My official "myspace" page and also Blog
My Space is hosting my blog. So follow the link to the my space page and right close to my picture there is a link which says "blog" hit that and it makes you scroll down to read the whole "story"... I will also warn you there are deviations from the story when I felt i needed to write about something else. But that is where you will find it all.
Keep an eye out for messages about Angela and the life she leads as The Astral Avenger.
Sign the Guest book please.
For a sneak peek into a new story line by thr author, tenatively called Haunting the Post Master, click the link above titled "My Blog..."
Here is the last entry for Haunting the Post Master, a story I am working on as an exercise to possibly become a novel separate from the Angela Mystique works. Do enjoy, and note, it really is fiction.... I think... I'll have to check if he's limping or not Monday.... :)
Most Current Blog entry- to catch up with the rest of the story....
Leprechaun man was trying to become the post master again. I didn't know from what rock Brian crawled out of, but the Post Master was just absolutely disgusting. I needed to discover where he had come from because he obviously wasn't human.
So what was he? An alien? I didn't have a clue as I sat in the chair with my feet still glued to the floor by the green crap he'd spewed on my feet. Rolling my eyes at the puddle beneath me, I worried I might make a new one if I didn't figure out how to get out of this.
The Post Master had managed to create legs out of the mush he'd turned into. A blob of flesh and green and fetid smells that made my toes curl and stomach roll. Popping sounds accompanied squishing gurgling noises that I had no desire to witness let alone hear.
When the creature had finished, he actually looked like the post master again, with his stupid platinum leprechaun hair. I shouldn't be giving him such a cute nick name for he looked like a crazed Bozo the clown.
"Ya know you shouldn't go around scarring kids like that. Ever take off in the wind with that hair?"
The post master walked over and back handed my left cheek. The blow sent my head crashing and my ear stung against the back of the chair.
"You are such a prick. Do you know how many people hate you?"
Answered with a right back hand. Now my ears felt like they had new piercings. Cool. The snowball freeze to the ear, pain. Wonderful.
"How do you even get around with all that extra around there? Do they use it as a tractor tire mold?" I asked provoking him further with a look to his rounding gut.
This time he pulled his fist back to send a devastating blow to my gut when Brian grabbed his arm. "Don't let her get to you my pet."
My pet?
"Soon she won't be able to do anything but experience pain. And with the ritual excursions we've planned, that pain will last.... well..." Brian looked at me with his crystal blue eyes. "For eternity." He finished with a smile.
I tried to kick him, forgetting that I was glued to the floor which only served to entertain them further.
The two men, grabbed coats, Brian slid the wand into a plain velvet pouch and slid it into his inner suit pocket, before putting on his coat. "Don't worry, we'll return for you soon."
When the door closed, I felt like I had seconds to figure out how to get out of this situation. In reality I had all the time in the world.
First I tried to wriggle my feet out of my shoes, but the goo had effectively landed on my ankles as well. No escape there.
The only other option I thought I could try would be to go astral and find a way to remove the goo.
If I could even go astral after being drained of so much energy.
I closed my eyes and was instantly assaulted with images of Brian bucking and grinding at my center.
My eyes flew open, my heart racing. That had never happened before- he'd never touched me- but the images caused physical feelings I was so not comfortable with.
Hesitant, but desperate to get away, I risked closing my eyes to try to hit that meditative state which allows me to astrally travel again, and was barraged with images of the post master stroking tentacle like extremities in the center of his blob of a body. His teeth, dirtied, flies exiting his mouth he jerked himself into frivolity while staring at me.
I couldn't take it. I opened my eyes. What had they done to me? Why were these images burning my eye lids each time I tried to relax?
Booby trapped. I'd been booby trapped to stay inside my own body and not exit by spirit.
Wonderful. Did these creatures miss nothing?
Earlier in: Haunting the Post Master:
So after hearing that the post master never made it back to work, but that he would be in later that afternoon- I decided to create a new plan of attack.
See, each morning I get to go in to the post office to get my mail. This is how I am keeping track of how my haunting of the post master is going. So far everything is working perfectly. He lost two days of sick leave to let the burns and itty bitty punctures heal, and later this after noon he'll be back to work.
