THE LOST WORLD
A Place of Mystery Deep in the Mountains and Jungle of Costa Rica
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle?
Some of you will be familiar with Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's novel The Lost World and the exploits of Professor Challenger.
But that was fiction.
What has happened in this Lost World is all very real. Here has been an adventure greater than can be imagined with the discovery of a live portal in a mysterious frontier chapel, unknowingly built for that very purpose.
Blood and other messages in the night, an avalanche and volcanic eruptions to order, a tempest, police struck down, rocks falling off a cliff to create panic, enemies pumped full of bullets (15 in one), murderers seen in the act … all add to the mysterious powers enveloping the Lost World and the dark secrets within a mysterious chapel, a portal into another dimension, the energy from which can keep a dead man alive.
But the cost of discovery was enormous – seven dead horses from jaguar attacks, snakebite and a lightning strike, another poisoned, 500 truck trips with materials and equipment on a muddy jungle track as far as it is possible to go into the mountains, then oxen and packhorse.
The first person to explore the Lost World in 1873. He later died of malaria.
From a ghostly apparition in an ancient house in England to a Lost World, an epic and extraordinary trek to find something, but unlike Indiana Jones this is not crazy unrealistic fiction.
Why would a man in advanced years leave his home in Scotland and travel deep into the mountains and jungle of Costa Rica and live there alone for fifteen years before fully knowing why?
The ghostly apparition: - One night in November, 2003, in the private chapel in an ancient house in northern England (built 1597), a ghost leads the way to the discovery of a portal deep in the mountains and jungle of Central America. A gateway between time/space where it is possible to part the veil of the future and see into the past.
But suddenly, I feel a dark chill...
One cold winter's night when the wood and coal fires were burning, their embers glowing brightly and casting flickering shadows, I was alone in the private chapel, a delightful little enclave with the original carpenter's marks on the heavy oak beams. Suddenly, a strange dank chill was cast over the room and I was sharply tapped three times on the shoulder. Even though I was alone I knew who it was, or rather what it was ...
... After the apparition had attracted my attention by tapping me on the shoulder, and surprisingly hard, I felt a coldness descending upon the surroundings. In the faint half-light filtering through the small chapel windows she slowly led me down a hallway and up a flight of stairs to a small room above the chapel. Here, almost in a trance – the best way I can describe it, for it is difficult to put words to such a perception and experience ...
The Chapel as it Appears Today
The Rugged Cross on a Hill above The Chapel
A Rugged Cross with Arms that Bleed
For a person who has never been of a religious mind, an agnostic verging on atheist, to build a cross deep in the mountains and jungle of Central America 5,000 miles from where he was living, and with arms that bleed, might well seem an act of madness, and so it seemed ... at first.
Late one night, in secret and under cover of darkness, armed police and officials arrive in the back of an unmarked truck and wait in readiness.
At the crack of dawn, before the sun has a chance to rise over the mountains, they descend on and 'stake out' the cross, hiding in the woods around it, eyes focused and watching for any movement that might suggest I am leaving my house. When I do they spring out from behind the trees and accost me before proceeding to measure the cross for its ruin and destruction – and in great mirth at such an easy 'victory'.
But within an hour of measuring the cross for its destruction ...
Within an hour of measuring the cross for its destruction one of the police officers received a serious knee injury requiring surgery and six months in recuperation – he was secretly on his way back to the cross, clearly not with good intent, when he was struck down.
The driver of the truck that brought the police here was coming back a few weeks later. As he was passing a cliff a rock rolled off and landed in the dirt directly in front of the vehicle on the narrow mountain road. A second landed on the roof of the cab directly above his head, putting a large hole in it. A third rock landed in the cargo bed. A slightly larger rock landing on the cab roof would have crushed his skull like putty, but clearly this was not designed to kill him, only to serve as a warning.
And for ten years now the government of Costa Rica has put its full force into destroying the cross ... but has been thwarted at every attempt by an old man and his cat, without even a telephone between us.
