Someone is trying to kill me!  (I’ll tell ya about that in a bit.)

So I went to Kona for a sabbatical, needed a break from the unknown.

It was a great week, being in the South Pacific again, except for the bugs that were in my bed.  Yeah, you heard right.  I paid for a whole week at an Ohana (fancy Hawaiian talk for a run-down mother-in-law quarters) and the first morning I was there, I woke up at 4:30a.m. cuz it was 7:30 a.m. in my head (and the entire West Coast.)   So it was dark, of course, and I turned on my laptop and noticed all these little bugs dancing on the bright screen of my computer.  Then I noticed all these little bugs hopping up and down on my arm like it was a trampoline… and then I noticed all theses little bugs stretched out in my bed…or worse…I realized I was in their bed!  Then I noticed I was running screaming out the door with both arms over my head!

 

I got the rest of the week’s money back from the slum lord and was only homeless for a couple of hours.

Back to the killer.  Yes, I am being chased by a killer.  Ever since I found that “secret” diary, chapter 8,  the “secret” is out that I have “secret” information on “secret” people and someone secretly wants me dead!  And that’s no secret.  (And remember, if they succeed, you’ll never know the end to this story.)  

 

So weird to me, I hardly have time to be stalked.  I’m super busy.  I wish I could enjoy it more. 

But now that I’m back from the Islands, I do remember even when I was there I was being watched by a weirdo.  It never occurred to me he could be in on it too.  He just stared at me, never moved, creepy look on his face.  I should have figured it out then.

 

I noticed the stalker when I was in the graveyard, of all places.  I was at Mama’s grave, sitting and talking to her.  The long shadows of the old oaks were dancing on the ground and a slight breeze rustled the scattered leaves. (Stole that last line from a poem.)   All at once, I had that feeling I was being watched.   As I turned to look, I saw the back of a man step behind a large grave marker.  

Scared the wits outta me!  My heart was pounding so hard I was afraid he’d hear it.  I grabbed my purse and keys and ran to my car.  I put that sucker in drive and hit the accelerator so hard my tires squealed.   Creepy, creepy. 

But, of course, by the end of the night, I decided it was just my imagination, which I do seem to have a problem with, kind of a theme in my life.

 

 

But then, over and over again, little things would happen.  When you have a house full of boys/men/apes/wolves, it’s hard to really notice if anything is out of order because everything is out of order.  But I am sure that someone has been through my desk and through my car.  I keep that diary with me ALL the time now.  If they want it that bad, then I really want it.  

I was strapping it to my dog, to give myself a break….

But, of course, my dog is way too nosey and is reading every single thing in it. For her own protection I had to take it from her.   So now I’m back to hauling it around in fear of someone breaking in my home and stealing it.

I know, I know, you’re thinking what about Primo?  He’s a cop.  But you have to understand something about Primo… he already thinks everyone is after our family even when no one is!   If he knew we had a “live” one, why, he’d never let me go anywhere and investigate….and where would that leave you??? 

So, for his own sake and his peace of mind, I just wait until the ol’ soul is fast asleep and then out the window I go, on my way.  It’s for his own good.  Why worry him over a stalker?  He’s got bigger fish to fry.  It’s all for you guys…don’t forget that.

Okay, enough about being stalked. Back to Mama’s story, where were we?  Oh, yeah, young love.  They just got hitched.  Here we go! 

For those of you who have NO idea what I’m talking about, you have missed 8 chapters. Here it is in three words or less:  I found Mama’s diary after she died, found out the church back then wanted a “savvy” pastor, hired Sal, he’s a Hollywood type, a mess; he hired Dave as a youth pastor who is the “real deal” and everyone loves.  Sal is SUPER jealous of Dave; and his son Johnny is now Dave’s best friend…oh boy, and it gets worse, Sal’s daughter, Micah, just married Dave.  Sal is hiding his rage.  Mama is hiding her fear.  And the reason I am being stalked is because I have been writing about this true story and someone wants to silence me….yikes!  Here we go:

The newly-married couple honeymooned in Carmel by the Sea for a week, paid for by Sal Baby himself.  Nothing but the best for his little girl.

Back at the office Mama wrote about all the gifts and cards that poured in for them while they were away.  But it wasn’t until I read the “secret” journal did I see behind the scene.  Sal was agitated and fearful.  Mama knew then that Sal had a plan to destroy Dave, but having to wait in this “in-between” time was killing him.  He paced and ranted and raved. 

The gifts and congratulations reminded him of Dave’s popularity and sent him into rage after rage.  Mama trembled behind the desk as the door to Sal’s office was continually being slammed shut.  It was then that Mama knew in her heart that Sal’s lifetime enemy would be…his new son-in-law.

After the newly-wed couple returned home, things began to settle down and Dave returned to his ministry duties.  His youth group doubled in size and churches from afar began to request him to come to their church as a speaker.  It seemed that everything he touched turned to gold.  He held revival meetings in the gymnasium, and they were packed out.  Even his singing was phenomenal, with offers from Christian producers.  And all the time that he succeeded, Sal seemed to melt down.

 

That night Mama’s sleep was erratic and fretful.  The wind banged on the shutters like a madman trying to get in.  Mama finally drifted off around 2:30 a.m. but was abruptly awakened with a hand tightly around her throat.  As her eyes desperately tried to adjust in the darkness, fear enveloped her.  The hand was fitted with a black leather glove, and Mama soon could make out the large frame of a man dressed in black.  Only the whites of his eyes showed in the shadows, and the rain from the brim of his hat dripped on Mama’s face.  The wind howled as if to alert Mama to the danger, and the lightening offered a quick glimpse of the partially covered face.  Mama thought she recognized the eyes.  The eyes of a madman.  As Mama began to give way to the draining of oxygen, she could feel the hot breath of Madman inches from her face,  “Leave it alone….and I’ll leave your daughter alone.“

Just as fast as he appeared, he was gone.  Mama lay motionless for moments, gasping for breath.  Putting her hand to her throat, she felt the soreness from Madman.  With her senses returning, she jumped from bed and in an erratic path sped to my room and almost ran through the shut door.  I was only 10.  I was fast asleep.  But on my covers over my chest there was a note, “It’s your choice.”

I never knew ANY of this!  I do remember things changed abruptly around that time.  Mama had deadbolts put on anything that opened and never let me out of her sight, but I never knew why.  Not until I read the “secret” diary. 

I can’t tell you the pain I feel now as I try to imagine what she went through that night.  For her to know that Madman had stood over my bed, it must have been more than she could take.  Poor Mama, how did she keep all this inside?

Let me tell you, sweet thing, this is all related to my stalker.  Mama never let any of this out, and who would think after all these years, someone would still be trying to keep it silent?  I hope by posting this I don’t wake up with a leather glove around my neck.   Of course, I don’t know who is stalking me, but I have a strong feeling he is connected to Madman.  I’ll keep you posted.

On a light note, how would you girls like to have a recipe for your soul? I’m gonna whip myself up a batch up right now.

Be Strong, Do Not Be Afraid

• Daily prayer
• Worship
• Armor of God
• The Word

Take the above ingredients and sift them together.   Beat them on high into your brain.  Then transfer to a well-oiled heart.

Now for the Do-Not-Be-Afraid part, take your bushel of fear and carefully remove all the fraidy-cats, and mix with ingredients listed above.  Incinerate it on high.   Bake until there is none remaining.

Serving size:  Enough for your entire family and friends.