Perfect. Now- the only way to really scare this man- is make the fact that these things shouldn't be happening- more evident. They can no longer be explained away- by anything-
Part of this means doing something in board daylight- possibly when only he can see- around other people so that his mental capacity stays in question.
Today I sit at home getting ready to meditate into my altered state to travel astrally down to the post office-
What is so cool is the invisible part- no one will be able to see me- and there just isn't anyone there sensitive enough to the energies around them to be able to sense that I am there- or even that something is different.
Slowly and easily I control my breathing and I slip away into the state of pure vibration-
Traveling astrally in the day time is wierd because that is not something I am used to. It isn't as much fun because it's day time- everything just seems pretty normal. Blah- No stars above to watch and appreciate as I travel- just the heat and haze which isn't exactly affecting me- my body is at home in an air conditioned room.
So I float my way down the streets, and drift right through the concrete. Most carriers are back from their routes and putting away flyers into little slots for the next day-
Ooo creepy- the new cleaner is there- She seems nice and appears to be doing a good job. I wish I still had the job but it isn't her fault so I don't mess with her at all.
My actual target is working on flats of mail and tossing junk mail into a large bin.
Ooooo the large bin. I now have my plan.
These bins are eighty pounds by themselves. Without all the junk mail inside. WITH the junk mail inside they are even heavier.
This couldn't be more perfect. I situate myself on one side of the bin. The post master is helping me by standing very close to the bin close enough that I'll be able to push it- (expending a great deal of my own etheric energy) right on top of his foot- in front of everyone.
You do realize it will appear that he did it to himself- like the coffee and the pins? LOL-
Ahhh I love it-
Right now he is visiting with his mistress- toss envelope here- laughter- toss plastic into the other bin for recylcing. Toss envelope- Ooo he winked at her- trying to be all secretive and get his place in her.... ummm... unmentionable again.....
Here's my chance- his blonde mistress just walked away toward her own "station" so to speak- I put both hands against the black and orange large heavy cart and push it just two inches to roll right across his foot.
GLORIOUS! A scream rips from his throat as the pain shoots through his leg.
Everyone in the post office turns to look at him. He seems the greatest idiot in history as he hops on one foot toward his office screaming at everyone to just go back to work.
The looks passed between each of the carriers was priceless, but even more perfect... The timing. Right as the post master's office door is slammed shut, his boss, and the actual real officla post master walks in.
This couldn't be more perfect. The carriers are saying hello to the old post master and telling him that the post master just hopped into his office.
The post master the real one, Mr. Keystone asked about the hopping. The cariers explain that the post master just screamed out of no where- yelled at everyone for no reason and hopped into his office.
Mr. Keystone nods his head- and heads into the office after thepost master. And of course- I'm right behind him floating as silently as can be.
He enters the post master's ofice which he should rightfully be holed up in, takes one look at the post master and absolutely cracks up loosing his mind.
I can't help but laugh either. It's a good thing these men can't hear me.
See- when we entered the office- the post master had his shoe and sock off and had his large toe right inside his mouth. And when he removed it- upon seeing Mr. Keystone enter his office- the toe he had been sucking on was bright red- very swollen- with the largest- thickest- most yellow nail I'd ever seen in my life-
The post master's face turned bright red and whined, "But it hurts so bad."
"What hurts so bad? What is going on and why are you sucking on your big toe?" Mr. Keystone asks with laughter coloring his voice.
"Never mind."
"What?" Mr. Keystone is getting a little taste of the crazy I see. I float over to the corner to watch and be able to see both faces.
The post master heaves a big sigh slamming his foot to the ground. Which makes him wince in pain and look like an exploding little Lucky the Leprechaun from Lucky Charms. I still hate the man's hair yes.
"If you must know the pumpkin bin rolled over my foot and I think my toe is broken."
"And how did this happen?" Mr. Keystone asks.
"I have no idea, it just rolled."
"Those things can't just roll. They are too heavy."
"Don't you think I know that? But it did. It just rolled right over my foot. How am I supposed to work like this?" He says pulling his throbbing toe above the desk again to show Mr. Keystone.
"How indeed." Mr. Keystone answers.
Ahhh my work is done for today! The post master once again looks crazy. Absolutely stark raven mad- not to mention unhygenic. LOL.
Ahhhh We'll have to see if he is at work tomorrow.
