August 2007

An Actor's Nightmare Presents

#7 Memoirs of the Prophet Geisha

By Jerome Wetzel

To Amanda Bailey

True Friend.

Geisha looked around the square wildly. All of the other villagers were staring at him, some with fear, some with disbelief, some with pity, and still others with a sort of fascination that bordered on worship. Geisha backed away, not sure where he could go or what he would do. He just knew that he couldn’t stay here. Not with the entire settlement looking at him. Geisha turned and ran.

When he reached his family’s hut at the edge of the village, Geisha didn’t even bother to say hello to his mother. He ran to his corner, pulled his blanket off the floor, and tossed his few worldly possessions into it.

“Son, what are you doing?” asked his mom, turning away from the fire where she was preparing the evening feast, the smoke rising up through the pipe that Geisha had fastened only last winter. After sparing his mother a quick glance, Geisha turned away from the pipe, another reminder of the strange things that he saw. True, the villagers had appreciated that idea. He didn’t think his recent loud proclamation of doom went over quite so well, though.

“Where are you going?” asked his mother, when Geisha didn’t respond to her first question. She watched his packing with concern.

“Away from here,” said Geisha.

“Your uncle had these visions, too,” said his mother wisely. “He did not run away from his home over them.”

“Yes, well, did your brother proclaim to the whole of our village that they would be besieged upon and conquered by birds from the sky while he convulsed in the dust?” asked Geisha.

“No, he did not,” said his mother calmly. “Come now, Geisha. Do not abandon your family. Stay. People will forget eventually.”

“You do not understand. You did not see it,” said Geisha, refusing to meet her eyes. “No one will be forgetting this anytime soon.”

“That still is no reason for you to leave,” said his mother.

“There are many reasons for me to leave, mother,” said Geisha.

“Surely you will not travel far,” she replied.

“No. At least, not yet. I am heading for the caves up in the mountains,” said Geisha, reaching the decision as the words came out of his mouth. Yes, the caves. It felt right. He could be alone, and yet still feel at home, near to the place where he had spent his entire life.

“You are being silly, Geisha,” said his mother.

“Geisha,” said a female voice, lighter than his mother’s. It had a musical quality about it. Geisha recognized it instantly. He turned and saw his beloved, Mikla, in the doorway. Her animal skins didn’t cover all that much in the summer heat, and Geisha could see her lean body; that which he had come to love as his own. “Do not go.”

“I have to, Mikla,” said Geisha, determined not to let even her flesh tempt him to stay. Of course he cared about more than her body, but that was what was tantalizing him at the moment. No one could blame a young man of only sixteen for thinking such things.

“But we are to be married!” said Mikla. “You run from that?”

“You do not want to marry me, Mikla,” said Geisha.

“Of course I do,” said Mikla.

“You do,” said a third female voice. Geisha looked at the back of his hut, and saw a woman standing there. She looked insubstantial, as if she didn’t really exist. She was heavy set, ample bosomed, and had short, brown hair. Her eyes were framed by some sort of metal, and there appeared to be a clear surface between her eyes and the air. Her clothing was strange, too. It fit her form, and was in many pieces, yet quite unlike the skins that Geisha’s people wore, positioned precariously over their more sensitive parts.

“Who are you?” Geisha asked her.

“Geisha? Who are you speaking to?” asked his mother with concern. Geisha blinked. The strange girl was gone, as if she had never existed at all.. He turned around to face the two women who were standing very solidly in front of him, exchanging a concerned glance.

“No one. I need to go now. Please move out of my way,” said Geisha. The two women now stood shoulder to shoulder, blocking his exit from the hut.

“We will not allow you to go,” said Mikla firmly. “I love you, Geisha, and I do not care what the other villagers think of you. We will be very happy together.”

