Brownstonelit's Blog

10/20/2014

Academics officially over till January, I have been inundated by spirit with hints and prompts to move forward without delay in the Columbus Stocking Strangler case. Up until now, academics and work obligations have eaten away every ounce of energy and every spare moment, but with school done till next semester and work on tract…my investigations can now return to priority status.  Last week a tea reading brought forth 2 very significant images: a revolver and the letter M.   The revolver could be interpreted in many ways, perhaps even literal… the M?This person is supposed to be sent to help me move forward in a project;  perhaps the 8th victim of the Strangler, Mary Sue will step forward again. Maybe between her and Sophie, things can start to flow again and we can pick up where we left off between Boston and Columbus.

As for my previous case…

On October 9th as always, I spent the day in quiet reverie for Charley and the girls and what they went through back in 1966, the night Charley was murdered. On October 12th, Sophie reminded me through a series of bucolic landscapes and a Post It note that fell of my desk several times of her internment into a watery grave at midnight that night…the 13th,! On that day, (13th) I moved forward from school work to research and read bits and pieces from the Necronomicon, as part of  a new segue into this case. Why you might ask would such an unnerving manuscript rest upon my writing desk? Because  this case has metastasized from murders in Columbus, to Boston, to California and now to another state, by virtue of the travels of the two POI’s that remain at the origins of all this. Decades of debauchery and deception now begin to come full circle… and how appropriate,  they would say that I finally got a chance to read this on the 13th…a significant day in occultism.

The next day,on the 14th, a truck cut me off- his license plate produced several numbers for my edification. When I went to read the number it triggered, Charley’s photo popped from the pages of my angel book tot hew corresponding number and we had a bit of a conversation about his silence and my need for more information. Happy to see him, I gave him a small pep talk…mentioned the anniversary of his death and chided him with playful antics for being quiet for so long. I apologized that movement on his case has slowed, and asked that he deliver new information or evidence to me to help bring it to fruition. At 4:44 that afternoon, he did just that! (BTW’s…444 is an angel number which reminds us we are surrounded and protected by angels and ascended masters.) Charley provided a very unexpected answer to my prayer. We will see where this new information leads!

As for my current book, THE HARVEST on the Columbus and the murders there?

Now, a week later from the full moon, Charley’s anniversary and my freedom from academics… the words and signs that I need to see and hear are being prompted by spirit everywhere: in TV commercials, newspaper ads, random conversations…license plates and virtual divine interventions.

They are pushing for me to do something that will help break this case wide open… a step I have been fearful to make until now. Listening to some recent advice,  I took the first step in that direction this morning, certain that I am  being guided to do so from a divine perspective.

The ball is now in another’s court…I await the answers to the questions!

10/5/2015

In three days a full moon will illuminate the sky and the dead will begin to dance among the stars and give up even more information. In four days it will be the anniversary of Charley’s murder…AGAIN! I am hoping that Jessica and Roxanne will step forward with more information too. If you are curious as to where their bodies lay..read the book, THE THIN GRAY LINE by TA Powell, on Amazon.com. While some things were changed in the book to protect the innocent and those related to the guilty…those locations were not.

Read the book, then petition local law and the private landowners and go to town, so to speak! But do not let vigilantes destroy the evidence! Secure this through proper channels- call the Lowndes County Sheriff’s Department. Maybe Grim will come to watch again as they pull Roxanne’s remains from under the Cyprus stumps, he rolled her into over 48 years ago. He liked to watch the first time when they pulled her body from Saddle Bags lakes-pretended she drown. What a crock- even Miss M said so. Maybe this time he can convincingly pretend to be surprised. Hah!

But try Valdosta…get out their and try for God’s sake. Dig up those girls and bring them home- their bones will help tell the rest of the story. By the way Grim- Jessica was pregnant. Oh, but you knew that because the big guy in Atlanta back then was in on that- literally. So let’s go back to that night on October 12th, 1966 was it? Charley was murdered on the 9th and Roxanne before then, but you had to hide her body a second time and so while everybody was all unglued over the Federal Treasury Agent’s death- you and your buddy’s took a little trip on the Wild side…looked across the way from its gates and a few minutes later- your buddy across the fence held his tongue at midnight while you rolled that poor child into a watery grave. You disgust me and my patience has run out.

