Hello everyone,

I came across this experience written in 1896 London by a medium, Franesse, who was in contact with the soul of a man known as Franchezzo when he was alive who related through this medium his experience after his death on earth. For those who probably do not know, a medium is someone with psychic powers or heightened senses able to see or hear souls/spirits. Through these people or mediums, loved ones or people who have died are able to communicate to their loved ones still living or pass on certain messages to certain people through them.

Franchezzo lived a very materialistic life, in his own words, while on earth, living only for the highest earthly sensualities and had very strong addiction to material possessions. He paid little attention, if any, to anything regarding spiritual matters or life after death. He tells his story, through the medium, of the effect of materialism on his soul, how he got stuck after death and the efforts he made in the afterlife to rise through being stuck. Franchezzo tells his story through the medium as a lesson to earthlings still living on earth about the dangers of getting addicted to materialism or earthly distractions.

His story is quite interesting in that it tells a different reality of the so-called 'hell-fire' as popularly brandished in organized religion (Islam, Christianity). 'Hell fire', so to speak, does not exist. An unconditionally loving God would never condemn any of his own to 'burn forever' just because they made the wrong choices while on earth. The theory of hell fire is a wrong teaching introduced by the early church fathers that has been cycled around for generations, however experiences like this or from people who have been near death (near death experiencers), tell a different story altogether. The afterlife is not all bliss and there exists another place full of darkness and lack of love, often called the void and this is, oftentimes, where souls who accumulated heavy negative karma through their actions while on earth go to for temporary restitution, reflection on their just concluded life, etc. There is hope for these souls to progress as our unconditionally loving God never condemns any of his own to eternal damnation.

For those who think that there is no life after death, the soul does not exist or after death is nothingness, you may need to have a rethink after reading this.

Part I – Days of Darkness
Chapter 1 - My Death

I have been a Wanderer through a far country, in those lands that have no name—no place—for you of
earth, and I would set down as briefly as I can my wanderings, that those whose feet are pointed to that bourn
may know what may in their turn await them.

On earth and in my life of earth I lived as those do who seek only how the highest point of self
gratification can be reached. If I was not unkind to some—if I was indulgent to those I loved—yet it was
ever with the feeling that they in return must minister to my gratification—that from them I might purchase
by my gifts and my affection the love and homage which was as my life to me.

I was talented, highly gifted both in mind and person, and from my earliest years the praise of others was
ever given to me, and was ever my sweetest incense. No thought ever came to me of that all self-sacrificing
love which can sink itself so completely in the love for others that there is no thought, no hope of happiness,
but in securing the happiness of the beloved ones. In all my life, and amongst those women whom I loved (as
men of earth too often miscall that which is but a passion too low and base to be dignified by the name of
love), amongst all those women who from time to time captivated my fancy, there was not one who ever
appealed to my higher nature sufficiently to make me feel this was true love, this the ideal for which in secret
I sighed. In everyone I found something to disappoint me. They loved me as I loved them—no more, no less.
The passion I gave won but its counterpart from them, and thus I passed on unsatisfied, longing for I knew
not what.

Mistakes I made—ah! how many. Sins I committed—not a few; yet the world was often at my feet to
praise me and call me good, and noble, and gifted. I was feted—caressed—the spoilt darling of the dames of
fashion. I had but to woo to win, and when I won all turned to bitter ashes in my teeth. And then there came a
time upon which I shall not dwell, when I made the most fatal mistake of all and spoilt two lives where I had
wrecked but one before. It was not a golden flowery wreath of roses that I wore, but a bitter chain—fetters as
of iron that galled and bruised me till at last I snapped them asunder and walked forth free. Free?—ah, me!
Never again should I be free, for never for one moment can our past errors and mistakes cease to dog our
footsteps and clog our wings while we live—aye, and after the life of the body is ended—till one by one we
have atoned for them, and thus blotted them from our past.

And then it was—when I deemed myself secure from all love—when I thought I had learned all that love
could teach—knew all that woman had to give—that I met one woman. Ah! what shall I call her? She was
more than mortal woman in my eyes, and I called her "The Good Angel of My Life," and from the first
moment that I knew her I bowed down at her feet and gave her all the love of my soul—of my higher self—a
love that was poor and selfish when compared to what it should have been, but it was all I had to give, and I
gave it all. For the first time in my life I thought of another more than of myself, and though I could not rise
to the pure thoughts, the bright fancies that filled her soul, I thank God I never yielded to the temptation to
drag her down to me.

As so time went on—I sunned myself in her sweet presence—I grew in holy thoughts that I deemed had
left me for ever—I dreamed sweet dreams in which I was freed from those chains to my past that held me so
cruelly, so hardly, now when I sought for better things. And from my dreams I ever woke to the fear that
another might win her from me—and to the knowledge that I, alas! had not the right to say one word to hold
her back. Ah, me! The bitterness and the suffering of those days! I knew it was myself alone who had built
that wall between us. I felt that I was not fit to touch her, soiled as I was in the world's ways. How could I
dare to take that innocent, pure life and link it to my own? At times hope would whisper it might be so, but
reason said ever, "No!" And though she was so kind, so tender to me that I read the innocent secret of her
love, I knew—I felt—that on earth she never would be mine. Her purity and her truth raised between us a
barrier I could never pass. I tried to leave her. In vain! As a magnet is drawn to the pole, so was I ever drawn
back to her, till at last I struggled no more. I strove only to enjoy the happiness that her presence gave—
happy that at least the pleasure and the sunshine of her presence was not denied me.

