The Book of Josiah - Epilogues

   Josiah Smith woke with a start, and looked about him in panic. Where was he? Then he saw the signs, and realised they were pulling into King’s Cross.
    Hurriedly, he gathered his belongings and moved to get off the train.
    He hated sleeping on trains - he always had such peculiar dreams, and what if he missed his stop? It was 7:35, so the train was running five minutes late. Again. It never ran on time.
    Just as he was stepping onto the platform, he realised he had left his book behind. It was too late. ‘The Time Machine’ it was. Never mind - he hadn’t been enjoying it much anyway. Altogether too fantastical.



    Josiah Smith opened his eyes and rose from his knees. Never before had the visions been as sharp as now. The chapel had grown cold and dark. All the candles had sputtered and burnt out since vespers. The night time vigil was his alone.
    The prayer had been from the heart, the true word of his soul. God had sent him this vision in answer but what did it mean? What were these sights of steel and blood, moon and darkness? It did not make sense, at least not yet. But there would be much time to consider the revelation, weigh it for meaning and truth, before he need reveal it to the Abbot.
    What did it all mean?



    He opens his eyes and is alone in the room. What is he wearing? Why can he not move his arms?
    Above his head is a single bulb, swinging to and fro, creaking like a demon.
    How long has he been here? He cannot remember.
    But he remembers the window, the faces, the men and women in their white coats, looking at him like he was crazy.
    There they are again, still noting things down on their stupid little note pads.
    One huge man with a flat round face and small dark eyes. A woman with unkempt blonde hair and a long white glove. A thin man with eyes too large for his face. And their leader is talking to them, a small middle-aged man, balding with small dark eyes and small round spectacles. What is he saying?
    He tries to read his lips, and only catches one phrase over and over again.
    ‘Patient Fifty Six’.
    He does not call for help. They will not listen.
    The voice drones on in the background.
    He barely notices it at all now.
    “And she conceived again, and bare a daughter. And God said unto Josiah, call her name Lo-Ruhamah, you are not forgiven: for I will no more have mercy upon the house of Israel; but I will utterly take them away.”
    No, he does not cry for mercy.
    Instead he closes his eyes once more and returns to the waiting arms of sleep.
    I hope I have a good dream.