MORONI STILL DESCENDING: The story of the first Mormon Martyr

by John Mabry (11th Grade)

Author's Note
Despite the fact that this story was written in a fictional style, I have tried to keep MORONI STILL DESCENDING as factually accurate as possible. Dates, where available, are precise, others are feasable. There is much speculation as to the actual event of the death of the "prophet" Joseph Smith, but the accounts which coincided the most were used, except for the escape of Brigham Young and the "prophet" from jail, which is of my own fabrication. This was employed
because of an account of Smith falling from a second story window after being shot. I could hardly conceive of a two story jailhouse on the frontier. Thus, the escape, which is not totally inprobable. The title I will leave undefined, for it, as many other things in the story are, has a double meaning. I will note, however, that Moroni is the name of the angel that brought the golden plates of Mormon to Joseph Smith. This work is not intended to in any way be allegorical or even apolegetic, but to relate an event, neutrally, although it may seem at some points otherwise.

But even though we, or an angel from heaven, should preach to you a gospel contrary to that whioh we have preached to you, let him be accursed. --Gal. 1:8

Thou fool, that shall say: A Bible, we have got a Bible, and we need no more Bible, ... And because that I have spoken one word, ye need not suppose that I cannot speak another.
--BOOK OF MORMON, 2 Nephi 29:6,9

(MAY 16, 1839)

"Don't bite off more than you can chew, Joseph," Emma Smith
cautioned, as her husband began to choke. He coughed loudly, and
swallowed hard. He breathed again, slowly, and his flushed face
smiled.

"And just what is so amusing, Brigham?"

"Exuse me, Joseph, but it is hardly like a prophet to choke on a carrot!"

Joseph Smith laughed himself, the first in a long time, "As much like a prophet as getting fat in middle age, going to the outhouse, or marrying a 26th wife, eh?"

"Oh, have you an Jesse's youngest daughter decided to wed, Joseph?"

"It was more Jesse's decision than any of Irene's or mine. But to please him, she's a fair face, though."

Emma's visage hardened, and great tears welled as she silently excused herself from the table. Rushing to the mirror in the room that had at one time been shared by her and Joseph, alone, she looked into it. Her red eyes searched the still smooth face and ran her fingers through her greying hair. Her thoughts drifted back to the time when she and Joseph, so much in love, had eloped, and live these years so happily, and now ......
Am I so plain? she demanded of the mirror. Why havn't we had a night alone in almost a year?

But the mirror wielded no answers to the bombardment of mental questions. The first Mrs. Smith watched the river of tears flow upon red plains and hills of her cheeks, she sighed at the image in the glass, and it sighed 'back at her, she slammed a fist on the chest-of-drawers, but the image, the Emma-made-of-glass, didn't feel the pain, inside, or out. She flung herself on the bed and sobbed.

"Brig! Brigham!" Solomon Young, Brigham's younger brother came nounding up the walk. SLAM! his hand hit the door panel. WHOOSH!! he flung it open.

"Brigham, militia men are coming, they got guns and swords and they look mean--I mean they look like they mean to do some killin'"

The pronhet was, for a moment, unable to speak, then, overcoming the initial shock, he began to issue orders.

"Solomon, go to the council, have them meet here in five minutes.
Brigham, I want you with me." Solomon ran out the open door in
obedience.

"Sir, I've got an idea. I'm sure it will work."

"You've got my support. What is it?"

"Keep the militia here as long as possible negotiate, or something. By sunup tomorrow, the entire church, save for you and the eleven, will. be safely across the Mississippi." The prophet smiled, and pumped the hand of Brigham Young.,

"Go, and God go with ye!"

Brigham nodded and with the heavy steps of a man as big as he,
went out the back door. It would be awhile before Smith would see
the messy shock of brown setting atop the scraggly beard again. He
marvelled at his friend's ability to think swiftly in the face of
danger. Joseph finished his milk, wiped his red whiskers, and
decided it was time for a shave. As he lathered up his face near
the kitchen mirror he called out, "Emma, Emma, dear, straighten
up the house a bit, hon. Company comin'!"

