Twas Wednesday and the village square bustled with busy shoppers and eager tradesfolk as 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. Conceal this stone within the pocket of your weskit and visit the gambling den from where you will surely leave with a fortune’.
…….which reminds me, I need to buy a lottery ticket – you never know!
*Fatidic, a word first recorded in 1602. Having the power to foretell future events; prophetic.
Word count 200
Thanks to Donna for hosting. The photo is courtesy of Wendy Van Hove.