“Sick shit.” — Jonathan Franzen

VEILED PROPHET is a 65k-word novel about a 25-year-old California actress hired to play the role of a daughter of the St. Louis elite. After her playing her part as the 17-year-old Alexandria Chouteau (pronounced “Show Toe”), who is destined to be crowned the 1993 Veiled Prophet’s Queen of Love and Peace, Angie is promised the fast track to Hollywood fame. It’s a reward only connected people like the Chouteau’s can procure. But the more time Angie spends as a hired daughter in the Midwest, in proximity to this creepy Veiled Prophet of Khorassan, far away from her home in California, the more she realizes she’d got herself in over her head. The Veiled Prophet is some kind of occult society of the powerful, with a blood-drenched history. Angie must decide if she’ll conform in exchange for life-long success on the silver screen, or rebel like debutantes of the past.

Characters in VEILED PROPHET are on quests to either unveil, forget about, or become the Veiled Prophet.

QAnon Anonymous Premium Episode 171: The Veiled Prophet Cult feat Devin Thomas O’Shea (Sample)

The Veiled Prophet Ball

In 1973, a protestor named Gena Scott crashed into the stage steps, fractured her ribs, but then ran up to the VP and ripped off his hood. On the throne sat the Vice President of Monsanto Chemical Cooperation.

Also featured on NPR

Gena was hauled away by security, but everyone saw Mr. Tom K. Smith’s face. The VP conspiracy doesn’t start there, but no photos and no name ever made it into the newspapers. The event went unreported unless you knew about Percy Green, and knew where to look.

Essay featured in Belt Publishing’s The St. Louis Anthology

Veiled Prophet is like Kathy Acker writing a fictional version of Confederates in the Attic by Tony Horwitz. I’m influenced by Thomas Pynchon, but my plots are 70% more understandable—far less shattered than Inherent Vice while keeping the paranoia of the 60s counterculture.

Engraving, Lalla Rookh by James Stewart (1791-1863)

The Confederate poet-founder of the Veiled Prophet Society was shot dead by the editor of the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, and that is just one of the many conspiracies Angie Chouteau discovers.

“Sick shit,” — Johnathan Franzen
Matt O’Shea Photography