The True Power Of Manifesting

The True Power Of Manifesting

Ok, it was 1992, and I had been married for two years to Phil. I always had an interest in mystical things and magic words. I started to buy printed books online from a bookstore called Finbarr Books. Anyhow, to cut to the chase, I sent for a magic word book to grant your wishes. Money was tight then, so although I felt guilty buying it, I chanced upon this one. Phil, my husband, worked and never refused me money to buy anything.

I learned this special word you say 52 times—as many times a day as you can. Now, Phil had built me a home gym in our brick shed. I had the bench, weights, the stepper, and treadmill. I had lost 7 stone, and every day I said the word while on my treadmill. It was like I cleared my head and was in a trance, blurting out the word in sync with each step. I asked, of course, for a lucky win. We had no car and talked a lot about how we wanted a Beetle car—no chance, Phil said; they are beyond our limit.

Well, at the time, we used to buy a newspaper called Loot to see what we could afford. This one evening, I was blasting the word out over and over while imagining a blue Beetle car on our drive. The book said, "See it, believe it’s yours, and you will get it." It had been a full month; nothing, no car in sight.

All at once, Phil came into my little homemade gym with Loot in his hands. "Look, Marie!" he shouted, so excited. "Look, a Beetle car!" I laughed. "Yeah, how much?" He said, "Nothing at all! It says I will swap my beloved Beetle car for a JVC tape video maker." It was a Liverpool number, not far away. I said, "We have that video maker." "Exactly," Phil said. Our video maker was in perfect condition, with a video editor and a black zip-up leather bag.

"Omg!" he went in to phone. I was saying the magic word over and over. Phil came outside to me and said, "Marie, the man is on his way to look at the video maker." We couldn’t believe it; I even said, "It’s a hoax."

It was two hours later when we got a knock on the door. OMG, the man in his 50s stood there, but my eyes were focused only on this wonderful car. In he came, tried the machine, and said, "Yep, ok it’s a deal, providing you like the car and do not want cash with it." He said, "I have no money." I said, "Well, neither do we."

Out we went; that sexy blue car was calling my name. It was noisy but started the first time, and Phil took it for a ride around the block. I looked at Phil’s face when they walked in. The man gave me the keys, smiling, "It’s yours deal, done." We offered him refreshments; he declined, saying his son would be here any moment as he had nipped to the local Asda with his wife.

The son beeped outside, and the man waved goodbye, saying, "Good luck." And off they went. "OMG," I said, "Pinch me, I’m dreaming, Phil." Phil showed me the logbook and all the paperwork—it was really ours. He told Phil how he and his wife wanted to film his grandson, who played the guitar and sang. The only way to get an expensive recorder for them was to part with his Beetle car. It was blue, with leather seats; it passed its MOT no problem, and it was really ours.

The thing about the car was its registration—if you doubt this story being true, look at the story photograph. The registration was ORB. Now that is a mystic name, wouldn’t you agree? Phil used the car for work, and when he did mornings, from 6 am till 2 pm, the car was so noisy it used to set car alarms off that were parked nearby. We had so many years of good, safe trips in our "Orby," as that was our nickname for her. She was manifested by a magic word when all hope for us ever to get one was out of our reach.

I will never forget her. We sold her on years later when there was too much welding to do, and we couldn’t afford to make her new again. The car came from a universal magic word and wish. This story is 100% true, and it is my story to tell. Thank you for reading it.

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