No Longer a Puppet on a String: A True Story A Thrilling Transformation

At eighteen, Cindy shook her fist at God and . . .
sold her soul to the devil.
The evil taskmaster pulled the strings.
The puppet frantically danced.

A true story by Cindy Langley, a girl from a small Louisiana town.

Hypnotized by the pleasures of sin and running wildly from her past, Cindy ignored the destructive whirlwind coming dangerously close. The turbulence from the winds sucked her up and dragged her through a failed marriage, entertainment clubs, numerous relationships, and addictions. It slammed her into the ground.

Living a secret double life, she clumsily navigated through the harsh realities of daily living. Every morning, she drank a deadly cocktail of swirling emotions. Deny and repress them. Cover and ignore them. Shush them. Refuse to let them go. She tried to change her circumstances by creating another make-believe world of fantasy and intrigue. Visits to the deviant world of the occult with fortune-tellers and psychics magnified the problem. Cloaked with a blanket of impurity and veiled in wickedness, she walked forbidden trails. The puppet frantically danced as she chose crooked paths over straight and narrow ones. Spiraling out of control, Cindy linked arms with the darkness and ran from the light. That's what you do when you don't want your secrets exposed. She ran through jail cells, psyche wards, crippling mental diagnoses, and self-injury.

In her twisted and broken condition, another reckless decision led her to consequences that pushed her to the edge. What edge? The edge of the cliff. Her precarious mental stability hung over a cliff. Dare she look? Maybe, cautiously. Her heart jumped into her throat. If someone plunged over the edge, (of course it would not be her), they would have nothing to grab onto during their descent. Dully, she thought, "How long would it take to hit, I mean, get to the bottom?" The self-control she tried to keep a firm grip on slipped through her fingers. The murkiness below the edge desired to suck her down past the jagged rocks into the abyss. Words stuck together and became sentences she could not vocalize. "Something is wrong. I don't know what it is, and I don't know what to do about it." The words stayed in her head and refused to leave her mouth. It didn't matter. No one would hear them. She was alone. Could she keep this descent from happening? It seemed so . . . unavoidable.