She Will Be Judged Chapter 1

She was pinned against a hot, metal plank, melting against her skin, stinging her as she shrieked. Starved of any energy, her arms and leg strapped tightly in every corner, she gurgled a dying screech, in response to the uncomfortably gradual stretch of her ligaments as the burning plark expanded, and the distant low-toned laughter that connoted superiority reined her eardrums relentlessly.

Let me live! Let me live! Were her last words, but words she could not cry out, as hard she as she tried, she could not. It was as if her mouth had been glued together by dried up blood and saliva. She stared intensely into the surrounding fiery embers and human flesh withering away into the smoke. I will do better, I promise, God forgive me! Please, sweet lord! She cried tears which immediately turned to steam, sizzling her eyeballs as she wept in surrender.

She coughed violently, gagging on her own tonsils. The flames crept closer, and her face grew more tolerant of the heat. The fatigue had set in, but the pain was nil. She was dead. Dead of any feelings or pain, now the burning was simply a sensation like any other. The laughter was increasing in clarity; the deep tone was deepening more. And its powerful nature, swayed her to feel fear, fear which overwhelmed the physical pain she had felt. The laugh was a presence, attacking her with punishment. GOD FORGIVE ME! She begged and begged, unable to scream, only strain both hemispheres of her brain trying to vocalise her trauma. LORD HAVE MERCY! LORD HAVE MERCY! She trembled like a demonically possessed leper, frothing at the mouth, unable to restrain herself from crying.

She had no control; it was all out of her control. As her ligaments started to stretch even further again, the physical pain returned, and she whimpered pathetically like a helpless puppy. She twisted her head in all directions, in a desperate attempt to see what manoeuvred this plank of peril. Then through quick observation, she realised what she was pinned against, this rotting wood, plank of death. She shrieked in submission to who she knew must’ve been responsible; the traitor to the Lord. She was being crucified; crucified in the flames of hell. LORD HAVE MERCY!

“Maria, wake up Maria! Maria” Maria’s husband Joe grappled her worryingly. Maria had been in a fit of screams, tossing and turning for the past ten minutes. The clock timed 2’o’clock. In instant fright, she rose upwards defensively, repelling the supposed danger with her fingers in the sign of the crucifix. “HELP ME GOD! HELP ME!” she repeated this like a ritual, sweating, over and over. Joe embraced her from behind and rocked her in his arms, unsurprised by yet again one of her horrific night terrors. “Shhhhhh, calm down Maria. It was a dream Maria, calm down Maria.” She was crying, but slowly ceased, as she levelled out her breath. When she regained control again, they both released themselves from their lovingly tight grip of each other, and lay down in silence on the bed, until one of them were brave enough to speak. Crickets chimed blissfully outside, a fitting cliché’. Several minutes passed. “Go back to sleep Maria.”