If you haven't read the other parts of this story yet, please do so now.
If you have not read Part One or Two, please click my name and read the parts you haven't read yet.
One thing before we begin, this is a social media and it has a lot of videos and pictures. If you want to see those look it up on YouTube and/or Twitter. This came from the twitter of Adam Ellis (@moby_dickhead) so when I tell this story it comes from him. I hope I can do him proud.
The Amityville Horror is a book published in 1977 that inspired movies and the book was inspired by real-life events. The first movie was released in 1979. It has been the subject of controversy and lawsuits over how real it is.
Zozo is one of the most famous demons besides the devil. Please read all of this before you play with a Ouija board or do anything else paranormal. I will be going over who Zozo is, his names, how you know you came into contact with him, what he's capable of and how to get rid of him. I will also be telling at least one story of people who contacted him.
As the curious creatures that we are, we humans often find ourselves looking for answers in the unknown during our life journey. For a long time, I looked for answers in all the wrong places. I used Ouija boards consistently for six years, and I was obviously not using them with the intention of gaining a higher consciousness or talking to any pretty figures of light from the sky. Through doing so, I have gained a deeper understanding of how the law of attraction truly is a powerful force that effects us all.
Since I could remember, my mother and grandmother always spoke of our ancestors. One of my earliest memories is getting put to bed and hearing their wild bedtime stories, each one getting more detailed than the last. I believed them for a long time until I got older. I don't remember much now; they quit telling me the stories after I went off to junior High.
I have always loved secret things.
I hadn’t thought about her in over 50 years (dating self); however, sitting in a Waffle House the other morning, I overheard a conversation from a very excited young man. His story was that his son had been in the hospital, and recovered largely because of a Candy Striper. His consternation was that he never learned the name of the young woman who spent so many late night hours with his son. By the way, this is an old story, repeated many times over the years.
While this story is true, preachers, counselors, advisors, editors, and others have always doubted my words. Dear reader, if you too doubt these words, then I advise you to avoid the historic homes along the coast of North Carolina.