“Forgive me,” said Geisha softly, kissing her tenderly on the forehead, then pulling her out of his way by her shoulders. He began to run again as he left the village. No one else made a move to stop him. In fact, most of the citizens gave him a wide berth as he fled. He heard whispers about himself, about his uncle. They all thought that he was insane. Brack, even Geisha was beginning to believe that his mind wasn’t all there. Who saw visions of strange ghostly women in their hut? Wait, what was brack? Geisha had thought the word, but he had never heard it before. Where in the world did that come from?

“Here is a suitable place for you,” said the vision, appearing again sometime later, near a cave. Geisha stopped his climbing, bent in half, sweating and panting. He looked up at the strange woman, and then at the cave behind her. It did, indeed, appear to be the perfect place for him to settle.

“Who are you?” asked Geisha.

“My name is Meredith,” said the woman. “Meredith Reel.”

“Are you dead, Meredith Reel?” asked Geisha.

“Yes,” said Meredith. “I am. But in your timeline, I won’t even be born for several thousand years.”

“What? How is this possible?” asked Geisha.

“There are many wonders in the world, more than you can ever imagine. I’ll tell you, but not all at once. You are only sixteen years old. You have a long life ahead of you,” said Meredith.

“A long life… here?” asked Geisha uncertainly, not sure why he was engaging this hallucination.

“Yes,” said Meredith. “I will be back.” And then she disappeared as if blown away on the wind, dissolving into the air. Geisha gaped. He collapsed on the dirt and fell asleep.

When Geisha awoke, Meredith was sitting there again, looking just the same as she did before. He rubbed his eyes, sure that he had dreamed the events of yesterday. But no, he was here, on the mountain.

“Did you have a good rest?” asked Meredith.

“Yes, thank you,” said Geisha a bit awkwardly. “So you are… uh…”

“Still here, yes,” said Meredith.

“But if you died thousands of years in the future, then how…?” asked Geisha.

“You are an important piece of a great puzzle, perhaps the most important piece,” said Meredith. “I didn’t understand it all myself until I was dead, and neither will you.”

“I am not really seeing you, you know,” Geisha told her. “I am imagining you. I am crazy.”

“People thought that I was crazy, too,” said Meredith, her eyes reflecting some long ago pain.

“Really?” asked Geisha, feeling a strange connection to his apparition.

“Yes. I had visions, as you’ve had. Flashes of insight into the future. Until they destroyed my brain. I went completely batbrack crazy. My friends, and even my lover, locked me up. I didn’t know my own child. I don’t blame them, to be honest. I didn’t see reality, so much as time, endlessly washing over me in spurts, and I couldn’t make sense of it. It was an experience I’d never wish on anyone,” said Meredith. Geisha vaguely noted her use of the word ‘brack’, the word he hadn’t understood before when he had thought it himself, but there were too many more pressing questions clamoring in his brain to let that minor detail sidetrack him.

“Well, um, I am sorry for you,” said Geisha, trying to sound sympathetic and not let his impatience to ask her his burning queries overwhelm him. “So I am going crazy, too?”

“No, dear Prophet,” said Meredith with a sympathetic smile. “My visions happened in quick succession. It was too much for my brain to handle. Yours will be spread out over many decades. You will be fine.”

“What is that you called me? A… prophet?” asked Geisha.

“Yes. It’s like a seer,” said Meredith. “It’s a very rare gift to be a true Prophet.”

“My uncle was one,” said Geisha proudly, for the first time not feeling that his visions were a curse.

“Your uncle foretold you, but he is merely one of thousands throughout history who had brief flashes on insight,” said Meredith. “In fact, most people have at least one in their lifetime. It’s common to get a glimpse of something, but to actually understand what is happening, to be able to use your gift to affect the people around you… it is almost unheard of. Your uncle didn’t dream his whole life, at least not of the future. You and I, we’re very special. There will be only twelve of us. And we will change the world.”

“O… only twelve?” asked Geisha.

“Yes,” said Meredith with a smile. “Twelve of us have the power to decide who will populate the earth, and who will die out.”

