Chapters
Act I Heart of Darkness·Pain

Candy Cain

Fiction. Based on a True Fall of Love. 27 minute read

This journal entry is inspired by true events. Some of the characters, names, businesses, incidents, and certain locations and events have been fictionalized for dramatic purposes. Any similarity to the name, character or history of any person is entirely coincidental and unintentional.

I witnessed my own heritage, my ancestor’s contracts with the fallen angels encapsulated in glass boxes.

Guan Ying Pu Sa

Ming at 2 years old.

Dalian, China.

“She is the Bodhisattva,” Ms. Yang told Angelie. “You have her eye.” She points to the red dot that she has drew on her. “He has the power of many eyes, many ways, and she is the ultimate chameleon in order to rescue all beings from hell.” 

“What does the dot mean?” Angelie had asked.

“It means that you serve Bodhisattva. You are his child,” she smiled, “It also means that you are destined to become awakened.”

Angelie paused at 1:33. That number keeps following her.

She sees that number again.

33.

333.

“I am 33 years of age, at least in American years. In Chinese years, I am still 32,” she tells herself.

She walks through the Asian American Art Museum in San Francisco. She can’t help but feel the energy of the mason house next door to this building. She is becoming sensitive to the energies dancing around her. They recognize her and give her reverence, even though she doesn’t understand why or who she is.

Was she reincarnated here for a mission.

What is the mission?

There are three doors.

Four seas.

Four winds.

A red door.

She feels the spirits preparing her for a calculated event, yet at the same time she knows she has the willpower to change it. Like some train accident that is going to happen, she knows there is a high probability of fate, destiny, Ming. But she has the holy trinity in her now. Can she could give her will to God to write the ending of this script, so he could prevent the crash from happening, or perhaps, skew it, like the wind to the arrow’s trajectory, having already left the quiver.

Something in her knows that it’s going to take a thorough understanding of God’s character in order to fulfill both God and Bodhisattva’s design, where in the end, it is still God’s design. Who serves whom? Or perhaps, the real question is, who loves whom?

“Buddhas are fallen angels who have achieved the ability to come back to Source, to Father, and who have chosen to stay behind to enlighten, or ascend, his fallen brethrens,” she tells Elle in between chews of the flat glass noodles of the Pad See Ew.

“That’s bizarre,” Elle replies.

“Just entertain it love,” she says.

So Elle gives Angelie her season’s pass to the SF Asian Art museum, perhaps to pay tribute to their ancestors’ spirit, or perhaps just because Elle loves Angelie like the soul sisters they are.

Compassion

MJ, Written in the Ego.

That is the whole reason why you have chosen this life Ming. Your soul in this reality is to master compassion.

I will show you the spirits of your ancestors. They are warriors, scholars, and enlightened ones. They run through your blood. 

You recognize her. They are Shiva and Parvati, the destroyer of the universe and the compassion for the Destroyer. Death into life. They tell you to carry the bridge between the Christian and the Non-Christian world. 

Guan Ying Pu Sa has the choice to ascend to heaven, but have chosen to stay until all the children are saved [x], especially those who are still trapped.

You think about the ending in Close Encounters of the Third Kind.

You are in the middle of the Asian Art Museum and you witnessed what the god with a thousand faces and arms want you to know.

Know thyself. 

You see the eye.

And all the daemons dance. The principalities celebrate, drawn close, focused, graced with power, dancing, admist the stillness of Buddha, standing through compassion for all.

The compassion for the fallen.

Prayer is power.

You are told by Christian warfare ministers over and over again.

“For though I am free from all men, I have made myself a slave to all, so that I may win more. To the Jews, I became as a Jew, so that I might win Jews; to those who are under the Law, as under the Law though not being myself under the Law, so that I might win those who are under the Law; to those who are without law, as without law, though not being without the law of God but under the law of Christ, so that I might win those who are without law.”  1 Corinthians 9:19-21

The Test

Pastor Judah Smith said that

God is like the shepherd who will go after the one sheep who has wandered astray, and he will leave his 99 to go out searching for the lost sheep. And when he brings the sheep back, he will throw a big party in celebration of the sheep’s arrival.

God is like the woman who lost the one gold coin out of her 3 and turns the entire house inside out just to find that lost coin.

God is the father with the prodigal son, who, after having squandered the family coffers, returned with his tail in between his legs and the father brings out the best food and wine to celebrate his son’s arrival.

