Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: Left: Remained, or Departed (11/20/25)
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TITLE: Three Days | Previous Challenge Entry
By Connie Sommers
11/27/25 -
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“You need to close the open door.” I was told this many times, and many times I thought, “I have none.” Yet, I did. Drugs, alcohol, and sex flooded my entire life. I did not just have one open door to the devil, I had an entire hallway of wide-open spaces he had rights to. My life was filled with relapses, becoming the devil’s playground was an ongoing battle I faced on countless occasions, a holy war if you will. God had specific plans for my life, and I was tiring of the roller-coaster of deception from Satan and running from God’s calling upon my life. Three days, after months of psychosis induced from unrestrained access to methamphetamines, I broke. Completely shattered under the torment of darkness. Convinced I was possessed by Satan himself, I crawled to the closet.
The closet. It had become the portal to hell in my mind. I could smell the stench of wet dog the hounds of hell had left behind while guarding those evil gates of darkness. Those beasts were put there to allow spirits of all kinds to enter, and I was helpless as the demons continued freely shifting about in my room. Incessantly determined, they persisted tirelessly. I went to the priest at the local Catholic church for holy water. I am not Catholic, but I was so desperate to rest and have the voices stop that I would have done anything, and I did. Holy water had to work, it did in the movies. The priest demanded that I delete all the books about demons from my phone, but in my insanity, I could not remove them. It was all I had left to understand them. To make them my friends so they would leave me alone, so they would like me enough to leave.
“Psalm 91”, said the priest. “Read it, read it out loud, in your closet.” I left that church with holy water and a fear cemented so deeply inside, that just breathing was suffocating the remaining cries of courage I tried to muster. Yes, I am a Christian and was then. Living in sin so deep, the Holy Spirit was left to reside within the smallest corner of my heart, now covered by a thick, demonic black sludge. I did what the priest said and crawled into that closet with nothing left of my faith. The demons were too powerful. I thought, “they are going to rip me to shreds,” as I dumped holy water everywhere, soaking all that was left in my closet. Crosses in red ink littered the walls which I had scribbled for protection. I read fast leaving no room for the voices in my head to laugh maliciously, their words dripping with contempt for the Almighty God.
Flying across the room went that Bible. I threw it screaming out to God, “Please save me, help me, they are killing me.” “I cannot breathe, I am overwhelmed, and so tired.” I got up grabbing the case with my drugs, I will end this. I need rest. I need sleep. I need God to be here. He is the only one to save what is left of me. I knew the amount of drugs in that needle would kill me, I could taste it. In an instant He reached out, touching my hand, the needle dropped and so did I. To my knees I fell. The demons and voices gone, deafening silence while Jesus picked up the pieces left of me. The darkness could not remain in the light shining through the holes in his hands. Hands that saved my life that night.
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