And then! Ah! then there came for me an awful, and unexpected day, when with no warning, no sign to awaken me to my position, I was suddenly snatched from life and plunged into that gulf, that death of the body which awaits us all. And I knew not that I had died. I passed from some hours of suffering and agony into sleep—deep, dreamless sleep—and when I awoke it was to find myself alone and in total darkness. I could rise; I could move; surely I was better. But where was I? Why this darkness? Why was no light left with me? I arose and
groped as one does in a dark room, but I could find no light, hear no sound. There was nothing but the stillness, the darkness of death around me.

Then I thought I would walk forward and find the door. I could move, though slowly and feebly, and I groped on—for how long I know not. It seemed hours, for in my growing horror and dismay I felt I must find some one—some way out of this place; and to my despair I seemed never to find any door, any wall, anything. All seemed space and darkness round me.

Overcome at last, I called out aloud! I shrieked, and no voice answered me. Then again and again I called, and still the silence; still no echo, even from my own voice, came back to cheer me. I bethought me of her I loved, but something made me shrink from uttering her name there. Then I thought of all the friends I had known, and I called on them, but none answered me. Was I in prison? No. A prison has walls and this place had none. Was I mad? Delirious? What? I could feel myself, my body. It was the same. Surely the same? No. There was some change in me. I could not tell what, but I felt as though I was shrunken and deformed? My features, when I passed my hand over them, seemed larger, coarser, distorted surely? Oh, for a light! Oh, for anything to tell me even the worst that could be told! Would no one come? Was I quite alone?

And she, my angel of light, oh! where was she? Before my sleep she had been with me—where was she now? Something seemed to snap in my brain and in my throat and I called wildly to her by name, to come to me, if but for once more. I felt a terrible sense as if I had lost her, and I called and called to her wildly; and for the first time my voice had a sound and rang back to me through that awful darkness.

Before me, far, far away, came a tiny speck of light like a star that grew and grew and came nearer and nearer till at last it appeared before me as a large ball of light, in shape like a star, and in the star I saw my beloved. Her eyes were closed as of one in sleep, but her arms were held out to me and her gentle voice said in those tones I knew so well, "Oh! my love, my love, where are you now; I cannot see you, I only hear your voice; I only hear you call to me, and my soul answers to yours." I tried to rush to her, but I could not. Some invisible force held me back, and around her seemed a ring I could not pass through. In an agony I sank to the ground, calling upon her to leave me no more. Then she seemed to grow unconscious; her head sank upon her breast, and I saw her float away from me as though some strong arms had borne her. I sought to rise and follow her, but could not. It was as if a great chain held me fast, and after some fruitless struggles I sank upon the ground in unconsciousness.

When I awoke again I was overjoyed to see that my beloved one had returned to me. She was standing near, looking this time as I had seen her on earth, but pale and sad and all dressed in black. The star was gone, and all around was darkness; yet not utter darkness, since around her was a pale, faint glow of light by which I could see she carried flowers—white flowers—in her hands. She stooped over a long low mound of fresh earth. I drew nearer and nearer and saw that she was silently weeping as she laid down the flowers on that low mound. Her voice murmured softly, "Oh, my love! Oh, my love, will you never come back to me? Can you be indeed dead, and gone where my love cannot follow you? Where you can hear my voice no more? My love! Oh, my dear love!" She was kneeling down now, and I drew near, very near, though I could not touch her, and as I knelt down I, too, looked at that long low mound. A shock of horror passed over me, for I knew now, at last, that I was dead, and this was my own grave.

Chapter 2 - Despair

"Dead! Dead!" I wildly cried. "Oh, no, surely no! For the dead feel nothing more; they turn to dust; they
moulder to decay, and all is gone, all is lost to them; they have no more consciousness of anything, unless,
indeed, my boasted philosophy of life has been all wrong, all false, and the soul of the dead still lives even
though the body decays."

The priests of my own church had taught me so, but I had scorned them as fools, blind and knavish, who
for their own ends taught that men lived again and could only get to heaven through a gate, of which they
held the keys, keys that turned only for gold and at the bidding of those who were paid to say masses for the
departed soul--priests who made dupes of silly frightened women and weak-minded men, who, yielding to
the terror inspired by their awful tales of hell and purgatory, gave themselves, bodies and souls, to purchase
the illusive privilege they promised. I would have none of them. My knowledge of these priests and the inner
hidden lives of many of them had been too great for me to listen to their idle tales, their empty promises of a
pardon they could not give, and I had said I would face death when it came, with the courage of those who
know only that for them it must mean total extinction; for if these priests were wrong, who was right? Who
could tell us anything of the future, or if there were any God at all? Not the living, for they but theorize and
guess, and not the dead, for none came back from them to tell; and now I stood beside this grave--my own
grave--and heard my beloved call me dead and strew flowers upon it.

As I looked the solid mound grew transparent before my eyes, and I saw down to the coffin with my own
name and the date of my death upon it; and through the coffin I saw the white still form I knew as myself
lying within. I saw to my horror that this body had already begun to decay and become a loathsome thing to
look upon. Its beauty was gone, its features none would recognize; and I stood there, conscious, looking
down upon it and then at myself. I felt each limb, traced out with my hands each familiar feature of my face,
and knew I was dead, and yet I lived. If this were death, then those priests must have been right after all. The
dead lived--but where? In what state? Was this darkness hell? For me they would have found no other place.
I was so lost, so beyond the pale of their church that for me they would not have found a place even in
purgatory.

