Come In, Patmos

A revelation from the wrong end of the dial. A short story.

If I hadn’t come down with the flu, I never would’ve found out I was the Antichrist.

But there I was—puking, sweating, and broke—waiting four hours at a free clinic sandwiched between a guy coughing up blood and a woman reading a conspiracy blog out loud. I was between radio gigs again, which meant no insurance, no backup plan, and no wifi.

Radio jobs had…