Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: CHILL (10/27/16)
TITLE: Texting JESUS
By Gary Ritter
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“She drinking herself under the table.”
“Because she hates her life. Your predecessor should have completed the possession, but she beat him back. Don’t let that happen with you.”
I saluted and went to work, confident in my ability. The man at the bar beside Mary slurred, “Hey, baby, we need to know each other better.”
That would never do. Even someone as sloshed as her would certainly reject a buffoon of that magnitude. I spotted a good looking guy across the bar and whispered, “Check out that one. She’s ready for a trade-in.”
He heard me loud and clear. A quick look in the barroom mirror, a debonair smile, and he strode to the rescue. Within moments the loser was on the floor, and Mary was on my guy’s arm. Naturally, they ended up exactly where I wanted her.
The next morning she felt around for her paramour, groaned at his absence, and stumbled into the bathroom to down five aspirin. While she looked in the mirror, I helped her out a little. “Another night, another empty morning. How long till you quit trying? Is there any point to all this?”
She answered what she imagined was a thought that had cropped up on its own. “I need help.”
Her desperation made the heat within me come almost to a boil. So good! “There’s no one. You’re all alone. Life is a dead-end street.”
I didn’t expect the next thing out of her mouth. “God, help me.”
The exchange hadn’t even occurred yet, and I felt the chill. This wasn’t supposed to happen.
Mary picked up her phone and began entering numbers. From the first number in the text address I knew her intent. 53787. Innocuous enough, but on the phone’s keypad it spelled JESUS. I’d seen others try this stunt, and I’d shut them all down. This had to be stopped in its tracks. “Curse God because of what He’s done to you. Texting Jesus can’t help you. It’s only a stupid number.”
She put down the phone and nodded. “It is a silly idea. This is all I’ll ever be: a drunken slut. Might as well get in bed with Satan because God wouldn’t want me.”
That was good enough for my purposes. She opened the door, and I stepped right in. Good morning, Mary. I’m your new soulmate. Now I was really warm and cozy.
The next several days we had great fun. I introduced Mary to cocaine, and in a wild moment showed that shooting heroin was even better. What was alcohol compared to the glories of debauchery under the influence of these life destroying drugs?
Throughout all this I wasn’t in complete control. Mary was Mary most of the time. I only assumed total dominance when I could accelerate her breakdown.
Whatever triggered the memory, Mary caught me off guard in the second week of our romance. She tried again to reach out to the Enemy’s Son through another text. To my surprise she received an answer.
**What can I tell you about Jesus?**
Mary’s response devastated me.
**Is He real? Is Satan real? Can Jesus defeat Satan?**
How unfaithful! I couldn’t believe she would do this to me. Goosebumps rose and traveled through me from top to bottom. It was singularly unpleasant. This was no good.
I watched them exchange a few more texts, until I knew I had to step in. I shoved Mary aside and typed: **SHE’S MINE. YOU CANNOT HAVE HER.** I clicked the phone off and enjoyed the power of owning her body for days while she had no concept of what I was doing.
She awoke from her blackout in a strange bed with bruises all over and a bodily hunger for more drugs. While I congratulated myself on a successful mission, she reached for her phone. Again she entered 53787. Where was this strength coming from?
**I need Jesus.**
**He loves you. Repent. Trust that He died for your sins.**
Icicles formed on the tears that rolled down my face. She had forsaken me, the one closer to her than anyone had ever been. I began to shiver.
The person chatting with Mary texted one more thing.
**Renounce Satan in the name of Jesus to be free.**
She did. A knife of ice went through my heart. I screamed and fled.
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