"You Low Life.."

"You low life down in the mud belly crawling snake! You ain't fit 'fa nuttin' Get on way from heah! Gon ni! Get!"

That's what her daddy wanted to say to her so many times but he couldn't. No, it wasn't his daughter that he wanted to save. He had given up on her years before. It was his grandchildren. They were good children. He wanted to save them. He knew that they deserved a chance.

So he sacrificed his life, he stood in the gap for his grandchildren. And it payed off. At least that is what every one thought.

That whore, that horrid whore burned secretly. On fire with rage, there was only one thought ever truly on her sick mind, destruction. The sight and thought of anything good or innocent upset her, tormented her. She didn't know why and she didn't care. No one was going to take her crown. She was "yalla" with "good" hair and big legs. The world better bow down because Mathy Jane was in town. "Dey bedder recognize!" Loud and proud, the belle of the ball, "da shit!".

When Mathy Jane walked in a room she scouted it carefully for any competition, there better not be any, because Mathy was "in the place" .

Too bad her claim to fame was all in her mind. Planted by an ignorant 'fresh out of slavery' community mentality. Her mother really worshipped her and told her every day how fortunate she was to be born "yalla". The world was going to sit up and pay attention to Rachel and Jerome's child. Born into a prosperous "colored" family, headed by a brilliant sage Mathy grew into a hard headed miscreant, a sick sociopath.

Mathy Jane really thought that she was royalty or a member of some secret priesthood. Priesthood, that is where the plot thickens. Mathy wasn't 'wid all dat religious s***. F*** dat s***!' Not her, not Mathy Jane. She wasn't about to be no lame for nobody. That living right and claiming to love the LORD was not for her. Maybe some old ugly black gal 'wid shawt hair!', but not her.

Her brown skin mother absorbed her abuse as she coddled and cloaked for her only daughter. Five of her beautiful little girls had been born dead. Every one agreed that they were the prettiest little angels anyone had ever seen. Rachel had to protect this one, spoil this one. And so she did.

I don't know why Rachel was shocked by her daughter's ill treatment and hostile attitude as she lay dying in the Cancer Institute. Rachel didn't know which pain was worse, the uterine cancer that was ravishing her frail brown body much too rapidly or the scornful belligerent attitude of her selfish bullying daughter.

Rachel prayed for GOD to take her quickly but before she left she warned Mathy Jane not to mistreat that little girl. Mathy agreed with a sly "yes ma'am" knowing full well that she planned the sickest torture for that "luddle black heifer" that had the misfortune of coming out of her womb, her gold mine. "How dare dis luddle black bastard nigga come into dis world and thank she gon out do me! Ah be damned!!!"

(I'm too pretty, eva man want me, Ah kin do exactly what I pleeze. What my daddy know? Dat dumb ass nigga don't know s***. Got us living out heah in deze sticks. I can't wait to get way from here and all dese country ass niggas!)

And so my story goes. I know that I am not the only person that has suffered a manipulative demon for far too long.

I'm finished with her now. I am free. I am on my way to bigger and better projects.
GOD wanted me to know that she is scum. Not worthy of my attention or a thought. I know, she will never repent. It takes courage to repent of your sins, to admit your wrong doing. Only a coward would abuse and ruin children, only a fool would be a primitive "Salem Witch Trials" root working witch. A person has to be socially retarded and demonic to scavenge graveyards for "goofer dust". Only the lowest creature on this earth would satisfy their secret hatred and jealousy by murdering her own father.

You murder your own father then suddenly you announce that you have been called to preach. "Called to preach", no anointing, no revelation, no confessions. One day you just got up out of your bed of fornication and felt that you were ready to preach GOD's Gospel. People praised you and encouraged you. You did well for a very long time. Few people noticed what a phony you are, even fewer cared.

"Money talk! Bullshit walk!" is her mantra. "Fear No Man!" is mine.

Be blessed. Remember, "Apart from Christ you are nothing."

Much Love, Peace and Happiness,
Rachel