What Am I?

It had been beautiful but this finished it to perfection. The sky was still lit with the setting sun setting aflame what clouds there were to be seen. There was a quietness over all the land and even the animals were settling down for the evening. There was not much to say or do and most of the thinking that needed to be done was already thought. But in the hush sat four men and a boy, his father’s son standing between his knees with his arms draped over his thighs.

It was said of one man, a younger one when at last he earned a name that he was a man of all kinds of men or Amoakom. It was said of another, when at last he earned a name, that all his sons turn all their faces east or Ahstatfe.  The third man earned a name because it was said about him that only this one knows the actual future or Otoktaf.  The fourth is that he is a man of future men always or Hiamofta and the boy was still called Hims or as they say he is my son when their first boy is born until he can earn a name.

Amoakom’s gentle voice broke the stillness, “Hims it is time you go see what your mother is up to.”

“Aw, Dad,” Hims replied, “She ain’t doing nothing after yesterday.”

“Go on now, get!” Amoakom pretended to be angry and the boy left on the run.

“What happened yesterday?” Otoktaf asked.

“It went like this,” I said. “We were walking across the Wilderness of the Dead on a shortcut I learned from Ahstatfe who has never gone that way much and didn’t know there was a nice trail there.

They all looked at Ahstatfe who nodded that it is a shorter walk.

“Anyway,” I said, “The Author spoke to us.”

“The Author!” Hiamofta said in surprise. “Who and what is the Author?”

“He writes all life,” I said. “But anyway he said, “Famatle [That is my wife’s name she earned, finally a mother at last's expectation] and Amoakom, the boys at home are all prophets. Why aren’t you?”

We looked at each other for it never dawned on us to prophesy.

“It is because you do not live with them,” the Author said. “You live in dreams of what you realize after the fact. They make things happen that are not yet happening for me.”

Hiamofte said, “That is accurate. We live for and in truth in the future and you two and Hims in the past. But what’s wrong with that?”

“I never said that he said there was anything wrong in that,” I said. “But I did ask him who he was and he said, ‘The Author,’” and I was surprised. Now I thought he must be very important like God to be the Author. So I bowed before the voice that seemed to be coming from all directions and so did Famatle.

“I have put your story on pause to tell you what I was wondering,” the Author said, “Whether it was something in me or something in the two of you?”

“It is not us,” Famatle said. “If you are God then you already know that. So I take it you are not God. But just what are you the Author of?”

“A story that includes you, Famatle, your husband, Amoakom, your little son, Hims there and your husband’s brothers, Ahstatfe, Otoktaf and Hiamofte. But I came to an impasse and was just wondering why you too are not prophets,” the Author said. “You see I write a lot but nobody writes much about me. But you two can write and Hims has a good imagination and makes up a lot of little things. He might make a prophet. But why haven’t I made a prophet out of one or both of you?”

“I asked, ‘What are you?’” Famatle said, thinking it may be an evil spirit of some kind.

“You did not,” the Author said, “But why don’t you think I am a good spirit? What you asked me was, ‘What are you the Author of?’ and I explained. You see? A prophet says, ‘I prophesy,’ or, ‘The Lord says “Something or other,’ depending upon who he is prophesying in. But I am always prophesying. Every word I say is a prophecy, especially when I say, ‘The Lord says,’ for example. So you are true because in my writing I said that Amoakom was saying all of this tomorrow evening. That makes me a prophet and tomorrow evening Amoakom will say it just as I said it which makes him sort of a prophet but one speaking of the past when he could have prophesied it but did not for he did not have anything to say to anyone until tomorrow evening which is happening even as he speaks it out to his brothers. It has been driving him crazy for he had no one but you Famatle to say it too again all day because you both were in the Wilderness of the Dead. You can understand that, right?”

Famatle shook her head. But she understood. So did I. Is this what it is like to prophecy?

“It is,” Otokaf said then and tomorrow evening he will say it again because I wrote it that way.

“If that is so how can we know you will not have us do evil?” Famatle asked the Author.

“If you knew me and understood who I am you would know that I will not and I never will again for the last evil part of me has been removed! Isn’t that good news?” the Author asked.

“How do we know that?” I asked the Author.

“And how do we trust what we know especially since I take it you have not been this way long?” Famatle asked.

“You know what you know,” the Author said. “What you do not know you just know that you do not know. It is the same with me and everyone especially people who tell the truth but some liars are so entangled with fiction they are not sure even when a prophet of the Lords speaks to them. It is possible not to see any more truth in what anybody says and the more you lie the more likely that is true and if you are a lucky liar that just might be the only truth you know, you can no longer see what is true to be true.”

“Let me see if I have this correct,” Famatle said to the Author cautiously, “We know that is true because we do not lie, well we try not to ever tell a lie-”

“But you do lie,” the Author said. “But yes, according to the amount of truth in you and the hardness of your heart the more you recognize truth but even if you are a liar with only one true thing you know to be true, you may yet know it. Many liars, you see, know they are lying and so stay acquainted with what the truth is. You do, yet.”

“I see,” Famatle said, “I think.”

“You doubt,” the Author said, “Because I have hardened your heart so you would not receive it.”

“I believe it all now?” Famatle said. “Why?”

“I softened your heart,” the Author said.

“I don’t understand how it is possible, but I believe it,” Famatle said.

“Do you have anything else to say?” Otokaf will ask me, I said as he was saying it.

All four of us laughed just as the Author had said we would and I found it even funnier to actually experience what it was to prophesy.”

Now you who have read what Amoakom said. Do you believe it? I have never lied since I got rid of the last of my evil which by the way was just today, I think sometime this morning. But more importantly to me I say is whether you know what I am? What do you say I am without looking for the category I published it in? 

Reviews

[John Carver]

I published it in the fiction category at last wanting badly to write fiction after having published if I remember correctly about 18 fiction novels many fiction stories and other writings of poetry. Who and what do you say I am now. One recently cleansed of all his evil?

[John Carver]

It is fictional unless those in the story with the strange names are Christian scientists or something that have a home near the Wilderness of the Dead, which is in Russia I believe where Bigfoot is as we say in American English.