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Saturday, January 14, 2012

Claudia King Story, Part I, Opening the Door

A note from Janet:  Claudia is a friend of a good friend. I have never met her, but have spoken with her on the phone and communicated by email. She is the real deal, and this story is not exaggerated. I try to limit my blog posts to a certain word count, so this story, written in her own words, will be offered in two consecutive posts. It does have an indirect ufo component to it.


Eph. 6:2:  For we are not fighting against people made of flesh and blood, but we fight against the evil rulers and authorities of the unseen world, against those mighty powers of darkness who rule this world, and against wicked spirits in the heavenly realms.

This passage refers to all Christians, yet you will only meet a handful of Christians that have actually experienced the demonic realm. I am one of those people. I will present my story as honestly and as transparently as I can. I have no agenda in sharing my story with you- other than offering you a vision of the spirit realm from a personal perspective. It is my intention that my story will serve to warn, edify and challenge you in your own walk.

I was raised in an atheist home. It’s different than a non-Christian home because in atheist homes, Christ is spoken against and God is mocked openly, Christians are thought of as ignorant fools, and God’s Word is considered garbage.

My father was a criminal, involved in Mafia Activity in NYC and actually worked with the Gallo Brothers of Italy to import liquor to the U.S. illegally through the NYC docks. It was a life of crime, deception, and murder. Although my father lived this secret life, my brother and I would watch as the cars pulled up in front of the house for meetings in the middle of the night with men coming to our house at all hours. There were many conversations behind closed doors – secret conversations. He was not home much, but when he was, he was not available to me because he was always on the phone.

Because of his dangerous lifestyle, it became necessary for him to send me to a Catholic boarding School for girls for my safety. I lived there for three years. I had no contact with my parents during that time. This school, a converted mansion, had elevators and chandeliers. It was a school that only the rich could afford. It stood on 135 acres of land. During the years I attended, I learned to speak French, play classical violin, and ballroom dance. The horse stables behind the school gave me a reason to explore outside the confining walls of my new home, and horseback riding in the woods became my first love.

Unlike my parents, I was exposed to the ‘concept’ of God every day as I lived with the nuns and priests at the Brentwood School. I strolled across the acres of land with a nun by the name of Sister Mary Helen who became like a mother to me. I asked a lot of questions. She was exhausted by the explanations I begged her to give me about who ‘God’ is.

Then, as suddenly as I was sent away, my parents moved to Hawaii from New York and took me with them. Hawaii is a paradise, but my experience there was a lonely one. At least at the school in New York, I had the companionship of adults who thought my questions about God were interesting. I was not allowed to speak about God at home. My parents were gone a lot, and I found myself engrossed in books that developed my natural curiosity for the spirit realm. While other kids were outside playing, I studied hundreds of books on Christianity, but my mind was also drawn to other spiritual topics such as witchcraft. What I found intriguing was that the witchcraft books offered simple and easy solutions to common human problem’s, including loneliness. The books on Christianity spoke of being ‘emptied’ before God and of self-sacrifice. That appeared too difficult to a fourteen-year-old who just wanted some simple answers to her questions.

There was one book, in particular, to which I was drawn. It described a chant, with a diagram, and two candles -- simple enough. I repeated the words from that book in my room that night and did everything it instructed me to do. I rejected Jesus verbally and called upon spirits I knew nothing about for power. After a short time, it all seemed silly, so I went to bed.

After being asleep for a while, I woke up to an intense growling under my bed -- near my head. I sat up and listened, becoming more frightened. After a few minutes it went away. I laid back down on my side and fell asleep. I remember waking up to adjust my pillow. I could not find it. I opened my eyes to find I had levitated almost to the ceiling and my pillow was on my bed beneath me. I remember one of the books saying that you could ‘will’ things to happen to you – so I ‘willed’ myself to go down to my bed. At this point I turned my bedroom light on and kept it on for a long time.

I went to the kitchen and got a glass of juice. I returned to my room, not believing my own experience and went back to bed. Maybe the growling and the levitating was just some freaky dream! I convinced myself that it was just that I was tired -- and I settled into a comfortable position on my stomach when two very large demonic hands grabbed my ankles and proceeded to pull me off my bed. They didn’t feel like human hands -- but I have no way to describe how I knew that. I grabbed the top of my mattress and the force was so strong that the mattress bent in the direction I was being pulled. I don’t know why I said it, but I whispered, ‘Jesus’ and immediately the hands let go and like a vacuum, the evil presence was sucked from the room. I could hear it leave.

That day began a seventeen-year struggle against demonic forces, which did not stop until I was thirty-one years old. I did not know that I had opened a door to the dark realm through my curiosity. I didn’t know that one moment of rejecting Jesus would have years of painful circumstances.

From fourteen to seventeen years old, I didn’t read anything about Christianity. Since I had previously spent an enormous amount of time studying about Jesus behind my parents back, I felt an obvious emptiness. But after that demonic experience, I was afraid to delve into anything I didn’t completely understand. During those three years, I felt presences from the kingdom of darkness letting me know they were still around.

At eighteen, a friend from work invited me to a Bible study group. Though I had been exposed to God at the boarding school in New York, a relationship with God was foreign to me. I went to the study and came home to yelling parents who ridiculed me for being with a bunch of lunatic Christians. My mom threw my Bible at me (the one I had lying on my bed). My parents had parties at the house several times a month. Sometimes they had me bartend for them. On the nights they didn’t need me, I locked myself in the bedroom and read the Christian booklets that I got from some people in the youth group.

Every time I started to read them, an intense fear came upon me and I could feel presences in the room with me. I had to stop reading. Sometimes I would feel sick to my stomach. I had no understanding of what was happening to me, and I had no one to ask. I would cry to God, but there was a wall between us, and He never seemed to answer me.

To be continued…