My Apocalypse

Okay, I've been gone a while. Thing is I have been writing, its just its been really boring school stuff. I mean, I don't find it boring but I'm pretty sure you would. Anyway, in one of my classes (History of Apocalyptic Thought) I had to write out my own apocalyptic prohecy which incorporated all the elements of the genre. I thought maybe you readers might find it interesting.

So, here it is, my own personal end times scenario written in the prophetic style:

In times past when our people were among many and lived in peace and prosperity on the great Earth, the chief Iron Jacket, he who it was said had the power to blow bullets away with his very breath, had a vision. This vision he cherished for many seasons and, when his end drew near, shared with his son Peta Nocona.

Peta Nocona, when he saw his father’s vision of the future come to be, shared it with his sons Quanah and Pecos. In the tradition of our people, they shared this vision with their children and so it has been entrusted to me, the son of their sons. Yet, these are the final days. I see the signs spoken of in the visions of Iron Jacket. The time has come for me to write down in the tradition of the white man.

Be still and attend to me, all who are of noble heart and blood. Seek wisdom and peace that you may be spared the great wrath that is soon to fall upon us. Hear the words of chief Iron Jacket, spoken at the time of his passing. Thus he spoke to his son, the wanderer:

My son, on the day of your birth the night fell before your mother’s struggles ceased. I held you in my arms as she named you, then, as the sun rose and you slept in her arms I was filled with wonder and restlessness. Fearing I would disturb my dear ones, I arose and went out to greet the sun that shone on the first morning of your walk.

I turned to fetch water from the stream and beheld with wonder a great sight. I am not a medicine man, privileged to glimpse the spirit world. Yet as I stood wondering, the medicine man of my childhood, he who had passed into the spirit world long ago, appeared. He smiled and I feared suddenly that I had passed into the spirit world.

My heart was sick within me, for I loved your mother. And you, though you had scarce drawn breath a few short hours, were already precious to me. My heart ached at the thought of being torn from you and I wept bitterly into the dust.
But the spirit spoke and said, “Iron Jacket, why should so great a warrior weep at the sight of an old friend?”

And I told him my fear but he smiled again and said, “You are not passed from this world but there are things that must be known on Earth that are known now only to the spirits. The time is coming when the world will need to hear these words. I bring them to you that you may pass them down. When the time comes, your children’s children will bring these words to a waiting world.”

I marveled at this but the Spirit warned me his time was short and to watch and listen carefully to all I saw and heard.

Then the Spirit cried out: “Behold, a thorn is placed in our side and we have been men of strength and plucked it out. Many there are that have plucked the thorn from their sides but many there are also who have feared the pain and allowed the thorn to take root.

The thorns have taken root in the land. They rise up from the very earth we tread and sink into our flesh spreading poison as they go. They creep along the earth, encircling the trees and choking the good, green life from them. Then fall the trees and the people and the beasts, yeah the very spirits rise up in terror and flee the thorns and their destruction.”

And behold I looked and the tears I had cried that fell on the Earth were multiplied until they flowed into the stream and the stream grew until it was a mighty river that rushed with fierce and crushing speed.

The spirit cried, “The people will run to safe havens. They will hew at the thorns and have victory, yet even in victory they will be defeated. For look you, the thorns will diminish. They will rise up as flowers, coated with tears of soft dew. The people will see the tears of compassion the flowers weep and send the young out to the flowers for their caring. The flowers will care for the young. They will grow fruits, pleasing to the eye that they will offer the starving child. The fruits will look pleasing to the eye and offer peace from the great hunger suffered by the young.

Meanwhile, Look you! The tears of the people will flow like a mighty river. The people will be caught up in a river of their own tears, pulled by its current into strange lands.

The young will take the fruits of the thorns and eat of them until they can eat no more. Only when they have been consumed will the fruits of the thorns reveal themselves. They will devour the young from within, not consuming them but filling them with death.”

As he said this I heard a cry and turned from the river of tears. I saw a small man-child and my heart thought of you, my hours-old son. I went to the child to ask him his name but he did not turn to me. And, behold, I looked and flowers filled his ears and his eyes were shut. I turned him to me and when his eyes were opened they were full of the sickly tears of the flowers. When the child opened his mouth his tongue was a dry and dead thorn speaking the death of our people.

