear my mom talking to Janine's mom. She is noticing a change in Janine. And the people that moved into the house are weird. She says that they claimed to be Catholics but when Janine went over with a cross to welcome them to the neighborhood, they screamed: "Get that cross out of here! Are you crazy? Do you know what they will do with a cross in here?" I looked across the street. Their blinds were crooked and closed. It was weird because my dad's blinds were always crooked in there too. He said that he could never make them close straight. I have to wait for the kitten to be weaned. My mom and I leave. The neighborhood seems odd. People seem to be odd and staring at us...almost creepy like. I think nothing of it and focus on when I can get my kitten and how cute my kitten is. I go to school and I see Janine but she is becoming more and more distant and cold towards me. But it is the start of volleyball season and I am preoccupied with practice and games and such. Then one day, I am at practice and Coach Merlin comes up and tells me that Principal Mayor wants me up at her office. I leave the court and go see Mrs. Mayor. She tells me that I am suspended from the team pending an investigation into my actions towards Janine. I ask what did I do? She looks at me and says: "You know full well what you did to her and when we prove it, you are expelled. I am so disappointed in one of my athletes and honor roll students." I sit in the office as they called my mom. Janine is in the other room. I yell out at her "What do you think I did to you?" Her mom walks in, hugs me and steps into the principal's office. They are in there for a bit. My mom shows up and glares at me. She slaps my head as she goes into the office while giving me the "I am going to kill your ass when I get out of here" look. The coach comes in and asks me what is up. I am in tears and shrugging. She goes into the office. Janine's mom exits and hugs me again. She grabs Janine and they leave. My coach comes out, hugs me and says she will see me down the hill for the last part of practice. My mom comes to the door and tells me to come in. My mom hugs me and apologizes. The principal apologizes. My mom tells me to run along to practice. After practice, my mom is waiting for me in the car. I get in. She explains that Janine had told everyone that she got pregnant by some boy and then ran to the principal and blamed me for starting the rumor. I asked why me? Why would she do that? Are we not friends anymore? My mom explains that her mom and dad are getting divorced. He had an affair with a neighbor and Janine is lashing out but I need to stay clear of her to avoid trouble. A few weeks go by and Loretta calls my mom in hysterics. She says that we have to come get my kitten right this second as she is fleeing for her life. My mom and I jump in the car and rush over. I grab my kitten. Penguin is out there in his yard. His yard is all dirt and he is pouring gasoline all over the ground. The people from across the street had fled in the night, leaving the house opened and half their stuff behind. Janine's dad is ranting in the street that he does not know why he cheated and he is sorry. My mom asks Loretta where will she go? Loretta answers...I do not know. I will call you when I am there and safe tho. I look at Janine, she glaring at me. My mom and I go to leave, the neighbors have begun to gather around the house on the yard. They are just glaring at Loretta. My mom tosses me and the kitten into the car. As we pull away, I hear some woman say to Loretta "You are the last one standing. You are the only one left. You can save....." and then we were too far to hear the rest. I asked my mom what just happened. My mom said "you need to forget it and never go back to that street again...YOU UNDERSTAND ME?" I nodded and held onto my kitten. Later, I learned that the entire neighborhood suddenly began having affairs with each other. Penguin went insane and set his dirt lawn on fire. Janine and her mom were in East LA and then they disappeared. That was not the last time I went to the neighborhood and each return becomes more bizarre but not quite as frightening. You will notice...penguin's place still is a dirt lawn.

Pagan Day Festival

LOS ANGELES’ LARGEST PAGAN DAY FESTIVAL OF ANCIENT RELIGIONS Celebrating Ancient Religions with World Peace Violin created by UN Rev Peter McCollum and played by famous Bob Dylan violinist Scarlet Rivera This event is a tolerance festival that focuses on the Ancient Religions. With Shopping at over 50 vendors, Rituals, Workshops, Film Screenings, Authors, Lectures, Art Show, Ancient Altar Presentations and an attendance expected to be in the thousands. It is an open to the public event that is free to attend the main festival activities with nighttime ticketed events. General Public is welcomed and Press is warmly received. This year, we have UN member, Rev Patrick McCollum with the UN recognized Peace Symbol, his World Peace Violin played by Bob Dylan’s violinist and renown activist, Scarlet Rivera with both workshops and rituals. This year’s focus is on world peace and turning the hatred and self righteous anger into inner peace to ripple forth into the world. We are also honored with the presence of television personalities and world famous Mediums and Spirit Artists, Michael and Marti Parry. The Violin will travel from the festival to NYC to open on the main stage for the Post 9/11 ceremony and then to Auschwitz to play for healing at their opening.

The festival is September 10 -11, 2016 10am – 5pm Burbank Ca Burbank Marriott Hotel, 2500 N. Hollywood Way, Burbank CA Free to the main festival $15 for Masquerade Ball $35 for Michael and Marti Parry Gallery The Pagan Day Festival was the first festival in Los Angeles to include all religions, both Pagans and Mainstream and the first festival to invite the general public to come and educate themselves in a fun and wonderful setting. Since 1999, the festival has been received incredibly by news cameras, reporters, writers and AP photographers and independent writers in hundreds of press articles. We were the first festival to be acknowledged by the city and received proclamations from Los Angeles and West Hollywood acknowledging the ancient religions and our festival. This year, our focus shifted to work with Rev Patrick McCollum from the UN, the first openly Pagan UN member, to promote healing and peace in a world that has been filled with too much hatred from the elections to the recent police activity. About Pagan Day Fest. Pagan Day Festival is the largest tolerance festival in Los Angeles, CA. We started in 1999 and had to take a slight hiatus due to health problems of our coordinator, Rev. Jymie Darling, world renown occultist with over 200 articles written on her and television personality as well as movies. Now we are back and bigger than ever! We were the first and only festival to extend our hands out to EVERY philosophy and theology. http://www.facebook.com/pagandayfest andhttp://www.pagandayfest.com