A big smile accompanies me as I float my way home and back into my body, opening my eyes with perfect timing to watch Genreal Hospital.
For more notes from Angela Mystique, read on...
New Entry: 2009
I've never really enjoyed the heat despite living in downtown LA. Living so close to the shoreline does help with that irritant though at the constant breeze from the sea keeps it nice and cool, at least around my apartment.
I woke up from another dream and felt the need to record it right away. First I wrote a little note and put in on top of my jeans waiting for me at the end of the bed... "See if Randy has a charm for banishing nightmares..."
Dream Journal Entry 2009
Client: Mystery...possibly myself?
Moon: Waning
The pack of wolves was chasing after me faster than I could fly. I couldn't seem to reach a height much more than a few feet off the ground which left my feet close enough to the racing hounds to nip at. It wasn't long before the toes of my sneakers were bitten off and little bits of my toe flesh were hanging, a temptation these wolves were not about to let go. It seemed my energy was being sapped as each little nip gave them a greater taste of my blood. I had no where to go, I couldn't get any higher into the sky, and the race seemed endless.
I couldn't get home. I couldn't escape. And I was becoming a meal for wolves.
Two minutes later and a great black beast approached quickly from the left tackling one of the gray wolves nipping at my toes. I stopped in mid flight as one of the wolves was taken down, rolling in the dirt of the forest yelping. What had come to my rescue?
It looked like a great black bear with teeth white, and sharper than a parring knife. Jaws clamped down on the wolves muzzle and it was silenced forever. In short order the other two were chomped and the final wolf ran off into the woods.
Greatful, I touched down and immediately sunk to a kneel before the great black bear that had saved me.
"Stand up, never kneel before me." The words were in english and as I looked up, no great shining black beast stood before me, but a man. Dark hair shined in the moonlight, framing his face in a messy, sexy bed head style. His eyes shone dark blue and his teeth gleemed as his lips parted to smile at me.
"Who are you?" I asked, and quickly replaced the question with, "Thank you. I couldn't seem to get away."
The man stepped up to me, a tall cool drink of water cascaaded down my spine. He had to be a good five inches taller than me, putting him close to six feet tall. Slim but muscular, my attraction to him was instant. He took hold of my hands and brought them to his lips brushing such soft skin across my rough knuckles. He opened my hands and blew gently into my palms, sending me to my knees.
He followed me down to the soft earth and lay above me, brushing the hair from my eyes.
Achingly slow, his lips inclined to mine, touching softly, then staking claim to the warmth of my mouth, his tongue searching for my taste, my heart, my soul. I opened more than my mouth to him and he claimed my essense for his own.
My breath quickened as he kissed me. He caressed my lips with his covering my mouth with his moist warmth until I couldn't breathe. I needed air, but did I need it more than I needed his touch, for he created a need of him, so great that I thought I might die to part from him.
To die melting in the arms of a tender lover turned from beast to man? Or die from the lack of him?
I couldn't decide! Nor could I breathe.
When I awoke, I could still feel the warmth of his lips against my own and wondered, had I been dreaming?
New Entry:
A young woman was following Angela. As soon as she recorded the awful tentacle dream, she through on her jogging clothes, and took off down the southern California coast. She usually ran about five and a half miles but even that didn’t feel like enough today, so Angela kept going, rather than run around the red tsunami warning sign to head back. Long red hair swishing from side to side behind her, feet pounding the hardened sand where footprints hang around for a while but don’t spray sand up, Angela almost didn’t notice the woman at first. But eventually she did, after seeing a darkness in her peripheral vision. Angela was actually quite used to seeing ghosts, but they didn’t usually follow her during her jog.
The woman was walking weird which could have to do with the fact that Angela was running, and the ghostly woman was keeping up with her without running. Her steps were jerky and random. She wasn’t always in the spot Angela expected her to be in, for following her. She had long blond hair which was riddled with sea weed and other things Angela tried hard not to focus on. Her eyes were blue with a film over them that clearly displayed aged death. Another oddity. Ghosts came to Angela right after their deaths, not months later, which this woman clearly seemed to have dealt with. Angela kept running to see what the woman would do though she was tiring as she smacked the seven mile tsunami warning sign, and ran around it to head back.