“So the future is not set in stone?” asked Geisha curiously, swallowing away the horror of her last statement.

“Time never is,” said Meredith.

“But then… if the future is not certain, than your existence is not certain, and how can…?” Geisha couldn’t finish his question. His head was swimming. He was having trouble grasping all of this new information. Meredith smiled kindly at him again.

“Don’t try to understand it all, dear Geisha,” she said. “As I told you, you will understand it all in death, but not before. I certainly couldn’t figure it out. Time has certain… patterns that must rise, even if the events that lead to them change. I am a certainty, and so are the rest of us Twelve. What isn’t certain is how the other ten’s lives will unfold. I am doing my best to protect them from an information overload, and to keep them from going crazy like I did.”

“How are you doing that?” asked Geisha in wonderment.

“We are all connected,” said Meredith. Geisha nodded. He certainly knew that he was connected to her. He could feel it, like he had known her all of his life. “Some don’t even need the protection. I was not the first to begin having the visions, just the first to reveal those visions, and to suffer from them.”

“So the others are still alive?” asked Geisha. “Do they live throughout history, or…?”

“No, the rest are all from my time,” said Meredith. “You set us up, and now we’re coming to fruition. Not all are born yet, but some are, and the rest will be born soon. As the first of the future prophets to die, I am protecting those who have had at least one vision, but aren’t ready to join us.”

“Join us?” asked Geisha.

“I told you, we’re going to change the world,” said Meredith serenely.

“For good or for bad?” asked Geisha.

“That is uncertain,” said Meredith, her smile faltering.

Geisha sensed that the conversation was almost over, but he had so many more questions. “Tell me, does death hurt?” he asked.

“Some deaths do. Mine did, for a bit. But then again, I was shot,” said Meredith, once again seemingly lost in an unpleasant memory. Her eyes glazed over, obviously she was reliving the moment in her mind.

“Shot?” asked Geisha.

“With bullets. It’s a weapon in my time,” said Meredith.

“Do you ever wish that you did not die?” asked Geisha.

“I have only been dead a short time,” said Meredith, with a bittersweet smile. “Sometimes there is more that I wish I could have done, see my child grow up, help my friends with what’s coming, but no. I have made peace with what happened to me. I am needed on this side of the great veil.”

“But…,” began Geisha, but she interrupted him.

“We will see each other again, Geisha, and you can ask more of your questions then. Take care.” She disappeared, as she had done before, and Geisha stared at the air where she had been, awestruck, but suddenly filled with a sense of purpose.

“Geisha!” The voice echoed on the surrounding mountains. Geisha had heard it called out many times over the last few hours, but had not answered it. Unfortunately, it seemed to be getting closer. He slunk further into the shadows of his cave. He had been gone for more than a moon cycle now, and this was the first that someone had intruded on his mountain. His heart bled to ignore the voice, knowing at once that it was his former lover, Mikla’s. But he was steadfast in his resolve to stay up here, and this was no life to bring a spouse, or gods forbid, children, into.

“Geisha!” said the voice again, nearer. It had been steadily growing closer all day. He knew Mikla was good at tracking, but the rains should have washed away his trail by now. Geisha looked around. It would be impossible to get rid of the fire pit and other signs of his habitation in the short amount of time it would take her to finish her ascent. He should have started concealing himself sooner, but he really hadn’t expected her to make his way up to him so quickly. Instead, he took a seat on the large stone directly in front of his new home, as if patiently awaiting her arrival.

“There you are! Why did you not answer me?” she demanded. Her eyes flashed with anger, but Geisha knew that it came from a place of love, and he had seen a similar flash in moments of carnal passion with her. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling, which only made her angrier, and prettier. “You think that I am funny? I have been climbing for days, searching for you!”

“No, no,” said Geisha, spreading his arms, smile gone. “I do not think this is funny. I was merely glad to see you. But you should not have come.

