The Waterford Prophecy
Now, there comes a time when a person sees too much of something and
prefers to not think of it. That time came to me in the summer of 1938, when I was traveling through the South after my departure from the Aquitania, a British ocean liner. I was planning to travel to Moss Ridge, Louisiana, where I would attend the funeral of my brother, Timothy, who had attempted to see what life was like in the southern United States. He was found dead in a bayou just outside of the town without any signs of probable cause of death. I had traveled south into the town of Old Rock, Tennessee, and slept in the Lowery Inn for the night. night. I told the caretaker, John Lowery, of my destination.
“Moss Ridge?” he inquired. “Why, you’ll be traveling through Waterford to get there! Let me give you some advice: don’t stop to talk to anyone in Waterford. Don’t even look in their direction. They’re strange folk, they are. Every man that goes there and talks to them never seems to leave. Like they take him prisoner and lock him up in a cellar. Once again: don’t talk to anyone, don’t look at anyone, don’t think about anyone. Just go through there as fast as you can.”
“Well, that’s very hard to believe, Mr. Lowery, as I doubt anyone would take the risk of the police finding out they’ve been kidnapping people. I’ll go through there quickly, but if I want to talk to someone, I will. Good night, Mr. Lowery.”
“Yeah, yeah. Just you wait. They’ll take you too. You’ll be sorry you didn’t listen to me. Good night. It’ll be your last.”
I proceeded to go to my room and sleep. The next morning, I departed from Old Rock and went into Mississippi. I eventually found myself traveling through Waterford, and saw that there were two roads which led farther south, but the post which showed their destination was too faded to read. I went back into Waterford with the intentions of asking the owner of the general store for directions.
But what about Mr. Lowery’s warning? my conscious asked. Shouldn’t you heed it, as he would know more than you about this region?
Instead of following my conscious, I decided to ask the general store owner anyway. I made my way inside it, and met the owner, Edward Richmond. He was a small, old, and frail man, standing at most 4'10" and had to be somewhere in his early 80's.
“Hello, my name is Jack Cooper, and I was wondering which road at the south of town led to Moss Ride, Louisiana?” I asked.
“Well, ‘ello there Jack. I’m Edward Richmon’. Can’t tell you which road leads to Moss Ridge, so how ‘bout a game o’ oracle?” he replied.
“Oracle?” I said. “I’ve never heard of it. All I want is directions, however.”
“Well, ‘course you ain’t heard o’ it, i’s a local thin’. Come o’er here and sit down.”
He led me to a small, round table at which I sat. He went into the store’s storage room, and brought out a piece of paper which had the letters O-R-A-C-L-E
written on the top. He also had a piece of red chalk, which was apparently my tool in playing the game.
“Now, all you gotta do,” he said. “is draw lines comin’ down from the letters on the paper with this here chalk, in any way you like.”
“Er... alright.” I said. I decided to simply close my eyes and draw lines in random directions from each letter. After I was finished, I set the chalk down and opened my eyes. I had done as he directed me, something he seemed pleased with. He turned the paper over and, to my surprise, the lines drawn with the red chalk showed up on the other side. He then lined up a straight pen with the line coming off of the O, and extended the line until it reached the line from the E. Both lines lined up perfectly. He repeated this with the R and the L and the A and the C. Each line lined up perfectly. Mr. Richmond grinned broadly, then proceeded to take a small silver bell from beneath his counter and rang it thrice. Almost immediately, several dozen people rushed into the store and stared at me.
“What?” I said.
“You... you are one...” a man replied.
“One what?” I asked.
“One!” they all screamed in unison. Mr. Richmond then came over to me.
“Quick! Tell us where to go!” he ordered.
“Go?” I asked, confused. “Go where? And why?”
“Where to go so we don’ ge’ killed!” he screamed.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about! If you bunch of crazy madmen want me to take you someplace I don’t even know about, then you best just let me up and leave.”
