The author was simply another lost child without an

authentic family, name or age. Today she feels
compassion for others, wants to help others transition
from lack to abundance. She is sensitive, inspired,
understanding and objective. She found comfort and
healing in writing and lives to write.









To God my Creator

To the family I created

To all existing things in the Universe






Crystal Long Ago


C R Y S T A L ’ S D I A R Y
































Copyright © Crystal Long Ago

The right of Crystal Long Ago to be identified as author of this
work has been asserted by her in accordance with section 77 and
78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be
reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any
form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying,
recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the
publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this
publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims
for damages.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British
Library.


ISBN 978 1 84963 780 0


www.austinmacauley.com

First Published (2014)
Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd.
25 Canada Square
Canary Wharf
London
E14 5LB








Printed and bound in Great Britain









Acknowledgments


To GOD for giving me one more opportunity.
DJ for his contribution and being with me during that walk.
PJ in Memoriam 03/30/2013.
TDL for concern and orientation.
Editors Austin Macauley for believing this work could
make a difference.




Affirmation of World Elevation


The Vibrational Energy of the planet increases and absorbs the
Positive Energies.

World Peace Proclaims its Independence and the negative
bonds are broken

That is the beginning of a new path, a new level that engulfs
the world.

We become One and are faithful in this process.

Each decision and modification is fortified with the beat of our
hearts

That are united creating a single sound that echoes in the
Cosmic Space

Breaking barriers, achieving Universal Victory

We are conquerors

Progressing daily in the Physical, Cosmic and Spiritual
Evolution Of the World.




Introduction


Let me tell you a story. It is probably different than any story
you have ever heard or read but it is a true story. It is my story.
I want to share it with you because it exposes a horrible truth
that needs to be told. A truth beyond the limits of human
comprehension that you may not even believe. Sometimes you
may find it horrible, inhumane, so repugnant you may have a
hard time keeping your eyes on the page. Even so I suggest
you do because as you read this book and confront its reality
you will be embarking on a path to make the world a better
place.
My reason to expose this truth is because of the horrible
abuse that occurs to children that needs to stop. And to make
this stop, we must start somewhere. I learned in a very hard
way how to make a new start, we must first confront what
happened to us. That which was very hidden beneath our very
own eyes and hearts. We must confront the truth.
This means confronting nauseating behaviour, psychos,
people so atrocious that it is hard to believe anybody would be
capable of doing such horrible things. But they do and nothing
will change if we, me, you and society continue to deny what
is happening beneath our very nose every day.
As you will see, this book is not perfectly created in
Hollywood for a movie. Hollywood would not make up a story
like this one. This is real to the very smallest of details. It is an
accounting of what I was in its entirety. This is the base
darkest part of life that you never imagined could actually
exist. But it does exist. Bad influences, sick, so sinister it
makes a person tremble. And amazingly some people openly
accept these negative influences with open arms. They need to
stop.
Do not imagine for one minute that the experiences I will
be describing for you are rare, rare, rare. Do not assume that,
do not think that, they are not rare. It happens today, this very

minute, thousands of times right in front of your face. You
need to know. You need to help.

This is the story of my life.



Chapter I


The Past is Present

Peter arrived from the United States and we stayed in the
apartment. There were many things and business to take care
of as I was getting the children to school. We needed fresh air.
To go for a ride nearby or to the park seemed like a better
option, unless it was too hot. After walking down a few streets
I suggested we sit on a bench and appreciate the view, relax
and cool down with a drink.
Peter returned with our soft drinks and noticed my eyes
fixated on three raggedy children that were begging for food.
“It is very sad, a shame to see such young children like
these in the street,” I said.
“There is nothing you can do about that Crystal. Staring at
them will encourage them to ask for money.” He responded.
I could hardly imagine what kinds of things had happened
in the life of those children. Barely 7 or 8 years old, their small
bodies badly covered with rags they attached somehow. Their
deep brown baggy eyes filled with hunger as their small hands
were desperately digging in trash cans looking for something
to eat.
I could not stop staring. The pain beat at the same rhythm
as my heart and at that moment it accelerated, as long as I
stared.
Nobody that walked by even noticed those children, people
with their heads low worried and preoccupied with their own
lives, nobody even cared in the least about what those children
faced in their lives.
But me...



