Joan Hart let out a shout of joy and relief. What she believed was true, after all! Jesus did have the power to dispel evil! She had prayed to Him in His own words, and He had given her the power to tread on scorpions. The large ugly bird, sent by Satan, had been banished by the power of His word. She praised His name.

And at that moment the raven landed on her from behind with a horrendous screech, driving its terrible talons deep into her scalp.

Joan Hart let out a shriek far more piercing than the bird's had been. She beat at the creature, flailed at it with her arms, trying to drive it from her head, but it attacked her arms with its beak and dug in with its claws, embedding them so deeply in her flesh that they could not be dislodged!

Eyes wild and intent with purpose, the raven leaned down over Joan's lovely tear-stained face; it opened its jagged yellow beak wide and pecked at her face again and again, tearing away small pieces of skin with each blow, until its beak was red and dripping with her blood.

Screaming in agony, Joan raised her face to the sky, a sky she could no longer see, imploring someone, anyone, to deliver her from this pain. Where her eyes once had been were now two bloody sockets, split open and torn apart, rivulets of blood streaming down her cheeks in a travesty of tears.

Then the raven spread its wings and flew off, soaring high into the sky like an avenging demon from hell, pieces of hair and skin still stuck to its claws.

Reeling in agony, Joan stumbled off the road and slipped down a muddy bank into a ditch. At first she lay there sobbing and twisting about suddenly she lost all energy and lay very still.

Minutes passed.

And then there was a sound, the sound of a diesel engine. In the distance, an eighteen-wheel Peterbilt was coming down the road. Coming fast.

She lifted her head. Was it possible? She scrambled to her feet and tried to find her way back to the road. She slipped in the mud and slid back into the ditch. Her knees were scratched from her fall, and her hands were all covered with blood. She finally made it back onto the roadway. The truck was coming closer. She walked onto the road and started to shout and wave for help.

There is a phenomenon in auditory perception so that if a sound is coming directly at you, it is virtually impossible to tell whether it is in front of you or behind. And Joan Hart had no eyes. When the Peterbilt veered around the corner, going much faster than it ought to on such a narrow country road, the driver saw a wild, bedraggled woman standing in the middle of the road and waving for help—facing the opposite direction.