May 29, 2012

Prophets and Prophecies - Part Twelve

I have a wonderful set of encyclopaedias called Man, Myth, and Magic that are my "go to place" when I need to do research on anything religious, mystical, or out of the ordinary. Unfortunately, they let me down in this instance, as did our local library, so most of my research for the Swami was done via the internet. And even the internet was not forthcoming with details. For instance, I was not even able to determine exactly when Potuluri Vira Brahmendra (also spelled Veera Brahmendra) was born. I found mention of a Sri Potuluri Veera Brahmendra Swami born in 1610 in Cuddapah Andra Pradesh, India, but I also found listings for him being born in 1510. However, while the details of the man himself may be sketchy, I found plenty of information regarding his prophecies.

Sri Potuluri Veera Brahmendra Swami

Very little is known of his early life other than he was raised by foster parents. Even at a young age he was regarded as highly intelligent and spiritual. When he was thirteen his foster-father died and it was shortly after this that he left home to make a pilgrimage to various holy places.

Veera Brahmendra Swami has been likened to Nostradamus, often called the Nostradamus of India. He wrote 'Kalagnanam', meaning literally 'Knowledge of Time', a collection of prophecies written on palm leaves. The Kalagnanam of the entire world is believed to contain 3,32,000 volumes. A small part of it is available in Brahmamgari Matham at Kandimallayapalle, Siddhayyagari Matham at Mudumala, and Rangarajugari Matham at Nagaripadu. The remaining major part was said to be kept in the inner pit of Banaganapalle Mutt under a tamarind sprout, placed there by Sri Pothuluri Veera Brahmendra Swamy himself.

Again we have contradictions, this time regarding his death. Several sources insist he lived for more than 150 years before entering Sajeeva Samadhi; other sources say he entered Sajeeva Samadhi in the year 1693. Sajeeva Samadhi is the practice of burying enlightened souls while they are still alive. He believed he would sit in Samadhi doing penance, but wasn't going to die. He also believed that by the end of the age of Kali (Kali Yuga), he would come out of the Samadhi and eliminate sinners by himself, finally establishing dharma.

Sri Potuluri Veera Brahmendra made over 14000 predictions. Here are just a few of the more interesting ones:

From the year Pramadhi (1999-2000) droughts, irregular rains, spread of diseases rise.

When Saturn enters the stars Hasta(12/2009 to 09/2011), Chitta(09/2011 to 10/2012) and Swathi(10/2012 to 11/2013)- drought and floods, major calamities are indicated. Scores of people die in the same period and/or when Saturn transits the said stars the next time.

Smoke and fire comes out from Lord Siva's temple, Srisailam. Water and fire comes from Lord Siva. Nandiswara tears, wages his tail and makes a clarion call. An idol sits on temple Garuda Dhwaja and speaks many languages. Lord Bhirava chants mantras continuously. Strange sounds come from earth. These may happen before or in the year Nandana (2012-13).

A crocodile enters the temple of Goddess Bhramaramba at Srisailam and stays for eight days, cries like a goat and disappears.

Cow slaughter takes place right in-front of/in temples of Lord Siva, at Yaganti, Srisailam and Kumbhakonam and clashes takes thousands of lives.

The year 2012 does not indicate the end of the World, as said by Mayan Calendar, but as per Kalagnanam severe earthquakes and calamities are indicated in the Telugu year Nandana (2012-13) that takes millions of lives.

Sanjivini Plant (a sacred tree that gives life to the dead) will be found at Udayagiri Hill, Andhra Pradesh.

Six new diseases take thousands of lives

Bangladesh and Bengal State will be hit by Super Cyclones and floods and scores of people will die

Scores of people die in the year Vijaya (2013-14).

Millions of horses will come from the caves of Yaganti, to serve the Army of Lord Kalki, a holy place in Andhra Pradesh State of India

India will participate in a Great War and the Indian Capital New Delhi will be severely bombed in the year Krodhi (2024-25). The capital will be shifted from New Delhi to Anegondi (Near Hampi, Karnataka State). In the same year the Nellore region will be submerged.

A devastating earthquake epi-centered, Addanki(AP,India), between 24-05-2039 and 21-06-2039 is indicated.

The Third World War ends by 2046 or later (which will end on a Makara Sankranti Day, when Jupiter in Aquarius Rasi).

For more of Sri Pot Veera Brahmendra's predictions, check out this Link

May 28, 2012

Margaritiferous Monday

margaritiferous ~ pearl-bearing

So . . . did you miss me while I was gone? :-)

I had a good holiday, although I didn't get as much writing done as I would have liked. However, I got some work done on my OTF project (the transcripts) and I'm going to spend the next couple of days cleaning up the work I've done on it so far to get it ready for printing . . . provided my toner gets here.

