UK Phenomena Killings




I realise that the term "The UK Animal Killer", and my granddaughter's rabbiits were victims of human perpetrator/s so I am fully behind the need to highlight and campaign. I have always felt that this is the work of more than one person. I believe this is a group (cult?) of very sick individuals who commit these acts, take trophies and share the images on the dark web. The rabbits lived with me as there weren't suitable facilities where my daughter lived. 

They were bascially given the free run of my enclosed courtyard garden and were rabbits first, pets second. They were Rexes and the male in particular was a muscular buck and would have fought. They were removed, killed, exsanguinated, decapitated and had their tales removed. The male rabbit's tail was flung over the wall into a neighbour's garden and the tail of the female placed under the male's body. He was posed directly so that on opening my curtains he would be laying, hind paws first, while it was absolutely intentional to pose him like that I am unsure if the effect was meant to look like he was in repose but it more resembled a rabbit positioned in a butcher's shop. 

The female rabbit's body was dumped on their dung pile in the back corner of my yard. The large double hutch was absolutely untouched, not even a food bowl overturned. 

There was no sign of a struggle. Not a spot of blood in the hutch, on the largely paved garden, nor on the fur around the excision sites of their heads and tails. 

My back garden is overlooked by a block of flats, anyone looking out on the first floor and up would have had a clear view, as well as bungalows. 

It happened after around 1:30am and their bodies discovered by the neigbour who saw the male rabbit's tail on the ground next to his bins round about 9AM. 

This was 7 hours to catch them, knock them out somehow, as I say the male would have fought and there were no signs of a struggle, take them somewhere to kill them and carry out their mutilations, and return them and pose the male. The heads were never recovered. 

I was targetted because (I was told) disabled households and those with young children are the favoured targets, for the biggest impact. Until this group of individuals (I absolutely believe it would take two to restrain the male rabbit and not disturb the interior of the hutch) are found and their ring exposed this is going to continue. I would never again have any pet that would require being housed in my garden. 

My granddaughter has frequently asked if we can have more rabbits, obviously I did not tell her they had been killed, let alone how and what happened to them, and chose to tell her they both got ill. I have to come up with excuses and it absolutely angers me that through the actions of sick individuals I have had to change my plans, not enjoy doing something that would bring my granddaughter and myself real joy.

Miracle in Action Rob Galea

Rob Galea
Father Rob Galea
For three years, Anne Galea’s son, Rob, 17, had been out of control. She felt helpless watching him spiral downward. Unbeknown to Rob, she would stand outside his bedroom door and pray as she listened to him sob. Praying was all she could do for her son because he wouldn’t let her help him.

One day, the pain she felt for her suffering son brought her to her knees. She cried out to God that she would not get up until he saved her son. She begged for mercy for Rob, beseeching the Blessed Mother to be her son’s mother and to carry him to Jesus.

Through her tears, she beheld in her mind’s eye a picture of Rob surrounded by a group of young people. In this vision, her son was playing a guitar and singing and around his neck was a priest’s collar.

Anne’s son didn’t sing or own a guitar, and for him to become a priest would be a miracle.

Growing up
Rob Galea and his two siblings had an idyllic childhood, growing up on the beautiful Mediterranean island of Malta. The Galeas spent a lot of time on the beach and in the water. Almost every Sunday, the Galea children saw their grandparents.

Rob’s carefree happiness started to disappear in primary school when two of his grandparents died in a short period of time. He couldn’t understand why his life had to change.

On top of the pain of loss, Rob experienced bullying in school. His classmates mocked him for his appearance, and he was friendless. Things got a little better when he changed schools, but it was too late.Photo courtesy of Ave Maria Press.

“My self-esteem was wrecked. I was convinced that I was worthless,” writes Fr. Galea in his autobiography, Breakthrough: A Journey from Desperation to Hope (Ave Maria Press, 2018).

Wrong Crowd
When Rob was 14, he wanted nothing to do with his parents, especially his father. He began sneaking out to clubs, drinking, smoking, lying, and shoplifting for an adrenaline high. Then he fell into the wrong crowd and started doing drugs. When he was 17, a malicious lie he told about a drug dealer put his life in danger, and he was afraid to leave his room.

Rob, consumed with worry and loneliness, felt hopeless.
“As I knelt restlessly on my bed, I saw only two ways out of my misery. One was for someone, somewhere, to reach out and somehow save me, or two, to end my own life,” Fr. Galea writes.
He was in such a debilitated mental state that he would punch himself in the gut and hit his head against the wall to distract himself from thinking.

