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"Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth." Matthew 5:5
HE STOOD in the street screaming at the top of his lungs. On most of the days he would go unnoticed. A figment of your imagination. Today, however, after being imagined for so long, he desired to be made known.  To become real to your reality by sharing the reality that he foresaw.

So there he was on 5th and SW Stark street screaming what sounded to be obscure absolute madness.  About the wars to come, visions to be awakened and the suffering that was near.

He said he was a prophet. He claimed he had visions.  He called for repentance.  His love was strained.

His eyes, glassy. His vision, distant.  In some other reality.

Police were called.  The people knew what they knew.  They knew he would need to be shut up.  Most feared him.  Few heard his words.  For they were madness, noise to their ears.  

Except it wasn't madness. He was a man tired of seeing the future.  All the words he spoke would be true in a matter of 3 years, 2 days and 6 hours.  He wasn't mad, he was mad.

He was a prophet.  He held his words holy for years until God told him to call repentance.

His name was Elijah.  His God was Yahweh.  He obeyed his God.  His God told him to call repentance.  

When the police arrived they taped off the area.  Secured the chaos that they saw.

Calmly talking to him, he didn't hear a word they said.   He was battling in the darkness that was to come and not the clouded day that was. He was sent to deliver a message.  He was following the God that he knew.

Tensions mounted.  Realities collided.

He reached for a scroll in his robe to share the rest of his message.  He never got to share the scroll.  

Three shots rang out.  

He gripped the scroll.  Crumpled over.  His message incomplete and covered in blood.

They would call it a weapon.  He called it the word of God.  They shared different realities.

To them, he was homeless.  Vagabond.  John Doe.  Unknown.  To God, he was the meek.

And his message, now covered in blood, would soon be realized.

Realities would merge.  The message would be repeated. The meek speak.

3 years, 2 days and 4 hours.
This is a concept story teaser for a novelette.
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Submitted on
March 5