Character: Mr. Smith
Word Count: 200 (double-drabble)
Disclaimer: of course, I don't own Jeremiah nor the characters - just borrowing them for a while
originally written for fffc 15.09 = lost in translation
Smith stared at the old manuscript on vellum, the strange glyphs. The future of the world was spread out before his eyes.
Finally the ultimate downfall of the human race. The apocalypse. The end of everything.
He thought of all the people here in Thunder Mountain, good people, Marcus, Erin, Jeremiah, Kurdy. Despite all the setbacks and challenges they already had to go through they still did believe in a better future. He thought of Rose, his little daughter and all the other children at the school, so young and defenseless. All of them lost. Born to die.
He squeezed his eyes shut, a desperate, vain try to escape the visions. Why? Why had he led him here to find this ancient document? Why was he able to understand the words, written ages ago in a language which was long gone? Why was he still here when this was the predetermined end?
"There is still hope. You just have to show them the right way."
And Smith got up, shook off the torpidity which threatened to overwhelm him. He was God's messenger. He had a job to do. Even if he didn't know where to start.