A pretty devastating tale this has been. We knew something wrong would happen the moment Amos agreed to this. Now it’s happened. Let’s see how it ends…

“Ummm… Mr. Manford? I want you to know that we’ve done a full evaluation of your injuries, and I’m going to be completely honest with you—because you deserve that.

So, umm… the trauma from the attack caused severe damage to your lower spine and spinal cord. We consulted with specialists and conducted several scans, hoping for signs of recovery potential. Unfortunately, the damage is irreversible.

“Amos… umm, I’m so sorry, but… I’m afraid you won’t be able to walk again…”

It could not have been more solemn and grave an atmosphere than it already was in the hospital ward, where Amos lay propped up in the bed, pale, bruised, and wrapped in bandages.

With the greatest damage of all, that below the waist.

Beside him sat Reverend Noble, hunched in the visitor’s chair like a man twice his age. His hand gripped Amos’s tightly, both of them weeping without restraint.

Amos’s cheeks were slick with tears, but he barely noticed. His gaze was fixed on a point far beyond the walls of the hospital.

This was the lowest point of his life, without a doubt. Sentenced to a life of dependence and paralysis. This was as cruel as it could get.

Those thugs that beat him up really went all the way, using planks and butts of shotguns to smash his back, resulting in the irreversible damage to his spine. Police reports stated that a few of them had been caught, but were not ready to cooperate with the authorities to find out the real brains behind this attack. They were still trying their best, though.

Not that it mattered at that stage. Whoever orchestrated this attack had succeeded. Now, he could no longer walk, and Aaron was still in a coma, with no idea from the doctors if he’d pull through or eventually die.

And he couldn’t deny it; they had brought this upon themselves. For turning a serious gift of God into a fishing net of manipulation to take advantage of a woman whose only crime was putting too much faith in men of God.

Speaking of Phyllis, she had rushed over to see Amos when she heard of his predicament, assuring him that God would ruthlessly deal with all the people involved in this attack, for daring to lay a finger on ‘an anointed vessel of Adonai’.

Her ignorance had pained him so much that he stopped her and proceeded to tell her the truth: that the prophecies he had given her were all false, and paid for by her husband to keep her in check.

Her reaction? A slow burn into shock and outrage.

She initially suggested that he could not be serious, and that the thugs had probably forced him to say this just to make them pitiable. The realization that her belief made no sense, coupled with Amos’ mournful wails of regret, slowly sent her into a state of shock, as she finally realized how she had been tricked into living a lie.

She broke down for a moment, then slapped Amos before storming out.

According to reports, she had disappeared afterwards. Nobody at church or her neighbourhood knew where she was, how she was doing. It was as though she had just vanished into thin air, emotionally shattered at discovering how the institutions she trusted so much had betrayed her and used her like dirt.

The fallout had been more than ugly. And Amos knew he had only himself to blame.

“I warned you, Amos,” Reverend Noble whispered through the ache in his throat. “I warned you… I begged you to pull away when I saw you walking in the wrong direction. I begged you…”

Amos sniffed, the tears standing in his eyes rolling down.

“I was utterly deceived. I thought I was starving,” he mumbled hoarsely, his voice barely more than a croak. “I thought God had forgotten me. I was tired of waiting, tired of being broke, tired of being invisible…”

Reverend Noble looked away, pained.

Amos shook his head, eyes wild with self-loathing. “But now I see it. He wasn’t punishing me. He was purging me. My dry season wasn’t rejection; it was a refining fire! He wanted to rid me of my lust for wealth and riches before He gave it to me. And I… I spat in His face. I chose to follow the god of my belly. I was following the god of my belly…”

The tears spilled again, hot and bitter.

“I sold out to Mr. Aaron. I sold out to greed. I faked words from God—lied to His people. Lied to Phyllis. What a fool I’ve been! I walked into the very ruin God was trying to keep me away from…”

Reverend Noble bowed his head, his hand still tightly clasped around Amos’s trembling one.

“I… I don’t know what else to say, my brother,” the reverend whispered. “My heart is heavy. My heart is really heavy…”

Amos gave a bitter, broken smile. “It is all my doing, Reverend. All my doing. I destroyed my life chasing what God would’ve freely given me… if only I’d waited.”

Silence blanketed the room. A silence of loss.

Of consequence.

It was sad that Amos had only learned the reason for his dry season at this point. It was only after mourning over this tragedy that he truly recognized how deep and dangerous his hunger for money and recognition was. Of course, God could not take him to higher levels if his desire for riches was strong enough to make it a potential idol; it would have to be dealt with before his ministry as a prophet could go any further.

Alas, he allowed stubbornness, entitlement and pride to take root in his heart and push back against all his loving Father was seeking to teach him.

And now, here he was. Confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life, unless God decided to do a miracle and restore his spinal cord.

Reverend Noble tightened his grip on Amos’s hand and whispered, “God is merciful to forgive us our sins and cleanse us from our unrighteousness… but sometimes, the scars remain, even after forgiveness.”

Amos nodded slowly, the tears never stopping.

“I know, my brother. I know. This is no punishment from Him; this is the consequence of my foolishness. I’ll carry this… for the rest of my life. And all who see me will see a cautionary tale. A tale of the dangers of misusing God’s gifts to destroy people. This is my scar, and I’ll carry it for the rest of my life.”

THE END

Really unfortunate that it ended this way for the young prophet. Selling prophecies was never a good idea in the first place, but he allowed entitlement and hunger to drive him in the wrong direction. A tragedy.

Thank you for reading, and as always, continue to enjoy yourself around the State!