It’s a Spiritual Warfare

Copyright © 2018 by Kellie Marks.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 10/24/2018

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CONTENTS

Acknowledgments

Introduction

Chapter 1 Where Nightmares Come From

Chapter 2 My Journey Begins

Chapter 3 The Beginning

Chapter 4 How Our Past Defines Us

Chapter 5 Asking for Help

Chapter 6 The Asylum

Chapter 7 Meeting Michael

Chapter 8 A New Beginning

Chapter 9 Facing Her Demon

Chapter 10 Brought Back from Gates of Hell

Chapter 11 When It’s Time, It’s Time

Chapter 12 It’s Time to Go Home

This book is

dedicated to, first and foremost, my husband, Eric, who listened and provided feedback during the writing of this book. He gave me the space and gentle nudging to continue on when I wanted to give up.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

T O MY THREE younger sisters. First to Kris, for the inspiration and unyielding guidance as she published her own book, and that alone gave me courage. To my sister Kim, who immediately wanted to start reading It’s a Spiritual Warfare before the final editing. She told me that she couldn’t keep her eyes out of the book. Her interest in the story gave me tremendous hope that I, too, could make this happen. And to my baby sister, Kandy, for always being willing to listen to me complain and also was willing to read my book before being ready to publish. To Lola, my coworker, who was willing to read my book as I needed a fresh set of eyes outside of family, giving me tremendous support each stage I was on. Also, to the folks in the writers’ meeting—I received good constructive feedback and was invited to give one or more of them a copy of the manuscript to be able to read it thoroughly—and to the rest of those that are in my world, who has supported and loved me through all the stress I endured with this first book, thank you.

INTRODUCTION

I KNEW I WAS dreaming, but I couldn’t figure out how to get out of the terrifying nightmare. Next thing I knew, I woke up in my own bed. I lay staring up at the ceiling. I noticed that my heart finally started to beat normally. I couldn’t believe how real the nightmare was. It played in my head like a bad movie stuck on repeat. My eyes opened without warning. Lying there and staring up at the ceiling, I tried to recall what I had dreamed and who was in it. There was a young man and a woman, I knew that much. I didn’t recognize the man, but the woman looked like Grandma Marie. The man held her in a grip, with his hands on the tops of her arms, shaking and yelling at her. Without warning, the woman faded out, and a child with big steel-blue eyes came into mind. She had blond curls, and her mouth held a wicked smile. The girl started to laugh. Next, the man turned to look at me. The thought that crossed my mind was He’s looking right at me, but that’s impossible . The man took on the form of my uncle Joseph. Then if things couldn’t have gotten any worse, the girl looked at me. She started walking and saying something I couldn’t make out. I wanted to turn and run, but my legs wouldn’t move. It was as if I were wearing cement shoes. I told myself over and over, Just wake up, wake up, but I couldn’t. Then the girl held out her hand, as she was close enough. I could hear her breathing. I started to scream in my mind for her to stay away. I thought, Why couldn’t I move my legs? My god, what is happening? She grabbed my arm and clenched it tight. At first, it had felt cold, then it began to burn. I then looked down at my arm, and I could see it was smoldering. I tried to open my mouth to scream, but my mouth wouldn’t open! I felt the tears running down my cheeks as I felt a horrible pain.

CHAPTER I

WHERE NIGHTMARES COME FROM

I STARTED TO CRAWL out of bed when I noticed the wet, sticky feeling on my leg. I threw the covers off and saw blood on my sheets, my shorts, and all over my legs. I started inspecting my body and saw that there were a couple of nasty gashes in the front of my left leg. I looked all over my apartment for any clues, then I saw what had caused the cut on my leg: a metal stand that sat in a corner of my dining room. Two pieces of the metal stripping were protruding outward. I must have gotten up in the middle of the night and bumped into the stand, jarred the pieces loose, and cut the hell out of my leg. I noticed that my arm was hurting, but since I didn’t notice any blood through the shirt, I thought I better tend to my leg first. There was a trail of blood that led from the metal stand to my room. I walked into the bathroom, grabbed two bath towels off the shelf to clean the blood up with, a washcloth, peroxide, Neosporin, bandages, and tape. I inspected my leg and was glad that it wasn’t bad enough for stitches. As I finished wrapping my leg, I noticed that my arm was hurting pretty bad. I took my shirt off to see what damage I did and couldn’t believe what I saw. There were handprints around my burned arm! I was in shock at the reality of my nightmare crossing over into my world. After I calmed down, I decided to call my grandmother. She would understand without patronizing me. I couldn’t reach Grandmother Marie, but I left her a message to call me when she had a chance.