God’s character

And those who have been anointed, those who have thoroughly accepted His love, and who have received the Holy Spirit, are now called to walk in Jesus’ footsteps by bringing the word, casting down strongholds, arguments, binding principalities, breaking curses, spells, and hexes, and loosing compassion, love, and joy in the lives of many who are in the process of waking up and realizing that the war is, in fact, not in the flesh but in the spirit. [x]

“God bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, and endures all things.” 1 Corinthians 13:7 

“That is to say, that perhaps people are back to transform our fallen angels as well, though perhaps, the only way is through Jesus, since not one of us can do it by ourselves, so we rely on the power of Jesus to do what none of us can do for ourselves,” she evangelizes to Elle. 

She has just picked up Elle and now they are driving to the Musician’s event.

Angelie looks over and sees that she is asleep. She smiles.

She sleeps just like her, like the sinking ship with pools of ocean water coming out of the gaping hole of the whale’s mouth.

When they got there, there was Jed Jethro, who worked for InAction for over twenty years that produced a software company whose patented technology are in all the electronic devices now.

“We have cameras now that can identify faces and body movements,” he once said to you. He is good hearted, but has not awakened to the conspiracies that have opened her eyes. Perhaps, everybody wakes up at different times for different reasons. He has hosted this music event on Filmore St., the heart of music, liberty, creative expression–where love and art color the beauty that is San Francisco.

It’s the music that connects, bonds and heals, designed for the weary hearts and the burdened minds for do gooders. She sings.

A woman named Meredith Edgar:

A post shared by MJ (@mingjiezhai) on

https://www.meredithedgar.com/

You were invited by Jedd to watch him perform, but Elle was late and you waited. You had a tinge of resentment for her taking her time on a job she doesn’t even enjoy doing, for being mindless and inconsiderate for the other person’s time, for the artists’ time, but you knew that she did not do it on purpose. Her lack of awareness for herself still harms the time sequence of how things operate unless she awakens. That responsibility falls under your hands.

Fuck.

You’ve been delaying it.

But why?

You have the tools now.

Milestone has given it to you. Given you the esoteric knowledge you needed to do spiritual warfare.

What’s stopping you?

You want to look good.

The Mission in Mission District

The Fall of Love

Recombining DNA & God’s Plan for its Allowance

Written in the Id, by Mingjie.

I had the two abortions because I didn’t want any responsibilities. I just wanted to party, travel, and live an adventurous life.
Live a selfish life.

A self-centered one.
I could barely be responsible for myself, let alone two children born out of true love.

Why have babies when the planet is so filled with so many useless humans?

Mouthbreathers, as one mason told me.

The sense of disgust overcame me because of the knowing that there could be perfection in a world that is far from perfection.

Sonny shared the same attitude that it was better off to not add to the world’s problem by bringing another human life into the mix, let alone as young parents, cause their trauma. We both agreed to not tell our parents since we only started dating for less than a year. I didn’t trust Sonny. He was too hip hop. Too gangster wannabe. I was not going to be a single mom.

Now looking back, it was two of the biggest mistakes she’s ever made.

So she walked out of Planned Parenthood parentless.

And now this selfish life seems empty. So I wander and wonder.

Standing before the bright lights in the middle of saturn’s great pit of darkness, I wonder if this is what I had given up my most precious creations for.

Forgive yourself. My higher conscious tells me.

Yet I hold onto the guilt, because it is so deep, the pain of not knowing how they both could have looked like.

And now I am somehow entrusted with waking my soul sister Elle up?

You’re going to take her down with you. Charlie says to you.

Corrupt her like you did your little sister with Anna Rice’s version of Sleeping Beauty, he says again.

I’m taking her down the rabbit hole to witness with me so she can wake up. I tell Charlie.
Aren’t you just a cherry popper?

The biggest lie is that the devil doesn’t exist. That’s why people are still numb and dumb to the crimes. If we all woke up, no child would be abused and ritualized. This is a start.

You’re waking her up just so she can join the darkness. The temptation is too strong and she is weak. 

Bullshit, I tell Charlie. You’re a liar and a master of illusion.

Elle will stand strong and I will trust that she is smarter, sharper, and stronger than I can ever be.

Gray's Anatomy

When Elle and I arrive at the front, there is a foul stench around the pavement.

A daemon is probably there standing guard, making sure that nobody that wasn’t supposed to be there will be there. The odor itself can turn off the average Joe whose time hasn’t arrived.

This event was designed for those considering to join the Ying forces, the moon goddess, or Mother Aya. You recognized the synchronizers, the only name that stood out to you is Leary, but all are co-organizers, including the CIA, the musicians, the healers, the psychics, the energy workers, politicians, the MKs, all are interwoven in a web of illusion in this matrix of illusions.

These are Gray’s network.

I already sensed the principalities. This is a stronghold. I became a bit tired, a bit anxious, but still grounded. I asked Jesus to show me the truth.

We walk in and sign a waiver without even thinking about what we were  signing, except Elle asked.

