On the Sabbath the children’s chorus performs for the Prophet, a peacock snatches a Koi from a decorative pond. Spits it onto grass. Feet from our dress shoes, the Koi heaves. Shudders. The peacock’s beak skewers a skyward fisheye like an olive on a cocktail toothpick. We watch from our rehearsal outside the auditorium—a line of children in cornflower awaiting curtain call.  Focus fixed on fish and bird and blood, we are unherdable. The choral director begs, threatens, pleads us inside to perform. When we file up the risers, the Prophet—seated in the front row—is smaller than I imagined. Frail. I forget the words to our first song until the choir is halfway through the verse. Such terror there has never been, great terror on them falls. For God will scatter all the bones of the ungodly men¹. We sing It Won’t Be Long Now. Then You’ll Never Walk Alone. Close with Edelweiss. The audience applauds and the Prophet rises. Resumes his place at the podium. We scurry outside to see the remains of battle. The Koi’s scales have dried in the sun. Its mouth hangs open in a rictus gasp.

1. Armstrong, Dwight. “Fools Have Said There Is No God.” The Worldwide Church of God Hymnal, 1974. ↩︎