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Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Erotica · #1876193
Nicotine, valium, vicodin, marijuana, ecstasy and alcohol



              Saint Bipolar was chained between two men
        in a S&M dungeon. Her chains fastened her to the floor.
        There she slept in a drunken haze of vicodin and Vodka.
        She could see the cross of Calvary and the King of the Jews
        in her dream. She walked to the Prince of Heaven and knelt
        before him. "I am just a poor prostitute, but I swear my life
        to you."  The words buzzed in her head like
        a swarm of bees. "Arise. Young bride of God." An Angel
        spoke to her and the chains that had bound her
        dropped off.

              "Am I dreaming?" Saint Bipolar asked. The Angel stood
        before her in radiant raiments and offered his hand.
        "Take my hand and we will begin your reclamation."
        There was a bight light as they passed through the heavy metal
        door. Saint Bipolar could see the entire city as the Angel guided
        her off the roof. She fell several stories to her death.
        But, her state of grace opened the golden gates of Heaven to her
        and the eternal love of her husband Jesus Christ.

        Reflections: What is a life without a dream?

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