The wheels of the carriage clacked incessentlv upon the stone pavement. The two figures
within the car were taking the bounce and the swaying well. One of the men was very slight of
build and had the same messy frock of brown hair as his older brother, but not the beard.
Solomon Young thumbed through his small edition of the Book Of Mormon, "Thank you for
coming, Joseph."
"Thank you for asking me, Sol. I miss your brother quite as much as you do. He's done some
excellent missionary work for us in England. It will be good to have him home. It has been quite
difficult to manage the church alone, you know."

"Yes, sir, I know."

"'What's the matter, Sol? You seem troubled."

"Just petty doubts, sir. It's nothing."

"No, Sol, it isn't, 'nothing', come let's talk about this, We've got plerty of time until we get to the coach station."

Solomon Young's fingers wove swiftly over the book until he found the passage:

"Here, sir, Alma 7:10, "And he shall be born of Mary at Jerusalem....Jesus was born at
Bethleham, wasn't He?"

The Prophet coughed lightly, "Ah, well, you see, Sol--"

But Solomon Young cut him off, "And what about Ether 2:3 'Honeybees.' There weren't any honeybees here until the Spaniards brought them over!"

"Solomon, please, allow me to-"

"And I also found this book, View of the Hebrews: Or, the Tribes of Isreal In America,- published in 1821. How did the guy that wrote this find out about the Godden Plates of Mormon, sir? How did he know about the Jaredites and the Nehites, sir? Sir?"

Joseph was sweating now. he took out a water skin from a pocket in his coat and took a long swallow. "Solomon, I--"

But he didn't finish, for just then a rock flew into the carriage, accompanied by many angry cries of the town's inhnbitants; "Adulterors! Mormons!!"

More rocks followed, one catching the pronhet in the temple.

Solomon went inmediatly to his aid. "Sir, sir, are you alright?"

A voice was distant, "I'm not!!" the cabby shouted, "This is gonna cost you extra, every chip those rocks put in this coach!"

"I'm fine, Sol, fine." The Prophet dabbed at his wound with a handkercheif, the red stains formed a scattered pattern on the oncewhite cloth. He laughed, "I can see that I'm not going to get the majority vote in this state. "

"Then you have,decided to run for prsidency?"

"I announced it to the, papers yesterday-" He was interrupted by the coachman's gruff bellows: "We's here, I'll not wait long."

"And you'll not have to!" Solomon said, spying his older brother sitting on a bench, dressed in conservative black tails, clutching a leather-bound book, which. both knew to be a copy of the Book of Mormon, and reading a copy of the local paper. "Brigham!"

The Man in black looked up and smiled, neatly folded his paper, and strode heavily to the carriage. He swung in as the cabby threw his baggage atop the car.

He was met with a warm embrace from his brother and a quick handclasp from the prophet. He said nothing at first, but unfolded the newspaper and pointed to the headline. "What's this, Joseph?"

Joseph's eyes read instantly, "PAGAN RUNS FOR PRESIDENCY."

Brigham Young's eyes darkened, "A noble vision, Joseph, but hardly well-timed. But the newspaper is our real problem. With the press against us, we've no hope what-so-ever."

"Well," said a puzzled prophet,"What do you suggest?"

But Brigham just smiled.

(June 26, 1844. 2:00AM)

"AAAAHHHH!''

"Shut-UP! It's me, joseph!''

"Morori's Mother! You scared me, sir!''

"For the sake of the Celestial Kingdon, Brigham, keen your voice down!''

"Where are the other men?" Young asked, whispering now.

"They're waiting in a coach by the street."

"That's the newspaper office, sir." Brigham pointed at a red bricked building, dimly lit by street lamps and dripping with the rain that had just stopped.

"Right, that's it. We've been waiting for you for nearly two hours, Brig."

"Sorry, but I've been looking the office over. It'll be best to enter by the side window, besides, it's unlatched."

"Let us then waste no more time.''

The two men walked non-chalantely past the dim streetlamps, each claiming the two small shadows for a short time, until another, brighter light took it's hand, and soon the two shadows had become five. They walked further still, until--

The newspaper office. It loomed with two great stories, issuing red-brick heat into the night air and into the heart of Joseph Smith. The soul of the Prophet cursed, but the windows smiled back in defiance. The prophet's rage subsided as the arm of his friend cir-cled his shoulders, "Come, Joseph, you first."