The Bucket of Blood Roadhouse
The Bucket of Blood – one of the few remaining places you can tie your horse to the rail outside and check your guns ... and where a hundred thousand dollars in gold was found lying on the table one morning ...
The horse staggered and fell to its knees, clearly in great distress. Moments later she lay on the ground, her life draining away.
Little did I know that she had been poisoned by the evil starting to surround and envelop me here, evil that has continued to this present day.
But severe retribution has come from an unknown and powerful source.
One night two gunmen entered his house and pumped 15 bullets into him.
Overkill perhaps, but it was necessary to make sure of his death. He had made false charges against me and was determined to destroy everything here – and with a passion – corrupt to the very core, a career criminal in every sense of the word, reeking of evil. I did not want to be near him.
Fewer bullets were spent on one of his henchmen, five were sufficient to dispose of him – though I hasten to add that I do not advocate murder, even as a last resort. But there again, I don't really need to, it's not my decision when higher powers take care of things in a way they see fit, as they have on many occasions.
Murder is commonplace here.
One time, a trio of assailants tried...
Another time, expecting a farmer to be away from his farm, a trio of assailants tried to take hold of the farm. But a welcoming committee awaited them. One was shot in the thigh, another had the fingers of one hand chopped off with a machete, the third beaten to a pulp.
Sometimes rough justice is the only way in a country as corrupt as Costa Rica, but I am not the one to make it happen so my hands are clean.
Murder is commonplace here. I had a 'neighbor' a few miles away on the other side of the valley. Recently his bones were found, picked clean by vultures, after he had not been seen for 15 days. His skull had been stove in with a shovel. In Buenos Aires, the nearest community, six people were recently found dead, their corpses burned.
One of the last buildings to be constructed here was the jail and awaits the incarceration of the filthy scum it was built to hold.
To make it totally secure the walls are of reinforced concrete which required some 100 packhorse trips to bring the heavy materials in.
No need for a courthouse and the vile inmates and degenerates will simply be hanged from the nearest tree, their evil deeds so blatantly obvious that there is no need to waste time on a trial – it may be rough justice but they deserve no more. The gallows tree is next to the jail.
Following the hanging they will be interred at Boot Hill where they rightfully belong.
Just kidding (about the hanging).
The sign on the jail reads:
In this here jail rot the filthy scum
Waiting for the hangman's noose to come
They dangle from ropes so stiff and cold
For deeds most foul and sins untold.
OH! Wretched Mortals - Open Your Eyes
There are secrets in ancient and sacred writings that have been hidden for thousands of years, and clues to the future that nobody could understand...until now.
And through the portal these secrets are not only being revealed, but coming alive.
When time has no meaning.
A portal is a concentration of great power but a power not of this world. A power that can control the very life on earth, and probably a power we know so little about, perhaps nothing, that it cannot even be measured or gauged in any way our current knowledge leads us to understand.
But it is here.
The police burst in with intent to...
The handcuffs clicked shut. The police were in their element when early one morning they burst into the chapel where I was sitting and slapped handcuffs on me.
To them it was a great triumph, to capture the gringo, the 'Americano'* as they thought of me, and show me that to them I was powerless and impotent. They were in control (or so they thought) ...
Strangely, there was a glow in the cell, the radiance of euphoria, a feeling of intense happiness.
I was not alone and knew I would not remain there long (though the prosecutor to show his power wanted to keep me under lock and key), so I was not the least worried, in fact quite the opposite.
* I'm not American but British.
Blockbuster movies are made about inter-dimensional travel, commonly called time travel, and much money is being spent on matters of this nature because such knowledge would be all-powerful. It would, of course, be used for the wrong reasons by the presiding few, but it is never going to happen, at least not in the way those seeking it would want.
But, to be able to see through the time barrier, that is another matter as has been evident here, where scenes of both the past and future have been revealed.
Some of these are featured in The Portal book, with a warning. Some of the scenes and descriptions are not pleasant – not for those of a nervous disposition.
Hard to believe...she was buried alive.