I decided to stay home from work that day; I sat on my couch for most of the day, thinking and trying to make sense out of the nightmare. Slowly, throughout the day, the details of the nightmare became a distant memory until I found myself forgetting about it and focusing on something else, like watching a baseball game on the television.

About 4:00 p.m., my grandmother returned my call. I told her everything about the nightmare and what my arm looked like. She didn’t sound skeptical, thank God, but she didn’t speak right away, and that concerned me. Finally, Marie let out a bit of a sigh and said, Robert, I don’t want you to tell anyone else of this experience, not until we get a handle on it.

Okay, Grandmother. I won’t.

Now listen, Robert. You must document any dream you have, even if it doesn’t seem to relate to this one. We will talk about all this when I see you out at the lake, okay? In the meantime, I will do some research and speak to a friend of mine who is a priest. I thanked her and was so grateful that she was there for me to talk to.

Two days later, I woke up hearing a bloodcurdling scream, then I realized it was my scream! I sat there on the edge of my bed, shaking like a leaf, not able to move at all. About ten minutes passed. I finally forced myself to stand up. Right then and there, I decided to start writing down my experiences of the second nightmare and continued to do so thereafter. I kept a notebook and pen right next to my bed on the nightstand so that I could grab them easily while the nightmare was fresh in my head. Not only did I document them, I also started to draw any figures that I could remember. Being awakened by my own screaming unhinged me. I tried to think back to when I was a child; I tried to remember any nightmares I might have had at that time.

One memory popped into my head; I was about six or seven years old. My little sister, Louise, and I slept in the same room. She was younger than I. We had just buried my mother’s father, my maternal grandfather, who, by the way, was never really around us much. Mother was not close to him or the rest of her family, for that matter. Grandma was talking with my father at the dining room table, while Mother had put my sister and me to bed about an hour before. As I lay there in my bed, I could hear the comforting sound of voices talking quietly from the dining room. It was almost like the soothing sound of the ocean or running creek. I remember being so tired. I believe I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. All of a sudden, my somber sleep turned into a chaotic mess; I saw my uncle standing at the foot of my bed, holding something in his hand and screaming at me, saying, I will kill you all and all of your children! I remember screaming, screaming bloody murder, as my parents and grandmother came rushing into my room.

My father turned on the light as Mother came to my side and held me as I shook. Through my tears and sobs, Grandma asked me to repeat what I saw and then asked if what Uncle Joseph held in his hand looked like anything that I could recognize. I started to shake my head no, then I remembered thinking it looked like the body of a bird. When she heard that, Grandma Marie turned pale white; that made me shudder. Grandma then looked over at my sister, Louise, who had her back up against the wall. She had some of her blanket wadded up in her hand in front of her knees, which were folded in front of her. Her eyes were as big as a half-a-dollar coin. Her face was white with shock, and she shook and trembled. Grandma went over to Louise and asked her if she was okay. She didn’t acknowledge my grandmother at all, like she couldn’t hear her. About then, my father went over to her and tried to get her attention. She wouldn’t budge. Grandmother asked him to get a glass of water, What for, Mother?

Please, Robert Sr.! Just do it! She’s in shock, and I will try anything and everything to bring her back to us.

When my father brought the glass of water, my grandmother immediately grabbed it and threw it right in Louise’s face. Louise caught her breath then started crying. My grandmother grabbed one of the blankets, wrapped her up in it, and held her close. Louise finally quit crying. Then the focus came back to me. Father immediately tried to explain it away. He believed the reason for my nightmare was due to my grandfather’s funeral. Look, Mother, everyone at the funeral was talking about him and his death. It would scare any kid. I suspected Grandma had about enough of him, with his reasoning or analysis of my state of mind. She shot him a look that immediately made him back up.

