Deliver us from evil_forLit
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People often ask me how I can prove that I am working with victims of real demonic possession. In some cases supernatural activity is visibly present, and yet in others I must rely on my experience with these elusive forces. My knowledge of demonology does not come from a university. There is no college course that can teach me the fantastic and incredible ways in which these negative forces of darkness work their malign deeds.
There are psychiatrists and psychologists who would disagree with my findings in many of these cases. On the other hand, there are many who would agree. I have made mistakes in my work and no doubt will make many more, but I have also been right and have been able to help many of those who call on me. 1 will not turn my back on the victims of demonic forces simply because a skeptical public is not yet ready to accept the reality of the supernatural. It is strange that although many cases of modern-day demonology have been proven, skeptics still scoff simply because they do not want to admit, even to themselves, that there are things in both heaven and earth which just cannot yet be explained with a slide rule.
If you want the truth on these subjects, we will bring what knowledge we have of them to you. 1 think it is very important for the public to know exactly what the meaning of witchcraft and satan-ism is today. Some of you, perhaps, are reading this book to gain knowledge, other! out of curiosity, and yet others only to ridicule. Remember, by hiding our heads in the sand, we believe, like the ostrich, that because we cannot tee our dangers they do not exist; we pretend that because it may be hard to see this supernatural world, the dangers of black witchcraft and satanism do not exist. Unfortunately, they do exist.
When in this book J. F. Sawyer talks of the black mass and disgusting rites of satanism, he is not trying to glorify them. He is trying to depict what is actually happening across the United States and throughout the world. How else can you become aware of many of these happenings unless someone like ourselves brings it to your attention? We can only do this through the pages of this book. Herein, you will find much of the information that I have acquired through my investigations.
The only way new truths can be discovered is through the study and exploration of these unknown subjects. However, 1 am not a witch and 1 am not a satanist in disguise. I am solely an investigator of supernatural activity, witchcraft and demonology.
I believe that there is a God, and I wouldn't have it any other way. But how does one prove to others the existence of an invisible world, a world of fleeting shadows and malign entities? How does one prove that there is a world which is not of a tangible nature? We cannot see the wind, yet we know that it exists because we feel the sensation it causes. We can see its effects in the general motion of tree branches, grass and flowers as it silently moves along its course. In my case histories of both white and black witchcraft, 1 am constantly entering the invisible, intangible world. I am an explorer of the realm of darkness.
1 am often asked to show proof. This I can do only through reliable witnesses, people who have gone through fantastic and sometimes terrible experiences. I cannot show scientific proof about a world that simply is not scientific. When we do come up with overwhelming evidence, however, skeptics shrug it off lightly, saying there is a logical, explanation for the phenomenon. But, of course, they never come up with this logical explanation.
I know that there is a God and that He is called by many different names. Yet I cannot prove this scientifically. As 1 know that there is a God, 1 also know that there are demons which can obsess the thoughts and possess the bodies of humans. I have seen this! Skeptics say that these people are mentally ill; but does a mentally ill person talk in numerous languages that he has never heard, ridicule and attack a person holding a religious article, or even, as witnessed in many cases, actually rise off the ground?
The physical body of a person under demonic attack is almost constantly under brutal Loud slaps can be heard and welts suddenly appear. The hair can many times be seen being torn from the head by invisible hands. The victim screams out in agony as inhuman laughter rings through the air! Meanwhile, the stench of rotting flesh or burning sulfur can permeate the iirea so badly that it causes nausea. Obscenities and foul language incessantly pour from the mouth of the unfortunate possessed victim^ and his l&yes are full of twisted hate and mocking derision. Does this sound like a person who is mentally ill?
When exorcism rites are performed, live person performing the exorcism is in great dangfi.; he is the visible challenging the invisible. The exorcist must be of a high moral and spiritual nature. If he is a priest, he must be a true priest in his every word, deed and action. The man who claims to be a true minister of God, and then in the same breath, says that he is only human and 10 indulges in practices unbefitting his office, fill never be an exorcist. At least he should ftQt Jty to be one. If he is weak and cannot resist Iftnttn temptations, he will soon find out, to his gre»t diimfly, that the world of demons on which he gave so many sermons is all too real.