Solving a 350-year- old crime through the portal is a true measure of what can be accomplished.
The plain wooden coffin was lowered into a hurriedly dug grave in a field behind the house. Shortly after, I heard terrifying screams as the occupant awoke in blind terror realizing that she had been buried alive with no hope of getting out.
One day I was able to gather a greater insight into the ghostly happenings at my house in England. As the house came into view (through the portal) I could see what it was like so long ago. A maidservant was busy inside, in an upper bedroom. She had on a heavy black dress and was tending the open fires that are in each room – they still are 350 years later ...
She awoke, screaming inside her...
A man entered the room where she was tending the fire and there was an argument of some sort. A quarrel ensued and she put up a good fight. During the clash the maidservant was struck on the head with an iron poker that was beside the fire.
She fell to the floor seemingly lifeless but I had no way of knowing. The man did not seem to panic but called others and two men entered the room. After a brief exchange they carried the body to the outside of the house and to a small barn behind where a simple coffin was hastily made.
Overseeing this was a stout, portly man, finely dressed in a black Puritan-style outfit with a large belt buckle – similar to that of the Puritans under Oliver Cromwell, leader of the parliamentary forces and Lord Protector of the Commonwealth. I knew that some of his officers were billeted in the house.
The next thing I saw was the girl being buried in the plain wooden box or coffin in the field at the back of the house, between the house and a small stream that runs about 100 yards behind. The field is no longer there and the land has long since been developed. Now, here comes the most disturbing part.
I see the girl screaming, screaming because she was clearly not dead and had been buried alive. She had awoken in her coffin. Whether those involved in the terrible deed knew or not I could not tell. Perhaps they thought she was dead, or didn't care – they just wanted to get rid of her body as quickly as possible ...
The Angel of Death
Reality here is stranger than fiction, stranger even than science fiction.
I am now discovering things in this jungle setting that are so strange they are not of this world, so much so that they are outside not only our realm of scientific understanding but our understanding of anything at all.
The following story is as presented to Heather McDonald, an alternative media reporter, taken from the book The Portal.
We were on the rough stone path outside the Bucket of Blood so I could show Heather where it happened. Something that changed events here in a way that could never have
“It was Wednesday, October 19, 2016 – 5 a.m.”
I explained. “As the day dawned, Winston (my cat) was sitting by the main door, left open day and night since I arrived in the Lost World.
As I was getting dressed a loud, raucous hissing and spitting erupted from her. On looking to see what the matter was nothing was evident, but a little later when I went out to empty some fruit peelings I found a black dog sitting on the path just below the house looking intently at me.
“There are no dogs here so I do not know where this one came from – a Labrador I think – with a demeanor of calm, making no effort to do anything other than look at me with penetrating eyes.”
Who's dog was it and WHY was he...
“The dog was just sitting there?” queried Heather.
“Yes, making no attempt to do anything except stare at me. After breakfast as the sun was starting to rise over the mountains I walked down to the workshop 100 yards below my house, to the side of the Bucket of Blood. Grettel, the wife of my only neighbor, was working there tending the gardens. Also nearby in a sitting position was the black dog, again looking intently at me. I asked her if she knew whose dog it was to which she replied that she had not seen it before.
"After working for about an hour I began to feel unwell, the first time since arriving here, and unable to keep up my usual pace. The previous day had been one of heavy labor so I felt that perhaps I had overexerted myself – I tend to forget my age when there is work that needs to be done.”
“And you were, what, the ripe old age of 71 then?”
“Yes, but I was still capable of most things. Being unable to continue I decided to go up to my house and rest. As I left the workshop the black dog was curled up outside, relaxed and peaceful, almost as if waiting for me.
“I looked at him and he looked at me in a strange way, but made no effort to do anything other than remain in a calm repose without taking his gaze away. I especially remember the eyes with the fixed, penetrating, almost probing look.
“The dog's behavior was unusual to say the least, almost as if he was here for a purpose.
Little did I know that I was looking into the face of the angel of death – but why manifested in the form of a dog?”