“Oh, mate yourself,” she said, dropping a sack of food at his feet. Geisha’s stomach rumbled hungrily; he hadn’t found much to eat on this mountain. He dropped to his knees and dug in, ignoring her knowing smirk. They had been inseparable since infancy. She knew him all too well. “It is good to see you, Geisha.”

“Why did you come?” he asked, around a mouthful of sweet fruit.

“To see you, and to bring you home,” said Mikla.

Geisha stopped eating, a dark look coming over his eyes. “This is home for me.”

“Do not be foolish, Geisha,” said Mikla.

“I am not being foolish, Mikla. I have another purpose in this life. Our paths must diverge. I am sorry. That is the way that it is,” said Geisha simply, with acceptance.

“Do you not love me any longer?” asked Mikla.

“Of course I love you,” said Geisha.

“I will move to the mountain with you,” said Mikla firmly.

“No, I could not ask…,” began Geisha.

“You are not asking. I am telling. I will return to the village and get my things, and I will come back to live with you here,” said Mikla.

“Mikla…,” said Geisha, so much conveyed in just the name.

“I will return,” said Mikla, grabbing a raw vegetable from the sack. She gave him a fierce look, the type of look that solidified his feelings for her every time that he saw it, then turned her back and disappeared.

“I do not deserve her,” said Geisha.

“No, you don’t, but not for the reasons that you think,” said a voice from within the cave. Geisha whirled and saw Meredith, whom he had not seen since his arrival at his new home.

“What do you mean?” asked Geisha.

“I have much to tell you,” said Meredith, ignoring his question. “This is very important. Geisha, you are unique. I have told you that there are twelve of us, and that we are all special, but you are unique even among us. You alone will receive visits from each of us, and you alone will visit some of us in your future.”

“You mean I can appear like you? A ghost?” asked Geisha.

“Not until after your death,” said Meredith. “I and those that die after me will tell you what is important, but only you will get to warn those that are not dead before The Opening. Everyone will look to you for guidance.”

“How will I do that?” asked Geisha.

“You need to find five large, flat stones. We will give you five prophecies to carve and leave for us to find again. Additionally, as I said, you will need to appear in dreams, especially in Wesley’s. He will need your help more than any of the others.”

“Who is Wesley?” asked Geisha.

“Wesley Prisoff. A good friend of mine,” said Meredith, once again getting a sad look. “He is the one that will have to make a very important decision at The Opening. He won’t be the only one there, of course, we will all be there in one form or another, but he is our best hope. You must make Wesley understand, guide his path, help him to reach the right decisions. The fate of all mankind depends on what Wesley does.”

“What is the proper resolution?” asked Geisha.

“I don’t know. Only you know,” said Meredith.

“I do not know! I do not even know what is going on, or what these prophecies will be about!”

“You will,” said Meredith. “Find the stones. Make them flat, make them smooth, and make them large, so they will last. When you do all of that, someone will return to give you the first prophecy.”

“Will it not be you?” asked Geisha.

“No,” said Meredith, shaking her head. “I have given you the preparation, others will give you the prophecies. They will each have a piece to the puzzle. Remember, they may die in a different order than they appear, so do not discuss them with each other. Only talk to them about me or Wesley, as they will know us and our part. You have to put together their pieces yourself. It was an honor to meet you Geisha. I will see you again at The Opening.”

“Wait! What is ‘The Opening’ that you speak of?” asked Geisha, but it was too late. She was gone, again, no sign that she had ever been there left in her wake.

“Hello, Geisha,” said a feminine voice. Geisha started in surprise. He whirled around to see a lovely woman with very long, brown hair. At first, Geisha thought that Meredith had finally returned after a ten year absence, but he soon realized that the hair length and body type made him think otherwise. This girl wasn’t fat, but she wasn’t thin. She was curvy in just the right way. Her eyes sparkled, and her dimples showed that she was used to smiling.

