By Melissa L. Webb
She opened the worn leather book , its over-sized pages cracking with age. She sneezed as the movement stirred the dust clinging to it as she turned to the last page. Her eyes drifted to the last bit of blank space left in the book. How quickly time passed. She’d written the first prophecy before time even started. Now here she was, pen poised to document the Last Prophecy. The one that would change everything.
She stared at her hands as she wrote, worn and wrinkled as the leather book. The prophecies were her burden to carry; and she had for so long. The words burned into her mind with such intensity they had to be bled onto the paper; either that or she would surely combust from within for containing such knowledge.
They weren’t hers to keep. She was the messenger; only a slave to the paper and ink. Yet…it was changing. This was the last. They were letting her go because there was nothing else to write.
Laying the pen aside, she stared at the words, weariness building in her like a wave. Why was there only one left?
Leaning closer to the page, she blew, letting her dry, old breath seal in the ink, forging it there forever. Her eyes drank in the words one last time, trying to release them from her mind. Two lives separated must now become one. The changing world must be undone. The light in the darkness needs protected at all cost. If it should fail, then all is lost.
She pushed the curiosity from her mind as she closed the old book, placing it on a shelf. It blended in with the other books around it. Now obsolete in this time of transition.
She walked away, her old bones creaking as she went. The prophecy was no longer her burden. It sat upon the shoulders of the oracles in the world below her. Let them worry and fret, making sense from the words her mind bore.
It didn’t matter what it meant. Only that it was the last. She could move on, no more words and ink stains. No more messages being forced into her mind. She was free.
© 2015 Melissa L. Webb