“What made you think that the dog was an angel of death, an incarnation of course? Seems a strange thing to imagine.”
“As I said, I didn't know at that time, I just had a feeling that something wasn't right. Shortly after, my fears were confirmed. Leaving the workshop and walking up the path to my house I was suddenly struck with an electrifying pain that could only be compared to being hit in the chest by a bus and pinned to a wall. I collapsed to the ground with the sharp, intense pain making it hard to breathe, the start of what was to be a massive heart attack.
“Normally I would have been alone, except for the two mornings Grettel comes to help and fortunately this was one of them. She waited with me for an hour unable to do anything as I was prostrate on the ground powerless to move. She then decided to get help from her husband who was working a mile or so away and left to do that.”
“So you were alone on the ground with nobody there.
What were you thinking, what was going through your mind?”
“I presumed that it was the end so I was waiting for the white lights or tunnel of light that those who have had near-death experiences say they are conscious of. Olger, Grettel's husband, decided to go up the mountain to try and get a phone signal and make contact with the Red Cross ambulance service – sometimes a weak signal comes through. This he managed to do and on returning was able to pick me up and carry me to the library. Here I thought I would try and write a farewell note but was too feeble to even hold a pen or do anything other than just lie there looking at the ceiling.
“Due to the remoteness of my situation it took the paramedics three hours to get here, the last hour on foot as the 4X4 ambulance could not make it for the last mile and a half, the track being in bad shape and impassable. They also had to locate someone to guide them in as they had no real idea of where I was and, I was later told, they were disinclined to come to such a place and needed some degree of 'persuading'.”
“You mean on receiving an emergency call, a 911 I presume, they didn't want to come.
But they have to, it's their job no matter where.” Heather was clearly mystified.
“Yes, but after all this is Costa Rica. Somehow a friend in Buenos Aires had heard about my situation and went round to the ambulance station to tell them what a mess they would be in if they didn't come and I died. Anyway, they got here, but because they had to walk such a long way in they brought nothing with them, no stretcher, no oxygen, and basically just stood there looking at me.”
“Looking back I can see that. Almost laughable. Naturally I was disinclined to leave here with them, and the only option was to walk out for an hour on the steep uphill track to the ambulance. There was no alternative but it was not good to be subjected to such prolonged hard physical activity immediately after suffering a major heart attack, and under normal circumstances it would not have been possible.”
“But you were lying prostrate in the library, unable to even hold a pen.”
“That's when it happened – just after the paramedics arrived.”
“I suddenly received a surge of some kind of power – I can't describe it other than it was unearthly –
and I suddenly jumped up as though nothing had happened, went up to my house, packed a few things, and with the three paramedics walked out to the ambulance. A hard slog and at a brisk pace without even needing a rest.”
“But that's not possible,” said Heather, “after a major heart attack most people would be --
lying in a hospital bed with an oxygen mask, totally out of it, unable to think or react – comatose.”
“Under normal circumstances, yes, but as I now know, what happened that day was anything but normal. From the start of the attack that morning it was seven hours later when I arrived at the small hospital in Buenos Aires, the ambulance making a detour to a farm for coffee and sandwiches. The driver was good enough to let me out to join them.”
“Wait a minute, am I hearing right? You're in the ambulance and the most important thing is to get you to hospital as quickly as possible.
That's the whole purpose of an ambulance. Yet it made a detour for the paramedics to have coffee and sandwiches.” Heather seemed flabbergasted.
“But they hadn't had lunch and I suppose they thought that as I had been able to do what I did, impossible after even a mild heart attack, then it wasn't a heart attack at all but something of a much lesser degree. And I had to agree with them. I felt as normal as I normally do, no pain, no nothing. I don't think I'd have had any problem doing twenty push-ups.”
“But it's not their job to diagnose, other than on a first-aid basis, and to get you to hospital posthaste.”
“You're right of course, but that's the way it was. A blood test revealed that this was my second heart attack and that the previous one had probably occurred a few days or weeks earlier. I had no recollection of this so it was a strange thing to be told.”
