The Prophet of Doom

IN THE MORNING, Steven helped load the raft with melons, and then asked how he could get across. The melon farmer showed him how to build a raft like his own. When it was finished, it was obvious that the raft was much too big for Steven’s meager belongings, so the melon farmer suggested that they load Steven’s raft with melons as well. When they were finished, two rafts were loaded with melons and ready to cross the river with Steven’s belongings wedged into a tiny corner of one raft. The farmer looked at the load with satisfaction and announced that they would cross the river the next morning.

The day’s work done and a meal in their stomachs, the farmer turned to Steven for the story of his hat. Now Steven was an honest man, but having heard the wonderful story about the obstructive bridge made him feel as though the story of making his hat was small by comparison. It needed to be much more important to be a good story. So, Steven cleared his throat and began in his best story-telling voice.

ONCE UPON A TIME, long ago but not so very far away, there was a peaceful little village that knew little of the world outside its cluster of huts and the meeting hall where they gathered for festivals and councils. The village had occupied this little spit of land for as long as any could remember. They supplied their own needs and fed themselves from their gardens and herds of sheep. The only people they saw from outside their village were those from the mountain village who joined them once each year for an autumn feast, where the young could dance, and seek marriage partners for the long winter months ahead.

No one else had come to the village in the memory of any of the elders. There were no roads that led from the village, only trails that led to the hunting, grazing, and planting lands that surrounded it. They were a happy people with no other particular cares.

One day there was a great stir in the village as a child had seen, from far off, a stranger walking through the fields. He was dressed in a foreign fashion with long black robes and a hat that defied description. By the time the stranger approached the village, all of the people had gathered at the council house. The stranger walked silently between the standing people making his way to the step where the village elder, the shaman, the wise woman, and the hunter stood waiting for him. The stranger stopped before them and raised a bony finger, shaking it in the face of the elder.

“You and all your people have been marked for eternal suffering by the dragon who sits in judgment over all mankind,” the stark figure intoned. “Repent, therefore, and worship the one who judges you.”

Well, that created quite a stir among the people. They had never heard of this dragon and had lived in peace all their lives. But the elder was a just and wise man. He, interpreting the shaking finger of the missionary as a greeting from this foreign person, stretched out his own bony finger at the stranger and intoned his own greeting.

“You will suffer a feast with the people this very day and will tell us the story that has brought you to our step. Bathe therefore in the river and present yourself at this step at sundown to trade stories with the people.”

The missionary had apparently heard every kind of invitation and threat before so he puffed himself up and raised his voice.

“I will be at this step when the sun touches the mountains. Let every man, woman, and child ready themselves to hear of their doom and to eat the fruits that have been placed before them.” With that, the missionary silently departed and went to the river to wash. The village made immediate preparations for a feast and to greet the strange guest as the elder instructed. This feast—for all it was short notice—was as bountiful as the annual two-village festival. Everyone was gathered together at the council house by the time the sun touched the mountain and the aromas of baked goods and roast fowl filled the air.

In the sun’s last gleams, the stranger once again approached, and his incredible hat seemed to catch and hold the fire of the sun as he strode boldly among the people to the steps where the elder, wise woman, hunter, and shaman awaited him. They escorted him inside the council house, seated him at the table among them, and feasted.