If you're on my Facebook then you've heard me (seen me?) whining about how unseasonably warm it is here. But in spite of the wretched heat, my gardens are looking good, especially the front one that needed to be dug out completely. This week is supposed to be rainy, which will be good for my flowers.

I have to confess, one of the bad things I did last week was get addicted to Castleville on Facebook. Fortunately, I'm still low enough in points that I can't play it for long before I run out of energy (in the game). And I don't have many neighbours to visit either. So if you're on Facebook and play Castleville, look me up and be my neighbour! :-)

Did you see? I finally updated my Goodreads list. There were so many of them that most of them didn't get reviews, so that'll be something to plug away at over the summer. I guess I should also confess here that I started out my blog vacation by reading four books in a row. But you know what? I don't feel guilty at all. Sometimes you just need to read.

This week I'll be continuing my work on the OTF project and I was sent a novel to edit, which I can't wait to sink my teeth into. I've already read it through once and now I get to go over it with my red pen, electronically speaking. ;-)

Please note that Friday there is a special event taking the place of the flash fiction and poetry posts, namely the release of my second novel in the Ardraci Elemental series, An Elemental Fire. Next Monday I'll be announcing a contest for a chance to win a copy, so stay tuned.

What’s Up This Week: The schedule is up on the side bar, so I’m just giving the highlights here.

Tuesday On Random Thoughts We have Part Twelve of Prophets and Prophecies, Potuluri Virabrahmendra Swami. On Random WritingsI will be doing a review of one of the books I read at the beginning of my vacation. Next week I'll be reviewing the book I'm currently reading and I'm hoping to add an author's interview.

Wednesday (on Random Writings) Chapter Fifty-three of Shades of Errol Flynn. I’m going to leave it as a surprise as to what’s going to happen because every time I think I know, the characters do something completely different. And on Random Thoughts there’ll be another hump day hunk for your viewing pleasure. ;-)

Thursday we have Chapter Eighteen of Water (on Random Thoughts). I believe Ravi is just about done with his tespiro - and maybe we'll learn what happened to Nereida.

Friday The official release date for An Elemental Fire.

May 21, 2012

Monopteron Monday

monopteron ~ circular temple with one ring of columns

It’s the twenty-first of May
The Queen’s Birthday
And if we don’t get a holiday
We’ll all run away!

Okay, I think the original rhyme has the queen’s birthday as May 24, but seeing as today is the 21st I took a little poetic license with the poem. :-)

You may be wondering why this post seems a little short. Well, I’ll tell you. Today is a holiday for us Canadians, Victoria Day (in case you were wondering), and I’ve decided that in honour of the Queen’s birthday I’m taking a much-needed blogging vacation for the week. I can’t remember the last time I took a blogging vacation, which means I’m much overdue for one.

So, I apologize if you’ve come here looking for the next Prophet in the series, or book review, or serial instalment, poem, or flash piece. I’ll be back on May 28, which is Memorial Day for all you Yanks out there, and I may even have a special announcement to make. *knock wood*

See you in a week!

May 18, 2012

Flash Me Friday

The Devil’s Due

“I don’t know about this, Billy . . .” Josie looked up from the book of local legends she’d been reading. “It says here—”

“Babe, I’ve already put down a deposit on the scuba gear.”

“Have you read this?” she asked, waving the book at him.

He plucked the book out of her hand and tossed it aside. “It’s just a bunch of crap to give ignorant tourists a thrill.”

“Then why can’t we hire a local boat owner to take us there? Why did they refuse to even rent us one of their boats when they found out where we wanted to go?”

“C’mon, babe,” Billy said. He pulled her to her feet and wrapped his arms around her. “There’s nothing to worry about. You know it, I know it, hell even the locals know it. They’re probably just trying to hide something really spectacular down there. Maybe there’s an old shipwreck that nobody’s found yet, with a fortune on board.”

She pulled away enough to look up at him. “You really think so?”

“Sure, why not? C’mon babe,” Billy coaxed. “I’ll be fun.”

Josie gave a sigh, and with that one little sigh Billy knew he’d won. “Get your stuff and let’s get going.” He turned her around and gave her a swat on her behind. “The boat I hired from the next town should be here by now.”

Josie picked up her beach bag and followed her boyfriend down to the docks where they had no trouble picking out the shiny white cabin cruiser from amongst all the fishing boats and catamarans docked there.

Even going to the next town over Billy had trouble finding a boat to hire. However, this guy was new to the area, although he knew the cove they wanted to dive in.

“Don’t get many people wanting to dive in the Devil’s Cove,” he said as he made ready to cast off. “I think the name puts them off.”

He and Billy ignored the mutterings and warding signs the locals made, but Josie felt a shiver run up her spine.

“All the better,” Billy said. “Means it hasn’t been picked over too badly.”

