“Fatidic: Fatidic is closely related to the word fate, and is derived from the Latin word fatum, meaning that which has been spoken. A number of superstitious cultures believed that fate could be prophesied by mystics and soothsayers. Anything fatidic relates to a prophecy or prediction. He had an almost fatidic ability to pick winners of horse races.“
“Felicity: One of the greatest nouns in the English language and much underused. When Edwyn Collins, the lead singer of the 1980s Scottish alternative pop band Orange Juice sang in the song ‘Felicity’ he was expressing one of the meanings of the word: the quality or state of being made happy by something or someone. He was also, perhaps unintentionally, right twice, as the secondary, more highbrow meaning of felicity is having felicity with language, which means using words perfectly to express ideas, emotions and thoughts. She prided herself on her exquisite felicity with language.”
“Fribble: A rather amusing word that first appeared in English during the nineteenth century. A tendency to fribble means to while away time doing inconsequential things when there are more pressing (but tedious) tasks to be done. She fribbled away the whole morning browsing the internet.”
(from “1000 Words to Expand Your Vocabulary” by Joseph Piercy)
I waltzed into Mystic Myra’s canopied cubby. Royal purple silks flowed into rivers of tasseled beanbags that surrounded a low circular table. I sunk into the comfort, and the fatidic aura sunk into me.
Incense blistered at the edge of the room, something someone more sceptical might consider a fire hazard, but I was fully immersed, trusting in my mystic.
Myra stepped from behind a floaty curtain and flourished into a bean bag opposite me. She was known to have felicity with her words. Yes she created the right atmosphere, sparking arcane senses, but she also had a scientific precision with her predictions, and she was never wrong,
“So my child,” Myra addressed me as such even though I thought she actually looked younger than me, her rosy cheeks glowing, her blonde hair wavy and care free. “What can I answer for you today?”
Once again, a skeptic might question why Myra didn’t already know the answer to her question, but she knows I would want to know so much, it’s not her place to chose for me.
I take a heavy breath, catching myself before I cough on the curdled smoke. “When will I die?” I ask. It’s been weighing on my mind recently, ever since my husband died. I’d been talking to him through Myra once a week, but I needed to know once and for all, should I make an effort to move on, or will I be with him again soon?
Myra swirled her hands above a cloudy orb. “This fate has not yet been decided,” she chants, “I sense you are yet to decide.”
Her wisdom overwhelmed me. For her to utter those words exposed my thoughts, exposed me. I had yet to chose my fate, I hoped she might have chosen for me. I should have known it was not her place to dictate, only relay. The reality of what I’d been considering, now that it was opaque, seemed unthinkable. I was done fribbling away my time, I would live a life my husband would be proud of. That I would be proud of.
“It looks like you’ve made a decision.” A light grin shone through Myra’s eyes that mirrored mine.
“Thank you.” I said simply with sincerity. Before waltzing back out of the drapes, following life.