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IT WASN'T UNTIL 17 HOURS LATER THAT SHE SAW THE MANSON MANIA IN HIS WILD BLACK EYES. BY THEN IT WAS TOO LATE. HE WAS IN HER HOUSE. AND HE WOULD NOT LEAVE.
"THE POWER OF COURAGE: AN UPLIFTING SAGA OF MOVING BEYOND ABUSE" is not just a memoir. It's a haunting opera of light against dark. Set against the backdrop of a thunderstorm, the story revolves around Carol, who is drawn into the world of Joseph Estanopolous, a man with a dark past. As their lives intertwine, she finds herself trapped in a web of deceit, lies, and abuse. The narrative delves deep into the psyche of a woman battling her own past trauma as well as a tumultuous, caustic relationship. It's a tale of resilience, spiritual strength, and the ultimate triumph of light over dark.
"An inspiring tale of how one woman's beliefs enabled her to escape a severely dysfunctional relationship." - Kirkus Reviews
In Top Six Nationally in Women's Issues International Winner in New Nonfiction
"Harrowing cautionary tale. Inspiring." -Kirkus Reviews
HAUNTING TRUE STORY!
"Riveting.... Unique!" Midwest Book Review, Senior Reviewer D. Donovan
"I was unable to stop reading! Well-written, rewarding!" Self-Publishing Review, 4.5 stars
SECOND EDITION
CHAROL MESSENGER is a multiple award-winning Best Selling author in spirituality, and a Marquis' Who's Who in America honoree.
100% TRUE. READS LIKE A NOVEL. DRAMATIC MEMOIR. HARD LESSONS IN FINDING INNER STRENGTH.
EXCERPTS:
Late June, 1992 - Denver, Colorado. HAUNTED BY A DISTURBING DREAM, torrential rain beating down on my roof, I tossed restlessly in hand-to-hand combat with a demon invading my home.... My twelve-year-old miniature schnauzer, Cabra, jumped up onto my double bed, stood over me and gurgled with concern.
Two Weeks Later - Thursday, July 9, 1992, 4:20 p.m. "I'M A MAN ON A MISSION!" he spewed, his first words to me on the phone call forwarded to my temp job, "and I'm willing to do anything to make it happen," he said. "Ted Bundy was falsely executed. He did not murder those women in Colorado. I can prove it." .... I leaned forward at my office desk, the only person who hadn't left yet for the day, and listened with intrigue at the prospect of ghostwriting such a book.
The Next Day - Friday, July 10, 5:30 pm. MY WINDSHIELD WIPERS SLUSHED FUTILELY back and forth in torrential rain as I recircled the block in heavy rush-hour traffic in downtown Denver. I pulled up again at the curb outside the bank, reached over and manually unlocked the passenger-side door. Just then, a man hunkered over in the downpour, wearing a red Hard Rock Café cap pulled down over his face, grabbed open the passenger door, dove in, and plopped beside me on the gold-velour-covered bench seat of my twenty-year-old Zephyr. Instantly, I felt a magnetic spark. Joseph Estanopolous, I presume. Couldn't be anybody else. He was bigger than life and unlike anyone I had ever met.
That Evening, July 10. - I FELT HIS PRESENCE LIKE A STORM THAT WOULDN'T BE TAMED. He burst like a brilliant light upon me, blinding me to all visions but his own. His black eyes reached into me. He stepped inside my house and embraced me.
Saturday July 11, 1992, 10:00 a.m. When I came out of the grooming salon, leaving Cabra behind for her "puppy look" trim, Joey was leaning against the hood of my Zephyr, smoking a cigarette....
UNDER A GLARING JULY SUN in front of my bank's outdoor ATM, I trembled with dread, my debit card in hand. He hunkered close, his breath foul, his red Hard Rock Café cap pulled down over his dark eyes. I clenched my knuckles white to the bone and blinked.
He leaned in close and whispered, "Give it to me!"
My head began to throb and I swallowed nervously. His intense glare stabbed at me. I closed my eyes and flushed with humiliation.
"It's all I have," I whispered.