One need only go back into church records to find cases of true possession. Today as never before there is a need for ordained exorcists. The public is fascinated by witchcraft and satanic rites. We receive mail every week from people who have delved into the black arts and cannot control what they have summoned.
I have no quarrel with people who worship in whatever way they wish, but I do object to devil worship, to the defiling of graves, to the taking of human corpses to be used in ritual ceremonies, and to the stealing of religious articles from churches. "DO WHAT THOU WILT SHALT BE THE WHOLE OF THE LAW."
This is their motto, and to this I wholeheartedly object.
I have been criticized by many people for talking on this subject. They say that I am inciting interest in witchcraft. But if these same people would bother to go into any neighborhood drug store and see the many books on witchcraft which are on their shelves, and realize the interest generated by these books, they would then know that I am here only to bring a warning to those who would involve themselves in the often dangerous black arts.
CHAPTER I
The Accursed Inn
Tucked away in a corner of Connecticut is a peaceful country village surrounded by rolling farmland. Not far outside of this village, on the old Boston to Hartford highway, stands the now dilapidated Stoneham Tavern, a 180 year old, sixteen room former stage stop. While still an inn, the building saw its share of violence, as did many such pioneer taverns. Eventually it was converted into a private dwelling and was owned by three or four families before it was bought by Henry and Victoria D. in the early 1900's.
Mr. and Mrs. D. and their family had ma
ny strange experiences in that house during the fifty years they lived there. The strangest and most heartbreaking event took place only a few years after they had moved in. Victoria had hitched up the carriage one morning to take her seven children to the one room schoolhouse about a mile down the road. But Laura, who was 14, said that she was sick and so was allowed to remain at home. Apparently she had the mumps. Victoria dropped the children off and returned to the house, only to find that Laura was missing! An intensive search was conducted by the family and by state police, but no clue was ever found - Laura had disappeared without a single trace!
In 1951, the house was bought by Charles and Florence V. They moved in on Good Friday and quickly began to try to restore the hotiee to its original splendor.
One night a few months after they had moved in Florence and her twelve year old daughter, Sandra, were sitting in the kitchen reading, ThSJ were the only ones in the house. Slowly, they both became aware of someone walking about the empty second floor. As the footsteps began to get more frenzied, Sandra asked, "Who's that?" Florence, not wanting to frighten the child, answered, "It's probably just a squirrel." Just as she said that, there were two loud thumps, as if heavy objects were being dropped directly above them, and then silence. With that, Florence walked into her bedroom, also on the first floor, picked up a .22 revolver that she had for protection and, with it safely in her apron pocket, shakily re-entered the kitchen. Silence still. With a mutual sigh of relief, they both tried to go back to their reading. Upstairs, in a far corner of the house, an unknown presence again began pacing the floor, again began treading more heavily and loudly across the full length of the second floor, until, with a rapid scurrying of footsteps, the event again culminated in two loud thumps and then silence. Florence and her daughter quickly forgot about trying to read. Sandra was rushed off to bed, and, too frightened to go upstairs to see what caused the noises, Florence sat in bed herself and nervously waited for her husband to come home. Finally he arrived, and Florence jumped out of bed to quickly recount to him all that had taken place. Together they searched the house. There was nothing to be found. He told her that she would just have to get used to living in the country, there are all kinds of strange noises out there.
Still the footsteps continued. In fact almost everyone who ever stayed as an overnight guest left the next morning with some comment on the strange noises that they heard during the night. Florence's mother refused to stay in the house again after spending two nights listening to the unearthly footsteps pacing the second floor.
Florence's sister, Aura, who stayed overnight occasionally, complained of tappings on the outside of her second floor bedroom window, as if a tree branch were hitting it in the wind. There was not a tree anywhere near the window.
One morning she asked her sister, "Florence, who stayed in the corner room last night?"
"What do you mean? That room's always empty!"