“You had a previous heart attack but had no knowledge of it?” Heather was even more dumbfounded.
“I tried to think back but had no remembrance. I'm a pretty fit guy so probably dismissed it. I was also told that this latest attack had left me with a significant amount of dead tissue in my heart and that I must go forthwith to a larger hospital some 60 miles away in San Isidro de el General for further tests.
“I was disinclined to favor this course of action preferring to return home and make the best of the bad situation in which I now found myself. I had walked out so didn't feel there would be a problem walking back even though the heavens had opened up and it was pouring down – I had a flashlight and rain gear with me, being prepared. I asked the doctor what might be the result of this. His reply was blunt in that I would probably only live for a few hours, but if luck really played out then perhaps I had a few days or weeks.
“I asked for 15 minutes in which to decide. Having woken up that morning feeling as fit as I normally do it was a little unsettling to be told I might well be dead by nightfall, unable to make any final arrangements or say any goodbyes. Yet I didn't feel any different, I didn't feel sick, no pain, no shortness of breath. Earlier I felt as though I was at death's door but then it all changed in an instant.”
“The surge of power?” Heather proposed.
"Yes, exactly that – one minute dying, the next as fit as a fiddle. Subsequently I took the doctor's advice to go to the larger hospital, mainly because my imminent death would have been a bonus for the government to be victorious in the cases against me by default and thus secure control over my land and, of course, the portal. Above all else I could never let that happen – though it may only be me who can access it, that ability dying with me.”
“You think that the portal only opened for you.”
“I believe that to be the case though I have no evidence of it. But it would make sense as I created everything here and the only person that knows everything about it.”
“And what do you think the power was that can, for want of a better word, perform a miracle?”
“I obviously hadn't a clue at the time, but I now understand what happened and why. But that's another part of the story, for later. The ambulance left shortly after I agreed to go to the larger hospital and I was accompanied by a doctor and a nurse for the hour long journey – I wasn't expected to make it. Preliminary tests in the emergency room again showed the two heart attacks and I was transferred to an observation ward.
"A couple of days later I received a visit from two of the paramedics who had come to get me out of the jungle. I learned from them that they had spoken with the doctor who attended me in the emergency room in Buenos Aires and he had told them that I should be dead for there was no way I could have survived such a major heart attack and only a few hours after to make a strenuous walk out of the mountains on a steep very muddy uphill track for an hour with no medical attention.
I found out later that my heart was certified dead on arrival at the larger hospital.
A report states that I arrived with One Dead Heart, their emphasis.
“So how did I survive an episode doctors say was not possible, and how could I be alive when my heart was dead? As I said, once the heart attack struck I was in distress for several hours on the ground unable to move, but I saw the black dog come up to me ...”
“Ah yes, the dog,” interrupted Heather, “I'd forgotten about him.”
“The dog looked me directly in the face and then abruptly turned around and left.
Called away. I did not know that this meant anything at the time but now know that my 'time' was not ready and I was not to be taken. I was to survive the ordeal ... against all odds.
“While in hospital I had an echocardiogram and could see vividly on the monitor the damage done to my heart and the large amount of dead tissue. Later I was told that only 37% of my heart is now functioning after being starved of blood. Rather like a 6-cylinder engine firing on 2 cylinders and with a blocked fuel line. But I felt no different. I had to wait for a few days before taking a stress test on a running machine hooked-up to a cardiograph showing the performance of my heart. I felt fine and that I could carry on for hours. The test then stopped leaving me to think I had passed with 100%.
“It was not to be and I was in for a shock on learning that rather than passing the test it had been stopped because of the probability of it triggering another heart attack. I had failed it badly*. Something was dreadfully wrong and I was told I needed to go immediately to San Jose to a specialized hospital for further tests to find out where the blockage(s) was in my heart.”
“So the doctors said there was a blockage in your heart? Sorry to repeat, but I need to be clear.”
