Joseph Smith Fanfiction

Joseph Smith walked down the cold, metallic hallway of his most prized possession: a spaceship he had received when he was 16 years old. The ship wasn't very advanced or technological because it was from Earth, Joseph's home planet and one of many inhabited planets. His whole life he wished for a ship from Kolob, the most heavenly and technologically advanced planet, but those ships were always extremely expensive, so his grandpa of a ship would have to do. Upon reaching the control center, Smith set the navigation to Earth. He wouldn't stay on Earth for long. He had to get back to Kolob for his space captain education. Sitting back in the captain's chair, Joseph thought about all of the things he would do on Earth, or rather the person he would do. Ah! He couldn't let his mind stray that far. Heading to the bar would be a good start. Last time he was at an Earth bar he got so messed up from whatever hallucinogenic substance they were serving, he swore he saw an angel. Or maybe the angel he thought he saw was Brigham Young. Brigham had been Joseph's friend since childhood, but they both knew that they wanted more. Stop. He couldn't let his mind stray that far. What was he thinking! Brigham could never love him, not after Joseph left him for Kolob. Absorbed in fantasy, Joseph began to drift asleep, the last thought in his mind being that hopefully he could make everything up to Brigham. Morning came and the alarm blared. "5 more minutes," Joseph mumbled in his sleep. Wait. The familiar rumble of the spaceship wasn't there. They must have landed on Earth hours ago. Shooting out of bed, Joseph slid on his space captain uniform and checked his face in the mirror. "Perfection" he whispered, and then he winked at his reflection in the mirror. Before exiting the ship, he ruffled his space goat, Mormon, on the head. "Be a good boy, Mormon, and don't you dare escape and go bother people on their doorsteps!" he called out while rushing out of the door. The walk to the bar was one Joseph knew all too well. He was there in no time. Joseph opened the door to the bar with a cocky smirk on his face. Bingo. Brigham was sitting right where Joseph expected, and when Brigham's face flushed a deep color of red, Joseph knew the smirk had worked. It always did. Sliding onto the barstool next to Brigham, Joseph rested his elbows upon the bar and called out to the bartender. He ordered his usual drink, and it was ready in an instant. Although his smirk and demeanor said otherwise, Joseph had to chug the drink to gain enough confidence to talk to Brigham. And yet he only managed to say, "Look. I'm sorry I left, but I felt a calling. Like a destiny. Gosh, that doesn't make sense. What am I even saying?" Brigham, face still as red as one of those berries from Kolob that Joseph loved, looked so confused, and yet understanding. "Let's just have a couple more rounds because this conversation won't be easy for anyone involved," he said. "Agreed," Joseph said, already tipsy because he was such a lightweight. After countless rounds of drinks, Joseph began to feel the familiar feeling of divineness but also bleakness. "Great," he thought, "another vision." And with that, Joseph's vision began to quickly fade into a blinding white light. "Joseph." "Joseph?" "JOSEPH!" Brigham kept calling to him in his dreams, a look of worry on his face. Gasping for air, Joseph finally woke up. "My God!" he mumbled under his breath. The vision he had was like nothing he had ever had before. It was the first time he was given a mission: find the golden plates that could bring people of all planets together. "Brigham, I need you to come with me" Joseph gasped out. The vision mentioned nothing about needing anybody else, but it was a good enough excuse to spend some time with his childhood crush. Maybe Brigham also wanted an excuse to spend time with Joseph, because he immediately agreed without hesitation.

Five Years Later: Joseph woke up and he immediately noticed that the familiar warm presence on the other side of the bed was missing. "Brigham?" he called out, his voice echoing on the metallic walls of his spaceship. "Yes?" the familiar voice replied. It was weird for Brigham to be up so early. Slipping on his space captain robe and slippers, Joseph slumped through the hallways and discovered Brigham making pancakes. "I thought I'd make your favorite food to celebrate your running for supreme space lord." Brigham said. "What did I do to deserve you?" Joseph said, love in his eyes. "Well you did take me with you to find the golden plates, and we both know what happened on that trip," Brigham winked. "And then we found them and preached their wisdom to countless planets, and you became a galactic hero, and then…" Brigham trailed off. Ah those good old days. Now he was running a planet, and hopefully after the election, the entire universe. But things with the campaign weren't going too well. People were angry at him because they didn't understand his teachings, and yes, ok, he did close the planetary press system due to attacks on himself and Brigham1. All he wanted was no harm to come to Brigham. They continued to cook the pancakes and dance to songs from the 80s channel that coursed through the radio. The beat in those songs was so loud that Brigham barely heard the shot. In fact, he didn't realize there had been a shot until he heard the thump of Joseph's body on the ground. Shock was all that Brigham felt, and on instinct he slid to the ground and held Joseph in his arms. The blood covered everything, and seeped out of Joseph's chest. His shock was replaced with panic, but before he could jump up and call the medics, Joseph grabbed his arm and pulled it close to his body. "Just hold me, Brigham. That's all I've ever wanted" Joseph whispered on his dying breath. "But what about the promised land?" Brigham asked. "You are my promised land" Joseph said, tears in his eyes. The dam in Brigham's eyes finally broke, and he cried all the tears he had left over the body of his true love.

1 Richard Bushman, "Joseph Smith," Britannica Academic, accessed November 18, 2018, levels/collegiate/article/Joseph-Smith/68288.