from chapter 7

        There were screams outside my tent at all hours of the day and night. No longer were they only cries of joy and religious praise but of pain and begging for my hand of mercy. The dying ones cried out to me in the last desperate moments of life, having given up on The Prophet’s good name and The Master’s almighty word. As death called for them it was as if they finally saw a glimmer of reality and saw this place for what it really is; a sham run by a false god speaking in the name of a false prophet. These were the ones abandoned by the rest, left to die at my doorstep, their bodies taken away after a final breath. Though nothing was ever said, I knew how the others felt about them. Their gestures reeked of rejection and disappointment, for these were the frail ones who abandoned the word of John Cauliflower while the rest of them remained patient, obedient, waiting for the prophecy to be fulfilled.

 

 

         from chapter 2

        “For, the prophet told of a stranger to come and he did. The prophet spoke of the Promised Land and here we are!” Rufus continued. The crowd replied with another cry of his name three more times.
        The trumpet sounded once more.
       “Rejoice in the name of The Master and his prophet! Pay for the burdens of man! Seek forgiveness for your sins! Ask him to shine down on you and lay out his great hand of mercy! The lord is great! Praise The Master! Praise the prophet, John Cauliflower! Hallelujah! Praise the prophet, John Cauliflower!”
       With these words the gathering of standing people transformed into a huddled mass of strange noises, convulsions and prayer. Bodies were falling to the ground with full force as their mouths spit out imitations of different animals such as the mooing of cows, the squealing of donkeys under a cracked whip. Some merely ground their teeth as they gave in to what looked like violent seizures, their bodies slapping around on the dusty ground like fish out of water gasping for air. Others stood as still as mannequins with eyes bulging from their sockets, chanting, rambling loud praises to John Cauliflower while begging for forgiveness of all their sins. Then there were the dancers — mostly women and children who were prancing around erratically with no sense of rhythm, smiles on their faces, occasionally clinging to one another in a sloppy circle of joining hands as they too chanted and begged for salvation.