Think back Valdosta…who was on patrol back then?

But remember- Roxanne was the second girl to go missing. Jessica, her friend was murdered first in July of that year. After somebody decided he could not afford to have a young prostitute porn star call him out. Where is she? Well, Roxanne’s in a cow pasture and what’s left of Jessica is at the river. Two properties owned by folks who were knowledgeable of what was going down that night. New owners may allow you to dredge and drag the cow pasture swamp for her bones and the gold necklace with the V… the other? Maybe not- Jessica’s buried near the river on his property-the  felon that lured Charley to his death that night. Find him and you find her!

Why do I bring them up now, a year after the book has been out? Because I am tired of waiting for law enforcement to do the right thing! Buy the book…read the details and then go and pressure these folks to find those girls so we can give them a proper burial. Tell law enforcement it’s time to bring Charley justice! And when you’re done with that Valdosta…let’s go get the evidence Charley copied that the MOT was killed for! He told us where to find it.

Again…four more days till the lights go out on the Clyattville- Nankin Road again. Stop at 9:30 PM out there under the stars and hear the echoes of shots ringing out as law enforcement murders him in cold blood.

Why do I ask for help?

Because I want their murders solved… or rather, I have solved them- I want them validated! I am hoping Jessica and Roxanne will help Sophie Clark and Mary Sue Ogletree of the Boston and Columbus  Strangler’s cases respectively, to see what we can accomplish together; each from the other side of the veil. It’s October and the spirits are restless…mine too.

Oh, and here’s another set of names to add to the list of women I am trying to help, who might see this as an ethereal invitation from me to help salvage their dignity and solve their murders too…another two victims, Sherry and Lisa. Do I have their last names? You bet I do…and so do the police! Not in Valdosta mind you…they have enough to deal with Jessica, Roxanne, Charley and the MOT right now.

To those who can no longer speak for themselves–I can help you, if you will help me…just ask R.

I’m waiting…

10/2/2014

When I told you at the beginning of this case that silence is golden, but sometimes its necessary to break to get a point across I  meant it. This case has metastasized in so many ways and to so many victims. It began with Georgia and then the dead brought me to Boston and from there California and now to somewhere else.

What began as a triangle has now become a square.

Against my better judgement…

A riddle for you and you know who you are.

What do Hemingway, six toed cats and two  US Postal keys have in common?

If you sent a Christmas card to the Chronicle in 1990 … you already know.

9/20/2014

I do apologize for having not written before this, but academics come first this time of year, then then book…then the blog.

But just so that you know that things are still moving forward, I am very much into the book…Chapter Twenty-Seven to be exact. Can I share with you? Hmmmm…somethings right now must be saved for authorities.

But I can tell you this… while silence is golden, sometimes speaking out will let someone  know just how far you have come. So to the Stocking Strangler and his friend the Zodiac, let just say the the seventh victims have much to say.

She talks about your eyebrows. Why? Because she was focused on the spot in between them as you violated her. She talks about how your glasses kept sliding down your nose as you dry humped your way into history. She had a great deal else to say…about your clothes, the dimple in the middle of your chin- what you shoved in her mouth to keep her quiet. Things only you and she would know. Or maybe just you , her and… the detective still working the file.

Want to know more?

Let’s talk about December of 1962, shall we? Now what does this have  to do with Columbus in 1977?

Survey says…

_a_ _ _c _ _ _ n _!

You fill in the blanks- you always liked that sort of thing anyways.

But, before we give the store away, let’s talk about what happened shortly after Sophie Clark was murdered. Let’s talk about a trip to a rainy area in February of 1963. Do you remember that? You went out there to lay low for a while- to meet up with a man named Rick. A good friend no doubt.

Do you remember the secret handshake?

