Don’t Play with the Power

A simple tent revival scam was all it was ever supposed to be, all it had ever been. But this time it wasn’t and I know I’ll never see anything like it again – ever.

Sitting in the second row, I watched as Sister Laurel took the stage like she had so many times before. And I was there in the audience, an unseeing shill, like so many times before.

What happened next is a mystery. Sister Laurel prayed, sang, shouted, and danced like she usually would but then she stopped cold, grew rigid, head back, gurgling before she began to shake violently before regaining herself.

“Must be something new added at the last minute,” I thought, noting that the yokels didn’t seem to be buying into her act.

Then Sister Laurel made an altar call and she began to heal those not in on our gag.

They walked, leaving canes, crutches, and wheelchairs, dancing in the aisles. Others began to speak though mute all their lives, to see for the first time, and still other’s to hear.

Like I said, I’ve never seen anything like it – and never will again – as the blind woman next to me began to see.

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