The Last Prophet: Part I

Jessie knocked on the door of The Last Prophet with a cart full of cookies and a practiced smile.

“Hi! I’m selling Girl Scout cookies! My goal is to sell ten boxes of cookies to reach my goal of five-hundred dollars. Will you help me to reach my goal?”

Jessie smiled again as she finished the script her mother had downloaded off the internet. The Last Prophet stared thoughtfully at her little smile and nodded.

“Ten boxes?” asked Jessie, hopeful.

He nodded again. Then, held out his hand. She placed the clipboard and a pen into it and he began slowly jotting down his information. Jessie’s mother had told her not to come to this house. She said the man living there was a creep. He didn’t seem so bad. Even the house wasn’t all that odd. There was one of those little tube things attached to the inside of the door frame but, she’d seen that plenty of times. Even if this one was a particularly ghastly shade of purple.

“My mother says your strange.” She said from a place of boredom and curiosity, he really was taking his time.

“Your mother sounds like a smart lady.” The Last Prophet responded, still jotting. Jessie didn’t think so but she thought about it for a polite two seconds before asking “Why?”

“People aren’t fond of things they don’t understand.” The Last Prophet replied.

“Why don’t people understand you?”

The Last Prophet stopped his pen for a moment and looked almost lost in thought before chuckling. “I suppose if they tried, they might.” He went back to jotting.

“Can I try?”

“You really think you can?” He said it the way a grandfather might ask if you really can run that fast.

“Yes.” Said Jessie, standing her ground.

“Well okay then.” The Last Prophet handed the clipboard back to Jessie, the form all filled out. “I am The Last Prophet. Do you know what a prophet is?”

Jessie nodded, unsure. Something religious, she knew that much.

“Well you see, when a prophet is given a message from god his sole purpose is to deliver that message to the world. But you see, the message I am meant to deliver is the very last message, and it scares me. It scares me so terribly that I have never been able to utter a word of it. And so, I cannot die until I do. And, I never shall. So people will be thinking me rather strange for quite some time I suppose.” He smiled.

Jessie cocked her head to the side. “What’s the message?”

“Well, if I told you that I’d most likely keel over right here and there you’d be, traumatized for the rest of your days.”

“What does traumatized mean?”

“Means you’d be a lot like me.” The Last Prophet replied.

Jessie thought about it. “Well, you don’t seem so bad. But you are strange.”

“As I said, your mother is a smart lady. Now head home and order me those cookies if you don’t mind.”

Jessie eyed him suspiciously. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. But, you’re welcome to come by any time.”

“Will you tell me the message if I do?” Jessie asked.

“Doubtful.”

She frowned. “You’ll tell me someday.” She said, awkwardly maneuvering her cart off the porch.

“Mark your words?” The Last Prophet sung after her in a girlish tone.

“What does that mean?” she called back.

“Oh nothing. It was lovely to meet you.”

“You too.” She said, smiling for real this time.

 

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