“Yes, they were concerned that the problem was serious. Now, to some it may seem foolish that I did not want to go for treatment and to return home. I was also worried for the welfare of Winston Smith. I thus made my wishes known and to sign out of the hospital against the doctors' advice.”
“I had to have some while in hospital, I couldn't refuse, but nothing since – what they gave me on leaving is still in the kitchen drawer. I have never taken any medication in my life, rarely an aspirin and then only for occasional toothache. I healed my paralysis many years ago so felt that I would be able to do the same for my heart, again through the power of an ancient forest.”
“And have you?”
“Not as such but there was no real need to as I am able to function perfectly normally, albeit slowing down a little now that I am 77 years.
“But the story gets more interesting when I found out why I had to have the heart attacks, what it means in the ongoing events here, and just how special and mysterious a place this is. And there is one question I thought you would ask.”
“What is that?” queried Heather with a puzzled look.
“How an agnostic, more atheist, can believe in an angel of death, clearly with Biblical connotations, a spiritual being believed to act as an attendant, agent, or messenger of God.”
* Since that time, and more than five years has passed, I have no problem in hard, heavy physical work for many hours a day. Three police forensic doctors who have examined me cannot understand it, saying it is impossible!
But the power through the portal fluctuates.
Volcan Turrialba and other previously dormant volcanoes...
Volcanoes Erupt ... To Order !
The 'powers' here are so formidable I believe anything possible of them.
To cause volcanic eruptions, earth tremors and avalanches at will can only be attributed to what people in the past called gods, superhuman beings or spirits worshiped as having power over everything.
But what is here is more than that, greater in every aspect, but where is it coming from?
The ground trembled and ash was showered 7,000 feet into the sky. On March 13, 2015, Volcan Turrialba erupted closing Juan Santamaria international airport, stranding 8,000 passengers.
A year later on March 10, 2016, Volcan Rincón de la Vieja erupted sending ash over the small community of Buenos Aires.
How are these (and an increasing number of other) events connected?
Another appearance in court.
I ask for a clear sign from the powers I now know to be active here. I receive it. While in court Volcan Rincón de la Vieja erupts. The judge wants to order the destruction of the cross, plus a fine of $40,000 (for building it) and five years penal service in the road crew. But the powers prevent that from happening...
... Volcan Turrialba and other previously dormant volcanoes are now puffing out smoke and ash like heavy smokers. It's becoming a recurrent event. The heavens are grumbling and from what I now know there will be a major eruption that, coupled with a large earthquake, much devastation will be caused to Costa Rica.
Some warnings have already come true, exactly the way they were presented to me. I never thought that in my seventies I would be fighting court battles, facing up to six years of imprisonment – two counts of three. But the cause is so meaningful it feels almost like an honor, with ramifications that are far and away beyond our human understanding.
Serpents from Hell
Far down the road the cloud of dust was starting to build up.
Slowly the convoy of vehicles came into view. First was a truckload of regular police followed by the judicial police, then an ambulance, firefighters, cars with the prosecutor and other officials and their heavily armed personal protection officers ... ten vehicles in all heading here, like nothing before ever seen, and with only one purpose in mind. (This was related to me as I could not see it taking place).
“The convoy descended on the pueblo in a show of force more like a foray into enemy territory.
The officials, police, and others then proceeding to make their way here on foot, the road being impassable to vehicles. What I haven't told you is that this place is officially designated a danger area.
As such, government officials and those acting for the government need special protection here. Recently when a prosecutor had a meeting with me in the library, on a private matter, she brought with her no less than three heavily armed bodyguards with the latest automatic weapons, equipped like they were heading into Iraq, and my lawyer and official translator each needed a personal protection officer. Hard to believe isn't it?” I looked at Heather to see her reaction.
“A danger area. That's bizarre. What are they scared of, an old man and his cat? Heather was shaking her head in amazement. “And coming with an ambulance and firefighters!”
“The ambulance was a precaution in case anyone got shot, but the firefighters, that's hard to fathom ...”