“NO!!!” they cried. I then ran past the crowd and into my automobile. I decided to take the left road at the end of town, and soon found myself in Moss Ridge. I attended my brother’s funeral nervously, and the priest inquired within me the purpose for my refusal to speak during the ceremony.
“My child, I know it is hard to lose a loved one, but why did you choose not to speak in remembrance of your brother?” he asked.
“Father... I... I just had something rather... interesting happen to me.” I replied. I then told him of the seemingly fictitious tale which had occurred to me. By the end of my telling, the priest looked half-surprised, half-unbelieving.
“My child... are you feeling well?” he asked rather more sympathetically than I would like.
“Yes, Father! I have just told you of a true and strange thing which happened to me, and I am rather frightened of it!” I hollered in response.
“Well... that is certainly something. You didn’t know anything of where this place was?”
“No, no... I’m not even sure if it’s a place. They might just be insane cultists who are convinced that the end of the world is coming. There are a multitude of those, correct?”
“I... suppose you are right. I should take my leave for now. Goodbye, my child.”
“Fine. Goodbye, Father.”
“Oh, and it would do you well to see the town doctor, Mr. Preston. He might have something to, ehm... help you think.” he added. I didn’t reply. I simply watched him take his leave, an irritated expression on my face. Afterwards, I went to the inn in which I was staying for the night before going back to my homeland of Britain. While asleep, I had a dream in which I was walking across a desert. I found that my feet were involuntarily moving me towards a hillock of sand. My hands moved towards it as though they were going to push the sand away to reveal something. However, I awakened from my slumber just before they began their work.
I did not know why at the time, but the following morning I traveled west instead of northeast, as I should have. I came upon the Southwest’s desert, and drove away from the road. Then, as if it were fated to happen, I exited my automobile, not knowing what I was doing, and walked towards a hillock of sand. I pushed away the sand, continuing on from my dream, and was surprised to find a small trapdoor there. I opened it, finding it unlocked, and went down the ladder, closing the trapdoor above me. Inside of the hidden room was an assortment of various candles. I also noticed a slip of paper next to the candles with writing on it, which read:
CHOOSE
Confused, I did as the paper said and chose a candle at random. Then, as soon as my fingers touched it, the ground started shaking. Dust flew everywhere and the ceiling of the room creaked.
An earthquake? I asked myself. Is this a coincidence or something more?
I then proceeded to take shelter under the only thing I could find: the ladder.
After a few hours of rumbling, the ground became still once more. I emerged from the room, only to find that the desert had become a barren wasteland.
What happened? I thought, rather frightened. What have I done?
I walked back to the location of my automobile, only to find that it was not here anymore. I then walked back down the path from whence I came. It must have been days before I arrived in Moss Ridge, but it only felt like minutes. It seemed as though everything was gone. The people. The animals. The towns. Time itself. The hidden room, it seems was the only shelter from this apocalypse, but it also seemed as though choosing the candle is what caused it. After what seemed like days but must have been decades, I slowly remembered what had happened. I am Destruction, one of the Five Fates of the World. When a world is created—by whom, I do not even know—along with some form of life, the Five Fates are reincarnated at different periods in time. Whichever one finds the hidden assortment of candles(each representing a different Fate) and chooses his/her own without knowing it.
One of the Fates will always find the candles. Which one, however, is up to chance. The Five Fates are: Destruction, Creation, Degradation, Evolution, and Communication. Destruction will destroy the current world. Creation will create a new world parallel to the original. Degradation will “demote” the life forms into a less intelligent and strong race, so that they will evolve differently than before. Evolution will advance them, making them far more superior and able than before. Communication has the least chance of being the finder of the candles, as it requires Creation to have happened previously in order to work. It will bring two worlds together, having the dominant life forms communicate and work together.
It appears as though the human race was destined to be destroyed in the end. Perhaps because of the evil which has corrupted it. As I continue to walk across what was the Human World, I cannot help but ponder as to what the next World’s fate will be.
