Brownstonelit's Blog

1/31/12

It is now 11:11 am.

Sitting in my new kitchen with coffee hot, the water outside my window lies still and serene. Sip after sip, I take in the new scenery and watch a Morning dove who has taken to the rail of the front porch as roost. Like me, she winks between slumber’s pull and daylight’s demands and I am reminded of a similar bird that used to visit the farm just after my mother had passed. A bird I referred to as Angel.

While this bird could not be the same…she brings a calm and order to my breathing. Perhaps she is a reminder that I am being cared for from afar and today that would be necessary, for there are clouds building on the horizon. The shoreline yawns and stretches like a small child who turns in his sleep and there is little current in the wake of dawn and the water waits as I for the approaching tempest and irritation of its calm.

I am prepared…

1/30/12

Just twenty four hours later…

Two of the three remaining holes in the dike have been plugged. Now let’s see if their stories hold water!

1/28/12

I awoke early this morning and spent some time in the chill of dawn, watching the sun try to bleed its way through the thinned gauze of fog that blanketed the lake and it eased my soul. Yesterday was profound and my brain lie exhausted in bed last night, yet refused to shut down and kept me up most the night. The process of this relationship builds and strains with each discovery. As you know I have had lingering questions about the key players in this and some feeble ties to segues that begged for more support and informational infrastructure. Yesterday brought clarification to some issues and like the fog outside my window…ambiguity to others.

When I began this adventure, I had no idea where it would take me. It has been both blessing and curse for I have met wonderful people, shared incredible bonds and in the same stroke learned of others and their despicable deeds. The scales have tipped to and fro several ties each day between empathy and antipathy and my heart continues to break on a daily basis; for in deed there are innocents sprinkled amongst the guilty and they walk amongst the shadows of the dead unaware. Still, that does not negate the fact that Julie was an innocent too…only six at the time and that is the innocence I must remember that must be championed in this cause.

On January 26^th, I celebrated the passing of my mother. Celebrated you say? Yes-celebrated. If for no other award than this…I am grateful to Charley. This unprecedented relationship between Charley and myself has taught me that I have not lost the bond between my earthly mother and father… I simply needed to learn the shorthand of the dead and be blessed with the gifts of another human whom I cherish beyond comprehension… my dear friend, R.

Through her hands I have held my mother’s again. Through her eyes, I have seen my father’s and through her heart…I have found my truest friend in all the ‘worlds’— Charley Covington. I know you think this book should dance upon the edge of a paranormal pin and dip and dive in and out of the debauchery of a clandestine few… and trust me- it will deliver on all those points. But this is about his voice in my life as much as it is about my voice in his death and it will take you inside both head and heart and leave you breathless for the depth and beauty of the exchange.

One of my interviewed once confessed to knowing things and made the conscious decision to keep his/her silence to protect those that would come after. In my eagerness to solve this case, I rushed to judgments- condemning the fool for obstruction of justice. Now, this person had a dog in the fight so to speak, so perhaps altruism was not his/her strongest ploy… Still, I now walk that fine line myself and while I acknowledge that it is my solemn duty to share what information’s can be shared with those who can effect true remedy… I too now carry the burden of discovery and drag the shackles of both obligation and honor across the floors of compassion, as I pace between the publication of someone’s personal heaven and hell.

Is this part of my lesson? To parse and piece the fragments of others souls? I am not judgment itself- though I become the courier of such through the medium of this process.

Do not think that this task has not taken a toll upon its narrator, for I too was once an innocent. Innocent before I opened Hazel’s journal. Innocent before I read the media hype, before I made the first call or drove the first mile.

For every night that I have kept company with restless ghosts and shared my days with their unending nightmares, I too deserve the gift of final resolution.

1/27/12

Today has been a lifetime…

Encouraged by the sunshine, I took advantage of an early meeting and while driving to it, enjoyed the weather and  the sporty car in front of me. The numbers on the tag correlated to something in my Angel Numbers book about working on one aspect of my divine mission, so I read further. It said to take immediate action on the first thing I think of relating to it. So I listened to the radio for a second and thought… what’s the first thing about Charley’s case that comes to mind right his minute? Before the light changed to green, I had it! Ah yes… I had to return a call to someone who was in receipt of information. Two streets later, the next red light provided ample time for gathering my phone from my purse and searching the appropriate contact. Once selected and dialed- it began to ring. The clock in the car kicked over to 2:22.  I smiled. It was a most auspicious sign. Happy with information presented… I gave them yet another task and left them to themselves and contacted R to share in my joy. Minutes later… I received another call…which led to another two calls… one that contained the numbers 444…and then another back to R again.

It has been a long day.

You know just when you think you have things figured out… they come through with something more. Now just 2 and1/2 chapters shy of the promise land, I have enough new information to flesh out another three chapters and go back and backfill in twenty others. This makes me both happy and sad for reasons you will one day read.

Do you remember the blog I wrote about the day they told me to take out the trash? Back in November of 2010, when Charley came through and told me about the gold lockbox with the numbers 8099? The MOT and the trains filled with illegal hooch running NW out of the Clyatteville-Nankin area?  The man who freaked with blood on his hands? The session where Jessica came through and talked about slitting her wrists?

Well… there was one other impression that came through that day about a fire. A fire lit in July? A huge fire that had nothing to do with burning garbage? A huge fire that burned just as hot that day as the sun? Until now… I had no idea what it was referring to, because until now, Jessica never told me why it was so important. She says it had nothing to do with burning trash, because it had everything to do with burning a body… hers. You would think she wouldn’t forget a thing like that, but she waited till now because it was important for me to put other pieces together first.