Geisha had begun to wonder if he had just made up the whole thing, it having been so long since his last vision. He had prepared the stones, as Meredith had asked him to do. But after over a year of waiting, and not being able to explain to his wife, Mikla, what he was doing, Geisha had reluctantly moved back to the village. It had not been a hard adjustment. The others had welcomed him back, his breakdown seemed to be totally forgotten to them. He and Mikla had settled in their home and rejoined the life of the place, the stones laying forgotten in the corner of his hut. His one regret had been that he and Mikla had been unable to have children before his mother passed away, only six months ago, from dysentery.

“Who are you?” asked Geisha.

“I’m Natalie Mounds,” she said, holding out a hand to shake. Geisha stared at the hand strangely, not sure what she was doing. She laughed and lowered her hand. “Never mind. Of course that wouldn’t work, even if you knew what a handshake was. Your hand would probably go right through mine.”

“It is nice to meet you, Natalie, but my wife will be back soon, and I would really rather she not see me talking to myself, so if you would just depart…,” said Geisha, the words coming out in a rush.

“She won’t be back for at least five minutes. We have plenty of time,” said Natalie dismissively. She tried to sit down on a rough hewn seat, but fell right through it and ended up half buried in the dirt. She laughed again, and managed to right herself. “I’m so silly!”

“Why are you here?” asked Geisha, disturbed by the attitude that this apparition took.

“To give you the First Prophecy, of course!” said Natalie.

“Then you are dead?” asked Geisha.

“Yeah, or else I wouldn’t be here,” said Natalie, smile faltering. Geisha could see pain in her eyes, and suddenly realized that her sunny personality was probably often only a mask.

“How did you die?” asked Geisha gently.

“It was nothing special,” said Natalie, shrugging. “Let’s talk about your prophecy.”

“All right,” agreed Geisha reluctantly, but he continued to study her. She didn’t look old. Older than he was, certainly, and plenty older than Meredith when she had appeared, but Natalie’s hair was not yet grey. She did look weary, though, with an illusion that she was probably younger than she even looked. The lifespan of a Prophet, at least from the two that he had seen thus far, did not appear lengthy. That disturbed him greatly, despite the fact that Meredith had promised him a long life. What if his first vision had only told him that so he didn’t worry, and he was cut down in his prime, too?

“Ok, so I know what it needs to say because I’ve read it…,” began Natalie.

“You’ve read it?” asked Geisha in surprise.

“Yeah. We found it ages ago and Wesley decoded it. Or was it Dr. Smith? Yeah, the first one was Dr. Smith. Let me think. I’m trying to remember exactly what it said,” said Natalie, brown scrunched in concentration.

There was that Wesley again. Geisha suddenly wished that Wesley had come instead of Natalie. The way that the girls talked about him, surely Wesley would be able to explain to Geisha what was going on. And how did it make a lick of sense that the prophecy that Natalie would tell him and he would carve would then be read by her so she could tell him what it was? It was a very confusing loop, and Geisha suddenly sank to the ground, head swimming.

“I think I’ve got it. Here goes,” said Natalie. “There was something about things with pointy mouths or something. And they came from the North. Yeah, that’s right. The North. Because they’re Canadian geese and we were in the United States.”

“Where is the United States? What is Canadian? What are you talking about?” asked Geisha.

“I don’t know. I’m not a poet. Your job is to make it sound good. I’m just telling you what was in it. Something about things with pointy mouths coming from the North,” said Natalie. “There was more. Um, the pointy things are going to rule everyone. And then there were some numbers. One who was them, but wasn’t them or something like that. And Twelve that would fight them. Oh, yeah! The only way to win was if the Twelve figured out how the creatures started. An origin, I think. And there is going to be a big battle, and only one is going to survive. And then you had some clever closing line that sounded all biblical about it coming to pass.”

“Um…,” said Geisha, feeling less confidence in the entire situation than he had ever had. How was he supposed to put the rantings of this silly woman into some coherent carving? Geisha scratched some words into the dust floor of his hut with a stick so that he would remember the main points. “Is there anything else?”