They cast off and made their way out of the harbour, reaching their destination in a little more than an hour. The Devil’s Cove was a small, almost perfectly shaped horse shoe of a cove, surrounded by high cliffs of black rock.

Josie could feel the boatman’s eyes on her as she shimmied into her wetsuit, and it was almost enough to take her mind off of what was waiting for them below those deceptively calm, turquoise waters.

“Ready?” Billy asked.

She gave her equipment one last check and then nodded. Everything in place, they dove.

Josie felt a calmness overcome her as the ocean closed over her head. It was always the same. She loved diving. There was just something so peaceful about it. She and Billy had met during a diving class – he’d been her instructor – and they’d been together ever since. Cave diving was their favourite, and despite her initial apprehension she felt the same thrill of excitement that always accompanied the prospect of a new underwater cave.

The water was only slightly murky and she was able to follow Billy easily. At least until they came to the first cave. The short passage led to a much wider chamber, but that seemed to be all the cave had to offer. They swung their lights in a wide arc but the cave was almost disappointing in its ordinariness. Billy shook his head at her and turned around to lead the way out again.

The next cave, though pretty with its plants and fish and filigree coral, was also not the famous Devil’s Mouth. The third, however . . . Josie shivered as they entered the wide passage. The place gave her the creeps, although she couldn’t have said why.

The further into the cave they went, the worse the feeling of apprehension. At one point they passed a spot that looked like teeth coming from both above and below and Josie almost turned back then. It really was like entering an enormous mouth.

Billy had turned on his video camera and filmed their entry into the cave. Josie tapped his shoulder and pointed towards the wall where her light illuminated formations that looked almost human.

It was tempting to keep going but they had no way of knowing how far back the cave went and their time was growing short. They’d need to leave it for another day when they could bring sleds with them. Now that they knew the passage was wide enough to accommodate them it would be no problem.

They turned and began retracing their route back out of the cave. They came to the spot with the teeth-like formation only to find a dead end. Josie turned terrified eyes to Billy and her breath left in an explosion of bubbles.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

The following day a group of locals went out to check the Devil’s Bay. They were more concerned over the fate of the abandoned cruiser than they were over the people who had been in it. The boat owner wasn’t one of them and therefore didn’t matter. As for the tourists, well, they’d been warned, hadn’t they? The devil must be given his due. And better strangers than one of them.

May 15, 2012

Prophets and Prophecies - Part Eleven

Erik Jan Hanussen

Erik Jan Hanussen was born on June 2, 1889 in Vienna. His real name was Hermann Steinschneider and though he claimed to be a Danish aristocrat, he was in fact a Moravian Jew.

He left home at an early age to join the circus, where he became a skilled knife thrower, fire eater, and strong man. During World War I when Hanussen’s company was cut off from its water supply, he was able to dowse for water without the use of a dowsing rod. Eventually his charisma and entertainment background got him a transfer as a performer for the troops.

When the war was over, he continued to develop his stage act as a clairvoyant, muscle reader and mentalist. By 1930 Hanussen was well known as “Europe’s Greatest Clairvoyant.” He began publishing a weekly journal of the occult, and a biweekly paper that made predictions regarding politics and national finances. In one stunning prediction, he said that one of Germany’s three largest joint-stock banks would suffer a collapse. The prediction was fulfilled three weeks later when Darmstadt & National was forced to close its doors. He much sought after and was always in demand in a variety of venues.

Hanussen became a multimillionaire in Germany. He held lavish feasts aboard his yacht that included drugs. One of his specialties was his ability to hypnotize women into sexual frenzy and sustained orgasm. A Swedish baroness, Barbara van Swieten, often hosted these events and sometimes acted as a willing participant. Even for a Berlin accustomed to debauched night-time displays, Hanussen’s were considered over the top.

He became friends with many of the Nazi elite. Some sources believe it was Hanussen who suggested the Indian symbol of good luck, the swastika, as the Nazi symbol. In his periodicals he predicted Hitler had planetary conjunctions in his favour and was a rising star. In 1932 he predicted that Hitler would be appointed chancellor in one year’s time.

It is believed that Hanussen aided Hitler in his public speaking by applying his stage background, coaching him in his gestures, teaching him how to emphasize phrases and adding drama to his speeches. He helped Hitler develop his phenomenal appeal that allowed him to lead his country to war.

Hitler did not know Hanussen was Jewish. Hanussen told everyone he was the son of an aristocratic Danish family, and he was believed, even though he didn’t speak a word of the language.

By 1933 Hitler was chancellor of Germany and Hanussen grew over confident. He predicted the burning of a great building and that from its ashes would spring hope. On February 27, 1933, Germany’s parliamentary building caught fire. The Nazis blamed it on Communists and public outrage gave Hitler the chance to pass emergency laws that put him in the seat of power.