As she took her sharp turn around the sign to change directions, she ran right through the woman. Instantly images of the woman’s death and subsequent life under the sea, crashed through Angela’s mind. Deep green water, cold beyond imagining, a pressure and movement indefinable drove Angela mad for a moment before she got a grip on herself. She stumbled as she felt the motion of thousands of miles of water thrusting her from the rocks she’d been chained to.
The sand ripped at her legs and right arm as she fell realizing she wasn’t the one trapped under the water, it was the woman. Her head bounced against the sand and the woman was speaking to her not inches away from Angela’s face. Angela could smell the sea though the woman’s mouth never moved.
“I've been murdered. You must help me.” The woman whispered to Angela’s mind. Angela groaned hearing the same exact litany once again letting her head fall back to the sand, and stared at the blond close enough to be kissing her. A piece of sea weed dropped onto Angela's face and slid down the side of her cheek. The woman above her had to have been been in the sea for a while. Her skin was a pale white, but only slightly bloated. The woman's hands were on either side of Anglea's head, red nail polish decorated chipped jagged finger nails. The woman's face looked like it had fed a number of sea creatures, one of which was still attached. Angela stared at the star fish covering half the woman's face obscuring most of the detail, which was probably a good thing.
“Ya think?” Angela answered.
Here is a sample of todays notes on Angela's dreams....
So one of the complete, utter downsides for Angela Mystique is the issue of nightmares. Being able to kill whom you need, when you want, without the fear of repercussion, can be as exciting and exhilarating as it sounds. The main problem she has though, is very little sleep. Oh it isn't that she hasn't tried, it's that she is plagued with nightmares. Really nasty horrible nightmares.
What would one do about that? Well Angela has decided that writing them down in a dream journal helps to get the bad energy out of her mind, hopefully to stay on the paper and not reoccur during her sleep for rest. (As opposed to her sleep to kill...)
She has to do something about them. They really can be just nasty things. Maybe if I leave an excerpt from her book, you might better understand why she has such an intense problem with her dreams....
Dream Journal: 2008
Client: Rachel killed by unknown assassin
Moon: waning
I was falling... You know, one of those endless falls where you can feel every inch of gravity and yet never the ground. Little things were poking at me. It was like falling through a swarm of starving mosquitoes. I could feel the stinging bites. Are you supposed to feel pain in a dream? I hadn't before, but there is a first for everything as they say. It was another sign of something changing. There had been far too many signs lately.
"Get her blood! Get that blood." I heard screamed above me somewhere. It was dark where I was falling, but there was a little light above me where a shadow crossed over and then would move and the light would shine down again. Someone was up there, and they wished me harm. They wanted my blood. When the shadow crossed over the light again, the stings got worse.
The sparks started raining down. But not just any sparks, colored sparks of fire that didn't just disintegrate. They started little fires along my skin. My skin was pale as it was, but to see little scorch marks where the fires had burned what flesh they could reach. The sparks were pouring down from the light and shadows, little stings like bites were ravaging me, and I was still falling though the dark, my stomach rolling with each mile? Yard?
I'd been falling for so long I didn't know anymore. I didn't know anything but the fires. They were getting worse, landing in my hair and singeing my pride and joy. I loved my hair and now it was burning. Slapping at the burns, brushing at the stings, I was in pain and bleeding and then the laughing started.
The entire hole I was falling down echoed laughter. It wasn't pleasant, happy, "we love you" laughter either. It was the evil, guttural, the "I'm in such big trouble" laughter.
My arms began to flail, I couldn't seem to stop the falling. My head was a mass of burnt hair that didn't fall out, but stayed attached as black strands of charcoal to float about my face.
Then the little colored flames started dropping along side me, to reveal tentacles below, with a large mawing set of ragged sharp teeth waiting to chomp me to bits. I couldn't stop falling and I was headed right for the the clamping beak full of teeth. The fires lit up it's mouth, but didn't burn the flesh of the thing. Rather it started a litter fire inside the center of the chomping, clacking beak, it's tentacles slithering up the sides of the hole tasting me like a snake licks at it's prey.
I was falling faster, watching the colored fire below get bigger and bigger. I could smell the heat, the sea like slime that aloud the thing to move around me. I could smell burnt fish and knew I was about to be fried and eaten.
I hate when that happens.
