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She Was Really Enjoying My Life

Updated: Aug 21, 2021

But I wasn’t at all— it was the worst case of paranormal Identity Theft in history — and it was my identity she was stealing - mine!

Allison Jones: I know you weren’t yourself when you did this, Hedy.

Hedra Carlson: I know, I was YOU.

— ‘Single White Female’, (1992)

Single White Female

The Skype call wasn’t going well at all. But how could it? It was a miracle it was even happening. Arranged via email by Ciana, reluctantly accepted by Petra — the animosity was palpable as the air crackled with unveiled hostility. The two women unflinchingly stared eachother down across the immediacy of cyberspace — with an illusory proximity— yet in fact, worlds apart.

“I’m not giving it up, I’m not giving up being you.”

Petra pushed haphazard wiry curls back from her icy face, taunting Ciana with sadistic pleasure.

“And you have to admit — I do you so much better than you do you.”

Ciana sighed deeply, as emotions she’d never felt before rose and threatened to engulf her. This feeling was extreme — and if they’d actually been face-to-face in the very same room, she felt she’d really want to smash that taunting face in. With both her bare fists. And yet she was a pacifist and had never hit anyone in her entire life.


Ciana could see stolen versions of online courses she’d written — right there across the world on her screen— blatantly and openly sitting in plastic-covered folders next to Petra. Knowing all too well how her concepts, images and words would have been ever so slightly re-jigged, but just enough to not put the thief at risk of possible legal action.

And also just enough for others to not so easily see through what Petra was doing. This outrageous thief, via some kind of diabolical online hacking tool, had surreptitiously and quietly stolen from her private emails, text messages, actual phone calls, and many of her unpublished writings.

And it would go that most evenings, Ciana could almost count on seeing her own world, the private words between her and another, phrases, thoughts, or concepts from that very day — there on the social media page of the hacking strigoi, but rewritten in a way that proved the slippery and insidious nature of the thief. Ciana’s life was being misused and abused in the deluded name of lulz, no doubt.

So angry and distressed and at a loss at how to stop this, her painful emotions became a daily psi-vampires snack. This was how it worked. And know this — the immoral and uninvited feeding of a psi-vampire is just as horribly draining as your life-blood actually being ripped from your jugular.


Ciana had spent years trying to work out how to expose this bloodsucking thief of her life, as like many hackers, Petra was brilliant in her thieving strategy and put her talents to evil use. And was so hard to pin down. It would also have meant publicly exposing private messages between Ciana and well known folks or personal friends, whom she’d been in correspondence with over the years.

This she could not do. And so she’d been struggling with this massive dilemma for a long time. Of how to stop this tortuous and tormenting theft of her life and work over years. And the constant taunting and mocking of the predator and its ilk. It had all taken a toll, pushing her to the very edge of her capacity to cope.

And this had all been engineered alongside a huge and very well-orchestrated smear campaign, that over the years left not only her career in tatters, but also her friendships and family connections in very bad shape.

The terrible stress gave birth to an anxiety that left her heart pounding and her body awakening from restless sleep shaking in the early days. Engendered by not only the theft and very destructive slander, but also the onslaught of silent surveillance, through a constant conscienceless invasion of her privacy.


As a very sensitive empath, and psychically awakened, the constant sensation of intrusion into her privacy was akin to being raped hourly.

She’d become a virtual hermit in order to avoid the gossip, innuendo and nastiness, and vicious scrutiny from those around her who’d listened to the slander and lies. And who'd chosen to be blind to the truth of what was really happening to her. Of what was really going down. As her online friend Shannon had said, who’d been targeted in similar ways — the underlying aim was to discredit and destroy her ability to thrive. Not to actually kill her at this stage, as she was still a source of vampire food in so many ways.

But to just utterly destroy her credibility in the world. And that objective fulfilled would apparently temporarily appease their remorseless sadistic hunger, seemingly needing to be sated on almost an hourly basis. But there was that added byline of a sick sociopath also stealing her identity.

She leaned back in her old desk chair, crossing her slim black-jeaned legs, and shook her head in utter dismay. Because this was no normal layperson identity theft. Over time it had clearly proven to be a severe and determined predatory invasion by a vampiric entity. Ciana liked to call her a Strigoi. Because — well — that’s what it clearly was. In fact it seemed more than Strigoi, which was bad enough in itself— but a combination of Werewolf and Strigoi.

Some kind of morphed demonic hybrid predator had invaded her life with a view to a kill. In an extremely venomous female form, for now. Ciana felt trapped in a totally unfamiliar world where rationality was completely absent. She was confronted by a poisonous parasite hoping to totally consume her essence and personality. To destroy and become her.


“I’m whole now!”

This was Petra’ s new online catch-cry after years of predatory attacks on Ciana. In her online research on Petra after the attacks began, and the severity and ongoing nature revealed, it became clear this was a serious and obviously untreated psychological illness, of severe dissociation within a borderline personality disorder, and sociopathic behaviours bordering on psychopathic personality disorder.

Petra had also clearly tried to re-invent an identity in the past, prior to all this, changing her name to a well-known (and an often very murderously destructive and bloodthirsty) third dimensional Indian deity’s name — Kali. It was clear Petra had no sense of self or identity, possibly due to some shattering childhood trauma. And her unconscionable use of the identities of others comprised her remorseless and relentless efforts to recreate herself. Her behaviour could also be seen to be rather pathetic, when Ciana could look at things objectively.

