Year One of the "False" Prophet Lemonade.
Stevenson Larkin, scribe 18B.
Book of thoughts.
Whoever this masked person is, that emerged from the burning train, it be no Prophet. Pah!
My Brothers and Sisters are so gullible.
Did they bother to check this Prophet's references? Nay!
They've accepted a Prophet that just fell onto their heads!
For my disbelief in the Prophet, I've been tasked to clean up the wreckage of the burning train. I've been doing it very, very slowly as a sign of protest for I see this new age of the True Prophet for what it really is- a fraudulent time of a Tyrant!
Today I also heard a noise coming from the train that sounded like yells for help. I ignored them. I've had enough of false Prophets emerging miraculously from train wreckages.
Cold wind and white flakes creep in from the hole in the ceiling of the grand chamber. Many are complaining of the cold. I climbed the rubble and peered out. So much white. The white blinds me, the cold burns something fierce.
The Vending cabinet had promised me things that exist not. There is no great city of Eureka out there. Surely, nothing can survive such foul white-cold. The white-cold must have had eaten Eureka long ago.
I no longer know what to believe. At least the Vending still gifts us crunchy bars, whenever I ask her for such. I seems to have been offered the position of Food-Bringer by my Brethren for my knowledge of where to obtain food. I am no longer sure if I should share the secret of the Vending with my brethren as I wanted to. What if they break the Vending? Who will feed us? The masked prophet from the white-cold? All the Prophet does is demand things from us.
Well, the Prophet did give us a few "salty snacks", but since I am most suspicious of the Prophet's reasons to be here.. I am sticking to the Crunchy Bars.
We've sealed off the great chamber with the broken train, for the cold there had become awfully unpleasant once the train had stopped burning.
I've started to collect various reports of my Brethren about the Prophet so that one day I may use them to put this fiend from the white, cold land on trial:
1)The Prophet was not pleased with the commemorative statue we've built and demanded that we tear it down immediately to construct a "TALLER ONE".
2)The Prophet was not pleased with the temperature of the tea offered. Tea was unceremoniously thrown into the face of Scribe 11, scalding him severely.
3)The Prophet was not pleased with the flavor/dexterity of the Crunchy Bar that was offered. The Crunchy Bar was slapped into the face of Scribe 9, bruising him severely and leaving a square imprint.
4)The Prophet was not pleased with the bedding offered for sleep, calling it "MOST UNCOMFORTABLE BED I'VE EVER RESTED ON". The investigation uncovered a tiny pea underneath the 12 mattresses. Displeased, the prophet threw the pea at Scribe 17, blinding the Scribe in one eye.
The revolution is upon us! Finally the Prophet has gone too far by insulting the parchment that my Brethren consider most sacred.
The Prophet called the holy parchment "JUST A STICKER FROM A SOFT DRINK BOTTLE" which has greatly enraged the gathered crowd.
There will be no trial for the Prophet! The False One shall be cast into the Pit of Sugary Death, from which none have ever escaped!