I had cast off all ties to their church. I had so scorned it, deeming that a church which knew of, and yet
tolerated, the shameful and ambitious lives of many of its most honored dignitaries had no claim to call itself
a spiritual guide for anyone. There were good men in the church; true, but there was also this mass of
shameless evil ones whose lives were common talk, common matter of ridicule; yet the church that claimed
to be the example to all men and to hold all truth, did not cast out these men of disgraceful lives. No, she
advanced them to yet higher posts of honor. None who have lived in my native land and seen the terrible
abuses of power in her church will wonder that a nation should rise and seek to cast off such a yoke. Those
who can recall the social and political condition of Italy in the earlier half of this century, and the part the
church of Rome played in helping the oppressor to rivet the fetters with which she was bound, and who
know how her domestic life was honeycombed with spies--priests as well as laymen--till a man feared to
whisper his true sentiments to his nearest and dearest lest she should betray him to the priest and he again to
the government--how the dungeons were crowded with unhappy men, yea, even with mere lads guilty of no
crime save love of their native land and hatred of its oppressors--those, I say, who know all this will not
wonder at the fierce indignation and burning passion which smoldered in the breast of Italia's sons, and burst
at last into a conflagration which consumed man's faith in God and in his so-called Vicar upon earth, and like
a mountain torrent that has burst its bounds, swept away men's hopes of immortality, if only through
submission to the decrees of the church it was to be obtained. Such, then, had been my attitude of revolt and
scorn towards the church in which I had been baptized, and that church could have no place within her pale
for me. If her anathemas could send a soul to hell surely I must be there.

And yet as I thought thus I looked again upon my beloved, and I thought she could never have come to
hell even to look for me. She seemed mortal enough, and if she knelt by my grave surely I must be still upon
earth. Did the dead then never leave the earth at all, but hover near the scenes of their earthly lives? With
such and many similar thoughts crowding through my brain I strove to get nearer to her I so loved, but found
I could not. An invisible barrier seemed to surround her and keep me back. I could move on either side of her
as I pleased--nearer or farther--but her I could not touch. Vain were all my efforts. Then I spoke; I called to
her by name. I told her that I was there; that I was still conscious, still the same, though I was dead; and she never seemed to hear--she never saw me. She still wept sadly and silently; still tenderly touched the flowers, murmuring to herself that I had so loved flowers, surely I would know that she had put them there for me. Again and again I spoke to her as loudly as I could, but she heard me not. She was deaf to my voice. She only moved uneasily and passed her hand over her head as one in a dream, and then slowly and sadly she
went away.

I strove with all my might to follow her. In vain, I could go but a few yards from the grave and my earthly
body, and then I saw why. A chain as of dark silk thread--it seemed no thicker than a spider's web--held me
to my body; no power of mine could break it; as I moved it stretched like elastic, but always drew me back
again. Worst of all I began now to be conscious of feeling the corruption of that decaying body affecting my
spirit, as a limb that has become poisoned affects with suffering the whole body on earth, and a fresh horror
filled my soul.

Then a voice as of some majestic being spoke to me in the darkness, and said: "You loved that body more
than your soul. Watch it now as it turns to dust and know what it was that you worshiped, and ministered
and clung to. Know how perishable it was, how vile it has become, and look upon your spirit body and see
how you have starved and cramped and neglected it for the sake of the enjoyments of the earthly body.
Behold how poor and repulsive and deformed your earthly life has made your soul, which is immortal and
divine and to endure forever."


http://www.luminist.org/archives/Farnese%20-%20A%20Wanderer.pdf

Bigfrancis21, this is profound.

Bigfrancis21 .. this is indeed inspiring... thanks for the message.. hope to see more.. God bless

Ishilove:
Bigfrancis21, this is profound.

You again, from romance to religion, from religion to romance.. Ma'ma, ;DI hail oohh

HenryDion:


You again, from romance to religion, from religion to romance.. Ma'ma, ;DI hail oohh

I'm ubiquitous

Ishilove:
Bigfrancis21, this is profound.

Wilgrea7:
Bigfrancis21 .. this is indeed inspiring... thanks for the message.. hope to see more.. God bless

Thank you. I will try my best to continue with Franchezzo's story. I have never seen any story quite detailed about this dark and desolate part of the afterlife like his.

Though I am not a catholic, the Catholic church may have been right when they would offer prayers for the souls in 'purgatory'. This purgatory seems to be this part of the afterlife Franchezzo found himself in after his death.

And I looked and beheld myself. As in a mirror held up before me, I saw myself. Oh, horror! It was
beyond doubt myself, but, oh! so awfully changed, so vile, so full of baseness did I appear; so repulsive in
every feature--even my figure was deformed--I shrank back in horror at my appearance, and prayed that the
earth might open before my feet and hide me from all eyes for evermore. Ah! never again would I call upon
my love, never more desire that she should see me. Better, far better, that she should think of me as dead and
gone from her forever; better that she should have only the memory of me as I had been in earthly life than
ever know how awful was the change, how horrible a thing was my real self.

Alas! Alas! My despair, my anguish was extreme, and I called out wildly and struck myself and tore my
hair in wild and passionate horror of myself, and then my passion exhausted me and I sank senseless and
unconscious of all once more.

