Original Prompt: A bitter prophet lays on his death bed as the chosen one comes to see him
“We have a visitor for Earl. Says his name is … I don’t know, something foreign. Says it’s important.”
“They couldn’t wait another, what, twenty minutes?”
“He seemed relaxed about it, but said you’d understand the urgency.” The nurse handed over the paperwork. “Tests came in an hour ago. Look’s bleak.”
The doctor starred blankly for a minute. “Keep that bedside manner safely holstered until you’re with the patients, doncha?”
“‘Course.”
They shared a wry smirk, then he nodded. “Yeah, send him back. The ol’ loon hasn’t seen a single person ‘sides us for how long now? I think the last reporter musta been three years ago.”
The nurse walked to the door and opened to the full frame being filled by a towering man with broad shoulders. He barely had to move to be through the door, he was so close. “Thank you Doctor Morgan.” His voice boomed through his thick black mustache. His deep bronze skin was framed by a mass of beautifully wavy black hair, from above and below, where a thick beard grew. “Earl Stephens is very dear to me.”
The doctor repeated the same blank stare, taking in the mountain of man stood before him. He finally sputtered, “Uh, right this way.”
The calm man reached a hand out from under his kimono-like habit. The palm up, gently indicating the direction of Earl’s room. “Take me to him.”
For a moment the doctor thought the gesture meant for them to hold hands as they walked and something in him yearned for it. He gawked at the paleness of the open hand, then snapped to, turned and walked down the hall. “So, where you from, mister …” he let the end trail a bit to imply two questions.
“Would you care to guess?”
The doctor almost responded in haste, but reason ultimately won out, “Dressed like that? Asia is as safe a guess as I’d be willin’ to make without riskin’ offense.”
“No offense taken.” The clarity of his voice resonated through the hall.
“Fuck me.” came back in response.
“Looks like Earl knows I’m here.” The man drifted past the doctor, the habit barely off the ground. The motion was so smooth the doctor thought for a moment he was floating. As if he was sprinting the figure flashed to Earl’s door. “You made it.” In an instant he was through and the door slammed behind him.
The doctor froze for a moment and grabbed his phone, calling security. He rushed to the door and jiggling the handle and pressing his ear to the door. “Sir? Earl? What’s goin’ on in there?”
Inside the room there was quiet for a moment. Earl stared at the dark figure in the doorway. The light switch flipped without a touch. “I can’t fucking believe it. I just can’t fucking believe that’d you’d have the audacity to visit me here on my deathbed,” Earl croaked, sucking in a breath after and holding it. Tears welled up in his eyes. He let the air out and the sobbing filled the room.
The doctor’s renewed pleas began to fade, followed by the alarms. Silence fell.
“I promised you when you were young that I’d-“
“You promised me heaven. Instead I suffered a full lifetime of ridicule, then I got sick and had to suffer another lifetime stuck here with these assholes.”
“The time has come, Earl.”
“Of course it has. You just had to end the world the day I died. You couldn’t have come earlier?” He stammered a bit, the snot bubbling in his nose. “Look at me! Look at what I’ve been reduced to! You couldn’t have come sooner?”
“It was the other way around. Earl Stephens, my son, you were to die from this illness years ago. I prolonged your life to show you why I must come. To allow you to shed your final love for mankind, as I have years ago.” He walked to Earl’s side and extended both hands out of the robes. Despite the pain Earl couldn’t help but reach out, placing his frail hand into the vastness of his guest’s hands.
“I wanted you to witness the end with me. Even when you had every reason to doubt you never let go of your faith and conviction. Had you ever given up your life would be forfeit and you’d have passed on to face judgement with the rest. Instead you soldiered on. Your reward awaits.”
Earl’s arm felt light, he broke his gaze on the white eyes, they both looked down at his hand. Where once it was the papery grey skin of a centenarian, pinkish flesh now covered the old bones. The light in the room grew almost unbearable, Earl lifted his fresh arm to cover his eyes and felt his brow tighten and his nose shrink. The hospital bed fell out from under him. He lifted his other arm to cover his mouth as he screamed.
He felt the hands of the man on his back, the air blowing on his covered face with the force of a gale wind. Earl suddenly felt safe. The smell of salt and sand broke past his hands.
“You’re home, Earl Stephens.”
He loosed his hold and lowered his arms. Eyes still strained shut.
“Please, it is time. I have a great show prepared for you and your friends.” The voice echoed a thousand times around Earl, in all directions but ahead.
He first peeked down at his young legs, planted firmly in soft, black sand. He allowed his gaze to drift around him, more feet nearby, both sides. He finally lilted his eyes up at the yellow sky, the water bisecting the horizon looked almost green due to the reflection. People all around him, in matching black robes began chanting. The dark stranger walked out onto the water.
“Behold! The conclusion of my world.”
Inspiration Source: https://reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/q1icsi/wp_a_bitter_prophet_lays_on_his_death_bed_as_the/