End Times, They Come Rollin' Around

“…and also much cattle?”

He’d thought about those last few words a lot over the years. He’d heard none since, after all. He had wandered throughout the land, seeking the kindness of friends, doing what he could to survive. The problem was that he was an ex-prophet, and unless he began hearing the words from on High again, he was likely to continue being an ex-prophet. What was an ex-prophet supposed to do?

Eventually, he managed to get a place in a town mucking out stables. The innkeeper had pity on him, and said it was the best he could do. After a while he rose from stable-mucker-outer to being in charge of everything to do with the stables, and then to assistant-innkeeper. He settled rather happily into his new life, especially since he was able to put a little money away on the side.

One day the innkeeper called him over. He had concluded a deal with a passing merchant for a new supply of wine, he said, the one condition being that someone would have to go to the port and pick it up. “It’ll be an overnight trip,” the innkeeper said. “You might as well stay over and enjoy yourself.”

The assistant-innkeeper didn’t particularly mind. He even took with him some of the money he’d collected; he might as well really enjoy himself. One missed out on rather a lot as a prophet.

He arrived at the port that evening, arranged for a room at a reasonably nice inn, and took a walk about the city, taking it all in. He found himself wandering by the docks, reminiscing. It occurred to him that he never had made it to Tarshish, after all. Perhaps after the wine was delivered, he might ask permission to take a long journey and see what that was like as well. Perhaps…

Something moved in the water. He didn’t notice at first.

Then he heard a splash and the dock shook, ever so slightly. He didn’t see anyone nearby. He strained his eyes. Something was down there but he couldn’t quite make it out-

Then the monster broke free from the depths and rose into the air, mouth agape, all its teeth showing, and rather than screaming he just sighed, as if he’d expected this to happen. “Oh,” he said, “It’s you. It would be.”

The mighty jaws of the whale big fish closed and he disappeared.

Many days later the innkeeper, rather sadly, made a mark on his ledger book. “Shame,” he said. “That Jonah was the best assistant-innkeeper I ever had.”

---

This story inspired by a prompt from

Scoot

: Write about meeting an old friend after a long time. I realize it might be a stretch to call the whale, or big fish, an old friend, but then again, who’s to say?

Crunch: The Old Pal