He thought no one cared — not realizing that his mother was begging for the Lord to save him.

A phone call from his surviving grandmother inviting Rob’s sister, Rachel, to a Catholic youth group meeting was the lifeline that Rob needed. He asked his mom if he could go with his sister. At that meeting, he witnessed the happiness of people who loved Christ, and he wanted to experience their joy. The preacher had told the group that they could talk to Jesus. Rob grew up in a Catholic home, but he never felt that God had time for him.

Even so, what the preacher said caused him to do something unusual. He closed his bedroom door and set up two chairs facing each other. Rob sat in one chair and invited Jesus to sit in the other. Every day, he would talk to Jesus as if he was sitting in the chair across from him — praying and pouring out his problems.

In one of those prayer sessions, the other chair was no longer empty.

“Something kept me waiting in silent prayer for longer than usual, and that’s when God spoke back,” Fr. Galea says in his book.
When Rob opened his eyes, he saw Jesus.
“It was like the Holy Spirit had chosen that moment to help me get rid of the inner fury, loneliness, and regret that was still left in my heart,” he writes.
Rob continued to grow closer to God, and though he first resisted, he eventually entered seminary and, in 2010, became a parish priest in Australia. He also co-founded a youth movement called the Stronger Youth program and became a recording artist. Many will remember that he appeared on Australia’s version of X-Factor and performed at World Youth Day.

Fr. Galea’s journey from a hoodlum to musician priest is a fascinating one, and Hollywood thinks so, too. Film producers have purchased the rights to his recently published book, Breakthrough.

Never stop praying and hoping

Beyond Fr. Rob’s exciting story, for me, one of the most important messages is for parents. For all of those moms and dads out there thinking that there is no hope for a seemingly lost child, this priest’s story offers hope and encouragement. It reminds us never to stop praying for our children.


Read More Miracles


Breakthrough: A Journey from Desperation to Hope

Desperate Love Message from Spirit

In the early evening of November 10, 1975, during a heavy storm on Lake Superior, the S. S. Edmund Fitzgerald sank. Her captain and crew of 28 were never found. No one knows why the ship sank so quickly or why the captain never sent out a distress call. And though many years have passed since the incident, mystery still surrounds the tragedy.

Psychic Marie St. Clair investigates the mystery and delivers a message of love from a lost crew member.

The Connection
At 1 AM, I got into my relaxation mode and successfully connected to the Edmund Fitzgerald. The connection was frightening at first, because I arrived before the ship sank while it was being battered by a terrifying storm, what’s known as the dreaded “Witch of November.” It was as if I was watching the ship on a television screen, and, at the same time, I was there. I couldn’t feel the cold or water as I was there in spirit and not in bodily form.

Yet I could almost feel the malevolent essence of the storm as I watched great and punishing waves turn the water into jaws with the strength to cut metal. All the while, great winds launched their own assault, prying at the deck and pummeling the already compromised hatch covers. She was heavily loaded with iron and traveling low in the water, which only contributed to her taking on water from the unimaginably huge waves.

And the captain and crew in the pilot house realized that the ship was taking on a lot of water and that there was a problem with the hatch covers. I saw two men go on the deck–perhaps to close a hatch cover that had blown off. A great wave lashed out at the deck and carried the two men away. The captain said something else that I couldn’t make out, and then the bow was abruptly hit by another wave, while the stern was rocked by another.

Below, I saw water rising up through big stacks of metal pellets. I saw metal pellets shift toward the bow and could almost feel the ship strain from the unimaginable tug on her bones. I saw the bow listing precariously. Yet on the radio, the captain said something along the lines of: “We’re holding our own.”

And then the vessel was swamped by water, literally beaten and broken by waves and gales. And–much to the crew’s shock–the ship split at a point that was about two thirds of the way down from the bow. There was no time to react. The ship went down headfirst, almost instantly, and the stern followed, taking the crew with it.

I watched the undulations of the black water for some time, reflecting on what I’d seen, an overwhelming sense of dread and fear welling up inside me as I pondered the crew’s terrible fate. I was afraid to follow them into the depths and had to remind myself that I must in order to find the information that I sought, and that it was entirely safe for me to do so as I was not there in body. And finally, I summoned enough courage to take a dive where I came upon the wreckage.