Again I waked, and again it was the presence of my love that awaked me. She had brought more flowers,
and she murmured more soft tender thoughts of me as she laid them on my grave. But I did not seek now to
make her see me. No, I shrank back and sought to hide myself, and my heart grew hard even to her, and I
said: "Rather let her weep for the one who has gone than know that he still lives," so I let her go. And as soon
as she was gone, I called frantically to her to come back, to come back in any way, to any knowledge of my
awful position, rather than leave me in that place to see her no more. She did not hear, but she felt my call,
and afar off I saw her stop and half turn round as though to return, then she passed on again and left me.
Twice, three times she came again, and each time when she came I felt the same shrinking from approaching
her, and each time when she left I felt the same wild longing to bring her back and keep her near me. But I
called to her no more for I knew the dead call in vain, the living hear them not. And to all the world I was
dead, and only to myself and to my awful fate was I alive. Ah! now I knew death was no endless sleep, no
calm oblivion. Better, far better had it been so, and in my despair I prayed that this total oblivion might be
granted to me, and as I prayed I knew it never could, for man is an immortal soul, and for good or evil, weal
or woe, lives on eternally. His earthly form decays and turns to dust, but the spirit, which is the true man,
knows no decay, no oblivion.

Each day--for I felt that days were passing over me--my mind awoke more and more, and I saw clearer
and clearer the events of my life pass in a long procession before me--dim at first, then by degrees growing
stronger and clearer, and I bowed my head in anguish, helpless, hopeless anguish, for I felt it must be too late
now to undo one single act.

Chapter 3 - Hope – Wanderings On The Earth Plane –
A Door To Spiritual Sight

I know not how long this lasted; it seemed a long, long time to me. I was sitting wrapped still in my
despair when I heard a voice gentle and soft calling to me--the voice of my beloved--and I felt compelled to
rise and follow that voice till it should lead me to her; and as I rose to go the thread which had so bound me
seemed to stretch and stretch till I scarce felt its pressure, and I was drawn on and on till at last I found
myself in a room which, I could dimly see, even in the darkness that always surrounded me, was familiar to
my eyes. It was the home of my beloved one, and in that room I had passed, ah! how many peaceful happy
hours in that time which seemed now separated from me by so wide and awful a gulf. She sat at a little table
with a sheet of paper before her and a pencil in her hand. She kept repeating my name and saying: "Dearest
of friends, if the dead ever return, come back to me, and try if you can make me write a few words from you,
even 'yes' or 'no' in answer to my questions."

For the first time since I had died I saw her with a faint smile upon her lips and a look of hope and
expectation in those dear eyes that were so heavy with weeping for me. The dear face looked so pale and sad
with her grief and I felt--ah! how I felt--the sweetness of the love she had given me, and which now less than
ever dare I hope to claim.

Then I saw three other forms beside her, but they I knew were spirits, yet how unlike myself. These
spirits were bright, radiant, so that I could not bear to look at them; the sight seemed to scorch my eyes as
with a fire. One was a man, tall, calm, dignified-looking, who bent over her to protect her as her guardian
angel might. Beside him stood two fair young men whom I knew at once to be those brothers whom she had
so often spoken of to me. They had died when youth with all its pleasures was before them, and their
memories were shrined in her heart as those who were now angels. I shrank back, for I felt they saw me, and
I sought to cover my disfigured face and form with the dark mantle which I wore. Then my pride awoke, and
I said: "Has not she herself called me? I have come, and shall not she be the arbiter of my destiny? Is it so
irrevocable that nothing I can do, no sorrow, no repentance however deep, no deeds however great, no work
however hard, can reverse it? Is there indeed no hope beyond the grave?"

And a voice, the voice I had heard before at my own grave, answered me: "Son of grief, is there no hope
on earth for those who sin? Does not even man forgive the sinner who has wronged him if the sin be
repented of and pardon sought? And shall God be less merciful, less just? Hast thou repentance even now?
Search thine own heart and see whether it is for thyself or for those thou hast wronged that thou art sorry?"
And I knew as he spoke that I did not truly repent. I only suffered. I only loved and longed. then again my
beloved spoke and asked me, if I were there and could hear her, to try and write one word through her hand
that she might know I still lived, still thought of her.

My heart seemed to rise into my throat and choke me, and I drew near to try if I could move her hand,
could touch it even. But the tall spirit came between us, and I was forced to draw back. Then he spoke and
said: "Give your words to me and I will cause her hand to write them down for you. I will do this for her
sake, and because of the love she has for you."

A great wave of joy swept over me at his words, and I would have taken his hand and kissed it but could
not. My hand seemed scorched by his brightness ere I could touch him, and I bowed myself before him for I
thought he must be one of the angels.

My beloved spoke once more and said: "Are you here, dearest friend?"
I answered, "Yes," and then I saw the spirit put his hand on her, and when he did so her hand wrote the
word "yes." Slowly and unsteadily it moved, like a child's learning to write. Ah! how she smiled, and again
she asked me a question, and as before her own hand traced out my answer. She asked me if there were
anything she could do for me, any wish of mine that she could help me to carry out? I said: "No! not now. I
would go away now and torment her no more with my presence. I would let her forget me now."

My heart was so sore as I spoke, so bitter; and ah! how sweet to me was her reply, how it touched my soul
to hear her say: "Do not say that to me, for I would ever be your truest, dearest friend, as I was in the past,
and since you died my one thought has been to find you and to speak with you again."
And I answered, I called out to her, "It has been my only wish also."

