Prophet

A thousand bees never settling down, buzzed within his head. Their confused drone, into a ruffled rumble grew, lengthening into frenzied drumbeats, taking the might of roaring waves or gaining the momentum of a plane, prior to take off. Mind lacking coordination limbs receiving discordant commands, He suddenly hurtled into the streets, stepping out from regimented norms and breaking loose the tether of reason, never walking, never running but scuttling from side to side like a piece of driftwood over the current. Hearing the cawing of a crow suddenly, he into a prophet grew. stood with arms outstretched, waiting for the crumb of bread to be dropped in the manner Elijah was fed by the raven in his lonesome cave. Seeing the audience swelling bigger he was enthused, greatly cheered. The riff- raff and the scraps swarmed around to see the show. Mounting the steps to the pulpit, in unfaltering voice and with fire in his words, to the congregation, surveying him with fun and sneer, he thundered……… “The Doom’s Day is near” With finality in his tone, he said- “Repent and flee from the wrath to come. The tree that doesn’t bring forth, good fruits shall be hewn down, and cast into eternal fire.” The transition was quite easy. He scurried from Elijah to John the Baptist and from John the Baptist to Elijah oscillating between sense and non-sense. __________________________ March. 28.2023 ~ Placed Second~ Writing Challenge, ‘P’ Words Sponsor – Constance La France In my school days, I used to see him very often in junctions and bus stops. He was unshaven and ragged in appearance, but in his eyes, there was a kind of fire and he paced about restless east to west and west to east as if he had an urgent mission to accomplish. His words still ring in my ears. My heart goes out to those whom we call lunatics!