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Miriam Bathsheba has written 114 articles so far, you can find them below.
August 20 2011 – I opened the cupboard which has not been cleaned for the past 8 years. I threw out all the stuff I hoarded for the rainy day that never came, and swept the floor of the closet. A small white cloud, flying at the height of several feet above the floor level, exited the cupboard. It flew and turned to the left, which was the wall exterior to the cupboard. How strange. It had eyes and piloted itself to avoid me. I was never the target. The UFO blended in with the wall. I knew it was waiting for all the noise and disturbance of cleaning to be over, before it flew back into the cupboard. I was like the housekeeping help who had to clean the accommodations. I had to continue cleaning. I sneezed several times because the cupboard was dusty. I instantly knew what it was but my sense of duty over-rode my reservations. I made the sign of the cross and trusted God. I continued my sweeping and clearing work. Hey, maybe the UFO would be glad to occupy cleaner quarters. After the lowermost rung of the cupboard was swept out, I closed the cupboard. The next day, I hung a rosary on the door knob of the cupboard door.
In-between the days that I saw the white cloud and other appearances, many people visited my home. They dutifully opened the closet door to peek into the cupboard. The visitors were viewers and possibly potential buyers of properties. They took good, long, hard looks into the closet. It was as if the closet was a deciding factor to make or break the sale. They saw nothing. I said nothing. They were not harmed and it was not in the design of things to disclose mysterious happenings. Maybe I was kooky and imagined it all.
I had seen people standing outside, at the lift lobby. Why did they choose to appear to me? I think they wanted help. I saw someone in his head in bandages. One of his arms was also in a bandage. I am an ordinary person living under constraints of life. But I can pray and that is the best method to help.
September 29 2011 -
This morning, I was at my desk, typing out my assignments. Suddenly, I saw a tall, thin, bluish tinge standing at the corridor. I was spooked but not enough to get distracted. I needed to do my work, so I made the sign of the cross and returned my focus of attention to my screen. I had my work cut out for me and the urgency of it prevailed over any fears I had over tall, bluish tinges who chose to appear before me. I’m in a rat race, running on empty. I can’t die yet so I must struggle to live on.
It is sad that fate decides how life is to be run. Despite the best of our intentions, somebody will not listen and go against the grain. Evil awaits to gobble up its prey. The faithful who falter will also be consumed in heresy.
I guess they do not want me to leave this house. But they have done nothing to help me with the means to stay on. They think the way to go is to deter potential buyers. I have to leave even if my house is unsold. If they need prayers, they can travel to see me wherever I end up staying in. They can follow the human and need not be attached to the place.
My housing agent is D. He looks for viewers like searching for a needle in a haystack. He asked me about the background of the estate but I refrained from telling as that might freak him out. My entire immediate family is not afraid of the supernatural but I think others would be spooked. If D knew about the sights and sounds courtesy of the supernatural, he would not be able to bring in clients sincerely. Half the time, his mind would be disturbed about the dishonesty of showing a home with fringe benefits.
D is slightly suspicious about the condition of the house. A house with so few people living in it has a some serious flaws. How did it get to be in such a state? Personally, I suspect the other occupants don’t wish to see the house being sold and its ownership transferred. They have helped to wreck the house to make it look unsaleable. The master bedroom bathroom door had an eerie pattern on it. The wood had aged and created a design etched into it. It looked like a hand with fingers and at the tips, there were claws. What was a claw doing on the door? I sprayed some wood polish on the picture and wiped it with a piece of clean tissue. I did not feel anything funny like being burned.
What does it mean to dream of a soul? What does it mean to wake up at 3 am? The souls in purgatory await prayers of the faithful. Many nights, at 3 am, I would be awoken by a sound. Sometimes, the sound would be a ringing bell, the smashing of a flowerpot, the hum of an aeroplane, the whirl of helicopter blades, the bouncing of a basketball, the movement of a piece of furniture, or something. I used to get up and search for the source of the sound. There was not a soul in sight that could have made the sound, in the house or outside the house. I had looked out of the window to verify that no pedestrian was in the immediate vicinity. I would look at my bedside alarm clock and see the time. 3 am. The bewitching hour, where Jesus promised the Hour of Divine Mercy. The sounds were to awaken me and get me to pray.
Poem/ Lyrics – Flying to find someone like you again
Sunday we met on a picnic and kite flying group date
The first time you touched my hand with the
Excuse of doing a task to build team spirit
Verily you touched me to my core
Even the rest of the group were saying
Never had they seen such sparks fly.
Poem or lyrics – Where were you when I needed you?
My first memories I could remember,
were of you always hollering.
I was afraid of the verbal clobbering.
Sitting upstairs listening
on whatever transpired downstairs.
Where were you when I needed you?