The building became just a building again; the smiling ceased and the red brick issued forth not fire, but smoldered black within itself. Joseph felt a shove, and he was within the building, dark as coal.

He turned and proceeded to help Brigham through the window. Brigham tripped on the sill and fell headlong onto a pile of machinery.

"Shhhhh!"cautioned Josenh, rolling his eyes up into his head in frustration.

Next, Alexander Naaman came through, much more easily, as did William Neary. "Anyone else, Brigham?" Alexander asked.

"Yeah, Solomon. O.k., Sol," said he, shouting out the window, "Let's go!" But Solomon had left, his footsteps echoed on the wet cobblestones, until the night had drunk them up.

+++

The denuty that stripped the four men down was young, maybe, Smith deduced, nineteen or twenty. The prophet's lips parted in a small smile as he saw the reflection of flames from across the street dance on the wall opposite the window.

"What a way for the next president of our nation to spend the night." Brigham said jestingly.

The boy officer dropped the sack into which he had been stuffing valuables. "Your Joseph Smith?" he wailed.

The orange head bobbed up and down. "Here," said the prophet, handing him his own Book of Mormon, "I guess you'll have to keep, that, too."

"Yes," the boy said, dazed, "Sir."

Their eyes met, and as they stared, the policeman began to shake, in a great convulsion. Then, the spell was broken. Sweat stained his uniform. "This way, please."

He said it again, several hour later, "This way please." The young policemen licked his lips nervously, and his hands clutched at a black leather bound book, which all knew to be Joseph's Book of Mormon. They followed the deputy obediantly. The deputy emptied the contents of the sack which had contained their own clothes. He handed them back, and handed the Book to the Prophet. "I want to be baptised." he stated flatly.

Joseph looked him aquare in the eyes, grinned broadly, and placed the worn Book of Mormon back into the boy-man's hands.

He opened the door, and as the men exited, he whispered, "Go, and God go with you."

(June 27, 1844)

The brass doorknob on the heavy oaken door to Joseph Smith's office turned slowly, and, after the door swung inward, Solomon Young stepped inside.

"You sent for me, sir?"

"I did. Have a seat."

"Thank you, sir, but I prever to stand."

"As you will. You know by now that trouble is stirring again. It is time to move on, this time: west."

He rose and poured from a pitcher a glass of cool water. "Guess you are wondering why I called you here."

"Well, sir, let's say that I expected it."

The prophet's expression was blank. "Oh, did you? Good, then, perhaps you also know what it is that I wanted?"

Solomon swallowed hard. "I'm prepared to leave at sun-up."

"No."

"Huh?"

The prophet sat down again. "Solomon, Jesus said that we are to forgive our brothers seventy times seven times. I am willing to forgive and forget, even treason, if you will re-commit youself. I need you. You have many of your brother's qualities. If you decide to come back, I will offer you.a good position in the church."

Solomon had just opened his mouth to reply, but the Prophet would never hear what he had to say, for just then, a window shattered and the lamps flickered as the wind stirred angry shadows on the dim walls. Cries of hatred flew up from the ground below the second-story window. Curses and vile oaths were tossed about, until caught by the prophet's ears. Suddenly, heavy footsteps were heard clammering up the many steps.

"Solomon!" the Prophet cried, "THE BAR!! BAR THE DOOR!!!"

Solomon young was frozen in a curious mixture of confusion and undecidedness.

"THE BAR, DAMMIT SOLOMON, THE BAR-"

"I--" Solomon's mouth dropped, he stood motionless.

"YOU WRETCH!!!" Joseph shouted, as he lunged for the door.

But too late, the door swung openy and caught the prophet in the head. The impact of the blow sent him reeling backwards, as angry vigilantes poured into the room Joseph had risin and was teetering precariously beside the once-already broken window. He was clutching his head in his hands, and trying to collect his thoughts amidst the Dulseing redness of his mind. Confusion swam in and out and in again through his thought patterns, as the roaring in his ears subsided only to hear the crack of a rifle, the breaking of glass, and the sensation of falling downwards, downwards, and oh, how dark it had become.

