Plus, any word on Elizabeth, the woman-now-angel that is the subject of this post, deserves my best effort, because she gave me hers. Right now, circumstances stand in the way, and I just don't have enough to give; my immediate needs, just like hers were (as you'll see below), are big.
Still, something must be said—and said right now—so I'll just post what I have, and finish it when I can. There's plenty there for you to get a general idea of how this rare jewel died, and how unfair her life was right at the end.
But, first, a word of caution before broaching this situation in anyway tangible way: I will unleash Hell on anyone who thinks she brought this on herself. I am done with ignorance; I will punish it. She was not a drug addict. There is no such thing to those who know the truth. Besides, according to a relative, the autopsy suggests that there were no drugs in her system; therefore, there was obviously no overdose, let alone use. If you ever thought otherwise (and, you know who you are), consider the position and state your life is in, and make corrections and adjustments a top priority.
|Those who suggested that Elizabeth was an addict who got what she deserved aren't trying hard enough in life, and are either willfully and sinfully ignoring the problem or are inexcusably and irresponsibly ignorant of it|
- VIDEOS/PHOTOS | Dragons in the trees (and curtains)
- PICS | Demons carve faces in bark, not just leaves
- Voices Demons claim "total responsibility" for deafening Scratchen
|An example of demon's possessing trees, shot just outside Long's apartment, where Scratchen lives||Just above my shoulder, made out of bark from the trunk, the face of a tree demon|
Our pseudo-long-distance relationship began when I received this letter from her while in jail nearly two years ago [see READER | Michigan woman pens letter to jail, advises abstention from drugs, sex]:
Before she died, she sent this to me via Facebook Messenger, her last such message:
This was followed by her phone call, her last such call, in which she wanted to know how to inject painkillers (I do not know how to do this, and said so).
Two days later, I get this:
What a difference a year-and-a-half makes; but, I'm not interested in talking about that at all right now. What I want to do is go back one Facebook Messenger message before that last one, where Liz told me that demons were creeping up on her outside, on her property:
Here's what she's talking about:
|There are multiple demons in the trees in this image sent to me by Elizabeth...||...this being the one I thought she meant at first|
|The close-up she took, however...||...clarified which one she was actually talking about|
I mean, all I had to do was give a shit about just one of these problems—the demon problem notwithstanding—and she might have felt like living:
|She was in pain...|
|She was without transportation...|
|She was penniless...|
|...now add all those together, in but one more problem on top of the above three|
So, that was her entire life for about the last two weeks of it, except for one little thing I haven't mentioned yet:
So, that's where things ended up, anyway.
More tree (and bark) demons
Liz sent photos like the above of tree (and bark) demons over the course of the six months we corresponded online; here are some of the better ones:
November 23rd, 2014: Absence leaves emptiness long after death
Long after Elizabeth's death, I am reminded of her significance to me in the smallest of gestures:
|A simple show of support for this blog from another person reminded me of the vital role Elizabeth played in my life|