The things which one would concieve are that of one that is currently within locked doors of a mental asylum; knowing that the testamony one is about to relate is that of a horror that cannot be spoken of among the religious community. This nightmarish maelstrom which I am about to relate had left me locked up here for no reason that one of the God fearing will not be able to understand. They called me disillusional -- speaking of a vampire that is among them, where I had seen it and they didn’t. Calling me a paranoid individual that had left the faith because of the things that I would concieve in my mind.
  The thoughts that would inhabit me as an alcoholic condition -- a demon alcohol, if they may call it, but I had not touched a drop since I had been thrown out of the Navy. In the minds of the faith, they said that one as I had pawned my soul to the Devil, but as for them -- they can fuck themselves and give their God a suck off as far as I am concerned. I know what I had seen because I had documented the hellish nightmare carefully in my journal.
  This that I am decribing was that of a series of drive by shootings and after the shooting; a shadowy feline would appear at the remains licking the blood as it had seeped from the bullet wounds. After the blood was drained, the cat would just vanish from plain sight -- neither a shadow, reflections off of the water, or even the blood showed evidence of this cat. One could only think that this cat would of just been one that ran among the projects of Division Street, but no one had ever heard or seen of this hellish creature. Such a cat would be considered that of a familar, one that had belonged to a witch or sorcerer; though one cannot believe such thoughts. It is something that one would say if someone believes such ideas, they had already gone mad. That one had approached me about this idea, and would say that the reasons that I am thinking of this is that I don’t read The Bible enough; justified bullshit and driven by thoughts of superstition, something that one would say to try to convert them.
  It is one of those nights where one does not get enough sleep to the point that they are dellusional, as what my best friend would say to me since he is a doctor. He would say that I would be studying too hard to be saying that I had seen a cat drinking the blood of someone killed in a drive by shooting, one would say that what one is saying could be too disturbing to imagine in their mind -- an animail with vampiric tendicies, they have to be joking. True that in vampire myths, the vampire could be a human morphing into animals to hide in the darkness -- though could there be vampires that are just animals. This thought that had been in my mind while walking home one night from a coffeehouse, it was a night after my brother was buried -- slain in a drive by shooting coming home from a Bible study. Police found his body lying lifelessly along Cermak Road in Cicero; he was waiting for a blue line going to Downtown and then try to catch a train back to his apartment in the Robert Taylor Homes.
  When his wife learned of the homicide, she placed a curse on the murder’s families then after she was finished with casting the curse -- then took her life by ingesting two handfuls of sleeping pills and Lithium along with a 40 oz. of Old English. The EMTs found her dead and laying on the couch as she would be asleep, her half-brother, came downstairs to see if she was okay and covered her up with a solid white comforter thinking that she was just asleep.
  He learned of her suicide the next morning when he tried to wake her up because he promised to take her out to breakfast at a diner in Evanston after he came home from a church service -- the doctors said that she had a history of Bipolar Disorder and Depressive Tendicies, but the church leaders refused to believe such then treated her as she was possessed by a demonic force. Though as she had slept in the hospital and kept on suicide watch, she would have nightmares of a black cat drinking the blood of those that are dead from drive by shootings within the city limits. She had dreamed that she had seen the cat drinking the vital fluids of victims that had died in a similar fashion.
  She had written of such dreams in her journal before her death as a suicide note. Her brother typed up a copy of the suicide note and gave me a copy of the note to read while in a diner late at night; I even took the thing with me going to Winnona, Minnesota, to read in my sleeping room on an Amtrak since I am have a two day layover on the way to Oregon -- while laying on the top bunk, I began to read the suicide note that Amanda Carter penned prior to her expiration. The details in the note was quite haunting of the details; describing not of the reasons that she wanted to die though the things that she penned were of the nightmares of a hellspawned black cat . It is a reflection of the dark, apocolypic horrors that were forshadowing the murder of her husband. The train had brough back a memory that her brother told me how she had travelled because of the horror that she had seen two years before, one that of a person being dragged to death beneath a freight train -- the person being dragged was her sister’s best friend and a black cat that she would take along with her. She had said the death was a freak accident, but her husband, brother and myself had known the harrowing truth; we knew because when she was found dead her eyes and heart had been carved out of her as well as the cat being decapitated. The police and homicide learned that the freak accident was something more sinister.
  It was around midnight when the train hit Winnona, and I was sceduled for a transfer. As I had gone into the transfer -- I had seen the cat that could be the one which Amanda wrote of in her note. A chilling thought but it could be since this is the train line that that freighter was travelling on at the time that the black cat and the girl was sacrificed because a pentagram was seen along the railroad tracks near the site where she ultimately met her horrific end. After I had crawled between the bedclothes, I had reached for a tap light that I had packed away in my backpack near the sleeping bag and tent. I had placed the light on my lap to read the letter -- the nightmarish details were too chilling to recall, but I continued to read the letter to understand why Amanda took her life. This was the contents of the letter, a suicide note -- I was given both the original letter and the typed copy because I had had a rough time with her handwriting because of the drugs were in her system:

To the one that is reading this letter:
  ..By the time this letter is found, I would pass on into the next world because I cannot handle living in this world alone; knowing that my husband is murder and the surregate sister that was my sister’s best friend was found mauled beyond one’s reconition. Knowing that I would wake up alone is a living nightmare within itself -- hoping that the worlds that I would pen will appear on my epitaph, such as the things that stand alone should not be. Knowing that falling asleep, seeing the horrors are not my choice to make though they are already made for me in the final dream that I would have as I would ingest two handfuls of sleeping pills -- God will never understand the beliefs that I hold about the afterlife; these are the last words that I will write. Knowing in my sleep that I will be haunted by the lasting image of a hellish feline drinking the blood of my husband who had been blown away.
  ..I was there watching the horror that is worst than the fire and brimstone my beloved spoke of before going to church. Fuck the God that he had loved, all that he had caused me was eternal pain. That as I would fall asleep, this is the final thoughts that would be in my mind as the alcohol intermixes with the sleeping pills and painkillers, I thought the other routes to take my life; only that I wanted my death as painless as possible. Prayed that God will give me the grace to kill myself since no one else gave a fuck about me because of I am a witch -- all that they are rejoicing about is one less witch on their God blessed world; no room for those who had different beliefs. All that I am worried about is for my daughter, Pandora, knowing that she will be in good hands with my younger brother. All that I have to say before I die is that God owes me an apology for such a sick joke.
  ..The cat that had been haunting me is named Hades, a black cat that my sister kept as a familar for her rituals. After her best friend and the cat were sacrificed behind her back, Athena had used a spell from a Book of Shadows a Necromacer had given her to communicate with dead. She tried to communicate with her friend on the reasons for the horrid fate that she met -- no one should of been killed in the matter that she was because it was inhuman. Even knowing that she had summoned the deceased cat would invoke something unepeakable. The thoughts that would be in my mind of what whe had done could not be something that one cannot tell one from the church that Todd was going to -- they didn’t approve of outr marriage because he married outside of the Christian Church. They had targeted me for a witch-hunting from the beginning....

I could not believe what I was reading because it had a horror to it that wasn’t able to be drawn in the eyes that would never understand the things that she was speaking of. The thoughts that were in my mind were that of the horror that was going through Amanda’s mind as she could not come to terms with the murder of her husband. I placed the letter in a folder then placed it in a book bag that I was using for the housing of my journal, all that is said are the thoughts that keep haunting me. What could I say of the night that her child, Pandora, knowing of the reasons that had driven Amanda to write such a suicide note -- having to realize that her mother will not return to this world. Her brother had made copies of the note at a local Kinko’s to give to her parents because they will understand the final moments of their daughter taking her life at 34 years old.

I had a dream that night on the train -- I was walking the halls of the sleeping car and would see that cat licking up the blood of the attendent who slashed her wrists. I could begin to see that the cat had the taste for human blood as one that would drink warm milk in a dish, there was something that had left me emotionally disturbed about the supernatural feline. The thought that one would think that the cat is an animal vampire is appalling since one would incorperate vampires as one that was from a dead human being -- but the thought of a vampire human decided to make an animal one of the undead would leave one horrified because as the living, the undead crave the love for a pet. That I had seen this and tried to scream but I could not because I was frozen in sheer terror -- the thought of a vampire that is an animal is something that one would not begin to understand. As the cat tried to bounce upon me, the alarm of my watch began to chime and the chiming had awakened me.
  I was lying awake in the bunk -- reassuring myself what I had seen was only a nightmare, knowing that one should not dwell on the nightmares of this nature though one had seen this dream from the reasons that were written in the suicide note. I nervously felt around for the battery operated lamp, knowing that I had to countinue reading what Amanda wrote in her suicide note. Trying to pick up where I had stopped to sleep, one had to say that what Amanda was writing in her final letter was delusional -- thinking the reasons behind the suicide were that beyond her control. The pastors thought that she was possessed by the demons within her mind. If they knew that I was reading this, they would say that I had not been reading the Holy Book enough. The thoughts that were in my mind were of the pure and lovely, but as one reads this letter -- the real comes in harder than a bullet of a .22 pistol impaling the chest of the mother fucker on the other side of the barrel. This continues the words written within the final nightmare leading up to her suicide:

..I know that whoever is reading this will say that I am crazy or mentally unstavle because of my Wiccan practices. But this is not of my beliefs, though the nighttmaress that remain are that of the Heckatome that would sit upon my chest as I would go to sleep -- the thoughts that I would relate to Dr. Fender would be of this dream, but she would not believe me because science is the religion of medicine. That I decided to give in to the nightmares that would leave me be -- cutting away at the remains that would be inside the coldness of my soul. Theire is no God or Devil -- they are just within the state of mind.. Knowing that they will never understand because they would believe that they can place a book on a part of the body that was invoking the pain will be healed if they speak to the iillness within; by ssaying that one is ill due to someething not of this physucal world cannot be something that one denighs that a mental illness is something that is medical . They use the spiritual reason to talk one out of going to a doctor for therapy. One would say that only way that I will be well is that if I would go to church with them. becausee depression is caused by something democnic; I -- personal;ly will not accept this as the truth..
  ..I had seen one slain in the way that the Christians would call the Holy Ghost, but I would not cclaim it as my own -- knowing that the years that I had lived at the Theosophical Society would be the subject of my husband’s friends wanting to openly discriminate because I am a Solitary Wiccan. They were wanting to make me butrn all of my Tarot Cards and my Book of Shadows -- as I would prepare for my death, I wish to lleave my Book of Shadows behind to Padora when she is older so she would know the reasons to why I would write of my final hours to this world. Knowing that no one will hear my voice and someonee would say that I will not be missied since this is my final farwell. This would be the final paragraph in the sencse that I am going to induce my final rest. To those that loved me -- I know that I will be missed.

Amanda.

in the light that stands alone, he thought that God will never see,,,
the sleep that will be the end, within the end , that is of me,
turn the eyes that will lie, in the seasons that will turn gray,
come to the eternal dreams, understanding, thoughts turn to stone
inside the sleep that is turning, I am not dead but dreaming
That my existance will come to psass, my life will not come to last,
knowing that even if I had prayed, God cannot change the past

The poem that she wrote at the end of the suicide note was a chilling reminder of the nightmare that had haunted her after the murder of her husband. Her best friend’s coven had asked that her poem would be posted up on the monument that would mark her grave in Joliet. This is when I decided to make the trip to Washington for the family to give them the suicide note. The thoughts that were in my mind were in the details of the nightmare that was invoke by the horrors within the details of the letter. To pass the time I thought that I would take my journal that I had packed and walk to the observation car to see the scenery from the darkness of the night that appeared to be a vast wastelands of evergreens and snow from the December skies. Knowing that I could not get the feline vampire out of my mind, I began to sit down at one of the tables to begin writing:

December 20, 1996:
  ..What one writes in this journal cannot be described with a rational mind, Knowing of the dreams that I write the detail of would be that of a horror that when I return would have me locked up in a mental hospital. Knowing that I had lost all that is of the teackings that I had once embraced, I don’t know what I can believe anymore -- I cannot call what I know holy or sanctified, but what is written cannot be justified in my dreams. Knowing that I cannot try to denigh what I had seen in my dreams, I had a hard time returning to sleep becuase the dreams that I had were shared by both Amanda and her sister of an animal vampire licking the blood of those that had died in drive-by shootings or suicide from slicing their wrists; Knowing that what I had seen, I can never repent of because there is nothing to repent of. All that is said and done in the end will never begin to be understood or of one that had spent years of Devotional studies will not begin to justify the nightmares that are within my sleep -- knowing that as much one will try to rebuke the nightmares, the horror will always remain.
  The thoughts that are within are of those that will never be laid to rest -- knowing that I will go off to rest, the thoughts that are there would be of the being that appears to be a cat. This of the one that is the vampyric feline driving Amanda to pen her suicide note and the poem that would appear upon her final place of sleep. This journal that I had penned, I coutinue to read from my room in the state hospital in Tinley Park -- keeping the nightmares of the vampire to myself because no one would believe me if I had told them of the fucking ordeal. The thoughts that atand alone are those of the haunting words written within Amanda’s suicide note.