He took you in, showed you the ropes. You stayed with him until a few months later when you returned to ____________ . (I can fill that in…can you?)

Let’s talk  about your return to the South.

Let’s talk about your friend- your mentor… about the pool that used to be there, that is not now. Let’s talk about what lies beneath? Or rather… who?

Let’s talk about the necklace… the one your mother gave you?

You see…I have been busy!

So much more to come.

Lets talks about the “triad.”

Take a pencil…draw a pyramid. Name the top  point Boston. Name the bottom  left corner, California and the bottom right one Georgia.

So many clues, so little time!

9/9/2014

Today’s numerology is significant and on the heels of last night’s full moon…we must set our sights higher and be open to what the universe has in store for us…but first? An apology.

I know that it has been a number of days since prior postings and I want you to know that my absence has , while noted by many of my following–not meant to be insult, but due to overwhelming schedules–regrets. It is difficult in this slowly molting season to fill all roles as wife, mother, employee, student, author, investigator and spiritual adventurist, as the hours in my day are so limited. To add insult to injury, the universe after it asked me to endure constant construction and rehabilitative costs for said, asked that I prepare my house for a Realtor’s showing this last weekend, in which there was already no down time from obligations to be had. I did so, along with my husband, because the star s had foretold of a late summer sale and the relocation to the place of our dreams- a true find and a home that would keep me close to the action, segue to career advancements and new adventures. Armed with mops and momentum, I sallied forth and did everything that was needed and then more that I felt might be appreciated. We loaded all the dogs on the boat and took a cruise…a short one. So my question is simply… why?

Astrology has been forecasting a sale and a move for Taurus since March… all signs pointed to its necessity and its imminence and yet, here we are on the cusp of the end of my contract, the start of the  holiday season and while my current abode has undergone a number of radical changes- mostly thrust upon us through wear and tear, we are no closer to obtaining a contract, nor a new address that brings all those promise to fruition. At least, not for me.

The other Taurus in the family seems to be getting all my readings and has been played quite directly by every influence of the Tarot and the stars.

I am perplexed… and feel much like the character Ray Consella, in the movie, “Field of Dreams.”

The spirits are playing baseball in my cornfield and while I am trying not to scream at the top of my lungs, “What’s in it for me?” I am screaming…”What’s in it for me?”

How is it possible that so much work has warranted so little response? Where is my trip out into the cornfield? Why do the stars wish be to be only conduit and not destination?

Being a Taurus I am mostly averse to change and yet I have been chomping at the bit for real and substantial change for years. Odd, isn’t it? Having been through the gates of Hell and back, as though of you who have read my last book will note…I am still eager for further movement. Not necessarily in my structure, but most definitely in my career and these cases. Having climbed Jacob’s pillar, so to speak, I am anxious for that pivotal stepping stone for major breakthroughs. With both eager momentum and anxietal hesitation…I walk the fence and beg for governed movement, but where are the stars when I need them? Why do they speak for others and not for me?

“Patience,” I hear. “Have faith,” I hear and yet all I feel like are the buzzards who sit in the trees above me and chuckle, “Patience my ass…let’s go kill something!”

In other words, I grow weary of reading the stars for everybody else, without sense of their guidance being for me. But you ask- isn’t what you have already the best there is? Can you possibly belittle the miracle that is already yours? Guidance by the angels?

No…I cherish that, but some days they ask so much of my faith and like a petulant child I say, ‘stop toying with me!’ If you say this or that will happen, then by God let’s be on about it! And within that same breath, I know that timing is everything and that any delay or departure in its arrival, is meant for my own and the greater good. So how does one parse this kind of impatience with faith?

If you have faith and nothing happens, do you then blame yourself because if you had only had MORE faith…it would have happened? Or do we only delude ourselves with faith…marking time as it were, providing ourselves and the universe with every possible reason and rationalization why things haven’t happened until it happens? And what if it doesn’t? is there a sense of being unworthy?

The real question is- have I been clear in what I want? Maybe that is the real catch? Even in real estate matters?