Well, the boy just couldn’t take all that depressing mourning, that’s all, my mother said in a small and meek voice, trying so hard to defend her husband. We all knew it but never let on that my mother was intimidated by Grandma.

I had noticed Grandma looking down at the floor in the same place I had seen my uncle standing. She looked up at me with a very strange look on her face, and my father noticed it too because he followed her eyes. I could tell by the look that came across his face that he also saw it. He always had that confused look in his eyes whenever something couldn’t be explained. I heard my father ask her if that was what he thought it was, adding, It sure looks like blood, Mother.

Grandma Marie came over to me and sat on the bed, held my right hand, and asked, Now, Robert, did you crawl out of your bed at any time after your mother put you in it?

No, Grandma. Honest, I went right to sleep until I had the scary dream, then I was too afraid to get out of bed.

Have you cut yourself anywhere?

No, Grandma Marie, not unless it was when I saw Uncle Joseph. Grandma asked my father if he had anything she could scoop a sample up with. I will take it to Stanford University, in their science department, and have it analyzed.

When Father walked away, my mother began looking all over my body for any cuts that I might have had; I think they had hoped for a wound—that would be the logical explanation. About then, Louise stated that there was a man standing at the foot of my bed. My mother gasped for air. Father asked her, Are you sure, Louise? She nodded.

I know my parents did not want to believe it was a supernatural phenomenon, but my mother found nothing on me that would justify me dripping blood on the floor. My mother turned to Grandma Marie and said, What do you think this is, Marie? Grandma motioned Mother out of earshot. The two of them went out into the hallway. At the time, I didn’t hear a word of what she said to Mother, but I remembered years later, Grandma admitted what she told my mother: Alice, I know this is going to sound crazy to you, but I believe Robert is telling the truth. You know that there have been more times than not that this family had its supernatural experiences, and there is no explanation for them. Remember what Father and I experienced in Yuma, at the old abandoned asylum? Don’t you remember what I told you when we came back from there?

Well, quite honestly, Marie, Robert and I believe that one of you had a dream that made you think that you were seeing it in real life, and the other one fed off of that.

"Let me tell you, Alice, don’t ever think that this is all there is. There is another side of our world that most will never see, but some of us do. I am here to tell you that not only myself but Robert’s great-grandparents experienced the other world that does not become visible to everyone. Are we all delusional or lying?

"Both you and my son are so ignorant and bullheaded that you could be putting my grandchildren in harm’s way. I expect that from Robert, but are you really that gullible? I feel for you kids because I have a feeling you will experience something very profound, and you will not be able explain it away. And because you two won’t have a clue on how to handle it, you both will fall apart and not be there for your children.

"I know you saw Joseph’s eyes when he attacked his brother. You told me yourself that his face looked distorted and his eyes looked totally different. You even used the word evil."

I think I exaggerated that, because it was so scary. Robert says that the brain is a very odd thing. It can conjure up whatever it wants you to believe. But Joseph coming back from the dead? That seems a little far-fetched, don’t you think, Marie?

No one said that Joseph came back from the dead, Alice. I believe that it was a manifestation of him, the demon that possessed him. It’s still around, Alice, trying to find another host. I know it is. It probably found a new family to ruin, one that won’t know how to fight it.

I don’t necessarily believe that, Marie. I can’t because I thought the police killed it when he shot Joseph.

About that time, my father came in the room with a little container and a Popsicle stick; I watched as Grandma bent down and took a sample of what appeared to be blood. Grandma and my father walked out of my room as my mother held my head in her arms, rubbing my forehead with her fingers to try to relax me enough to go back to sleep. I asked that she leave the light on while we slept. She agreed, but then, Grandmother came back into the room about that time and suggested to my parents to let us sleep in the living room tonight, stating, We can all sleep in the living room together.

My parents didn’t think that was such a bad idea. Father picked Louise up and her pillow and favorite blanket. Mother helped me crawl out of bed, handed me my pillow, then