It was actually the Nazis themselves that set fire to the building, to give Hitler the opportunity to acquire complete control. Hanussen would have known this, which is how he was able to make his prediction. This was unacceptable to the Nazis, however, and on March 24, 1933 he was murdered.

May 14, 2012

Murenger Monday

murenger ~ official in charge of ensuring city walls are repaired

I don’t know about you all, but I had a fabulous weekend! This was the weekend of my husband’s year end bowling tournament – a two-day tournament in Hamilton. I’m not a bowler (and I have a collection of bad bowler trophies to prove it) but I am a shopper. And Hamilton has one thing our little town does not have – Lime Ridge Mall.

Lime Ridge is apparently the largest mall in the city. You can see for yourself HERE. Anyway, a few years ago one of the other bowling wives and I started a tradition of shopping while the boys are bowling. We like to refer to the weekend as the Shopping Tournament. :-D

Here’s a picture of the loot I came home with:

Hmmm, it appears I was doing things in fours. Four t-shirts from the Disney Store: Eeyore, Tinkerbell, and two Jack the Pumpkin King. Four books: Wanted, Undead or Alive, by Kerrelyn Sparks; Gwenhwyfar, by Mercedes Lackey; Flirt, by Laurell K. Hamilton; and Must Love Lycans, by Michele Bardsley. Four DVDs: the new Conan, Beastly, Wolverine, and Green Lantern. Not shown is the set of DVDs I bought for the hubby for Father's Day. :-)

Good thing the Shopping Tournament only comes once a year. I don’t think either my feet or my wallet could take it more often. LOL The only downside of the weekend was all the e-mails I didn’t get answered which I will have to do today. *sigh* Oh, and the screaming children at the restaurant we were at Saturday night. Parents! If your child cannot behave in public, don’t freakin’ take them to an adult restaurant. Take them to MacDonald’s or Chuck E. Cheese or something kid friendly!

I must be on a roll. Again I got all my posts up and most of them were even on time. My poetry post was just a little late, and my flash piece wasn’t as late as it normally is. One of these days I might even be back to having it done on time.

Even though I haven’t changed them on my blogs yet, I have been updating my Reading Challenge page and my What I’m Working On page. I keep meaning to update them on the blogs when I schedule my blog posts, but I keep forgetting. I’ve changed the Working page to reflect the stuff I’m actually working on right now – this probably won’t change again until the end of June when the big transcription project I’ve been working on is finished. I’ve also changed the Reading list by linking the book titles to a review, if I’ve done one.

Again I didn’t get my Goodreads list updated, but I’ve been keeping track and I’m going to really make the effort this week (again). I’ve got a thousand and one excuses, if you’re interested. :-)

What’s Up This Week: The schedule is up on the side bar, so I’m just giving the highlights here.

Tuesday On Random Thoughts We have Part Eleven of Prophets and Prophecies, Erik Jan Hanussen, Hitler’s Jewish psychic. On Random Writings there will once again be a book review and it will probably be one I read earlier in the year ‘cause I’ve been buying more than reading lately.

Wednesday (on Random Writings) Chapter Fifty-two of Shades of Errol Flynn. I’m going to leave it as a surprise as to what’s going to happen because every time I think I know, the characters do something completely different. And on Random Thoughts there’ll be another hump day hunk for your viewing pleasure. ;-)

Thursday we have Chapter Seventeen of Water (on Random Thoughts). I think Ravi’s tespiro has just about run its course, but what about Nereida?

Friday On Passion For Poetry (Random Writings) I will probably post a few more of my early poems. And on Random Thoughts I’ll be doing another flash piece, prompted by a picture.

May 11, 2012

Flash Me Friday

Calls From The Past

Debra wasn’t a big fan of yard sales, but somehow her friend Louise talked her into doing the yard sale circuit one beautiful Saturday morning. One yard sale blended into another – they all started looking the same after about the third one. When she mentioned this to Louise, she was treated to a lecture.

“You never know what treasures can be unearthed in a yard sale, although it really depends on why they’re having it.”

“What do you mean?” Debra asked before she could stop herself.

“Well, some people have yard sales just to get rid of their unwanted junk. Those are the worst ‘cause they tend to keep the good stuff for themselves. Then there are the people who are moving, so they need to lighten the load. You can get some good bargains at those sales, but again, you won’t find many family treasures.”


“For that you need a sale like this one, where the homeowner died.” Louise lowered her voice. “I heard it was a suicide. The family probably only took a few mementos and now they’re getting rid of a lifetime of memories. Sure, most of it’s just crap, but sometimes you can find a real gem. I like to think of it as an archaeological dig, and I’m Indiana Jones looking for that lost artefact.”

