The Voice Goes Silent [PK]

[Burnsider 4542]

THE VOICE GOES SILENT

 

“I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, ‘Make straight the way of the Lord,’ as the prophet Isaiah said.”

- John the Baptist

 

Joaquin of Osanora sat in the pews in the Basilica of Saint Henrikev. He had gone through the guards, been searched, and waited there, waited for his time to stand up and beg the High Pontiff, the Patriarch of Jorenus, or whomever it was that would perform the wedding ceremony. His words were prepared. 'For you know what has befallen the rest of his family in his madness. Why, therefore, would you let another suffer? You cannot continue this sacrament and call it condoned by GOD.' He sat and waited as people began to shuffle in. A man next to him recognized him and began to question the prophet, but Joaquin was distracted, uncomfortable and, for some reason, in pain. Joaquin waved off the man, but he insisted on getting some words of wisdom from Joaquin. Beads of sweat broke out on Joaquin's forehead and he took the man's book and wrote a few words on it, hardly noticing what he'd put down.

 

The pain became great and turned to nausea. The ceremony had yet to begin and Joaquin knew that he would not be able to get through it. He did not know what had happened to him, but he would not defile that sacred place by getting sick in it. Despite every intention of staying and denouncing the wedding, Joaquin picked himself up and dragged himself out of the church. He stumbled down the streets of Karosgrad, towards the docks, stopping only once to empty his stomach in a nearby bush. On he continued, out of the city, up the hills of Reinmar where the cave was that he slept in. He curled up next to the fire, tossing a few more logs on to last the night, and drifted off to sleep, clutching his belly.

 

Over the next day, Joaquin drifted in and out of consciousness, his belly and side aching. He had felt sick before, but not like this. This felt like his insides were tearing him apart. "Father, almighty GOD, deliver me from this pain, this illness," he croaked out on the eve of the second day before his eyes closed once again. On the third day, Joaquin rose. His water skins had been emptied and he'd been unable to get more. He knew now that, without water, there would be no way for him to heal on his own. He crawled from his cave and down the mountainside, stopping multiple times to catch his breath, until at long last, he saw the road from Reinmar to Karosgrad. His foot touched the wooden planks of the road and he felt a rush of relief. Not too far now. But the man took only three more steps before he collapsed again. He tried to rise, but his legs no longer worked. Joaquin rolled over on his back and looked up into the sky. "And lo! I see the face of GOD, and from his mouth are falling tomes of prophecy. They are washed out upon the world, and the virtuous are perfected before Him."

 

Joaquin Nuñez of Osanora, the Voice in the Wilderness, closed his eyes and never opened them again.