She then asked if I would come again, and I said "Yes!" For where would I not have gone for her? What
would I not have done? Then the bright spirit said she must write no more that night. He made her hand write
that also and said she should go to rest.

I felt myself now drawn away once more back to my grave and to my earthly body in that dark
churchyard; but not to the same hopeless sense of misery. In spite of everything a spark of hope had risen in
my heart, and I knew I should see and speak with her again.

But now I found I was not alone there. Those two spirits who were her brothers had followed me, and
now spoke. I shall not state all they said. Suffice it to say they pointed out to me how wide was now the gulf
between their sister and myself, and asked me if I desired to shadow all her young life with my dark
presence. If I left her now, she would, in time, forget me, except as one who had been a dear friend to her.
She could always think tenderly of my memory, and surely if I loved her truly I would not wish to make all
her young life lonely and desolate for my sake.

bigfrancis21:




Thank you. I will try my best to continue with Franchezzo's story. I have never seen any story quite detailed about this dark and desolate part of the afterlife like his.

Though I am not a catholic, the Catholic church may have been right when they would offer prayers for the souls in 'purgatory'. This purgatory seems to be this part of the afterlife Franchezzo found himself in after his death.

Is this narration fiction based on facts or facts?

Ishilove:

Is this narration fiction based on facts or facts?

From my understanding, it is first-hand experience of the soul of a man, known as franchezzo when alive who lived in the 18th or 19th century, which was transcribed through a human medium, farnese. People known as mediums have extra or heightened sixth sense and the ability to see or hear discarnate beings/spirits/souls etc. Franchezzo approached this medium Farnese and through this medium he told his story as a way of passing this awareness to those still living in the flesh about the addiction to the flesh and material things. According to him, he never believed in life after death, hardly paid attention to his spiritual side and was too addicted to the pleasures of the earth that he didn't even know when he died. And after he died he found himself in a spiritual state commensurate to his level of spiritual growth he attained in that just concluded life.

bigfrancis21:


From my understanding, it is first-hand experience of the soul of a man, known as franchezzo when alive who lived in the 18th or 19th century, which was transcribed through a human medium, farnese. People known as mediums have extra or heightened sixth sense and the ability to see or hear discarnate beings/spirits/souls etc. Franchezzo approached this medium Farnese and through this medium he told his story as a way of passing this awareness to those still living in the flesh about the addiction to the flesh and material things. According to him, he never believed in life after death, was too addicted to the pleasures of the earth that he didn't even know when he died.

Wikkid!

Ishilove:

Wikkid!

Lol. You are an avid writer and reader and i'm sure that reading his story won't be a problem for you.

I replied that I loved her, and could never bear to leave her, never bear to think of any other, loving her as
I had done. Then they spoke of myself and my past, and asked if I dared to think of linking myself with her pure life,
even in the misty fashion in which I still hoped to do? How could I hope that when she died I should meet
her? She belonged to a bright sphere to which I could not hope for a long time to rise, and would it not be
better for her, and nobler, more truly loving of me, to leave her to forget me and to find what happiness in
life could yet be given to her, rather than seek to keep alive a love that could only bring her sorrow?

I said faintly I thought she loved me. They said: "Yes, she loves you as she herself has idealized your
image in her mind, and as she in her innocence has painted your picture. Do you think if she knew all your
story she would love you? Would she not shrink back in horror from you? Tell her the truth, give her the
choice of freedom from your presence, and you will have acted a nobler part and shown a truer love than in
deceiving her and seeking to tie her to a being like yourself. If you truly love her, think of her and her
happiness, and what will bring it--not of yourself alone."

Then the hope within me died out, and I bowed my head to the dust in shame and agony, for I knew that I
was vile and in no way fit for her, and I saw as in a glass what her life might still be freed from mine. She
might know happiness yet with another more worthy than I had been, while with my love I would only drag
her down into sadness with me. For the first time in my life I put the happiness of another before my own,
and because I so loved her and would have had her happy, I said to them: "Let it be so, then. Tell her the
truth, and let her say but one kind word to me in farewell, and I will go from her and darken her life with the
shadow of mine no more."

So we went back to her, and I saw her as she slept exhausted with her sorrow for me. I pleaded that they
would let me give her one kiss, the first and last that I would ever give. But they said no, that was
impossible, for my touch would snap forever the thread that held her still to life.

Then they awoke her and made her write down their words, while I stood by and heard each word fall as a
nail in the coffin where they were burying my last hope forever. She, as one in a dream, wrote on, till at last
the whole shameful story of my life was told, and I had but to tell her myself that all was forever at an end
between us, and she was free from my sinful presence and my selfish love. I said adieu to her. As drops of
blood wrung from my heart were those words, and as ice they fell upon her heart and crushed it. Then I
turned and left her--how, I know not--but as I went I felt the cord that had tied me to my grave and my
earthly body snap, and I was free--free to wander where I would--alone in my desolation!

bigfrancis21:


From my understanding, it is first-hand experience of the soul of a man, known as franchezzo when alive who lived in the 18th or 19th century, which was transcribed through a human medium, farnese. People known as mediums have extra or heightened sixth sense and the ability to see or hear discarnate beings/spirits/souls etc. Franchezzo approached this medium Farnese and through this medium he told his story as a way of passing this awareness to those still living in the flesh about the addiction to the flesh and material things. According to him, he never believed in life after death, hardly paid attention to his spiritual side and was too addicted to the pleasures of the earth that he didn't even know when he died. And after he died he found himself in a spiritual state commensurate to his level of spiritual growth he attained in that just concluded life.