Debra rolled her eyes behind Louise’s back and wandered over to a table set up under a large tree. It looked like it held the contents of the garage, or maybe the basement. Amid the assorted junk were a few rusty tools, boxes of what looked like electronic parts, three radios that were in various stages of being disassembled, a toaster, and a very old rotary phone. It was tall and slender and looked like a prop for an old film noir.

“Does this phone work?” Debra asked the portly man sitting in the shade of the tree.

“Beats me.” He shrugged.

“How much do you want for it?”

A few minutes of haggling later, Debra was three dollars poorer, but richer by one old fashioned telephone.

“Personally, I wouldn’t buy any of this stuff. It’s too creepy.” The man leaned forward in his chair. “The guy who used to own all this junk committed suicide.”

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~*

Debra took her find home and cleaned it up and was pleasantly surprised when she plugged it in and received a dial tone.

“I guess Louise was right about finding treasures.”

Late that night she was awakened by the sound of a phone ringing. Bleary-eyed, she checked the digital clock on her night stand. It was 3:25 a.m. Fumbling with the phone beside the clock, she held the receiver to her ear.


There was nothing but dial tone. Muttering about idiots and crank calls she slammed the phone down again and went back to sleep.

The following afternoon she was sipping her coffee out on the patio when she heard the phone start to ring. By the time she picked up the extension in the kitchen, whoever it was had given up. Shrugging, she went back outside.

Debra had trouble getting to sleep that night. Shortly after three she got up and went to the kitchen for a cup of tea. While she was waiting for it to steep, she heard a phone ring. She was one step away from the extension in the kitchen when she realized it wasn’t the phone ringing. The sound led her to the living room where her new phone sat on the little round table by the sofa.

Hesitantly, she reached out and picked the phone up.


“I know it was you that done it!”

“Excuse me?”

“Ain’t no excuse for it. I know it was you that threw Kiki’s ball into that patch of burdock. We ended up having to shave that poor dog.”

“Who is this?”

“This is your Uncle Wilfred. And I’m calling to tell you you was one mean little kid!”

“I don’t know who this is, but my Uncle Wilfred died almost twenty years ago.” Debra slammed down the receiver and went back into the kitchen. The call was disturbing on many levels, but the most disturbing part was the fact that the caller was right. When she was seven years old she had thrown Kiki’s ball into the burdock. How had he known?

The following afternoon she was in the kitchen when she heard her new phone start to ring, although none of the others seemed to be working. She glanced at the clock and was relieved to see it was only 2:15.


“Debra? This is your Aunt Missy. I wanna know why you stole that twenty dollars out of my purse.”

“Who is this really?”

“I done told you who this is. You’re nothing but a no good thief.”

“If this is some kind of prank, it’s not very funny. Aunt Missy died ten years ago.”

“I ain’t the only one who’s not happy with you. You can expect a lot more calls.”

There was a click and then dial tone. Debra held out the receiver and stared at it. What the hell was going on?

The next call came at exactly five o’clock, this time from Aunt Bettina who complained about how Debra had snipped all the heads off her prize winning roses, right before the horticultural society judging. Aunt Bettina had been dead for twelve years, and Debra suddenly remembered she’d died at the stroke of five.

She checked her mother’s old family bible and was unsurprised to see the times of death, as well as the dates, for various family members. The woman was anal to a fault. Sure enough, Uncle Wilfred and died at 3:25 and Missy at 2:15.

Debra called the phone company and had her number changed, but it didn’t stop the next three calls.

“Why are you doing this to me?” she tearfully asked the last caller, Uncle Lewis.

“Cause we’ve been waiting a long time to tell you how we feel. You’re no good, little Debby, and it’s time you owned up to it.”

She slammed the phone down. She hated being called little Debby, and Lewis knew that. Maybe she hadn’t been a perfect child, but she hadn’t done so bad as an adult. I mean, yeah, she cheated at games, but who didn’t? And if she snuck out of restaurants without paying, well who cares, everyone did it. And scamming seniors was just too easy. But that didn’t make her a bad person.

The calls began to come faster – friends, family, acquaintances. Debra tried unplugging the phone but it would still ring. She put it out in the garage but found it back on the table the next day. She even drove out to the lake and threw the damn thing as far as it would go, but when she returned home it was back on the table.

By now she was a nervous wreck. She couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, all she could do was listen to the litany of her perceived past sins. At last came the call she was dreading.

“Debra, this is your mother.”

“Of course it is,” Debra said.

“I expected so much more from you Debra, you’ve been nothing but a disappointment from the day you were born.”

“Well it’s a little late to do anything about it now.”

“It’s never too late to fix a mistake.”

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

It was a beautiful day for a yard sale.

“How much for this old phone?” Henry asked the teenager standing behind the table.

She shrugged. “Make me an offer. Everything has to go, the realtor wants this junk gone by the weekend.”

“This’ll look great in my den,” he said enthusiastically, after they’d reached an agreement.

