Had some fun with the concept of writing a prophecy for a story. Share and enjoy.
The Prophecy
“What do you see?” he compels the prophet.
“Nothing, nothing,” he says, covering his glowing eyes. Curling into a ball he shudders, convulsions rippling along his body. Faintly, the prophet intones, “Nothing, nothing, I see nothing.”
The tired procedure is well known to the officer’s adjuncts. Without missing a beat, they replace their prophet upon the wooden chair before the admiral’s desk. The admiral is, as it were, half listening to the precedings, moving papers and pens about his desk.
“Really,” he says in a bored drawl, “I thought we quite worked this all out last time.” Looking up from the already well-read report he had with great show been glancing over, he bared down on the prophet, his hard stare freezing the convulsing man’s blood like a long winter would a river. “I told you never to lie to me.” He wasn’t a man to repeat himself, and he waited. The truth would come out one way or another.
Finally, the prophet uncovers his eyes, their brilliant blue light filling the room. The cowering, pleading voice of the broken man was replaced by the uncanny resolution of a god. The adjuncts, try as they might, all drew back. Only the admiral, and the man standing in the shadows of the corner, stayed their ground.
Woe unto the people who grieve,
who sit and cry in the dust of death.
Their hope is lost—all will perish—
for the ancient dragons awake.
You, the tyrant of the seas,
your greed has undone the world.
The treasure you have stolen
shall drown the oceans with blood.
Now, heed this prophet;
listen to his words.
Three generations
will be born from you.
The seventh son
from dead womb comes.
Eyes pale and blind
will learn to see.
This hero,
born to right
your own wrongs,
sails the seas.
His hand
commands
the waves
and winds.
He
is
your
doom.
Tale Told 