Hahn, come and read

Ishilove:

I'm ubiquitous

Checking my dictionary. Be right back

Ishilove:

Hahn, come and read

Hahn, come and read? Are you scared?

bigfrancis21:


Hahn, come and read? Are you scared?

Yes I am scared; scared for Hahn's soul because he is an atheist who worships self, much like Franchezzo did

I came across this experience written in 1896 London by a medium, Franesse, who was in contact with the soul of a man known as Franchezzo when he was alive who related through this medium his experience after his death on earth. For those who probably do not know, a medium is someone with psychic powers or heightened senses able to see or hear souls/spirits. Through these people or mediums, loved ones or people who have died are able to communicate to their loved ones still living or pass on certain messages to certain people through them.

Lol

Apparently the writer is mad

Ishilove, bigfrancis21 and anyone else who takes this serious are all mad

This is the problem we are actually having. When grown adults subscribe to such childish fantasies, promote wishful thinking and are unable to discern and identify fairytales from reality, lies from the truth and are not ashamed to spread such rubbish

In fact they have proudly mentioned me to come here

Smd

cc: hardmirror. Your babe has done it again oooo. Come and read

plaetton, frank317, kevoh, hopefullandlord, johnnydon22, jonbellion, akintom, catfishbilly you guys need to see something

This doesn't prove anything. I need to see that dark soul write through my hand before i can believe. For spiderman sake, any psycho can come up with such a fairytale provided he got a little skill in writing.

My cent. Not an atheist though.

HenryDion:
This doesn't prove anything. I need to see that dark soul write through my hand before i can believe. For spiderman sake, any psycho can come up with such a fairytale provided he got a little skill in writing.

My cent. Not an atheist though.

If you are willing enough to raise your sixth sense to the point a discarnate being can write through your hands, why not. It is possible.

What is your belief though?

Why people still believe in mediums and shittttttt like that still amazes me.
If I'm not mistaken it was written in the Bible, the story of Lazarus and the rich man where it was stated expressly that the dead have no communication abi contact with the living.
This is just a figment of the writer's imagination.
Who knows, the writer might be suffering from Schizophrenia and is seeing things.

CatfishBilly:
Why people still believe in mediums and shittttttt like that still amazes me.
If I'm not mistaken it was written in the Bible, the story of Lazarus and the rich man where it was stated expressly that the dead have no communication abi contact with the living.
This is just a figment of the writer's imagination.
Who knows, the writer might be suffering from Schizophrenia and is seeing things.

Yet the spirit/soul of Jesus appeared to his disciples after his death? Let me ask you, have you ever though why Jesus had to do this - appear in discarnate form to his disciples after his death? He did this to show an example to his doubting disciples about the afterlife (such as Thomas or doubting Thomas) that the soul/spirit indeed survives after bodily death and there is an existence out there after life on earth. This is often misconstrued in Christianity as the 'resurrection'. There was no body resurrection, neither did Jesus have to resurrect his body for anything - the body is of this earth and to the dust of the earth does the body return to. The biblical 3 days Jesus is said to have spent in the 'grave', he actually visited this dark desolate place devoid of love Franchezzo had described to attend to dark lost souls like Franchezzo's and afterwards he returned to earth to reappear to his disciples to let them know that he was still alive but in another form. Jesus did NOT die for anybody's sins neither did he have to do that, this has got to be one of the most wrongly interpreted and twisted teachings of all times. You may be surprised to hear this, as it goes against what you have been told over and over again since you were born. One cannot live such a very bad life from age 10 to 60, committing all sorts of atrocities until the last minute, only to repent on your death bed, 'accept Jesus as your loving saviour' and die the very next day at 61 and think that 'your sins are absolved', or that you would be considered equal in the afterlife with someone of just ways and charity works all his entire lifetime. This negates common sense and reasoning. Every individual is responsible for their actions, whatever they've done, good and bad, and we redeem ourselves from our karmic actions through the cycle of give and take.

I am surprised that it is often overlooked the visit of Jesus to this dark desolate place which was described by Peter in your Christian bible, where he said:

1 Peter 3:18-19New International Version (NIV)
18 For Christ also suffered once for sins, the righteous for the unrighteous, to bring you to God. He was put to death in the body but made alive in the Spirit. 19 After being made alive,[a] he went and made proclamation to the imprisoned spirits—

The time he spent in this desolate place was about 3 days of earth time after which he reappeared to his disciples in his spirit form, so that they would believe the more in his teachings and go out there and proclaim to others what they had seen and learned from him. Jesus' true teachings are still found, untainted, in the gnostic gospels (gospels written by some of Jesus' disciples himself who had seen and heard firsthand from him, which are sadly and conspicuously missing in the handpicked and selected books of the Christian bible).

hahn:


Lol

Apparently the writer is mad

Ishilove, bigfrancis21 and anyone else who takes this serious are all mad

This is the problem we are actually having. When grown adults subscribe to such childish fantasies, promote wishful thinking and are unable to discern and identify fairytales from reality, lies from the truth and are not ashamed to spread such rubbish