“Personally, I wouldn’t buy any of this stuff.”

“Why not?”

“It’s too creepy. The woman who owned it all is dead.” She leaned forward. “They say she committed suicide.”

May 9, 2012

May 8, 2012

Prophets and Prophecies - Part Ten

Baba Vanga

Vangelia Pandeva Dimitrova was born in Bulgaria in 1911, a premature baby who suffered from health complications. In accordance with local tradition, she was not given a name until it was deemed likely she would survive. At that point the midwife went into the street and asked a stranger for a name. The stranger suggested Vangelia, a Greek name meaning herald of the good news.

She grew up as an ordinary child in a small village in the Kozhuh mountains. One of her favourite games was to play “healing,” where one of her friends would pretend to be ill and she would prescribe herbs to them.

It is believed, though never proven, that when she was twelve she was swept up by a wind storm and thrown down again. When she was found her eyes were covered with sand and dust and she was unable to open them. Her family being poor, there was no money for an operation and she eventually went blind.

Vanga claimed that her extraordinary abilities came from invisible creatures, but she couldn't clearly explain their origin. She believed these creatures gave her information about people, which she could not transmit to them, because distance and time didn't matter.

In 1942 Vanga married Dimitar Gushterov, who had come asking for information about the killers of his brother. Before she would tell him anything he had to promise her not to seek revenge. Vanga never allowed anybody to seek revenge. She believed that a man is born to do good and that no bad thing ever remains unpunished.

During World War II Vanga attracted more believers–a number of people visited her, hoping to get a hint about whether their relatives were alive, or seeking for the place where they died.

She would act as a medium, communicating with the spirits of dead people from up to 200 years in the past, and claimed to have healing powers. She would often prescribe herbs and spices to cure diseases and ailments, but she said that people had to heal themselves only with the herbs from the country they live in. She did not oppose modern medicine, but she thought that taking too much medicine was bad because it would interfere with the body restoring its natural balance.

Baba Vanga is also known in the U.F.O. community for claims that she speaks with an Alien race named the Vamfim. She claimed they have been living on our world for many years and are here to help. They were from the were from the third planet, or realm, from Earth, another dimensions of Mars.

Those who have studied Baba Vanga’s predictions say that she was accurate about 80% of the time. There are those who dispute this claim, however, because she was only semi-literate and her predictions were written down by those around her.

Baba Vanga died on 11 August 1996 from breast cancer. Her funeral attracted large crowds, including many dignitaries. Her followers believe she knew the precise date of her own death, and shortly before that she had said that a 10-year-old blind girl living in France would inherit her gift

She was not afraid of the death, because according to her “after death the body decomposes, like everything alive, but a part of the body – the soul, or something I don’t know how to call it, does not decompose. You talk about second birth. I do not know what it is. But what remains from a man - it’s the soul. It does not decompose, and continues to develop to reach higher states. This is the eternity of soul.”

Fulfilling Vanga's last will and testament, her house was turned into a museum, which opened its doors on 5 May 2008.

Baba Vanga is believed to have predicted the break-up of the Soviet Union, the Chernobyl disaster, the death of Princess Diana, and the date of Stalin's death. Over the years, she was visited by many political leaders, including Adolph Hitler. Her prediction:
"Horror, horror! The American brethren will fall after being attacked by the steel birds. The wolves will be howling in a bush, and innocent blood will be gushing." Is believed to refer to the 9/11 tragedy. The brethren are the twin towers and the steel birds are the jets.

The following are some prophecies for the next 50 years.

2014 - Most of the people in this world will have skin cancer and skin related diseases. (Due to radioactive showers in the Northern Hemisphere and a chemical war started by the Muslins against the Europeans, predicted for 2011).
2016 - Europe is almost empty
2018 - China becomes the new world power.
2023 - Earth’s orbit will change slightly
2025 - Europe is still barely populated
2028 - Development of a new energy source. (Probably controller thermonuclear reaction) Hunger slowly stops being a problem. Piloted spaceship to Venus deploys.
2033 - Polar ice caps melt. World ocean levels rise.
2043: Economy is good. The Muslims will run Europe.
2046: All bodily organs can be reproduced, becoming the easiest and most popular method of treatment.
2066: The U.S. uses a new climate-changing weapon on Muslim controlled Rome.
2076: Communism takes over.

If you would like to see more of Baba Vanga’s prophecies, I recommend THIS SITE

May 7, 2012

Monoxylon Monday

monoxylon ~ canoe made from one log

Everyone have a good weekend? Did you go outside to have a look at the super moon Saturday night? Last year I didn’t think the moon looked any bigger than any other full moon, and I have to say I felt the same this year. However, I did think the moon was insanely bright. Now that was impressive!

