The day after the gathering in the open field, I could hardly sleep. My body was tired, but my spirit was heavy. Each word I had spoken to the people still echoed in my heart, and I wondered how many truly believed. Some had wept, others mocked, and some remained undecided. But the silence of the night only reminded me of Gabriel's warning—that the days were drawing short.
As I sat at the edge of the small bed in the guest room, I prayed again for strength. The window was open, and the cool night air drifted in, carrying with it the faint sound of crickets. My mind was restless, but my soul was being pressed by a burden greater than my own understanding.
The next morning, Samuel greeted me at the table with a thoughtful expression. He had listened carefully to everything that happened at the gathering. "Alfred," he said quietly, "your words shook the people. Even those who mocked you will not forget what they heard. The field is still buzzing with whispers about you."
Grace joined him, carrying bread she had just baked. She placed it on the table and looked at me with a gentler expression. "But whispers can grow into storms," she said softly. "Not everyone will welcome you. Some may even fight against you."
I nodded. "I know. Truth has always been resisted. Yet, it is not my message but His. If God has sent me, He will keep me."
Ruth, the older of their daughters, ran into the room, her little face bright with curiosity. "Uncle Alfred, will you speak again at the field? Will you tell more stories?"
Her innocence made me smile. I patted her head gently. "Yes, Ruth. There will be more to say."
As the days went by, I noticed how the people in the village began to treat me differently. Some greeted me with respect, even calling me "the prophet." Others looked at me with suspicion, whispering when they thought I could not hear. The children, however, were always drawn to me. They gathered near whenever I passed, eager to listen to tales of angels and visions.
One afternoon, while I helped Samuel repair the fence near his barn, a man from the village approached. His name was Elias, known as one of the elders in the community. He stood tall, with gray streaks in his beard, and his eyes carried both wisdom and weariness.
"Samuel," Elias greeted, then turned to me. "And you must be the one they call Alfred."
I bowed slightly. "Yes, sir."
Elias studied me for a long moment. "I was at the gathering. Your words were… unusual. Some say you speak the truth, others say you are a dreamer. Tell me—why should we believe you?"
I held my gaze steady. "Because what I say is not my own. I have seen angels with my eyes, and I have heard the voice of heaven with my ears. If I speak lies, may God silence me. But if I speak truth, then time will prove it."
Elias rubbed his beard thoughtfully. "Time indeed will prove. For now, I will watch." With that, he turned and walked away.
His words lingered with me. I will watch. That was both a warning and an opening.
That evening, Gabriel appeared again in a vision as I prayed. His form shone brighter than before, filling the small room with glory. His voice rolled like thunder and yet calmed my soul.
"Alfred," he said, "do not measure your mission by how many believe at once. Seeds are not harvested the day they are planted. Speak faithfully, and the Spirit will do the rest."
I bowed my head, trembling. "But the burden grows heavy, my lord. Each day feels like a weight upon my shoulders."
Gabriel's golden eyes pierced me. "The weight you feel is the weight of a message. It is the same weight carried by the prophets of old. Bear it with patience, for soon it will shine like fire."
With those words, the light faded, leaving me in awe and fear once more.
The following morning, I rose with renewed strength. I knew then that the path ahead would not be easy, but it was already written. My duty was simple: to carry the weight, and to deliver it faithfully, no matter the cost.