I asked him why he thought to tell me these stories. I had no idea there was some sort of bum-mystic on the mountain. I was there because I enjoyed a hike and our occasional visits together.

“Well, sir,” he began, “I’m old. I’m tired. The world has changed so much this old son of a sharecropper can’t comprehend. I’d like to go home to Franklin, Tennessee. I’d like to see if I can learn whatever happened to Sybil in Birmingham.” 

“I’ve had a vision of you sitting behind that fire. I want you to take my place.

“I’m not going to lie to you and trick you as I was. I’ll stay on this mountain as long as I have to and one day I will leave, for sure. But I thought I might ask you.”

At first my mind refused to understand what Virgil had asked. But while I didn’t fully grasp what being an oracle meant, my thoughts turned to my children.

My daughter had moved out to California years ago. I hadn’t heard from her since her mother died.

My son was lost in the Ukrainian Action with Russia back in 2031.

I had no one. No human relationship to speak of, other than with this man.

I had a decision to make.