In fact they have proudly mentioned me to come here

Smd

cc: hardmirror. Your babe has done it again oooo. Come and read

plaetton, frank317, kevoh, hopefullandlord, johnnydon22, jonbellion, akintom, catfishbilly you guys need to see something

lol
This people sef
What nonsense is this

Chapter 4 – The Brotherhood of Hope

In the spirit world there are many strange places, many wondrous sights, and many organizations for
helping repentant souls, but I have never seen anything more strange in its way than this Home of Help,
conducted by the Brotherhood of Hope, to which I was now conducted. In the then feeble condition of all my
spiritual faculties I was not able to see what the place was like. I was almost like one who is deaf, dumb and
blind. When I was with others I could scarcely see or hear them, or make them hear me, and although I could
see a little, it was more as though I was in a perfectly dark room with only one small feeble glimmer of light
to show me where I went. On the earth plane I had not felt this so much, for though all was darkness I could
both see and hear enough to be conscious of those near me. It was in ascending even to the little distance at
which this place was above the earth that I felt the absence of all but the most material developments of my
spirit.

That time of darkness was so awful to me that even now I scarce like to recall it, I had so loved the
sunshine and the light. I came from a land where all is sunshine and brightness, where the colors are so rich,
the sky so clear, the flowers and the scenery so beautiful, and I so loved light and warmth and melody; and here as elsewhere since my death I had found only darkness and coldness and gloom; an appalling, enshrouding gloom, that wrapped me round like a mantle of night from which I could in no way free myself; and this awful gloom crushed my spirit as nothing else could have done. I had been proud and haughty on
earth. I came of a race that knew not what it was to bow before anyone. In my veins ran the blood of its
haughty nobles. Through my mother I was allied to the great ones of earth whose ambitions had moved
kingdoms to their will; and now the lowest, humblest, poorest beggar of my native streets was greater,
happier than I, for he at least had the sunshine and the free air, and I was as the lowest, most degraded
prisoner in the dungeon cell.

Had it not been for my one star of hope, my angel of light, and the hopes she had given me through her
love, I must have sunk into the apathy of despair. But when I thought of her waiting, as she had vowed she
would do all her life for me, when I recalled her sweet and tender smile and the loving words she had spoken
to me, my heart and my courage revived again, and I strove to endure, to be patient, to be strong. And I had
need of all to help me, for from now began a period of suffering and conflict I shall in vain seek to make
anyone fully realize.

This place where I was now I could barely see in all its details. It was like a huge prison--dim and misty
in its outlines. Later on I saw it was a great building of dark grey stone (as solid to my eyes as earthly stone)
with many long passages, some long large halls or rooms, but mostly composed of innumerable little cells
with scarcely any light and only the barest of furniture. Each spirit had only what he had earned by his
earthly life, and some had nothing but the little couch whereon they lay and suffered. For all suffered there. It
was the House of Sorrow, yet it was also a House of Hope, for all there were striving upwards to the light,
and for each had begun the time of hope. Each had his foot planted upon the lowest rung of the ladder of
hope by which he should in time mount even to heaven itself.

In my own little cell there was but my bed, a table and a chair--nothing more. I spent my time in resting
or meditating in my cell, and going with those who, like myself, soon grew strong enough to hear the
lectures which were delivered to us in the great hall. Very impressive those lectures were; told in the form of
a story, but always so as to bring home to the mind of each of us those things wherein we had done wrong.
Great pains were taken to make us understand, from the point of view of an impartial spectator, the full
consequences to ourselves and others of each of our actions, and where we had for our own selfish
gratifications wronged or dragged down another soul. So many things which we had done because all men
did them, or because we thought that we as men had a right to do them, were now shown to us from the other
side of the picture, from those who had in a measure been our victims, or where we personally were not
directly responsible for their fall, the victims of a social system invented and upheld to gratify us and our
selfish passions. I cannot more fully describe these lectures, but those amongst you who know what are the
corruptions of the great cities of earth will easily supply for yourselves the subjects. From such lectures, such
pictures of ourselves as we were, stripped of all the social disguises of earth life, we could but return in
shame and sorrow of heart to our cells to reflect over our past and to strive to atone for it in our future.
And in this there was great help given to us, for with the error and its consequences we were always
shown the way to correct and overcome the evil desire in ourselves, and how we might atone for our own
sins by timely efforts to save another from the evil into which we had fallen, all these lessons being intended
to fit us for the next stage of our progression, in which we would be sent back to earth to help, unseen and
unknown, mortals who were struggling with earth's temptations.

When we were not attending the lectures we were free to go where we might wish; that is, such of us as
were strong enough to move about freely. Some who had left dear friends on earth would go to visit them,
that, unseen themselves, they might yet see those they loved. We were always warned, however, not to linger
in the temptations of the earth plane, since many of us would find it difficult to resist them.
Those who were strongest amongst us and who possessed the needful qualities and the desire to use them,
were employed in magnetizing those who were weakest, and who, by reason of the excessive dissipations of
their earthly lives, were in such terrible condition of exhaustion and suffering that the only thing which could
be done with them was to allow them to lie helpless in their cells while others gave them a little relief by
magnetizing them; and here I must describe to you a very wonderful system of healing those poor spirits
which was practiced in this House of Hope.