I was met by an older, gray-haired man in the front of the ship who identified himself as the captain. He told me his name was “Sorely,” or at least that’s how I heard it. He was evasive about the ship’s sinking, seemed not to want to discuss the incident or maybe he didn’t know how to mentally convey information to me. He didn’t seem opposed about my being there, but was somewhat intimidated about my presence. The other members were too and stayed away, hiding within the ship’s stern, but I knew they were listening to the conversation with great interest.

This is not the first time that I’ve experienced this strange “fear” reaction from those I’ve made a connection to. Read some of my other Case Files to see what I mean. Since I was meeting this resistance from the men, I started to explain to the captain that I’d come for research purposes, telling him that the world wants answers about why the ship sank and about the men who went down with her. He seemed to relax, and so I began to ask questions.

I asked why the ship had sank, and he said: “Storm.”

I asked again and was told: “Brittle metal”

When Questioned further, he said only, “Metal fatigue,” and I got a strong mental picture of the weak metal and the great stress going against it. It had to cut itself loose from the grind, could no longer contain itself. It broke in two just as I’d seen.

I asked why no distress signal was issued and why no one tried to abandon the ship.

He said: “No time.”

Such short statements from spirits are not uncommon. I would be more surprised if the person I connected to issued full and descriptive sentences. The short replies don’t generally represent the person’s reluctance to tell their story. Instead, I believe that the lack of verbosity is due to some kind of physical resistance or block. It could due to the spirit’s difficulty in relaying information to another like someone talking on a defective phone line. After all, we’re thinking to each other, not using our lips. I believe that it’s not easy for all to accomplish this feat and is a skill that must be mastered. I also believe that spirits are, for the most part, not allowed or are unable to convey information to me unless I ask them something specific. Sometimes, however, that’s not true, as another spirit aboard the ship reveals.
There was a strong and passionate voice among the men. Though I could make out few details about him, since he continued to hang back in the shadows, I, nevertheless, sensed that he was a younger man with brown or reddish hair. He yelled repeatedly: “Tell Elaina (or Alena) I love her!” He virtually yelled this message at me often during the connection. It was important to him that I carry this message to the world, and I assured him that I would deliver his message if possible. If there’s an Elaina out there who had a loved one on board the ship, I would certainly appreciate it if you’d let me know. It would make me feel so much better to know that you’d received the man’s heartfelt message.
As the captain escorted me about the battered remains of the vessel for what I can only call a tour, the others started venturing closer. By the look of things, I’d started out many years after the wreck–in the ship’s present state, but as we proceeded, its condition changed. It didn’t seem like the ship was wrecked or under water. Instead, it was suddenly in perfect condition, and I could have been on board during a beautiful day when it was getting ready to set out on its next adventure.

I believe this is how the crew perceives the ship and their surroundings.

The tour ended in a room with a long table. I sensed that it was the men’s favorite room, the place where they most liked to gather–perhaps the galley. And we talked for some time. Unfortunately, I don’t remember what we said, but I apparently gained the men’s trust, and they no longer feared me. In fact, many of the men who’d seemed fearful about my presence earlier now seemed to want to be near me, seemed glad that I was there. Many of the men wore big smiles as they gathered around the table.

I don’t wish to upset any family members with my account, but I feel that I must be truthful when revealing what I saw and sensed during a connection, and I’m sorry to say that despite this amiable environment, in which I found myself, I feel that many of the men are not entirely at peace. Some had not accepted the tragedy or their own death. Even the captain, on some level, seemed unwilling to accept his fate. I also strongly felt that not all 29 men were there. Some had either moved on to the other side or were still hiding from me.

I told the men that I believed it would help them if we prayed together. They honored my request. Holding hands, we formed a circle and prayed. I asked God to give these men peace and comfort and to let his healing light flow through them and lead them home.

Then I snapped out of the vision. Stunned, I could only sit there for a long while, hoping that my prayer had been answered. I realized that I’d had a greater purpose in going there than merely to learn information about the tragedy. I unknowingly went there to help those men cross over. And perhaps I’d accomplished this as, following the prayer, I was suddenly ejected from the scene from some unseen force. I knew that God had had another purpose in my mission there. I was supposed to connect to those men and help them.

I glanced at the clock. It was 5 AM. I had been on board the ship for more than 4 hours. This was the longest that I’d ever been in a vision. I was ravenous, something that often happens after I make a psychic connection, especially a very strong one like this. I immediately began to evaluate what I saw.