I turned in terror from the fearsome child and beat at my chest and screamed:
“I will fight these thorns when they rise up. They shall not do thus to my child.”
The Spirit wept then and said. “Yea, Iron Jacket, you already fight them. For, look you, the thorns are the strangers from over the land and over the sea and all strange places. You fight them and are strong but many there are in these lands that allow the thorns to take root. You and your seed will fight the thorns for the first of seven seasons marked by seven great wars. The first season has ended and the thorns have made their place. You and your children’s children will fight the thorns for a season. Then, in the second season will your people take a thorn into your tribe and it shall become one of you.”

I scoffed and swore this would not be, but the Spirit rebuked me saying:
“Yea, Iron Jacket, your people will do this. The thorn will be among you and one of you and it will give birth to a child who will be a great leader in the third age. This child shall fight the thorns for a time but, being of the people and of the thorns, he will be the man who will lead the people to a safe haven among the thorns. He will seem to take on their ways but he will never be defeated by them and will keep his heart and the people’s hearts safe from the thorns and the flowers.
For in this 2nd season shall come a great serpent, dry and hard and strong as an old tree. He shall glide among the thorns and whisper to them. The thorns will encircle the people. The people will seek a place to rest and find no relief. They shall wander in search of surcease and find the thorns on every side. The great trees and beasts shall fall to the thorns; yea, even the very mountains shall open up their deep places and be laid bare before them.

And so it shall be, for five seasons the thorns shall take root so deep, they shall grow their flowers, leaves and fruit. They shall multiply ever as before and the people shall live as captives in their own land, surrounded at every side.

The thorns shall grow in beauty and the flowers shall weep their tears of sickly dew. And still the people will suffer grief and hardship; hunger and thirst and the flowers that were once the thorns will weep.

The thorns will be crushed by the flowers. Yet, I say unto you, the flowers will share the roots of the thorns and their roots will never be pulled. The flowers will live on and say in that last age, “We are none of these thorns. Can you not see? We are flowers.” But the people will know the truth and be wary.

The people will be overcome with grief for the fields, and the trees, the great beasts and the mountains. They will despair and cry their tears into the night and the night will not answer.

And so it shall be that near the end of the sixth great war, a girl child will stand like a bright feather before the flowers of the roots and show their thorns to them. Many will say in that day, “We are none of these thorns. We are flowers!” But many will believe and will be struck with sadness at the suffering they have caused and the Earth will be wet with their tears.

Then will the flowers look at their thorns and show them to the people and to the world and many will seek to repent. When the flowers see that they are thorns, then will the ears of the children of the people be emptied and the dew of the flowers be taken from their eyes and the dry thorn be taken from their mouths and they shall begin to be healed.

This is the mark of the end times. The seventh season will be marked by the last great war, a war fought in the parched land. In this last age the children of your children will take these words of mine and spread them to the people and, yea, even unto the flowers. They will warn the people of the judgment to come at the end of the seventh season.

When the judgment comes, the land will be filled with sickness. The young will be taken up first, for they were born of the people and of the flowers in the blessed truth and have nothing to fear. Then the old, those who were brought up in the lies of the thorns and the flowers of the sixth age will face fire and torments and through this tribulation their hearts will be judged whether they are still poisoned by the thorns.

The righteous shall be taken by the sickness in mercy and swiftness to await the end of the judgment. This shall be known by the birth of many suns on the Earth. They will scorch the surface of the Earth and the Earth will open up and devour the unrighteous and they will hide 1000 years in the belly of the Earth.

Then the land will be still and no man, woman or child will tread the Earth for 1000 years. The land will take back the scarred earth. The beasts and vegetation will break down and reclaim the Earth that was poisoned by the thorns.

Then, when the 1000 years have passed, the people will be returned to the Earth and there will be no more thorns and no more flowers. For, look you, all those who return will be the people and there will be peace between the spirits and the people and the land again and this kingdom of peace will last for all of time, yea, even to the end of the Earth.”

I am Iron Jacket of the Comanche people and I speak these words to my son, Peta Nocona as the Spirit so instructed me, that they may pass through generations to the people of the sixth and seventh age.

Hear these words, oh you people of the land and of the thorn that you may be found pure of spirit in the great judgment and live forever in the kingdom of peace.