Some advanced spirits, whose natural desires and tastes made them doctors and healers, with the help of other spirits of different degrees of advancement under them, would attend upon these poorest and most suffering ones--where indeed all were sufferers--and by means of
magnetism and the use of others' powers which they could control, they would put these poor spirits into
temporary forgetfulness of their pain; and though they awoke again to a renewal of their sufferings, yet in
these intervals their spirits gained strength and insensibly grew more able to endure, till at last their
sufferings were mitigated with time and the growing development of the spirit body, and they in turn would,
when fit to do so, be employed to magnetize others who were still suffering.

bigfrancis21:


Yet the spirit/soul of Jesus appeared to his disciples after his death? Let me ask you, have you ever though why Jesus had to do this - appear in discarnate form to his disciples after his death? He did this to show an example to his doubting disciples about the afterlife (such as Thomas or doubting Thomas) that the soul/spirit indeed survives after bodily death and there is an existence out there after life on earth. This is often misconstrued in Christianity as the 'resurrection'. There was no body resurrection, neither did Jesus have to resurrect his body for anything - the body is of this earth and to the dust of the earth does the body return to. The biblical 3 days Jesus is said to have spent in the 'grave', he actually visited this dark desolate place devoid of love Franchezzo had described to attend to dark lost souls like Franchezzo's and afterwards he returned to earth to reappear to his disciples to let them know that he was still alive but in another form. Jesus did NOT die for anybody's sins neither did he have to do that, this has got to be one of the most wrongly interpreted and twisted teachings of all times. You may be surprised to hear this, as it goes against what you have been told over and over again since you were born. One cannot live such a very bad life from age 10 to 60, committing all sorts of atrocities until the last minute, only to repent on your death bed, 'accept Jesus as your loving saviour' and die the very next day at 61 and think that 'your sins are absolved', or that you would be considered equal in the afterlife with someone of just ways and charity works all his entire lifetime. This negates common sense and reasoning. Every individual is responsible for their actions, whatever they've done, good and bad, and we redeem ourselves from our karmic actions through the cycle of give and take.

I am surprised that it is often overlooked the visit of Jesus to this dark desolate place which was described by Peter in your Christian bible, where he said:



The time he spent in this desolate place was about 3 days of earth time after which he reappeared to his disciples in his spirit form, so that they would believe the more in his teachings and go out there and proclaim to others what they had seen and learned from him. Jesus' true teachings are still found, untainted, in the gnostic gospels (gospels written by some of Jesus' disciples himself who had seen and heard firsthand from him, which are sadly and conspicuously missing in the handpicked and selected books of the Christian bible).

But Thomas touched him naa and felt the wound by his sides and whatnot. According to Christian spirituality, can you touch a spirit?
I won't even engage you on the Bible and it's authenticity and misinterpretations cos I don't believe in them.
There's no historical evidence that is provable that shows that Jesus the man existed.
In medicine, we have this saying, when we talk to God, it's called prayer, when God Talks back to you, it's called Schizophrenia.
I've seen enough schizophrenic people claiming​ to be God or receiving messages from the spiritual realm to know that this story is utter bullshitttttt.

hahn:


Lol

Apparently the writer is mad

Ishilove, bigfrancis21 and anyone else who takes this serious are all mad

This is the problem we are actually having. When grown adults subscribe to such childish fantasies, promote wishful thinking and are unable to discern and identify fairytales from reality, lies from the truth and are not ashamed to spread such rubbish

In fact they have proudly mentioned me to come here

Smd

cc: hardmirror. Your babe has done it again oooo. Come and read

plaetton, frank317, kevoh, hopefullandlord, johnnydon22, jonbellion, akintom, catfishbilly you guys need to see something

Lol
I agree with you 100% . But she no be my babe I no dey do market women

bigfrancis21:


If you are willing enough to raise your sixth sense to the point a discarnate being can write through your hands, why not. It is possible.

What is your belief though?

This has nothing to do with my belief. All I'm saying is, it doesn't prove anything. As for sixth sense, third eye or whatever, mine is active cause I'm on the journey of SELF.

CatfishBilly:

But Thomas touched him naa and felt the wound by his sides and whatnot. According to Christian spirituality, can you touch a spirit?
I won't even engage you on the Bible and it's authenticity and misinterpretations cos I don't believe in them.
There's no historical evidence that is provable that shows that Jesus the man existed.
In medicine, we have this saying, when we talk to God, it's called prayer, when God Talks back to you, it's called Schizophrenia.
I've seen enough schizophrenic people claiming​ to be God or receiving messages from the spiritual realm to know that this story is utter bullshitttttt.

Yes it is possible for spirits to materialize in earth form to someone still in the flesh to the extent that they could be touched. Jesus was a very advanced spirit and Thomas doubted so much the existence of an afterlife and Jesus re-appeared again (if I remember correctly) when Thomas was present with other disciples to show him his inner self did indeed survive bodily death.

Yes of course there are false people claiming to be different things. They exist out there, however if you have the gift of discernment, you could tell accurately real from fake. Existence of schizophrenic ones should not be taken to imply that everyone with the gift of medium is fake. There are many genuine ones out there.

bigfrancis21:


Yes it is possible for not-too-advanced spirits to materialize in earth form to someone still in the flesh to the extent that they could be touched. Thomas doubted so much the existence of an afterlife and Jesus re-appeared again (if I remember correctly) when Thomas was present with other disciples to show him his inner self did indeed survive bodily death.

Yes of course there are false people claiming to be different things. They exist out there, however if you have the gift of discernment, you could tell accurately real from fake. Existence of schizophrenic ones should not be taken to imply that everyone with the gift of medium is fake. There are many genuine ones out there.

What's the difference between regular spirits, not too advanced spirits and advanced spirits?