The Beginning that Never Had a Beginning

My mind went back to 1978. I was 4 years old. I did not know
this house. My head was confused. My brain without any
memories as if I had slept one thousand years. My eyes could
barely focus. An unknown woman came near looking at me
attentively. Where was I and who was this woman? She was a
total stranger to me but she spoke as though she knew me. Her
voice was sweet and she smiled as though she cared.
“You woke up, you slept too much... come have a snack!”
she said.
She stretched out her hand to help me. She wanted to make
me feel comfortable so that I could trust her. My feet felt weak
and I could not walk. Gently she guided me to eat at the table
and offered me a cup of milk and a piece of cake. My stomach
was hungry but my head did not yet realize it. I still felt as
though I was floating in the clouds somehow.
She sat next to me as she sewed some clothes. I would say
that she noticed my every movement. I could hear a radio in
the background. I asked her who it was on the radio.
“It is Jacinto Figueira Junior, the man with the white
shoe,” she said.
A tense and scary song; the voice of Jacinto sang in such a
bloodcurdling way that a strong fear engulfed me. Suddenly I
felt fearful and threatened. I wanted to scream but I contained
myself.
After a few bites of food I felt sleepy once again. Even
without having any idea where I was or who that strange
woman was, I simply wanted to sleep.
I slept for some time, an hour or two more, when I awoke I
sat up on the bed and stayed silent, still totally empty, without
thoughts. The woman came near and said:
“Let’s go to the yard, I will call the neighbour’s daughter
to come play with you!”
I got up and went out in the yard. A girl with curly hair
came up to the gate and we began to play with coins; ‘heads or

tails’ and I swallowed one. The woman looked in my mouth
and said I should not worry because when I went to the
bathroom, the coin would come out, it would not be necessary
to operate and cut my belly to get it out. I calmed down and
later on I went to the bathroom but we could not find the coin
and we did not worry about it anymore.
After a while a woman arrived and began to play with the
girl hugging and kissing her.
“Who is that woman?” I asked the girl.
“She is my mother,” she said.
“Mother? What is a mother?” I asked.
They laughed at me and began to explain that everybody in
the world has a mother and that we are born from our mother’s
belly.
My eyes were fixated on those people as they explained
the meaning of mother to me.
My head was trying to assimilate and understand what was
happening there, while I thought: Mother!!! Mother hugs and
kisses with emotion, that sounds so good!!!
That girl who was of my same age knew what a mother
was and had a mother, I wondered why for me it was different.
Something wrong was happening, what was missing?
What is missing? What is missing? What is this place?
What is happening?
The hours went by while I tried to remember information,
remember something in my lost mind, when I suddenly
surprised everybody with a question that echoed out of my
throat.
“Where is my mother?” I desperately asked.
At that moment Antonia came down the stairs and said: “I
am here, your mother has arrived.”
Not believing her I asked: “You are my mother?”
The woman of the house got worried and asked: “Is she
not your mother?”
I answered: “I don’t know, I don’t know...”
I started to look at Antonia trying to find something
familiar, some memory, something to give me some type of
guarantee with respect to my real situation. I was confused.

Everything prior to that moment did not exist in my life.
All of my memories were gone, I could not remember my
family and did not know who Antonia was, I met her at that
moment for the very first time and knew nothing else.
My distress persisted. Antonia told the woman that it was
normal for me to wake up that ‘way’ while she started to move
farther away from me along with the woman, she must have
told her I was not normal or maybe even crazy, anything to not
alarm her with respect to what was really happening.
The woman got my things, Antonia then gave her some
money and took me, I remember going up some stairs until
reaching the street and once on the sidewalk she gave me some
candy with something to put me to sleep and knock me out,
drugging me again. She kept me that way for some time, until I
lost all possibility of remembering my origins and could only
see her and remember her the few times I would open my eyes.
I slept for an undetermined amount of time, a deep sleep. I
awoke inside a bus and Antonia was there and I instantly went
back to sleep. Sometimes a short look out the window to look
at the scenery and my empty head did not question where I
was going. Other times I awoke in a train and she was there,
she gave me a cup of water and a small portion of food. I asked
for help to go to the bathroom, many times she would carry me
to the bathroom and I went back to sleep.