Cartomacy Kickstarter

Tarot, French cartomancy, transformation playing cards, analytical psychology, art, surrealism, symbolism, fingerprints, vintage prints, and illustrations inspire the Cartomancer Poker Deck.

Back this campaign here :-

The CLARITY Deck is a modified reissue of the first Cartomancer Poker Deck. These award-winning playing cards are what many of you have come to love. Plus, it’s also the pack that others have been looking for but cannot find. Consider it the deck of insight and intuition.

In the new SHADOW Deck, night has fallen on all the Cartomancer cards.  Each one features a mirror image of the Clarity Deck illustration yet is set on a dark gray background. Look close enough, and you'll notice the shadow cards concealing differences rich in symbolism. That's why it’s considered the deck of dreams and secrets

We have moved


In our efforts to enable posterity of our website we have made the decision to move. 

Our new address is:-


We are aware there may be URL forwarding and redirection issues and apologise for the interruption. 

Pet Cats Mysteriously Vanish in Australia


Tasmania 2020

RSPCA Tasmania said the cats were simply walking away and not coming back and, in Dover, none of the bodies were even found.

"What is happening to these cats has yet to be established, but police are aware of the situation," Jen Davis, CEO of RSPCA Tasmania said. RSPCA Tasmania is confident the missing cats are a criminal matter.

Ms Davis said differing opinions about cats - whether they are friend or foe - can lead to disagreements in the community and cause individuals to "take matters into their own hands".

Tasmania Police are aware of the reports but said, "there is no evidence to suggest any connection between the reports - or any criminal behaviour involved".

"Cat owners are advised to contact their local council, or animal welfare organisations, if they have concerns."

George Town local council was aware of missing cats being reported but said they were limited in how they could respond.

Sue Maddigan has had two of her beloved fur babies go missing in George Town over the last two years. Ms Maddigan said that the curse of the missing cats had hit the town last year, as well as this year, and the gender of the cats may play a role in their disappearance.

"Fourteen female cats have gone missing this year, but it was 14 male cats last year. It has to be more than an almighty coincidence," Ms Maddigan said.

While Tasmania police were not prepared to link the disappearances to crime, Ms Maddigan was confident a member of the community was the cat burglar.

"It seems to be, the last two years, people are just taking cats," Ms Maddigan said.

She lost Mack, her five-year-old Maine Coon, in 2019 and shortly after filling the hole he left behind with her new cat, Splodgie, that one was gone too. Mack was a huge, big ginger boy with beautiful gold eyes. I cried for days after losing Mack. And Splodgie was a dear little pet that was loved."

"It's like taking a child ... It's your fur baby," Ms Maddigan said.

Sunshine Coast QLD 2017
At least 30 cats have disappeared from one Sunshine Coast suburb as fears mount a cat hater could be stealing the beloved pets and killing them. The cats were registered, micro-chipped and desexed and have vanished without a trace from the Peregian Springs and Peregian Breeze estates.

Some of the cats had been fitted with GPS trackers which have been switched off, adding to the concern a human was responsible.

A Sunshine Coast Lost Pet Coordinator spokeswoman said police and the Sunshine Coast Council had been informed. But with little help available, the distraught pet owners have formed their own Facebook page, missing cats Peregian Springs and Peregian Breeze, to share information.
Residents have also distributed 3,000 flyers to homes, alerting other cat owners of the potential risk.

Donna Powell's much-loved "family member" Leo went missing "46 days ago" when he was allowed outside for a brief period in the afternoon. Ms Powell's distraught seven-year-old son, Ceri, who has Asperger's has been waking up crying for his beloved friend. "We are all distraught," Ms Powell said.

The lost pet coordinator said there had been "no sightings of the cats, no bodies and none of the pounds had any information. Wild animals had been ruled out as a cause because of the lack of trace of any remains and the cats disappeared from inside busy, residential neighbourhoods.

We lived in the springs for five years and lost two fur babies and our current little cat went missing for three days but returned home. I am still dubious that he wandered but may have been captured as ever since returning he has a phobia of black shoes. He is savvy so maybe one of the lucky ones. I do believe something sinister is going on as there are no remains or surrenders to pounds or councils...makes me sick to think what may be happening to these babies and what comes next if anyone has such a hate inside them that they could possibly do this to a living thing. We have moved since to our own three acres so he is now the king of his domain still very cautious of everything... especially black shoes of any kind.