I didn’t get much writing done over the weekend, but it was still a pretty good weekend. Lots of barbequing and salad making and I even snuck in some book reading time. I’d like to go on a binge but I stopped at one, uh, two books. And I added another couple of inches to the afghan I’m crocheting out of odds and ends. :-)

Managed to get all my posts done last week, although I was late with Water and with my flash piece. But did you notice? I finally did a form over on Random Writings. It feels like it’s been forever since I did a form, but I just haven’t been in a poetical mood lately.

I did something last week that I haven’t done for ages – I bought some books. I went along for a ride to Belleville and once there my daughter decided she had to have Starbucks which, as you know, is usually found in Chapters. While there I had a quick look at the books and some how the newest Charles de Lint fantasy just jumped into my arms. Quickly followed by the latest Lynsay Sands, a new Nina Bangs, and a new Michele Bardsley. Honestly, I don’t know how it happened!

Then the very next day was the annual church book sale. You have to be fast to get the good buys, and my daughter and I have it down to a fine art. We were in and out of there in less than half an hour. Many books were bought. :-) .

Again I didn’t get my Goodreads list updated, but I’ve been keeping track and I’m going to really make the effort this week. Mostly what I’ll be focused on is the OTF project I’ve been working on for the local historical society. Only two more months and it’s finished and then I can move on to other things with a clear conscience.

What’s Up This Week: The schedule is up on the side bar, so I’m just giving the highlights here.

Tuesday On Random Thoughts We have Part Ten of Prophets and Prophecies, Baba Vanga. On Random Writings I have a few books to choose from for my review, and at this point I haven’t decided which book. If you’re an author and would like me to review your book, drop me a line at carolrward(at)gmail(dot)com. I promise I’ll add your book to the top of my list, or at least as close to the top as I can manage. :-)

Wednesday (on Random Writings) Chapter Fifty-one of Shades of Errol Flynn. I wonder just what Howard’s plan entails? And on Random Thoughts there’ll be another hump day hunk for your viewing pleasure. ;-)

Thursday we have Chapter Sixteen of Water (on Random Thoughts), with both of the twins undergoing their tespiro. The question is, will they both survive?

Friday On Passion For Poetry (Random Writings) there will be a poem but I don’t know if it’ll be one of mine or someone else’s. We’ll see how poetical I’m feeling. And on Random Thoughts I’ll be doing another flash piece, prompted by a picture.

May 4, 2012

Flash Me Friday

Cold Snapped

The winter air seeped into her bones as she moved doggedly forward.

One step.

Two steps.

Left foot.

Right foot.

The cold, cruel wind snaked around her, erasing her footsteps as she made them. For all she knew she could be walking in place. She had to keep moving. They were close . . . so close.

Winter had come early this year, catching the village unprepared. A killing frost blackened the crops that hadn’t been harvested yet leaving the store houses only half full. Then an illness swept through the herds, decimating the livestock.

Many families packed up and headed south while they still could. Though most had been through hard times before, never had those hardships piled one on top of the other so quickly. They left in a hurry, hoping to beat the winter storms that were hard on their heels.

Those that were left fortified themselves as best they could and often gathered in the tavern with its enormous fireplace. As it grew steadily colder, many of them moved right in, finding even a pallet on the floor better than trying to sleep through the cold in their own homes.

Occasionally a traveller would pass through the village, stopping for the night at the tavern before pressing on, trying to reach the southern lands before true winter set in. They would bring with them what little news they had, how there was no escaping the cold, how even the game was migrating southwards.

One old man barely made it to the village alive. He collapsed near the fireplace in the tavern, clearly not long for this world.

“’Tis the feral winter,” he muttered, over and over again.

The tavern-keeper’s wife paused in her task of trying to coax some broth down his throat. “What do you mean, feral winter?”

“It comes every two hundred years to drive men mad.”

“Superstitious nonsense,” the woman muttered.

“No, it’s true!” the old man insisted. “My ancestors survived the last one and passed the story down through the generations.”

By this time the small crowd of remaining villagers had gathered around him.

“What causes this feral winter?” someone asked.

“Boreas, may the heavens curse his name.”

“The gods do not control the winter!”

“The god Boreas is so great that he need only draw a breath once every two hundred years. When he exhales, it is the icy breath of the feral winter with its cold that drives men mad.”

“How, exactly does the cold drive a man mad?”

“It seeps into his soul and gives him the strength of ten men. And with this strength he makes sure nothing survives the feral winter. No beast, no man.”

He lapsed into silence again and they could get no more from him. By morning he was dead.

Wolves came down from the mountain seeking food and put an effective end to any more visitors. For safety the hunters and woodsmen foraged together but found little for their efforts. The game had either died or fled; the trees were too frozen for the axes to bite through.

As it grew steadily colder frost began to form around the edges of the doors and the tightly shuttered windows in the tavern. A delegation was sent to try and persuade the few who had decided to stick to their farms to come to the tavern. They came back alone.