Mother forgive me


My dearest mother
Forgive me for that day
In which I was still inside
Of your Uterus I stretched out
Too much...
I bothered you...
I heard you complain
But I needed to stretch
Mother, it was such a good feeling
I had, I was so happy
Inside your belly
Protected by your feelings
Tender...
Motherly warmth
The temperature was perfect
Warm water and a yellow light
That illuminated me and covered me
In your Uterus
Mother, I never wanted to be born!
Never to be separated from you!
(“That is my inter-uterine memory”)
But where is my mother now? And who is my mother?

My memory went back to those three children in the street,
hungry in search for food, with a look of suffering that so
many exploited people have. I was wondering if they even
knew their real names or had birth certificates. I then
remembered another fact from 1979.


Undocumented and Oppressed

Antonia changed my name on each new trip we made. She
called me Suzana, Leila, Pamela, those were the most common

names she used and sometimes she called herself Carmem.
Suzana was the name she called me most often and my
favorite, I was so used to that name that when she informed me
my name would be Crystal (forever) we had a discussion about
it and I kept asking why I could not keep the name Suzana,
which I adored. But I was not successful in that discussion.
There are more pieces of my memory coming back, for
example: Antonia attempted suicide. It was like this...
We lived for some time in a small room where I remained
locked up and played with Avon deodorant sticks and
imagined them as people, separated them by colour, the men
were the ugly and dark containers and the women and girls
were the prettier ones. The game theme was rape, sexual
abuse, violence and death. I spent the entire day doing this and
for me it was my whole life, I gave myself completely to this
game to the point that my breathing changed and almost
stopped breathing, and would not even notice the few times
Antonia was present.
One day she arrived and saw me in that situation, I was
agitated and speaking to myself as though it was a real story.
“Let me go, let me go, you are hurting me, I am going to
die!” I said to my deodorants.
Antonia got very upset, stole my deodorants and screamed
at me and I did not understand why she was being such a jack
ass. #@#%$# ! I was always locked up; alone, eating trashy,
junk food and the arrogant “owner of the world” would not
allow me to play with my own imagination!
After a few days she showed up with a Barbie doll and
gave it to me as a present trying to pacify things but I did not
know how to play with dolls and destroyed it that very day, cut
her clothes and hair, transforming the doll into a monster. Now
the doll was ready for me.
Now to the suicide attempt, Antonia arrived one morning
all crazy, she was irritated, screaming and crying
uncontrollably.
“What happened?” I asked.
“My life is worth nothing, I am unhappy, it is all a huge
mess!” she said.

I kept watching without understanding the reason for her
revolt. Antonia got a knife and said, “I am going to kill myself,
I am going to slice my wrists! I will end my life right now!”
“No mother! For the love of God do not leave me! Who will
take care of me?!” I screamed afflicted, as tears rolled down
my cheeks.
Antonia stopped and looked at me for some time as if she
were thinking something with regards to me, some plan, I
really did not understand. She got a cup of water from the
faucet and made some cool aid for me and then added some
white powder that she poured from a napkin she got from her
purse to drug me. She gave it to me saying we were going to
sleep.
I drank it while looking at her and thought that since she
was my mother it did not matter what she had done or what
would happen because I trusted her. I never awoke in that
place again. I woke up on another trip on a train one day; I
really don’t know when it was.
Antonia was a disastrous person without qualifications for
anything, not even to educate me or even feed me. She was
filled with fantasies about making offerings to witchcraft and
false gods, she wanted to be a witch and have magical powers,
she wanted to get financial satisfaction through that but it
never happened.
Another quick fact was a short trip through the Mooca
neighbourhood in the City of Sao Paulo where we went to visit
Veronica, her black prostitute friend who was overweight and
used Hene Maru to uncurl her hair, she must have been around
thirty years old at the time. Veronica lived in a small room on
top of some apartments. Imagine this, the two would begin to
drink beer and talk about their voodoo and witchcraft
(interesting), if you analyse the word macumba in Portuguese
you can arrive at a conclusion of its significance, ma = low
energy, cum (com) = with, ba = something stupid. Basically it
can be understood as trying to use low energy to manipulate,
steal and gain advantage.
Veronica convinced Antonia to take some used bloody
feminine napkins to a nearby garage, simply go four blocks

