Do people actually read introduction pages? I’ll be courageous and admit that I rarely do. It’s nothing personal against the author, really, it’s just my lack of interest in people’s personal lives in reference to their websites.

In support of the About Me page readers, I have agreed to participate in providing personal tidbits for your enrichment. These personal facts will be cursory, as I wish to remain anonymous on this particular site.

About Me:

Once upon a time I lived a standard, successful life, with ambitions galore. I was dedicated to Christ, nonetheless, I was a Christian-in-training, on account of white lies to appease others, and occasional profanity. Overall, my heart was wholesome and I normally treated people respectably.

In the springtime of 2016, I experienced a traumatic event that disarranged my perspective on life. While in the midst of unpacking in my newly-rented, Victorian home, a violent fire erupted from the abutting apartment. I became trapped; I fought for my life, with no success. With God willing, I was rescued in time. Aside from my life, I had lost everything, including keepsakes and family heirlooms. The smoke-laden pajamas on my back was nearly all I escaped with.

Without renters insurance to reimburse my belongings (I had just moved in and was on the threshold of purchasing the policy), I was left with the option to grovel toward my parents, who happened to live across the country.

The following spring, in 2017, I purchased a rundown home that reflected on my lack of finances. The dilapidated house was the only property affordable within a fifty-mile radius of my parents, so I gambled on my luck with a measly down payment, and vowed to making the abode suitable.

The previous owner of the home was a Catholic nun, one who lied about several factors regarding the house. Although skeptical, I believed her, however, the house inspector did not. He conducted a thorough investigation, and the minor issues he reported were compatible with my financial capabilities. It was beneath the layers, beyond the boundaries of an average inspection, that I discovered makeshift repairs in several locations of the interior and exterior of my home. After ordering a dumpster and disposing most of the interior (kitchen and bathrooms, too), I’m left with adequate shelter, electric, running water, warmth, and a few minor comforts.

I mustn’t forget to mention that the nun left behind two-thousand square feet worth of evil spirits. I’ve been scratched, sexually groped, spoken to, I’ve witnessed dark shadows and shapes, I’ve smelled odors (some not too pleasant), countless sounds, growls, and people talking; and to prove myself sane, visiting family members have experienced some levels of this evil, as well.

Upon research and personal experience, I’ve come to recognize the dangers in claiming a residence subsequent to a holy figure. Savage demons in the highest are assigned to tempt the holiest. It appears I’ve walked into the house of Hell, in every aspect; and somewhere within this mess I regrettably lost my faith . . . God, forgive me, for I fear that I cannot return.