The Prophets

Every year they gather to the place that they met. One, two, three, four, five, six and seven. It was their mecca; where it all started. It was silent in the car as they drove down the highway. Piled into the seven-seat car, each were in their own ritual that steadied the nerves. Luke, sat in the drivers seat, used the focus of the road to stay concentrated and calm; Lizzie sat next to him stared out of the open window, hand waving with the current of the wind. Sat behind her was Sarah, curled into a little ball, head resting against the window as she slept. Sara, behind Luke, read her worn copy of Nietzsche, recently read pages littered her naked feet.In the middle of the Sarah/Sara sandwich was Nikolai, already having had a few drinks, spoke to himself in a voice no one could hear. In the back seats sat Sydney and Clinton, each listening to their own music, the only sound in the car was Sydney’s soft singing…



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