down the street in order to arrive at “Judas residence” and call
to Judas three times, leave the bloody feminine napkins and
after this “ritual” we would be very rich, so she decided to do
that. When we arrived, it appeared to be an abandoned
commercial building with a huge pile of bloody feminine
napkins that reached the ceiling. I think all the women from
Mooca left their menstruated feminine napkins there. I ended
up being the one that called “Judas” and left Antonia’s bloody
feminine napkins as she waited by the door because she was
too scared to do it herself. While going inside, I heard a noise
and quickly left the feminine napkin on the floor and we went
back to Veronica’s “house”.
There are more stupid things that happened but they
happened in other places.
One time we visited a City just so that Antonia could buy
wigs from a blond woman who was around forty-five years old
who made and sold wigs from her house. Antonia chose three
wigs, one with long hair, one with medium hair and one with
short blond hair. With regard to the short blond wig, the
woman told Antonia it was not fitting for her because she was
too dark to wear the blond wig. Antonia insisted and purchased
that wig that was not appropriate for her even though it was
more expensive, she paid the woman and we left. I never
understood why she had to always wear a wig and asked her
several times why she did that when she already had hair on
her head, she would limit her responses by saying it was the
fashion.
We returned to the train station, I felt good that day, I was
awake and inside of me an expectation of the future flowed in
me. I could for the first time see that prostitute’s ridiculous
behaviour.
As you can see, I am relating some events of my
childhood, I would like to give you more details and show a
sequence of events such as City names, a month or day of the
week but at that time I was too small to ask about City names,
places or even people. What I have done is to relate everything
I was able to remember.

What I am trying to do in sharing my life is for you to
understand that bad things do happen and we make many
mistakes, yet we need to take the bad and make something
good with it rather than simply try to hide and forget.
Allow me to take a few minutes of your time; I would like
to share with you everything including how I feel because I
cannot keep the cancer inside of me that has caused pain for
thirty-two years. I need to speak, Please Listen to me!


Real People

I will briefly relate who the people are that you will hear me
talk about frequently, the people that had a big impact in my
life.
Antonia: a woman that called herself my mother, she got a
birth certificate for me, you could say she “created” me, you
will understand how I was raised and educated.
She was a prostitute, a drunk, a drug addict, would drug
her customers and steal from them using what is called “Good
Night Cinderella”, a thief, kidnapper, child sexual exploiter,
pimp, practiced satanic rituals and believed in false gods;
basically a witch.
Her family is spread out, without structure, they ignore
her. From what I know she came from a poor family. She said
she had a handicapped brother with whom she saw ghosts
inside the house and in the yard where they lived in Sao Paulo,
SP. She would say she lived in constant warfare with an evil
spirit that wanted to possess her body so that she could spread
evil throughout the world. In my opinion she was crazy and
nobody in her family realized it or did anything about it. She
said her mother died of cancer of the blood and that her father
was taken to an old folks’ home after he sold his house and
spent all the money on prostitutes.
She said she was a single mother and that is why she was
thrown out of the house, in fact she would always let
something slip out about all the problems and debts she had.
She would say she received numerous death threats from my

“supposed father” because he was a married man and a
politician, that he deceived her and took her virginity, that is
what I heard; basically contradictory and confused stories.
Peter: My husband, the man that showed me love. Because
of that love I was able to free myself from the prison of denial
and suffering in which I remained for many years, that
majestic love allowed me to really and truthfully taste for the
very first time the breath of life! Peter is an American citizen,
he had studied genetics, was a politician, today he repairs
buildings and restores historic properties.
He is always in contact with his Dad, his mother died and
was a missionary, his brothers live in nearby cities and show
up from time to time, discussions and disagreements occur
between them as with all families.
Crystal: I am a regular person and my story is like many.
My childhood was stolen and my family ties were broken and
lost somewhere. My youth was wasted and my adult life was
tumultuous. Yet in my maturity I found balance, I live with the
truth and am building a respectable and peaceful future. In
spite of my memories maybe someday I will be able to say that
my life was worthwhile.


