The Prophecy | Short Story

The large basalt box under the cherry tree at the town's main square seemed to dare the group of boys to have a peek, but none dared take the first step.

Impatience grew bolder within the boys during those long summer days when there was no school to keep them busy. The day of their ceremony was only a few months away, but it was only late June and their fathers' vague warning against taking a look before they were ready had started to feel like a dare.

Antonius, the tallest of the group, had seen his brothers' ceremonies from a distance and dreamed of the day it'd be his turn to stand shivering and barefoot under the rusty cherry tree, his head shaved, and say the ancient words and look inside the box. What would it show him? Would he grow up to be the strong, brave man he hoped he'd become? He longed for oceans he had never seen, for the countries he had only read about in old tales, for the brotherhood of the soldiers and explorers he admired, for adventures and discoveries. His older brothers were his father's pride and joy, and he couldn't wait to grow out of their shadow.

"So? You're just going to stare at it? I knew none of you were brave enough to do it," an older boy taunted.

"I'll go first," Antonius shrugged, hoping he wouldn't notice the slight tremor in his voice.

He stood by the box for a few moments and closed his eyes, but the words didn't come to him, so he kneeled and plunged his head inside the box, as if diving into a cold river.

Right away, the ground melted under his knees and the darkness turned into a blinding light. He shut his eyes in terror and held on the the carved edges of the box as he fell deeper and deeper into his vision.

After what felt like an eternity, the ground steadied enough for him to open his eyes. Thick smoke turned the sky grey. Around him, rows of charred houses and the unbearable smell of burned flesh awakened in him an unexpected excitement. In the distance, the cherry tree was ablaze, and men around him cheered in victory.

He stood in the middle of the street, but he wasn't as he remembered. He was much taller, his hands, bigger, and his voice boomed among the chaos when he called his men around him.

Exhilaration washed over him, and he couldn't help but smile. The corpses on the street, the ruins, and the hundreds of voices calling his name filled him with an addictive delight. For the first time, he was powerful. Important.

A sudden yank in the arm brought him back to reality. He could hear the voices of the other boys in the distance, and the only people around him were a group of men. The cherry tree had only a few tints of red, and the houses were still standing. He didn't want to think about what he saw. That wasn't him. It wasn't real. In the present, it was normal a summer day and he was 13 years old and he didn't want to kill anyone.

One of the men was still grabbing his arm.

"What did you see?"

Antonius bit his lip hoping it'd keep him from crying.

"What did you see?!" the man insisted.

He didn't want to think about it -- the excitement of it all, the sound of his name repeated by people who'd follow him to their deaths. How could he explain? How could he stop himself from becoming what he saw?

"Help me," was all he could say before bursting into tears. The man put a hand on his shoulder and gently guided him toward the main road, where the rest of the group waited by a car. Antonius tried to focus on the scent of the impending rain, but all he could smell now was smoke and burnt flesh.

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Hi, and thanks for reading all the way to the end. I’ve been working on this one for a little while, and I’ve changed a few things from the draft I posted on my blog several months ago. I’m pretty happy with the result, and I hope you enjoyed it, too.

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