It was Palm Sunday and all morning I had this uneasy feeling and I felt sick to my stomach.
I sat quietly in the confession booth waiting for that broken heart and soul to come to me and confess
their pains and sorrows.
Dred and foreboding, the kind I have never experienced before was about me.
The evil energy that wisked into the confession booth was insatiably wicked and horrible.
I began to sweat heavily and the palms of my hands were wet too.
The dark soul sounded like a machine, he was cold and empty and a chill shot up my spine and I wanted to vomit.
This man, very evil was he, for he kept punching the left palm of his hand with his right fist making a terrible smacking sound.
He told me in a cold empty whisper that he just killed his wife of three months and her two small children. I asked him why.
He cursed and I could smell the awful smell of his cigarette as he exhaled and the smoke went up into my nostrils.
I heard him curse GOD, then he pulled back on the chamber of his pistol and he shot himself in the head.
I began to cough and then I was choking and I could not breath or see, I felt SATAN pulling at me…I felt this ugly hatred, the hand of the devil soaked in blood was pulling at me and my eyes were burning as though they were on fire.
I began to cry.
I shouted at the top of my lungs: “JESUS! SAVE ME?”
The door of the confession booth blew off like someone set off a high explosive.
I kept repeating the 23 Psalm and off in the distance I heard a blaing siren and then I
thought about Mother Teresa.
I saw Mother Teresa’s face above my own and she put out her hand to me and she told me to hold on.
When I awoke several days later, they told me I had a heart attack and for the first time I realized
the siren was for me.