“Nope. That’s it. It was pretty short. And confusing. We never did figure out exactly what it meant, though Wesley had plenty of theories. We even thought the battle was going to happen once, but we were wrong,” said Natalie, again getting a sad look in her eyes, as if remembering the death of friends. The haunting memories were also clearly another thing that this girl shared with Meredith.

“Are you…?” began Geisha.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine,” said Natalie, wiping her eyes. “I’m sorry Geisha, I really am, but I need to go now. My soul mate has been dead for awhile, and so have some of my kids, and I really want to go and meet them. Meredith said that after I told you this, I could.”

“Of course,” said Geisha, words dying in his throat. He still had many questions, many more than he had even thought about when he had met Meredith, but he could see that Natalie was aching. He wished that he could hug her and console her, but how could one hug a ghostly image? He couldn’t bring himself to keep her here a second longer when she was finally going to be reunited with her family. “Thank you.”

“I’ll see you soon,” said Natalie with another sad smile, and then she was gone.

“Who are you talking to?” asked Mikla, standing in the entryway and regarding him suspiciously. She carried two fish, their meal for tonight, in her hands. Her piercing gaze took in the man kneeling on the floor and the nonsense words that he had carved into the dirt.

“No one,” said Geisha.

“It has finally happened, has it not?” asked Mikla.

“Yes. The First Prophecy,” whispered Geisha in disbelief.

“Then you had better start carving it,” said Mikla.

“I do not know…,” began Geisha.

“I believe in you,” said Mikla. “I believe that you are not crazy, and that there are things beyond my understanding. This is happening for a reason. Do what the vision told you to do. I will prepare dinner.”

“I do not even know what I am supposed to carve!” said Geisha. “The girl merely rambled on.”

“You will figure it out,” said Mikla with complete confidence. “You work, I will make us dinner.” She kissed him on the forehead and moved to the fire pit. Geisha smiled, despite how fogged his brain felt. He was lucky to have a woman like Mikla to inspire him to do what he was tasked with doing. He wasn’t sure what he would do without her. She fulfilled all of his desires. He only hoped that he could soon fulfill her unanswered one in repayment, a child.

Geisha looked over at the stones longingly, four carved with a number of words and one still blank. Three and a half decades had passed since Meredith had first appeared to him, and it had been over eight years since he had carved the Fourth Prophecy. Still, life had been better than Geisha had any right to hope it would be. Besides getting an occasional flash of things to come, Geisha had also learned to be observant of changing weather patterns and animal movements. He guessed it came from looking everywhere for his next messenger. As a result, he had become the most important elder in his village, practically worshipped by every resident within. They came to him for advice on everything, and to bless their children or livestock. At first, the pilgrims had seemed odd to Geisha. But Mikla had convinced him to do as they asked, and they had both enjoyed the benefits of that decision.

Today, Mikla was off teaching the village children, as she did everyday. Geisha was, as usual, sitting outside of their hut and studying everything around him. He equally dreaded and looked forward to the last visit. The grey in his hair and the ache in his bones told him that he couldn’t live forever, and the last vision mat signal an end of his life in sight, or at least an end to his unique abilities that let him serve his people. Yet the first four stones, which were long memorized from countless readings, puzzled him and allowed him to mull over their meaning. He didn’t understand them, but he realized that understanding was near, like an insect he could hear just outside of his dwelling but not quite see. In this mood, it really wasn’t much of a surprise to hear a strange voice from behind him intone, “Hello, Geisha.”

“Hello,” said Geisha, not turning around right away. Instead, he slowly rose to his feet, gathered the wooden pieces he had been carving with his stone tool, then slowly entered the dwelling. A plump girl with curly hair stood near his bed. She wasn’t smiling. In fact, she looked very upset about something. Unlike some of the others, this girl was very young. She couldn’t have been older than Meredith had first appeared. “Can I help you?”