Do I love my little cottage by the sea, so to speak? Yes. It is smaller than I am accustomed to, but in its simplicity it provides me with comfort and proximity to the certain treasures in my life. Is the view not one of eternal awe and inspiration? Yes… So why do I lust for things like bookshelves and quiet nooks for furniture I seldom use? What does the monster of more sometimes grip my sensibilities and tell me I need rooms for children who no longer live among me…or for panoramic picture windows that look upon more bucolic settings than the one I left behind years ago?  What is this madness that covets the scenery of my hour drive while it begs for driveways that bring my job closer and my time in travel shorter?

Can one grow weary of paradise? Or is it that by introducing the mere thought of change, the cosmos has altered my perception of paradise and now convinced I have somehow neglected a higher calling… hyperventilated my intellectual equilibrium into thinking it cannot survive now without it? This change- this need to be in constant motion?

Is it because I am eager to serve and think that because the universe suggested change, I must  therefore adhere?!

As odd a departure as this must seem to you, it takes up the many tiny corners of my mind late at night when I cannot sleep for placing furniture in homes I will never come to own, for writing words in speeches I will never get to give and receptions I know I am meant to attend and yet see no invitation has yet arrived. I so thought by now that Charley’s case would be splashed across other venues- his killers caught or at least cornered! The book, in grander setting than simply the monitor on my computer screen would be heralded as the precursor to another and another and…The book was for Charley- the therapy of it all for me and yet I have I learned nothing?

I read the stars, count the numbers, watch the cards and hollow out my ego to the best of my ability to serve those less fortunate and still what I receive is a bargain for more faith. But when does that run out? When does the world bleed back into the behavior and the spirit fail to make the last ferry to resolution? 9/9…where does all this go, if it goes nowhere?

Hundreds of pages into the new book I catch myself and ask- how many years of my life will this take from me? The book is entitled, “THE HARVEST” and so I understand, that it–like I, today lie emotionally fallow in some distant field awaiting our equal fates. Do not misunderstand; it is not about the changing of a house or the changing of a status- it is about the recognition of intent…not mine- but of the universe’s. I feel as though my angel song must be playing across the skies…”WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?” I am not so much lost as simply misdirected this a day, but worry that faith cannot continually spend its energies divining everybody else’s directives and yet not be able to see to the end of my own.

So I ask a favor…nay, beg a boon of the cosmos and ask that the angels, on this most solemn numerical combination of 9/9,  that screams…”Get to work, Lightworker!’ Either cut the cords of overt expectation from my being to all out there that will never be… or bind me quick to what needs be done so that we both can be on about the greater good and business of my divine path!

8/25/2014

With the new moon on the way, bringing us the chance to clean the slate and start again… let us begin with the proper attitude…gratitude.

Seeing the beautiful view off my deck and the gorgeous surroundings inside as I wander through my small but spectacular home, I stop and say a whisper of thanks to the universe that it has seen fit to answer so many of my recent prayers. Take time this week then to do the same…give thanks and be mindful of all that already surrounds you.

8/24/2014

The day began with a dull ceiling of clouds and little bit by bit gave way to sun and scattered clouds. Trapped again within the confines of academics, I went straight to my office to work on homework to stay ahead of the game and though my intentions were great…my concentration was little. I cannot seem to get this case out of my head or the players that continue to wander about outside the confines of a cell. After fighting myself for hours, I finally gave in and returned to the book and my research. Words p0ured and questions percolated as page after page under ink slipped away from me.

And then I hit a brick wall.

Current with my information the book is at a stall until further information comes through to move me forward. Knowing that nature always is a way to release tension, I headed to the beach to clear away the night’s debris and use the energy built up in my muscles to remove the encroaching weeds and wayward pine straw that had built up among the rocks. As my hands worked, my mind wandered…free to take in whatever the universe saw worthy to deliver. The trees, an umbrella for my thoughts bent and bowed, submissive to the incoming weather.

In between driftwood and strokes of the beach rake, I took in the specific beauty of my purview. The neon variegated greens of spring have long given way to the more mottled evergreens of summer…now punctuated here and there with the early kiss of autumn to the Sweetgum trees that border the beach- painting leaves a bright yellow.