You see, there were two men there that day watching the flames, Grim. Two men who knew what the flames were dancing around. Two men who watched as flesh began to shrivel and the grease began to ooze from the marrow of the bones. Could you smell the sulfur? The acrid stench of burning hair? You thought no one would ever find out what lay beneath the ash and rubble, didn’t you Grim?

Why do you always under estimate the dead?

There is more you know?

The woman who sits with tape on her mouth…wanting to speak, but bound by another’s need for her to remain silent. The man who is missing the tooth, the pilot, the red shirt and the bugle in the red velvet case?  They tell me to read Chapter 12 again…there is something in Chapter 12 that holds the key.

I use that key to wind the clock. Can you hear it begin to measure your time left till discovery?

Tick… tick… tick… tick… tick…the pendulums swings.

1/26/12

Like the coffee pot that percolated waiting for its master to come home… so this case begins to bubble and brew in ways you could not possibly imagine.

Wake up and smell the cappuccino, Grim.

The time to sweat had already passed. How do you feel about Depends?

1/23/12

The other night I had a dream… no, not quite a dream. It was a message. Fully aware, that I was fully aware I paid extra attention knowing that whatever it was that was being sent for preview was a direct epiphany meant for my disclosure.

As always, the air began to thin and the space I was standing in filled with cloudy material so that all was obliterated but the piece of focus. There before me stood a door. A beautifully carved door adorned with various carvings and inscriptions not close enough for me to decipher.

I stood and waited for the remainder of whatever was to manifest to do so. When nothing else came into view, I returned my attentions to the door, curious as to its meaning. When at last my curiosity was surpassed by my slight annoyance at such a banal significance… the door opened very slowly.

Again I waited for something further to develop.

Nothing did.

And that was the point…

“Doors are being opened for you,” was literally the message I was receiving. It was so simple- so direct. Grateful, I thanked the cosmos and proceeded to go about my life. I understood its meaning. Knew that things in this case would soon begin to pop and perhaps movement on the book could earnestly begin as well. Patient, understanding that the cosmos does not work on dog years…I went back to life with a keen eye towards the future.

The future came 24 hours later!

A door has opened, Grim.

The next night, comforted and validated by the first interpretation, I asked for another message. That night another came through. Three nails falling from the sky. This one I shall have to think about. The nails may be symbolic of several things, but the act of three falling?

Now that makes perfect sense… doesn’t it, Grim?

The farmer…

The muddy boots…

And you!

The three falling.

1/19/2012

I saw a name similar to yours today on an email, Grim and it took me a back- just for an instant. Of course it wasn’t from you or even about you. To tell the truth it wasn’t even spelled the same way, but nonetheless…it caught me off guard. There was a hitch in my throat, a lump in my stomach and a gasp of air that barely escaped from my lips.

Does that ever happen to you, Grim?

Do ever just open up a letter, see a poster, listen to the radio and hear my name, or a name similar to mine and catch your breath?  Just for an instant, wondering…

What does she know?

Who is she talking to now?

When will they come?

So many questions, so little time.

Just thought I would ask.

1/14/12

“Justice is coming… justice is coming” they say.

Those that have passed are banding together to bring resolution to their murders. Those that committed them stand alone. Who will crack first? Who will taste the bittersweet release of finally telling the truth?

The farmer?

The man who courts the law?

The man with the rubber boots?

The man with the pocket protector?

You, Grim?

Someone will talk… who will be first to reap the benefits of cracking the shell?

The clock has been wound, the pendulum begins its march across the face of a New Year.

It won’t be long now they say. The pressure is too great. The secrets no longer secret. There is no other place to turn, but into the light.

The clock begins its countdown.

Tick, tick, tick, tick…

1/8/12

It occurred to me today while working on the book that I have several clues still left untethered. And, I also have some clues that are so close to one another that one might think I have misread or have incorrectly transcribed them. Take for instance…

The 17^th by the lake.

And…

The 17^th by the river.

Now one might think that I have simply gotten confused on my bodies of water, but no. One is the lake… and one is the river.

The lake could be for one of two things. The watery destination where a tape was exchanged between Charley and F_____ ? Or, the lake where they strangled Roxanne? Oh silly me!

That’s the same lake! But is it the same date?

Hmmmm…

Now for the river? That’s another story completely. Why? Because it has something to do with the shovel and the compass. But was this for the MOT or for Jessica?

Hmmmm…

I know, I know. You think the MOT is buried in another town. So did I, till I found out G helped with the Death Certificate!

Now I’m not so certain!

So you see, lake- river… river-lake?

Who knows!?

It’s like that cute little tune they used to hum… “You say tomatoe, and I say tomaaaato… You say potatoe…and I say potaaaato! Tomatoe- tomaaaato- potatoe…potaaaato! Let’s call the whole thing off!”

But you can’t now… can you Grim?

Why?

Because somebody’s watching… Sleep tight!

First… Happy New Years to my readers!

Sorry for such a delay, but I have been working on the book and piecing together the final parts of this elaborate puzzle.

Yesterday I drove home and it was glorious to drive through sunshine and somewhat Spring like weather. The music was warm, the wind cool- but not cold and the sunshine?

Golden…just like silence!

Silence is golden.

For now?

Silence is necessary!

Shhhhhhh…

All will be explained in a few days!