Arms spinning, demonic dance played through her bones and pressed against her skin.
She dodged spitting fire as tremors threatened the rebellion’s translation.
Surrounded, suppressed, smothered by a crowd drenched in screams of damnation.
Amongst the masses, she related by pain to strangers same as kin.
“What was done to deserve this?” repeated through thoughts and shouts as question.
In an unknown fashion, she realized, “We’ve all rejected salvation.”

                                She heard the trumpet sound, and her name was not found.
                                             Hearing Devil’s laughter, in fire ever after.

A knifelike pulse of effusion shot through me, echoing the devil’s laughter in my ear.
If I cried aloud or not, I didn’t heed. A jolt, a heartbeat, a gasp. I was awake.
My nerves were perfectly discomposed then and there as I discovered my new worst fear.
In the realest of dreams, I’d tasted hell’s smoke as earth beneath me had begun to break.
Now sitting in my bed, conviction whispered around me in the form of another tear.

Breaking a gap in the silence, an urgency sustained my patience.

In flight of fancy, the darkness seemed almost to suffocate;
I couldn’t tell if my eyes were actually closed in sleep.
Though the duration of night still asked the rising sun to wait,
my mind was alive with screams of Hell’s passion, hardly skin-deep.

I’ve heard the rapture story once, twice upon many a time.
But Hell becomes far more than a word used a dozen a dime
when the Devil snarls, and all demons find strength in their hold on sinners like me
My dream was host of this truth, which I solely felt with the greatest intensity.
Every sin was revealed; against every athiest claim was seen the prophesy.
Every lie was exposed; demons’ fiction contrasted with the red words’ honesty.

Yet through a peace I’ve never felt, my mind is now clear against all odds.
Now entertained by only one thought, knowing my death will come if I don’t take action.
A craving of forgiveness matures as my tears are begging for it’s satisfaction.
Searching for the book I know will be dustiest on the shelf,
This time finally aloud, the single thought repeats itself:
“This changes everything.”

"This Changes Everything"
By: Ann Clary