Change is in the air… you can see it, you can feel it. After another hour with my head into the wind and my muscles into the work– I released my need to follow normal protocol and decided to plow the furrowed fields of education on the morrow and let the rest of the day dictate itself. A few more hours behind the computer and a well deserved break, floating atop the waves later in the day, seduced me back into a more communal mood.

I took from the day what it had to give…and gave back to it what I felt I could afford. In between the bargain made between research and freedom I found a few more interesting details that may build a stronger bridge between the my POI for the Boston Strangler, the Columbus Strangler and the Atlanta Child murderer…not Wayne Williams.

Feathers on the beach and in the water confirm that new information is to follow…

I wait with baited breath!

11:11 am

8/20/2014

Sometimes the need to write just for the sake of writing is not only desired, but necessary. However, today is not one of those days, so let’s pick up where we left off.

The cosmos said that August  17th would bring something significant and indeed the 17th brought something! They brought it to R and that was important, because I was too intent on writing the book that day to notice. It was about a phone call being made at 3:35 in the morning and waking somebody up with vital information. Shall I share details?  I know you would love that, but for now it shall remain my little secret. Mine and the proper authorities.

What I can share however, is that this year has taken an awkward turn. Everything in the stars talked about future gains, relocations and abundance and the greatest adventure of a lifetime. The months crawled across the pages of my calendar and with each month a I waited patiently for this wonderful something to occur. Winter brought hard work and heartfelt appreciations for the literary and evidential gains from Charley’s story…in a flurry of Spring showers, academics brought greater knowledge, less playtime, but at the end… a reward! As always I celebrate my freedom from scholastics with a night out. Dinner at a local establishment brought me a Chinese fortune that read:

“A golden egg of opportunity falls into your lap this month.”

That was March and it did… the day I was contacted from afar about this case: the Columbus Stocking Strangler.

Then May rolled on through and it was research, research, research. June skipped across the pages of my calendar like a pebble on the lake and brought me more research, photos and puzzles to solve. July dumped a ton of information on my head and buried underneath so much information, I worried I might never see the light of day again. But with a shovel and a pen, I began to piece information together and the road map to another novel appeared before me. Then came August and with determination and drive, the skies broke open and the sun poured in!

Why?

Mary Sue and Sophie , that’s why!

One of the most odd pairings in the world and yet they have a common cause- to see their killer identified and brought to light. Yes…I said killer, for in truth- I believe evidence points to the fact that they are one in the same!

Sophie was the 7th victim of the Boston Strangler… the young African American student from Boston who was enrolled at Carnegie. The murdered student that identified her killer from the other side of the veil, as the same man who killed Mary Sue in Columbus decades later. She described his eyes, his hair…everything about him…including a mutual acquaintance named Steven.

So…Boston…what say we look for this student named Steven who knew both Sophie and our visiting killer from Columbus, Georgia.

What’s that? He’s from Columbus?

Hmmmm…yes Columbus by way of California.

So what was he doing in Boston’s Back Bay if he’s from Georgia?

All great students come from somewhere, dear readers.

And when was that you say that he visited Boston and California? Back in the 60’s when the Boston Strangler pretended to be Albert De Salvo? Or was it Albert De Salvo pretended to be the Boston Strangler? Read his poem and you will see his hesitation to commit! Some men will do anything for a cheap shot at money and fame…their attorneys too. Everybody protects somebody in this little triangle. Which brings me to another famous killer…the Zodiac. A killer who walked the alleys of San Francisco and Palo Alto looking for victims to satisfy his need to achieve his alleged state of perfection and esoteric brilliance. So what does one have to do with the other? You will have to read the book to find out, but back to Boston.

Why don’t you tell them why you were in Boston, Mr. Strangler? Cat got your tongue…or is it that you’re finished with all that now and  are just trying to die in peace…again!

They showed R something else that was of interest- even to you Mr. BS.