Infant Sincerity

It was now 1980, I was six years old. I remember a poor
neighbourhood where we lived for some time, it looked like a
ghetto, the house was very simple, red tile roof, poorly made
whitewashed walls. It had one room with a sink and a
bathroom outside, a cheap fabric curtain with a pattern of blue
flowers on a red background that divided the space to simulate
a bedroom and a kitchen.
We had a bed in the room and cardboard boxes that made
up our clothes cabinet. The living room / kitchen had an old
brown couch that was ripped, a wood table with three chairs
and an old gas stove. Our kitchen cabinet was under the sink
separated with wood planks where we put the few pans, dishes
and cups that in their former life were tomato jars, which we
now used to drink water from the sink. Our cabinet was
covered with an old blue rag that looked like a clothes line
held up with nails on each side.
All utensils were on top of the wood shelf and in the shelf
underneath there was a plastic container with rice, one with
noodles, one with salt, one with cooking oil and a small one
with coffee and a rag used as a coffee filter because Antonia
was addicted to coffee. Sometimes we ate Maggi noodle soup
in order to add variety to our menu.
One day, Antonia and her friend Veronica informed me
that it was my birthday and made me a cake, they told me I
was now six years old. I wore my navy blue dress with white
dots that had a red design on its front; I think it was some kind
of navy type clothing.
They took a photo and I had a huge smile, I was missing
my front teeth. The few people showed up for my birthday
were only there to eat free cake and left. Antonia and Veronica
sat and drank beer in the chairs they placed near the kitchen
door. My only present was a plastic yellow duck with red
wheels which I would squeeze myself into with most of my
body hanging out. I went down the dirt road in the duck as fast
as I could go and a car that was passing by had to slam on the

brakes in order to avoid running over me. I went up and down
that road several times but somebody told Antonia that a car
almost ran over me and the fun I was having came to a
screeching halt. I slept that night like a normal child, a house,
birthday cake, a bed and I was not doped.
The next day we received a visit from a neighbour who
Antonia was always criticizing behind her back. The neighbour
seemed like a nice person, she showed up and promptly started
washing the dishes in the sink. Antonia, who was already
drunk started talking to her and telling her she liked her. Upon
hearing this I walked up and told the woman the truth, that
Antonia was lying to her, did not like her and spoke badly
about her. She stopped washing dishes and argued with
Antonia and called her a hypocrite, Antonia tried to convince
her I was the liar but the woman did not believe her saying
children do not lie and left. Antonia hit me and threatened me,
telling me to never again stop her from lying to people.

All of those memories happened during and after leaving
that park. As I was thinking about my past, those children at
the park were going around looking in trash cans looking for
food. I kept wondering how their lives would be different if
they had the opportunity to go to school and study, live in a
stable environment without the need to hunt for leftovers to
survive. My mind continued, fixated on thinking about those
three homeless children, more so on the little girl, for her
everything must be worse, just as it was for me.


Taken to Hell

My mind returned to 1979 to re-live one more devastating fact.
It was still day light, Antonia smiled at me and said that she
had a great idea. Antonia said she was going to get a house for
us and nobody would throw us out. She got our things and we
left the extremely small room with mildewed walls where we
lived.

“Where are we going? Where will our new house be?” I
asked enthusiastically.
“You will see,” she responded smiling.
We walked a lot; I was so tired of walking that I asked her
to carry me many times but she refused.
After some time we arrived at the final destination. To my
own despair, she had built a shack from yellow plastic and
pieces of wood; she found all the material for that construction
in the trash. That was the house she spoke about. Our new
residence was on the sidewalk on the side of a Catholic
Church, next to a very busy street that crossed a small side
street. The stop lights were to my right when I put my back to
our plastic front door, which was also protected with cardboard
that came from a large box. Antonia was never creative and
had no concept about construction or design. You can well
imagine the mess.
“Are we going to live in the street?” I asked fearfully.
“It is like camping, it will be fun,” she responded trying to
calm me down.
My affliction continued as I had a feeling of danger and I
had no control of the situation, I did not even know what life
was, I only felt fear of something terrible or of being
abandoned, feelings I did not understand or know how to deal
with.
Even though I was only a child my heart let me know that I
was in danger, the idea kept entering my mind that it was
necessary to have a real house; safety and tranquillity, but they
were only thoughts and my mistake was to deny reality. It is
there that I stayed with Antonia and at nightfall I fell asleep
quickly. I awoke the next day feeling very different, started
feeling that change little by little. In that first day I was in a
daze looking at the cars and people go by.
Antonia then instructed me to ask anybody walking by for
money and I did. I walked to the nearby streets full of people
buying and selling. The places that sold food and the
newspaper stands did not allow me around them because I was
bothering their customers when asking for money. Some
people gave and others did not even bother looking at me.