The Black Cemetery of the Living Dead
Boot Hill – Boot Hill
So cold so still
Here they lie side by side
The evil who have died
The liars cheats rich by sin
Who now with wealth called in
Can but rot in hell until
In eternity they have paid the bill.
It was Heather's final day here before heading back to the Scottish Highlands and an arena so different from the Lost World.
“Seeing as it's your last day here,” I explained, “there is something I want to show you, a situation I have not mentioned before as early on I had decided against it. Today I changed my mind, though I do not know why.” I could see her raise her eyebrows.
“Before I try to give an explanation of the circumstances, let us first venture there.”
I led the way for the 20 minute journey into the jungle, over a suspension bridge and climbing the stone steps to an area beneath a large rocky bluff.
“This place will, of course, take you by surprise. I must stress at the outset that this was a folly of mine. I make no other claim for it.
“Always a but,” muttered Heather under her breath ... “My goodness, what am I seeing !?!”
I could see the surprise, almost unease, upon her face as she took in the scene around her.
I gave her no opportunity to comment further but continued with the story.
“As you know, I've compared what has happened here to a giant jigsaw puzzle, the pieces slowly fitting into place over the past 15 years. Some of the pieces formed small complete pictures in themselves and as such a part of the whole story, but I knew there was one final piece to come. Now, of course, with most puzzles one piece does not alter or add much to the overall picture, but this one was different, a complete picture in the one piece.”
“And you have it now?” posed Heather.
“Yes, and strangely, if not bizarrely, it came to me here in the Cemetery of the Living Dead.
As I said, it was a folly of mine designed to bring attention in graphic and arresting manner to the most evil amongst us. Each of these stains on the earth has his/her own headstone with a brief description of one or more of their crimes.”
“But these people are still alive,” exclaimed Heather looking from one to another.
“Of course, they are the living dead,
...but not as one would imagine in fiction. Dead in this case being cold- blooded, callous, sadistic, inhuman, ruthless, desolate, sterile, emotionless, indifferent, lifeless, soulless – I could go on.
Now, you could say that the cemetery is a bizarre way of capturing attention, but this is now one of the most popular places for the many thousands of visitors – in fact some have come just for the cemetery.
It was started seven years ago when I was so sick of hearing of the evil in high places and what those criminals were getting away with that I did it as a symbolic gesture. As a folly the cemetery was always the anomaly here, the thing that didn't fit in with anything else I had been led to do. I just put that aside as one of those things.
“We've already discussed the most evil amongst us, but one time when I was here I was interested if the cemetery did have a purpose in any way.
Like before with the volcanic eruptions I asked for a message, not really expecting to be given one this time due to the nature of it, but a few seconds later there was an earth tremor (August 26, 2019).
Not being on the Internet I subsequently sent a message to my son asking him about this. It turned out to be a 3.1 magnitude, felt more because the epicenter was almost immediately beneath the cemetery.
And I was standing on the tomb of one of the most evil individuals to walk the face of this earth.”
I could see Heather looking inquiringly at me.
I pointed to it, and could see the surprise on her face. Most people do not understand the reality of what is taking place in the world and the agenda behind it.
“Of course,” I continued, “one could say that it's appropriate for the final piece of the jigsaw to come to me in such a place as this, the end times being about death and retribution ...
... “Now, there is another person, keeping a relatively low profile in the background at the moment but I don't think for very long,
a person some would say is wholly responsible for the coronavirus epidemic,
someone who gave millions of dollars of American taxpayer's money to the lab in China that produced the virus (to produce the virus).
How much blood, misery and suffering does he have on his hands, yet lives in affluence with multi-million dollar homes?”
“So why is his tombstone not here in the cemetery taking its fitting place with the other evil ones?”
“Because it has pride of place, though that hardly seems the right phrase to use, in the chapel. You haven't noticed it because I intentionally turned it around. Strangely, this one I was led to do because it is significant, and just after the chapel was completed – before I even thought about the cemetery, so that's interesting in itself. On the way back I'll show it to you ...”
Find out more – and what does it mean for YOU?