Your friend…another  old man who used to keep your company. An old man who likes to tuft his ascot along with his ego in the shadows of what he once was… who likes to take long walks and remembers the sweet scent of Autumn in Columbus as the burning papers and documents that could convict him. A man who once burned his youthful lust away in a backyard trash can and danced naked in the moonlight at the thought of his liberation, is now packing his bags…several of them in fact. He is frantic, packing and packing for a trip…he is catching a flight out to the coast. Which coast is that you say?

Why the West Coast, where all the hip old killers hang out and remember the good old days.

People died…at your collective hands and now they have returned to tell your sins.

The NEW AGE has brought gifts to many..intuits, psychics and curious investigators.

Let’s talk DNA boys. It wasn’t a thing back in the day…your day…but it is now. Best thing ever to help heal the wounds of those who mourn the loss of their mothers, daughter, aunts and grandmothers.

The ghosts of these women relive their tortures in eternal horror and pain, but the perfection of time is that it not only heals all wounds, but reveals what once lay hidden…your secrets!

So remember the billboard boys and pray the winds of time keep your past buried- just like the women who now scream your names from the rooftops and the ciphers!

What did that old billboard say?

“TRUST GOD”

I trust God…do you?

8/17/2014

They said that today would be important…significant.

Yesterday I saw several feathers at my feet.

Last night I hit page 127 in the book and had an epiphany surrounding the word, ‘keys’…

Since the Zodiac killer,  the Boston Strangler and the Columbus Strangler all love riddles, I have one for them both!

(Besides that one.)

What does a pool, a pair of red socks and Columbus all have in common?

If you guessed it, maybe you should be writing this book!

8/8/2014

Today is a powerful day… the day of Lions-gate and the opening of a celestial portal…and a chance to discover the power within you. It is also a day to set your dreams in motion, for 8 is the number of abundance and balance. What is it you want? What is it you desire and are willing to work for? Use this day wisely dear friends as this will set the tone for your life for years to come. Find your personal truth and life purpose and then follow with blind allegiance to where it will lead you. The architect of the universe calls…be well, be happy and be fulfilled with whatever divine path becomes your own.

I know my path and I grow even more devoted and more courageous to follow it everyday. I speak for those who can no longer speak…seek justice for those who have been denied and bring to light those things hidden, for I am a number 7…a seeker of the unknown.

As for this case…it is on fire. I can scarcely keep up with what has been discovered thus far. Remember that I said this case has connections to others? Hold onto your hats children!

Well, the cosmos has decided to step forward and help in a  big way.  A huge break came through last week with a victim from the Boston Stranglings, who has decided to help the victims of the Columbus stranglings’  in their reach for justice. This victim has  now begun to come through and with  such details and anger you cannot imagine. They say Hell hath no furry like an a woman scorned, but that is not true. Hell hath no furry like a woman murdered! What was done to her keeps her suspended in eternal torture and she is desperate for release. She sees your face still…

Your almond eyes, your honey-colored hair, thin nose and pointy chin. She blames Stephen for letting you in. If she hadn’t seen him talking to you… if she hadn’t see you around him, she would have never unlocked that door!  And she has more to share as well.

It amazes me that the idiots that did these killings for the esoteric reasons and rewards of their occult, forgot the very thing they were trying to attain and appease…THE AFTERLIFE!

What, are you that stupid? Did you not think about that? You think because these women are dead they can no longer be heard? You cover your tracks, wear gloves and masks and think because you wiped your ass and cleaned up after yourself that the afterlife is yours without consequence or retribution? You brought judgement upon them, but never thought about the fact that judgement is a two way street?

These women have voices and can be heard across the cosmos, screaming your names and all your sins to anyone that will listen.

And not just your sins, you fools. They are screaming about the details of their murders; details  that will help bring you to justice. Think that they don’t want to see you stand trial for what you have done? Think that because you are old or supposedly dead that the facts will not find their way to amenable ears?

Look into the mirror this day and repeat the same three words you whispered to them, for the Reaper comes and the names upon his scrolls include yours.

Justice comes…prepare yourself!