"Well, I heard whispering and arguing all night long, but the only thing is, I couldn't understand what was being said."
'Magic' whispering is a phenomenon in many hauntings.
One very hot day in September of the year in which they had moved into the house, Florence was there alone, painting the walls of an upstairs bedroom. As she worked, the room slowly began to get colder, even though the sun continued to beat down just as intensely outside. The room kept getting colder and colder until Florence realized that she was shivering uncontrollably. Suddenly, even though she was looking out of the window, she knew that someone was in the room with her. She stiffened - this being was evil and hated her. Fear welled up in her. She was terrified, unable to turn around to see who was behind her. She tried to gather up her courage, tried to force her muscles to turn her around, when suddenly a freezing hand clamped down upon her shoulder! Trembling, not wanting to believe what she most feared, she slowly turned, the hand still on her shoulder. Then she began screaming over and over again as the ice-cold hand melted from her, for there was no one there! She yelled: "I don't know who you are or what you want, but you wonlE force me out of this house!"
Still screaming, she ran down the stairs, out onto the front porch and waited for her daughter to come home before she would go back in. She later told her daughter that she could get used to the walking, but what she experienced in that room was evil, terribly evil!
At certain times, usually while Florence was preparing dinner, there would be three loud knocks at the front door. Upon answering it, she would find no one there. Again the three knocks would sound, but before she could get to the door she would hear it open and slam shut, and someone very heavy would run right past her and up the stairs.
Keeping farm help became impossible. They were terrified. One complained of an unseen person tucking him in at night! Another had the covers constantly pulled off of him. Then there was the incessant walking in the halls and around the beds to add to their misery.
Mr. and Mrs. V. had been living in the house for quite some time before something happened that was so frightening, she could never possibly forget. It occurred three times in one week and there was no doubt that it was meant only for her to experience.
Florence had gone to bed with her husband. The room was in complete darkness and she was on the verge of falling asleep when suddenly, she was jolted back to awareness. On the opposite wall there appeared a black mass, blacker than the surrounding darkness. Slowly, it began to glow, forming a ball. It started to grow; its color changed to pale yellow, to vivid orange and then to brilliant red. As it grew, it began to roar until it sounded like a blast furnace! Florence was petrified with fear as the roar became deafening and the brilliance blinding. She couldn't take any more. The fear, the noise, the blinding illumination of the entity were all too intense. She slipped into unconsciousness as her husband slept peacefully at her side.
Twice more that week Florence had the same experience. Each time she felt a greater, more powerful evil coming from the entity. Could it possibly be a warning?
In 1958, Sandra went away to college. That same year, Florence had another baby girl. Until that time, ghostly occurrences had somewhat subsided giving Mr. and Mrs. V. a respite. Their peace, however, was short-lived.
One cool fall night, Florence was in her living room watching television with one of the farmhands. The baby was asleep in her bedroom down the hall. Incredibly, a thundering roar shook the house coming from the direction of the child's room. Florence and the farmhand ran down the hall to the bedroom. The room was extremely cold although the house was very well heated. Once before Florence had felt that same freezing, damp cold, and remembered well the terror that came with it. Looking across the room, she saw that the other door, wh
ich had been latched from the inside, was swinging wide open. The thick, heavy latch was bent out of shape and torn from the wall. The radiator, which the door had hit when it opened, was still reverberating from the force of the crash. The farmhand then ran to the basement to see if the furnace had blown up. While he was gone, Florence suddenly had the distinct impression that this and most of the other happenings in this house centered around a young girl who was long since dead!
The furnace was working perfectly. No explanation could be found for the door having been forced open; that is, no earthly explanation. Nor could Florence's husband Charles, explain it when he arrived home. There is one more strange factor to take into consideration; both Florence and the hired hand heard the deafening explosion. The baby girl in bed next to the door that was smashed open, slept through it all unaware of what had just happened!
Neither this, nor the water faucets which were constantly being turned on throughout the house, nor the heavy furniture thrown about in locked unoccupied upstairs rooms, would force Florence to give up the house she loved so much.