Interesting stories in themselves,
but the most important aspect concerns the revelations that have come through the portal –
revelations of future events to take place made possible by the connection into different time dimensions, both the past and future.
Some have already taken place exactly as shown and more are to follow.
THE PORTAL & THE LOST WORLD: HOW THE VULTURES CIRCLE
The true and definitive story of the recent discovery of a portal in the mountains and jungle of Costa Rica and the revelations coming from it.
(200 pages plus 16 pages of color photos.)
Chapters in this book
I - A Leap in the Dark - 9
II - The Lost World - 15
III - The Apparition - 17
IV - My Arrival - 24
V - Building the Cabin - 28
VI - Future Plans - 31
VII - The Place That Time Forgot - 34
VIII - The Power of Good Versus Evil - 40
IX - The Avalanche - 43
X - Chapel-in-the-Clouds - 46
XI - The Open Cross and Hanging Cross - 51
XII - The Rugged Cross - 55
XIII - Arson and the Cloud - 62
XIV - The Hidden Room - 66
XV - Blood Messages - 69
XVI - The Handcuffs Clicked Shut - 76
XVII - Volcanoes Erupt - 80
XVIII - The Seven Year Mystery - 85
XIX - When Time has no Meaning - 93
XX - Through the Portal - 102
XXI - Ghostly Revelations - 113
XXII - The Portal & the Scriptures - 116
XXIII - The World in the Year 2045 - 126
XXIV - The Angel of Death - 135
XXV - On Borrowed Time - 141
XXVI - Serpents from Hell - 144
XXVII - Clandestine Plunder - 148
XXVIII - The Most Famous Chapel in the World? - 152
XXIX - False Prophets - 157
XXX - 'Trapped' in 'Paradise' - 166
XXXI - The Enchanted Forest - 169
XXXII - Summary & Timeline - 174
XXXIII - Epilogue - 180
Addendum – The Final Days - 188
(The Black Cemetery of the Living Dead)
A Few Last Words (the missing pages) - 202
Picture Section - 203
Here there has been much to learn, bought by losses and great hardship, a place where life has been reduced to the simplest elements.
In the beginning I had no measure or desire to prove or disprove anything. It was not on my agenda. Nor was it my intention to challenge some of the most basic tenets of Christianity and deeply held beliefs.
I was just looking for answers to the enigmas that had been presented to me with the creation of the chapel and the cross on the hill above.
In the process I was ineluctably led to discover something greater than I had bargained for – a startling and seemingly preposterous conclusion to one of the greatest puzzles on Earth.
One that will shortly come to pass.
THE ENCHANTED FOREST
How can a person from today go back in time 300 years to marry a girl he had met and fallen in love with in a previous life?
Based on a true story and covering many of the mysteries of the Lost World.
(176 pages with 22 B&W photos, plus 8 pages of color photos.)
Chapters in this book
The Storyteller - 6
I - The Old Man and his Cat - 11
II - The Ghost that Started it All - 14
III - John Arrives in the Lost World - 19
IV - I go to Work for John - 23
V - I Explore The Place That Time Forgot - 29
VI - When Time has No Meaning - 37
VII - Guests Arrive - 46
VIII - Knowing the Unknown - 52
IX - We Access the Portal - 59
X - In the Scottish Highlands - 68
XI - The Prince - 73
XII - What John Reveals in The Bucket of Blood - 79
XIII - The Castle - 85
XIV - To Enter GlenLoyne is Never to Depart - 93
XV - James' Decision - 97
XVI - The Ghost - 103
XVII - Maria, James and Salvador Leave - 107
XVIII - At the Bothy - 114
XIX - At the Castle - 118
XX - In the Dungeon - 121
XXI - The Hour of Midnight - 123
Epilogue - 125
I - Return From the Highlands - 131
II - What are the Secrets of the Castle - 137
III - What the Castle Library Reveals - 146
IV - The Man with the Grand Old Parr - 152
V - The Wedding - 156
Epilogue Two -169