Balaam, the Gray Prophet by Stephen Beam

Author:Stephen Beam [Beam, Stephen]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2014-06-13T21:00:00+00:00

Chapter 6: Balaam and Balak

Moab was an upper class domain; Pethor wasn’t even in the running. Trotting past the polished stainless steel gates revealed a landscape of domes and towers. Metal and glass aesthetically dominated the theme of Balak’s personal territory. The perpetually shiny RV was parked curbside on the white brick road leading into town. Pluto stood behind the RV and gestured for Balaam to ride over. Balak’s entourage of elites waited inside the big vehicle, ready to go meet with Balak.

The air here was not the same as in Pethor. Long wisps of nearly transparent rainbow streamers, more mental than physical, floated and swirled all about. They were more fragrant than roses, and lent a peaceful aura to Moab. Balak was known for his excellent managerial skills, and Moab reflected this, with its sanitized, aromatic, and elegantly minimalist style. Balaam rode Eeayore to where Pluto stood. Eeayore snorted at Pluto and shook her head. Her power of human speech ended shortly after encountering the angel, yet a deep awareness still lingered behind her eyes.

Pluto kept himself composed, despite the string of donkey snot dripping down his shirt. “Welcome to Moab,” he said. “Follow me to Balak’s palace and I’ll introduce you to him.” He abruptly left Balaam, climbed inside the RV cockpit, slid the door shut, and took off down the road.

Eeayore followed, carrying Balaam over the spotless white bricks of main street. They soon arrived at the marble steps of the palace entrance. The main structure was a sparkling clear crystal dome laced in thin webs of polished stainless steel.

Balak was already walking down the long flight of marble steps, alerted to Balaam’s arrival by the palace security guards. He couldn’t wait to meet the prophet, a man that had spurned his first generous invitation. What manner of man could refuse the amount of wealth that he had offered? Whatever forces motivated Balaam, they were a mystery. Balak assumed the prophet’s talents were dispensed most sparingly, holding them in reserve for very special occasions.

The RV was parked curbside near the palace steps. Balaam dismounted Eeayore and tied her to a polished tubular steel hitching post. Balaam figured if Eeayore defecated, swarms of cleaning nanobots would erase her waste. Pluto and his associates left the RV and waited for Balak and his security entourage to descend the steps. Both groups met, then walked over and greeted Balaam while he finished tying Eeayore to the post.

Balak greeted Balaam coldly, “Wasn’t I earnest enough the first time I called on you? Why would you refuse to come here and let me honor you?” Balak’s men muttered to each other in whispers. A bitter vibe went out from the Moabites, but Balaam wasn’t upset. He knew it was deserved. Plus, he understood these people weren’t able to view his actions through the eyes of the spirit.

Balaam’s face was hidden in shadow beneath his hoodie as he said, “Look! I’m here now. And I’ve stated before that I have no power to say anything other than what the Lord God tells me to say.

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