A big thank you to my classmate who helped me write this story – It would never have been good otherwise! The synergy of poetry and prose here is something which I look forward to replicating in future pieces.

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Reverberating against the cold walls of a town Monastery, chaos and dread had taken hold of the scribes. Pages of priceless parchment were whisked into the air like autumn leaves in gusts of hurried alarm and the monks’ prayers took the form of pleading for their lives. Upon the dark pages of his most recent original creation, the mysterious author – who worked under the pseudonym of “Ward” – had recorded the exact events of yesterday, yet the work had been delegated to the monastery many weeks prior to their occurrence. This was not the first time he had predicted the future with such merciless precision.

It began innocuously. The prognosticator had claimed (in poetics, no less) that an event would come about which would wreak havoc on livestock, that their worth would double and farmers ought to beware the consequences. It had been disregarded as folly, for surely the author was of wicked ways and merely trying to sow discontent. His predictions would be proven soon enough when the peasants rioted, bodies of farmers lain across newly desolate fields as the nobles stood by helplessly.  Another of the storyteller’s works predicted the outcome of a trial; the late Godfrey’s daughter was to burn: she had been caught in the act of brewing a witch’s potion, and claimed it to be a tincture intended to relieve feminine hysteria. Despite the overwhelming evidence pitched against the witchling, the author had declared her innocence and the unjust nature of the implications made by her very own brother. She already resided in the riverbed by the time his incriminating message could be relayed. 

The Abbot had become consumed by these letters, determined to uncover the author and hold trial for his communion with the devil. He’d excessively interrogated the boy who’d delivered them and resorted to striking the child when he failed to provide answers. The boy had fled and a new messenger was assigned.

The last narrative presented foretold of great and unimaginable horrors. He wrote of a great plague, the invisible hand of Death, whose touch would leave the mark of rose rings upon its cursed victims and steal sixty lives for every hundred it captured. He foretold that every house, hut and steading would drip with the blood of lambs – crude, crimson crosses painted above every door – and not even the Lord would differentiate between rich and poor, godly and godless. The scribes read the missive and knew the words committed to the sheet of paper were prophetic and inescapable. The last stanza had read, 

There once was hope, if heeded my word,

You chose to keep my message unheard.

The fire you cast my work into,

Will “Godly” flesh and bone undo.

If the average peasant had gained knowledge of Ward’s chilling prophecies, hell would fall upon earth; how would they react to premature news of wars that would wage across seas and skies, or to their destiny of being ravaged by plague and famine for thousands of years? If the populace knew what horrors awaited them, there would be widespread, hopeless misery. It would be ungodly to resort to fear, to not hold faith in the Lord and Saviour. The scribes took it upon themselves to remove any word of the heretic’s messages and spread word of his devilish intent. They justified their denial: “Ignorance is bliss”, and though the author had forewarned, the scribes sealed their fate in their choice not to listen.

“Burn the letters, all of them,” ordered the Abbot, and so the monks, dutifully and obedient as ever, cauterized the wound inflicted upon them by Ward’s evil words. The innocent denizens of their town would remain unconscious.

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Reflection

This story is about a medieval author who predicts future events, and his predictions are ignored despite being true by those in power. This is a political satire about ignorance during the global pandemic of 2020, and its message was partially inspired by the 2021 film Don’t Look Up, which similarly satirised those who put others in danger due to their misguided views.

Another real-life inspiration came from the problem of climate change and its deniers; just like with COVID-19, there were many people who ignored warnings about climate change and even claimed it to be a hoax, and there has since been a devastating impact upon our environment.

The story also criticises the behaviour of large and powerful religious organisations in their attempts to censor or destroy art. During the medieval period, monks in monasteries would copy books to be published. The Church would continue to censor media leading into the 20^th century, where they imposed limitations on Hollywood with the Hays Code.