Posted Sunday November 20
It was Wednesday and the village square was crowded with busy shoppers and eager tradesfolk. Wandering waits made jolly music. A wizened old man in a black gown sat hunched over a black-clothed table.
'Tell me kind fellow, how charge you for your service?’ asked a frock-coated gentleman.
‘Three groats sir. I think that is fair. How say you?’ replied the soothsayer stroking his lengthy grey beard whilst expectantly twitching the fingers of an upturned hand.
The gentleman removed his tall hat and placed it on the table. ‘Two groats my man, and should your fatidic statement prove both accurate and pleasing, I shall award you twenty groats more’
They shook hands.The gentleman sat and paid his dues.
The seer bent down and plucked a stone from the ground. With a small coin of little value, he frantically scratched its surface. All of a sudden he stopped and gazed upwards, his hands pointing heavenward.
‘The angels smile down upon you this fine day sir. Take this stone to the banker and he will in turn hand you a fortune’
(Which reminds me, I need to buy my lottery ticket. You never know, do you?)
This week's word at Sunday Scribblings 2 is Fatidic.
*The first recorded use of the word fatidic was in 1602. It is a combination of two latin words; fatum meaning 'what has been spoken' and dicere meaning to speak or tell.