“I’m Morgan Richter,” said the curly-headed girl.

“Why are you so sad?” asked Geisha.

“I just died, and it wasn’t fair,” said Morgan.

“Death rarely is,” said Geisha with a wisdom borne of age.

“I don’t even want to be here right now, but no sooner had I died than Meredith came to me and told me that I had to come and tell you some prophecy thing,” said Morgan.

“I would appreciate it if you did,” said Geisha. “I would very much like to complete my collection.” Her gaze followed his outstretched arm to the other stones and her expression suddenly seemed one of interest.

“Are those them?” asked Morgan.

“They are the first Four Prophecies,” said Geisha.

“Wow. I have only seen two of them before,” said Morgan. She held up a hand quickly. “Don’t worry. Meredith told me what the fifth one has to say.”

“Would you mind sharing it with me?” asked Geisha.

“Of course not. That’s why I’m here, I guess,” said Morgan. Geisha picked up a stick as she talked, and as with the others, he scratched the major points in the dirt floor. He had become much better at making them sound good as the years went on. He knew her random strings of thought would soon became a very authoritative sounding proclamation, set in stone made to last millennia.

“Thank you,” said Geisha when she had finished, his eyes on the scratches on the ground.

“Uh, oh,” said Morgan, looking through the hut wall and into the distance.

“What is it?” asked Geisha, sharply. That was the direction that Mikla went off towards each morning.

“The first of many dangers are coming,” said Morgan.

“What sort of danger?” asked Geisha.

“I… don’t know,” said Morgan.

“Tell me!” said Geisha urgently, unease building in him. Somehow he knew that the threat was personal, and that it was imminent. He had learned to trust these feelings.

“I really don’t know!” said Morgan. “I’ve never seen anything like them before…” Geisha didn’t waste another moment with the girl. He grabbed a weapon from the corner of the hut and began to run to where she had been looking. Several of the other villagers noticed and began to follow him, each grabbing a weapon or tool, too. Before they had reached the outskirts of the village where Mikla taught, they heard a blood curling scream. Geisha, who had been running as fast as he could, managed to pick up speed. As such, he was the first to reach her corpse.

Mikla was laying facedown, several small children around her. A pool of red spread from below her body. He heard some scurrying sounds, but saw nothing but a flash of black in the trees nearby. The attacker was fleeing, or already gone. Geisha didn’t chase the culprit. Instead, he dropped to his knees next to the woman that he loved. The children, nearly all crying or yelling for their parents, backed off, giving him room. The other villagers formed a protective circle around Geisha and Mikla, their eyes scanning the trees as his had. It soon became apparent that whatever was happening was over, and that Mikla had died before he had reached her.

“Geisha?” asked one man, reaching for the Prophet’s elbow. Geisha shrugged him off. He didn’t plan on moving from Mikla’s side. If he could hold her tight enough to him, perhaps somehow his heart would help hers to beat again. Intellectually, he knew that was irrational, but emotionally he couldn’t bring himself to move.

“Geisha…,” said a woman, joining the man. It took six of them to pry Mikla from Geisha. The Prophet’s wife was taken away from burial. Geisha watched her go, tears in his eyes. When she was out of sight, he looked towards the mountains. He knew what he must do. He didn’t know who had come, or what their purpose had been in killing Mikla, but he was sure that his wife was dead because of him. No one else could suffer the same fate. Geisha must return to his mountain cave, the one where Meredith had said he would lead a long life. Until that moment, Geisha had forgotten her words. Now he understood why she had said ‘here’ when they had been there.

The walk back to his hut was done in a fog. Geisha didn’t see the others around him, and was only vaguely aware that several men and women were flanking him. He entered his cave and went straight to the words he had scratched while listening to Morgan. It only took a minute to commit them to memory, then Geisha erased them with his hands. The villagers watched from the entrance, not willing to encroach upon his grief.

“Where are you going?” asked a young man as Geisha rose and grabbed a sturdy sack, covering the five flat stones with it.

