Short Stories

Not A Prophecy

535 Words | No trigger warnings

"This isn't a prophecy, it's a fanfic!"

"You're joking." I whip around to face my partner. Whick and I have been travelling the world for nearly two years now, searching for the prophecy that will save our world. There are hundreds of other groups like us, all part of a government organization called the Brigade of Prophecy Seekers. Every day, we scour the world for what has become known as the Second Prophecy.

"Believe me, I wish I was," she says. There's a piece of brittle parchment rolled out on her desk. The badge that identifies "Whitney Chadwhick" as a BPS-certified Forgotten Languages Expert sits on the far corner of the paper, helping to keep it open.

We obtained the scroll from an old vault just yesterday, at no low cost. It took us months to locate the vault itself and days to figure out how to open it without risking damaging anything inside. "Would you care to elaborate?" I ask. A pit of frustration is already starting to build in my stomach. I try to keep it at bay; it would be unfair to get snippy with Whick when she's done nothing wrong.

"It's written in Old Eufrean, which hasn't been fully translated yet, so I don't understand all of it, but the gist is two popular Eufrean poets, ah, doing the do."

"So you're telling me that our only lead in months took us to a crappy, ancient fanfic?" I ask, finding it harder to keep the frustration out of my voice.

Whick turns in her chair to look at me. "Oh, no, I never said it was bad. Objectively, the word choice and grammar are spot on. Not my cup of tea, though. I prefer a nice fantasy book with a focus on the political climate of the...." She trails off when she sees my face. "Sorry. I know you were hoping this would be the one."

"Weren't you?" It seems strange to me that she could care so little about this failure.

"I mean, of course. But I'm used to not finding what we're looking for. We've been searching for two years, Gail, and every lead we've followed has either been a dead end or taken us to something totally different. We just have to brush it off and keep going."

"It's so hard, though, Whick. The fate of the world literally rests on the BPS' shoulders. According to the First Prophecy, we only have another year left. If someone doesn't find the prophecy, it's game over for everyone." Tears are welling up in my eyes now. I've moved past frustration and into utter defeat.

"Oh, Gail," Whick comes over and hugs me tight, "I know. This all sucks. But we can't give up. The First Prophecy said there's a second one somewhere on Earth, and the stupid thing hasn't been wrong yet. We need to keep searching. Whether it be us or another group, someone has to find it eventually."

I know she's right, but for the moment I allow myself to feel helpless, to give in to the crushing hopelessness of the situation and be comforted by the constant pressure of Whick's arms. I can be strong again tomorrow.

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