Nescio (3)

NESCIO (3)

Many years went passed: all in all, happily. The father was gone; he'd decided to flee from the family home, from his kids and his wife. He had married another and found a new life.

And, though, in their dreams they recalled the priestess - partially dressed, with her hair in a mess; with her hair all tied up in bracken and moss, the priestess who, frankly, could not give a toss - they began to forget what she said she could see, they began to lose faith in her bleak prophecy. For, how could the son commit patricide when the father himself had decided to hide?

And, then, the mother took a lover.

The sister and brother stay close to each other, they learn to depend on - rely on - each other.

But, the sun clouded over, the birds ceased their song. Earth turned to ash. The world had gone wrong.

Such was their fate.

It was the sister (the younger) who said to her brother: 'I must consult with the priestess'.

The brother (the older) agreed that was best.

They set off for the place where the priestess hung out. Where the wind rattled madly and trash blew about. Where rats ran unheeded dogs wailed their lament below brutalist towers of modernist cement.

They arrived there quite late.

The priestess regarded them, rose from her bed. (She'd downed a good white and uncorked a good red). 'You', she said.

'Yes.'

'And what, my sweet children, do you want to know now?' Her armpits were sweating, as well as her brow.

'Should we hope for much less or pray for much more? Please tell us, oh Priestess, just what is the score?'

The priestess began to pluck hairs from her chin. She drew kohl round her eyes and lipsticked a grin. She spotted her cheeks with a finger of pink. Then, pulled down her knickers and pissed in the sink.

She said:

'You can run but you can't hide. You know you're obliged to follow the tide. The brother will yield and take his bride. The sister will marry though she chokes on her pride.

'The alternative: loneliness. Only you can decide.'