“To the mountains,” answered Geisha automatically.

“I will carry those,” said the young man.

“You cannot stop me,” said Geisha, looking at the small throng of his friends.

“We wouldn’t dream of it, Geisha,” said a woman. “We know you are in pain. Let us help.”

“I am moving to the mountains,” said Geisha.

“We will help you move,” said a man. Geisha considered their words for a minute, then nodded. He left the stones where they lie and, without turning to see if he was being followed, struck out for his new home.

Geisha, The Last Surviving Prophet of His Age, or so the locals called him, sat on a large rock outside of his small cave dwelling. He wore a plain, white robe with a simple belt. His long, gray hair swirled around his face. His long, gray beard ruffled in the wind. All was quiet, and Geisha loved to sit out on his rock. His cave was several miles from the nearest village, the one that used to be his village. He enjoyed the solitude and the calmness of his surroundings. It gave him time to meditate. About once a week someone from the village would bring him food. And every so often some poor, naïve fool would seek his guidance, as if the hermit were especially wise or some such poppycock. Geisha would help as best he could, not wanting to disappoint his benefactors, but mostly he just preferred to be left alone.

And then everything happened. There was a chase as Geisha struggled to escape, to protect the prophecies. It was over in a matter or minutes, and soon the assassin was gone. Geisha stood on the cliff from where he had fallen, looking down at his lifeless body and the five prophecy stones below. He suddenly knew how his strange vision visitors had felt. He wished they were here with him now. He watched with dismay as his murdered searched for his stones. He smiled as somehow he failed to find them, all nearby hiding in bushes and such. Somehow they had all landed just right to be hidden from the strange being’s sight. The attacker didn’t look long, but soon departed.

When he had tossed the stones over the cliff, Geisha had been sure that the wind had carried them. Now, though, it looked like luck that they had fallen scattered slightly, and it was fortunate that the very odd looking person in the shiny black suit hadn’t searched very hard. Still, it was only a small comfort as Geisha stared at his broken body on the ground below, skull cracked on one of those prophecies he had tried so hard to protect.

And then a man stood beside him. He had short, black hair, freckles, and those strange wires on his face with the solid air like Meredith had had. He reminded Geisha of the teenager that had helped him carry the stones up to the cave eighteen years ago, for some reason, even though this man had left his teen years many decades ago. And though so had that teen, Geisha supposed, this man was even much older than he would be now.

“Who are you?” asked Geisha, but before the man even spoke, Geisha knew the answer. He could tell by the way the younger man looked at the older one with such intense familiarity.

“I’m Wesley Prisoff! You know me! I’ve seen you many times before. Did it work?”

“Did what work?” asked Geisha.

“Our plan! I’m sorry, I guess I’m dead, but then so are you. You must know. Did it work?” asked Wesley again, fidgeting nervously from one foot to the other. The wrinkles were deep in his skin, and as with Natalie, Wesley appeared older than he probably was. But he was still pretty old, definitely the oldest of the Prophets that Geisha had seen throughout his life.

“I do not know what you mean. I am sorry,” said Geisha.

“We have to go and see,” said Wesley urgently.”

“Go where?” asked Geisha.

“Egypt,” said Wesley.

“What is in Egypt?” asked Geisha.

“The Library, of course!” said Wesley. He was beginning to fade. “I’ll meet you there!”

“How do I get there?” asked Geisha as Wesley faded completely from view.

“You will be there soon,” said Meredith with a smile. Geisha whirled and saw Meredith, Morgan, Natalie, and six others, some he had seen before, some he hadn’t, standing behind him.

“The Prophets,” breathed Geisha. Or nine of them, he corrected himself.

“Yes,” said Natalie. “We are the Prophets.”

“Come,” said Morgan. “It is almost over.”

“No,” said Meredith with a smile. “It had just begun.” Geisha knew they were both right, and letting Meredith take his arm, he followed the group into the bright light.