Passage From A Book I'll Never Write

   "You'll be gone soon, love. You'll go to where no soul resides. And we will be left here in peace. The day you leave will be a day of celebration. A parade will be thrown in honour of you departure. Of course we'll miss you, but it was Written. You've never been allowed to stay, you've been living here on borrowed time."

   Her voice was sweet and gentle, but it didn't soothe the anger that boiled up in me at her words. 

   "You're saying I'm going to die?"

   My voice was not nearly as composed as hers. It didn't matter.

   "No. No, you won't die. You'll never die. You'll have to spend your days hidden and secluded, and you'll always wish you were dead. But you never will be. That hole in the ground will become your home and your prison."

   Who was she to tell me this? Who did she think she was to be allowed to speak like this? With her pretty hair and glowing skin she probably thought she was a goddess.

   "I'm no goddess," she laughed. "I'm a prophet."

   Oh. Okay.