Petra’s very broken sense of identity had already been severely dented by cultural and societal expectations. Her quite evil and twisted plan was to take all the basic components of Ciana’s life and character, to reconfigure and create an entirely new persona for herself. In Petra’s broken reasoning, she saw herself as becoming whole again, through stealing Ciana’s life, and claiming the entirety of her for herself. As herself.

How deep was her sickness?

Yet Petra’s attempts to completely break Ciana down, and destroy and consume her life and essence, were ultimately doomed to utter failure. But not after an epic battle lasting for many years and encompassing many other players.


Petra quickly knocked out an inflammatory message on her keyboard to Ciana. She then abruptly shut down the Skype session and it was over. But not for Ciana. She stared at the message on her screen and felt ill. There it was. The admission, the guilt, and the very evil taunting, all wrapped up in one damning package.

“You know Ciana, I’m totally irrational and this is my strength and my charisma that others love about me. I steal your stories and I know all your secrets; taken from your private online files I’ve so easily plundered. I’ve secretly turned your optimism into negativity through the dark magic only I know. I’ve turned your life upside down, and made it into mine. And no one knows or guesses. I feed off your pain because it’s the food of the psi-vampire and the werewolf.

“Either way — your pain is very tasty. I collect all the old experiences you’ve forgotten, from the dark recesses of old email trails and private messages. These are the things I’ve judged you as unable to consciously digest, and I take them all and I make them. Into mine.

“You’re worthless Ciana and you know it. I’m a much better you. And the whole world agrees. It’s time for you to end your own misery and bury your pain, once and for all. It’s time for you to end — you.

“I’ve taken all the memories you’ve left pinned onto a wall in a dream somewhere forgotten and made them all come alive, taking them into me, making me who I am now. You forgot about them, all those old memories of yourself, and now I’ve taken them all, because you didn’t keep them safe and protect it all. Not at all. It was easy pickings.

“My dark shadow me that knows your secret rooms oh so well, easily turns your secrets into terrible memories. And Ciana, because you left your life so unprotected, I took it all, what was yours, and made it mine. It’s all mine now. I’ve stolen it all, so now I’ve taken away your power!”


Through the haze of the abuse being levelled at her, Ciana stared at this written admission of total guilt of identity theft — a theft of her life on so many levels — almost feeling the blood and life force literally drain from her.

She was then shocked to suddenly see the words completely disappear from the screen in front of her, on her Skype page. She could not find them again because they were gone. Not ever. No evidence. Wiped.

Later she found found herself walking through the ancient fig trees and tangled rainforest vines as old as the seaside village, down through the mouldering boat club, and sat on a massive rock set into the edge of a concrete jetty. Feeling as though dwelling in some kind of recurring waking nightmare within the twilight zone, Ciana had made herself leave the cool and quiet sanctuary of her apartment, to let the sunlight shine down on her face. In hopes of somehow shifting the pain and anger now powerfully igniting within her soul.

The dank humidity of the tropics hung heavily in the air, and beads of sweat dampened the short dark hair framing her strong yet almost elfin face. She wiped away the tears that were now a common feature of each day, letting the almost overwhelming emotions surge through her like a sudden thunderstorm. Then as she consciously slowed and calmed her breathing, an uncompromising resolve hardened in her heart. Forged like the flaming sword of the archangels, her will set into an ironclad commitment to end this. Once and for all.


She would never accept the unacceptable. Not ever. And would take no prisoners. She was no sacrificial lamb to be endlessly crucified so the predator might live. Oh no way, no no no. The parasite had to go. And its coven uncovered. For this strigoi had a coven of its own, and was not acting alone. One way or another its predacious journey through her life, and the theft of her lifeblood and energy was to cease.

Ciana would hold it down in the fiery midday sunlight of its demise, and watch the strigoi burn in the hellish flames of its own immolation. The end of the strigoi’s nasty little saga was nigh. And Ciana fully intended to survive and rise above it. With this horrific phase of her personal history in this lifetime, to be over. Ended. And finally, done.

To be continued…..

Photo of author Julie Cairnes 2013 - 2014



A great article by Lauda Leon from her website:

The New Predator

The New Predator experiment has taken generations to perfect in its engineering. What I have noticed in seeing the…

Two of my own articles:

Breaking the Curse of Evil

De-Spelling the Wetiko

The Truth About the Lies

The lies about the light

This is part of my epic - and true -“Daughter of Dragonblood” series, soon to be published in book form!!

Stay tuned for further chronicles, vignettes, anecdotes and tales of the supernatural.

For more chronicles from this book, see:

This is a true story but all names have been changed to protect certain identities; and a little poetic license has been applied to some of the environments of the interactions, in terms of how and where they actually occurred. Stay tuned for further instalments of this supernatural saga (Daughter of Dragonblood) — a tale of a stunning and mind-bending occult battle that spans many lifetimes — between now and way back when — between opposing forces of the good-hearted and the viciously evil. Yes. The ancient blood wars never ended. But they will.

Copyright 2019/2020 © Julie Von Nonveiller Cairnes. All rights reserved.

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