“The fools!” the tavern keeper’s wife exclaimed. “You mean not one of them . . .” her voice trailed off as she took in the solemn looks on the men’s faces. “They all froze to death?”

“They’s all dead,” the smithy told her. “And they’s frozen, but it weren’t the cold what killed them.”

The tavern-keeper rested a comforting hand on his wife’s shoulder. “It looks as though the old man was right. The cold made them mad and they turned on each other.”

The next morning, when everyone awoke, it was discovered that the two woodsmen nearest to the door were dead. The wind whistled around the eaves and rattled at the door. There was not a mark on them and the remaining villagers looked at each other with suspicion.

It grew steadily colder. Even the wolves deserted them, migrating further south. By ones and twos the remaining villagers were being picked off in the night – a farmer and his wife, the village blacksmith, a spinster seamstress . . .

For two nights running they set a watch, but each morning they’d awaken to find the watchmen sitting upright, eyes staring straight ahead, quite dead. One of the hunters panicked and tried to leave the tavern, but the door was frozen shut. They were all trapped together, and one of them was a murderer.

The next morning it was the tavern-keeper who was found dead, although this once it looked like the victim had put up a struggle. His wife was silent as his body was carried into the store room where the others had been put. Of those who had stayed in the village, only five now remained.

The survivors were too afraid to try and sleep that night, but sleep they did. When the two huntsmen woke in the morning it was to find the last two farmers were dead, still curled up in their blankets beside the fire. As they examined the bodies they were struck by a cold blast of air.

The tavern-keeper’s wife stood beside the now wide open door.

“Run,” she said, baring her teeth in a feral grin.

With nothing more than the clothes on their backs, the hunters fled. She gave them a head start and then followed.

They were a canny prey, almost worthy. The winter air seeped into her bones as she moved doggedly forward but she took no notice. It could no longer harm her. She belonged to Boreas now.

One step.

Two steps.

Left foot.

Right foot.

The cold, cruel wind snaked around her, erasing her footsteps as she made them. For all she knew she could be walking in place but if that were true then so was her prey. She had to keep moving, had to find the last two villagers. They were close . . . so close. It would not be long before they were hers. The god must be appeased.

May 1, 2012

Prophets and Prophecies - Part Nine

Mother Shipton

Ursula Sonthiel was born in 1488, supposedly in a cave in Yorkshire, England. According to legend, her conception was the result of a union between her mother and the devil; she was reportedly extremely plain and deformed.

She exhibited prophetic and psychic abilities from an early age, writing them down in the form of poems. At twenty-four she married Toby Shipton, and became known as Mother Shipton, although she never had children.

One of her most famous opponents was apparently Cardinal Wolsey. She made the prediction that he would never see the city of York, despite the fact he was its Archbishop. A short while after this prediction, Wolsey left London for York. He was just ten miles from his destination when he was recalled to London, where he was to stand trial for high treason.

Mother Shipton predicted important historical events many years ahead of their time - the Great Fire of London in 1666, the defeat of the Spanish Armada in 1588, and the death of Mary, Queen of Scots in 1587, to name just a few.

The most famous of her prophecies described future technology:

Carriages without horses shall goe,
And accidents fill the world with woe.
Around the world thoughts shall fly
In the twinkling of an eye….
Under water men shall walk,
Shall ride, shall sleep and talk;
In the air men shall be seen,
In white, in black and in green….
Iron in the water shall float,
As easy as a wooden boat.

She was also believed to have predicted her own death in 1561. No-one knows where she was buried, thought it is believed she was laid to rest in non-consecrated ground on the outskirts of York.

There have been more than 50 different editions of books about Mother Shipton and her prophecies. The first known edition of her prophecies appeared in print in 1641, eighty years after her death. However, the most important editions of her work appeared in 1684, edited by Richard Head, and in 1862, edited by Charles Hindley.

It is believed that many of Mother Shipton’s prophecies were in fact hoaxes. Almost all of them were written by others after the events they described had already happened. For example, the first record of her prophecy about Cardinal Wolsey dates from 1641, long after the man had died. Her prophecies about future technology first appeared in print in the 1862 edition of her sayings, and Charles Hindley, the editor of that edition, later admitted that he had composed them.

Even the existence of Mother Shipton herself is uncertain. Her 1684 biographer, Richard Head, may have invented most of the details of her life. In fact, she may never have existed outside of Yorkshire legend. Historian Arnold Kellet, however, believes Mother Shipton did exist. He argues that if this had been a fabricated tale about a mythical figure, a far more fabulous and sensational prophecy could have been written.

If you’d like to read more about Mother Shipton’s prophecies, I recommend THIS SITE. If you’d like to read more about Mother Shipton and the tourist attraction the cave she was reported to have born in has become, I recommend THIS SITE.