Create a very convenient prophecy

As I entered my bedroom, I hastily pulled out my special bible and began flipping through pages to find the best spot to write in. There was one section that looked perfect. It was filled with prophecies, so my edits would fit like a charm.

A little edit here, and a little edit here, and… that doesn’t look good, so I’ll just remove that line and replace it with that. Then to make sure my writings had more weight to them, I’ll copy them from the old testament to the new testament. Yes, this area would do perfectly.

The sound of my father calling me from downstairs interrupted my thoughts. “David, could you come down, please. Pastor Rodrick would like to speak with you.”

Shit, I didn’t have too much more time. “Okay father, just give me one minute and I’ll be down.”

Flipping a little further into the book, I started making my last changes that would set my destiny in stone. Closing the book, I slid it back into the shelf and made my way downstairs. But as I closed the book, I was hit with a feeling of intense nausea. It felt as though world was spinning around and around faster and faster. The room was getting colder and hotter and I swear I could hear colors and taste the sounds around me. I felt the urge to scream but nothing came out, and then it stopped.

I was still standing in my room. Everything looked normal. My body felt normal. And I could hear the muffled sounds of people talking downstairs. I looked back at the bible on the shelf and down to my hands. It was possible that maybe I was making too many changes. Too large of a change to a religion that has been an important piece of history in the world. Maybe next time, I’ll do more tiny changes. That experience was way too intense and scary.

As I entered the living room, everyone had immediately stopped talking. Father and Mr. Rodrick had been standing to the side talking while Mrs. Rodrick and my mom were sitting on the couch. Apposed to your father’s short and wide form, Mr. Rodrick was a tall and very thin fellow. He was in his mid-40s, had a well-defined jawline, a sharp nose, and he wore black circular glasses. As the town’s only pastor and its **** focus on the bible, Mr. Rodrick basically lived here, not only as a religious leader but also as its judicial and social leader. What he said was law to these people and because of it, he was also the scariest person.

Mrs. Rodrick or Samantha Rodrick was a tall and slender woman in her early 30s. Why she married, the pastor, I have no idea. She was more like your ideal model, with how perfectly shaped her body was. On top of that, she had beautiful red hair, green eyes, and a light speckle of freckles. Sadly though, she was just like my mom in how she dressed conservatively to cover everything up.

Mr. Rodrick spoke first. His voice was deep and cold as he spoke, and the way his blue eyes stared at me, made me feel like an ant under a microscope. As much as I knew I shouldn’t have to worry, his way of unnerving me made me doubt how full proof my plan was. “So, David. Your father tells me that you made a holy claim to declare yourself a ‘son of God’ and claimed the mantle of Head of The House. That’s not something to take lightly.”