62

My name is Neil. I believe in myself and not much else. I suppose you could call me a Neilist. That’s what my followers call themselves.

Oh, yeah. I’ve got followers. They also believe in me. I suppose that makes me a cult leader. The media says I’m a crazy cult leader. The thing is, I never wanted to lead anybody. I don’t encourage them, but the Neilists never go away. They hang onto my every word. They are crazy, but I’m not.

I’m a bit of an outdoorsman. I like to be alone in nature. So I went camping, way out here in the woods, pitched my tent and built a campfire. And they all appeared. Hundreds of them. Disturbing my peace and quiet. They were all waiting, looking at me. I tried to ignore them, toast my marshmallows. But after awhile I felt compelled to say something and I addressed the crowd.

People! Listen up!

I honestly don’t know what’s going on here. I’m just trying to go camping, to commune with nature. That you people are here is very strange. But you seem to be fixated on me. Why?

I’m just a guy, a quiet guy. I don’t want any trouble. I’m not a prophet or a seer or even a philosopher.

I just want to be here by myself, alone with my thoughts. Listen to the breeze, watch the sky. Okay? So just go. Please. Go.

The eyes of the crowd moistened. I heard faint sniffling, then a loud wail.

Then they all go up, together. Now they are marching in formation, into the lake. I think they may drown themselves!

I’m calling 911 on my cell, but it may take a long time for help to arrive. We are far away from anywhere.