+++

Brigham broke through the crowd huddled around the body. He stood looking at the slowly cooling form, and a small trickle of sweat dripped onto the prophet's cheek. The prophet who was no longer capable of creating the fluid himself. The dying pours sucked it up, and the rest slid onto the cobble Davement.

Brigham threw himself on top of the Seer, and wept openly, beating the stones with his fist. Warm blood from the self- inflicted wound on his hand mingled with the cold blood on the pavement. Something unseen swept over him, and he found, suddenly, the courage and. the boldness to stand. He saw, there on the ground the Hope of Mankind, the Completer of God's Most Holy Word, he saw the Priesthood of Melchizedek, given under the hands of the apostle Peter himself, the Descendant of Aaron. He saw the One chosen by the Almighty Himself.

He raised his eyes to behold his younger brother, as he realized his responsibility. "Sol", he choked out, his heart filled suddenly with love for his brother, "Will you come back?"

Solomon Young's face screwed into hatred and confusion.

"This is no Isaiah-"

The crowd of witnesses stirred.

"This is no Jeremiah that wept for his people--"

"--No Elijah that was caught into heaven in a fiery chariot."

His brother's fist swept across his cheek. His head flew back, he staggered and wiped a trickle of blood from his lip.

"No Elijah that saw the bones ressurected. He was an adulteror, you hear?!" He shouted at the crowd, "An adulteror!! A MURDERER!!"

Brighamts fist struck his jaw.

"And if there be faults, they be the faults of a man!" Brighem shouted, "He that condemneth, let him be aware, lest he shall be in danger of hell-fire!!"

Solomon Young began to back always, fighting his way through the crowd of angry brethren. Angry, angry at him, his blasphemy. Every shoulder issued forth curses, and every passing face illuminated great counter-blessings.

"Hear that, Solomon? 'Hell-fire!! Danger of hell-fire!!"

Solomon had turned and was running full out away from the town and it's inhabitants.

"Hell-fire, Sol. Hell! HELL! HEELLL! HELL!!! oh, hell!" and with that he threw down his hat. It struck the prohet's forehead, and bounced off, but the prophet did not feel it.

Brigham Young looked out over the masses, and swallowed hard. Thousands of them, he thought, looking to me to lead them. Somebody shoved Smith's Book of Mormon into his hands. His fingers squeeked against the leather, and he clutchedttightly to his bosom as he spied the former deputy that had handed it to him.

"Soon," he declared, "we go westward, the the land which God hath prepared for his people. Very soon, the promised land is ours!"

+++

Solomon turned to look back upon the crowd, the mob departed, the mourners many.

A Voice, he know not from where, whispered in the Wind, a Secret Fire which burns the tops of trees when no man is watching and burns the hearts of men as the world looks on. The words came to him, grom somewhere deep within, and yet from without as well:

If any man would add to.,
or take away,
any portion of thi words of this nrophesy,
his name would I remove from the book of life (Mormon 8:17; Revelation 22:18)

Solomon ran a rough hand under his nose, and swallowed. "How many names today were dropped?"

The Wind within him burned and stirred, but did not answer,

Still, Solomon had an Idea that the prophet was just now finding out for himself.

The word of the Saint of Latter Day,
Is, after Jesus' Ascending,
Many more words God has to say,
Thus, Moroni still is Descending.

Looking forwards, Christian Pastor and Lay,
Towards the Doom inpending,
Down, down, past Hell'S dark gates,
Moroni is still Descending.

A Book in common, yet still at odds,
The desicion now is pending.
But whether servant of Beezlebub or God,
Moroni Still Descending.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Holy Bible-God
Book of Mormon-(disputed)
Collier's Encyclopedia
So What's The Difference? Fritz Ridenour, ed.
The Prophet Joseph Smith's Testimony- Joseph Smith.
Christ in America- Elder Mark E. Paterson.
Cult of the Month: MORMONISM- Jesus People, USA.
The Peoplets Almanac #2- Irving Wallace.
Doctines and Covenants-(Disputed, also)
Further,yet until this time unexplolred corners of John Mabry's imagination.

(Three cheers for the Lord on this on, Okay?)