Give me her name!


This week has been beyond frustrating for me. I am still lacking a crucial piece of information and with so much descending upon me next week with the start up of classes and production meetings… I am a tad bit stressed.
Ok, well a lot stressed.
Incredibly stressed.
OH… did I mention I was stressed?

Well…. I am. And of course nothing is worse than that when you are trying to be open to the cosmos to receive further guidance. So, in an effort to be more open I cleared my head while walking the dogs this morning and hoped to see my little friend the finch for a kind word, but no such luck. He had apparently taken his impressions and moved on without me. No matter- I opened myself to what else waited for me. Bad idea.
For in his place, I had other visitors with a message. Four crows positioned themselves in the trees just above me. All cawed, but one who trilled in a higher register and in a vocal pattern I had never heard before. I asked to remain open for clarification as crows are often considered messengers. They continued to speak. The trill one vomiting vibrations upon vibrations. It soon dawned on me that she could have been the energy of G. Harping from her grave- taunting me in a language she knew I could not decipher. No matter how hard I tried to understand the message, I couldn’t. Frustrated by my inability, she ramped things up and her trills rose higher and higher above the tree tops, increasing in volume as the others remained silent.

Then finally it hit me. She was laughing at me. G was mocking me.
I tried to refocus and remain open…but frustration tends to clog your brain. You misinterpret and forget the shorthand of the dead you once thought you knew. The wires get crossed and everybody- including the dead apparently- get a little bit pissy about things I continue to ask for.

Silly little things like — details!

Details that I need to finish this case. Irritated, I took the dogs back in and began my day. After brushing my teeth, putting my make-up on and combing my hair just so… I checked myself out in the bathroom mirror and with a kind appraisal marched to my writing desk with attitude. In an attempt to either placate or further piss him off- I told Charley he looked very nice today- that I liked his tie and then proceeded to mention that I STILL needed specific information no matter what schedule he was on- I had my own to attend to.

He smiled, so I smiled sweetly back and then wrote a name on my dry erase board; the black board with magnets, as he likes to call it. Underneath the name, I drew a huge question mark in red. Then I turned to square off and baited him. I told him I wanted him to fill in the rest. That I had made as many calls or assumptions that I could without getting my butt in a bigger ringer and that he had better step up to the plate again and start filling in the blanks.

Now, in the light of a previous paranormal episode in my house that quite frankly scared the snot out of me; I should have thought twice about throwing down such a gauntlet. But I needed to get this information- a girl’s last name. You can sympathize, can’t you reader? I’ve got girls- all three are in the same age range as this kid who went missing. I know she had long blonde hair. I know what she was wearing. What I don’t know is what the devil she thought she was doing in that hotel with “the 4 in flannel”? I’d say God only knows- but that’s not true. I do – but that’s not the point. What was she thinking? That nice old men who give you roses and pet your poodle won’t hurt you? Why would she have placed herself in such a spot? Oh such naiveté…And why, if the grim reaper may have even been a blood relative of hers, would he have allowed such a thing, let alone choreographed it?

When I said this case was becoming personal… that was such an understatement. You don’t understand reader. The grim reaper is still alive. I’ve talked to him… several times in fact. Lies and lies and even truths wrapped in lies that he thought I was too stupid to figure out. R saw you, grim. Hands about her throat. You, the MOT and the man with the rubber boots and the shooter. You were all there, hovering and watching…

So now I have no other place to turn to for help, but Charley . You found out about her, C. That’s why they murdered you. She was the same age as my kids Charley. If she had been one of mine, know that I would walk through the fiery gates of Hell and drag her name from the smoldering throats of those bastards- but I can’t, so choose your next move wisely, C. What if she had been your daughter???
I can’t save you… till I save her!
Give me her name, Charley!
Give me her name!

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