Old Blogger's Tales

Post-Apocalyptic Doom Prophet

Post-Apocalyptic Doom Prophet by glumshoe on tumblr

[glumshoe does not exist anymore and neither does the original post but glumshoe backup blog exists]

Start

"Shouldn't you be happy?" he asked. "All your predictions have come true!"

The seer scowled at him. "No, I'm not happy," she said sourly. "I'm a doom prophet. I predict the end of the world. Now that it's here, anyone can do my job." She toke a long drag from her clove cigar and exhaled slowly, watching the ribbon of white smoke curl towards the ceiling. "See that? Toxic chemicals released into the atmosphere. Big whoop."

"Oh." He frowned. "So. You're out of a job."

"Life's a bitch," she chuckled darkly. "And then you die. How's that for a prophecy, eh?" 

"You know what's fucked up?" she said, slinging her arm across his shoulder like an old friend. She smelled like potpourri and burnt rice.

"Everything?" he guessed.

She cackled, sharp and dry as old leaves, and pinched his cheek. "Knock that off," she said. "You're too young to be a cynic. Show some respect for your elders and earn you bitter outlook like the rest of us."

"Aren't 'my elders' the ones who got us into this mess?" he asked in mock innocence, jerking his face away and ducking out from under her arm. "I mean, a toxic wasteland is not much of an inheritance."

The old women peered at him from the corner of her eye, mouth twitching as though it could not decide between a smile or a frown. "You kids get older every year, don't you?" She hummed to her and crossed the room to the minifridge in the corner. "Beer?" 

"No thanks," he said quickly. "I'm not old enough."

"If you're old enough to die in an apocalypse, you're old enough to drink." She glanced up at him and winked. "Smart, though, I wouldn't accept a drink from a creepy old witch, either."

"I don't think you're creepy." he lied.

She popped the cap off the bottle with her teeth and took a swig. "Oh, well, don't you have a silver tongue." She wiped her mouth with her hand and closed the fridge with a kick. "I'm not old, either. I'm only fifty."

"But you are a witch?"  

She opened her arms wide and gestured around the apartment, at the bundles of dried herbs hanging from the ceiling , at the old kettle boiling quietly on a hotplate. It didn't look especially mystical, but it wasn't going to make it to the cover of Better Homes and Gardens. "Of course I'm a witch. Who isn't, these days?" She dropped her arms with a sigh and took another drink. "I wasn't always. I used to be a scientist, did you know? It's funny. You can publish thirty peer-reviewed papers on how bioaccumulation of rodenticides in birds of prey is causing massive die-off of raptors, but do they listen? Do they ban the agricultural use of Rodex K? No! They call you an alarmist with an agenda and cite 'opposing viewpoints" from shitbag lobbyists. But if you ditch the lab coat and start waving incense around and warn people about birds falling from the sky, suddenly you wisdom is indisputable." She slammed her beer on the counter and wagged a bony finger at him. "Remember that. Be as cryptic as possible to be taken seriously." 

"You give interesting advice,"  he said mildly.

"Yeah? There's more where that came from. Floss. Drink water. Don't sit on the toilet for too long." She cupped her hands over her mouth and lowered her voice to a whisper. "Hemorrhoids." 

End

[One of my personal favourites! Its terrifyingly realistic, this probably what's gonna happen in a while.] [I do not own anything nor was I involved in writing this at all. All credits to glumshoe]