“It’s for those who may be prone to seizures,” The man standing by the waiver form tells Elle and I. He reminds me of the horror film director you had almost moved in with. A heavy heart, a heavy soul, and empathy for the devil.

Friday the 13th. 

Vicarivs Filii Del

We follow him past the mainstage where the there was an illuminated driftwood, and into another room with four chairs with buzzing cushions, and headphones surrounded by white mist.

“Just keep your hands to yourself. The lasers are designed to go around you but they may burn you if you stand up.”

Elle and I gives each other a look of fuck! what did I get us into? look. The smoke around us is not coming from a smoke machine. It came from the lasers. The powerful lasers that is will be blasted into our eyes in just a few seconds.

There is an agenda. The lasers were not just for entertainment. It was to break your prefrontal cortex so that our channels will be more open for the coming spirits to come through. Better bodies suited for alien possession, like Stephanie Meyer’s The Host.

I close my eyes and start praying to Holy Spirit. I asked Holy Spirit to strengthen us, to protect Elle next to you, to prevent any damages to our bodies, and I felt the orbit layer of the Holy Trinity encompass both Elle and myself, preventing the further splits of the core personas we hold. Elle has 7 split personalities whilst I have 3.

I close my eyes, as these green lasers start operating with bombastic dissonance of the BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA sound from the headphones, drilling cacophonies into our eardrums.

Legion.

I realize that this is indeed a test. God never gives me situations that I can’t handle. This is to strengthen me–like taking in anti-venom so that when the snake does strike, and it will, God will have prepared me to face my frenemy.

When it ended, Elle and I both smiled at the man who thinks he is creating magic when he is but serving the reign of human possession. I know better not to shoot the messenger, and if anything, the objective is to deliver the gospel of the tree of life to him through the good news of Christ’ resurrection that conquered death not just for himself but for all of humanity.

His blood covers, but I don’t say anything because Holy spirit tells me that it is better to allow my being and becoming be the integration of the spiritual aura that is interweaving in this room. The results will become self evident, when he later goes back and looks at the pattern, he will see that mine is different.

Because the holy trinity is within me.

We walk out and onto the mainstage. Elle is troubled and uncomfortable. I look at her but don’t say anything. I observe the projections on the walls.

Spells laced beneath the projections.

Pyramids, Pentagrams, and Animorphs.

It started off with a woman on a wide screen with just her face. Then the contours shifted, red, yellow, and bright orange, like a heat map. Then the heat map was turned off and you saw a gray scale.

It was during the grayscale that you saw the daemon in plain view. It was faceless which made it all the more terrifying because it represented legion.

It was the ghost in the machine staring at all of us. They added AI to the integration and it was pulling energy from the audience, extracting the fear, the excitement, the curiosity from us, feeding from it, and relishing in the perspective that we are the prey, while we were looking at it with both reverence, fear, and the illusion that we are the patrons exhibiting a show.

The grey was surrounded by white noise, and the snowflakes in compassion with the darkness, the ying energy, the beauty who saw beauty in the beast, were all there, wearing black, to show solidarity with the black sabbath. Perhaps to some, it was a reverence like Reinfield in Dracula, to others it was the promise of belonging to a dark family to achieve power, acceptance, and immortality like the cool version of The Atom’s Family.

This space they hold is a harvesting. They want to wake the sleeping sheep, activate, elevate, and recruit them into the darkside before they have an opportunity to remember what their real mission is.

I knew that the strongman and the gatekeeper are both here ensuring that the sheep continue walking towards the spindle.

It’s harvest time.
Halloween.

Spinderella

Written by MJ, the Ego.

You blend in, but something is still off about you. They look at you like they look at the driftwood in the middle of the stage. It is dried so they assume it belongs to them, like the Tree of Knowledge, but what they don’t realize beneath the illusion is the truth that it all belongs to God. The one true Father who had sent his son, Jesus Christ, who died on the cross, had a conversation with satan/saturn before he went back to earth and then back to heaven.

“I died to resurrect this time for humans, but the second time I come back, it’s going to be for you.”

Then Jesus told Judas, “Brother, thank you for staying behind. I will come back for you too.”

Like the driftwood who pretends to be dead, but is actually a living, breathing extension of Christ, it stays there in witness, perhaps like you, in amusement, with patience…Buddha patience for the patient.

The witches in Viking lore would make wands out of it, and this one in the middle of the stage was ritualized, charged, and ready to discharge.

In the grayscale, you saw legion’s face.

It looked plain, angry, sullen, and neutral. Death defined its shape and banality defined its color, yet it was the witnessing that defined its existence. It lived for our attention. 

They strove for The Tree of Life, feeding off of us, not realizing that we came here to show them how to obtain the Tree of Life.

It lives for your appallause.

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