BAD GRACE - quantum witch © 2005
see Prologue for warnings, rating, and summary
In which Ginger finally gets a break with Agnes' prophecies, small though it be.
5:03 – DESTINY'S DATE
EASTER HAD PASSED, AND GINGER had spent it in church, praying for the newly returned Christ to be safe. The predictions of an Accursed One and the Antichrist had kept her on pins and needles for months.
But Easter came and went with neither the world ending nor becoming a haven of peace and love. And so she realised she had misread that part of the prophecy. At least it meant the Christ was alive and well, which she felt in her bones that she would have automatically sensed if it were otherwise. Yes, she was meant to find the Christ. Alive.
She was so devoted to finalising the cards, copying each prophecy carefully, taking apart every word for its etymology and connection to other words, and cross-referencing every mention of names and titles and situations and items, that she scarcely had time even for her job.
Ginger had cut back her hours to only ten per week, and even that seemed like a dreadful chore. Beside, the job wasn't nearly as important. She could only stand to sell so many mass-produced teddy bears masquerading as the perfect flame-retardant-polyester-fluff-filled symbol of well-wishing to a relative suffering in a hospital bed.
It had all become utterly pointless and irritating in the face of her Holy Burden.
The Bible declared that humanity would never know when the Christ would return, and thus should live their lives properly every day so that, when he did come, they would be prepared and ready to enter Heaven immediately. And right now no one but Ginger knew that the Christ was already here. That He would soon open the Seven Seals. That very act was where the phrase 'sealing one's fate' had come from. Her fate was already assured, a place in Heaven among the angels and saints.
But everyone else… they continued in not only ignorance but sin. Did the world believe such a thing was not possible? How dare they? So many people in this sad little world were as aware of their Maker as a chair was of its carpenter. They had as much true substance as a packing crate of Styrofoam peanuts. It seriously pained her to see them, a baaing herd of brainless sheep, ignoring their Shepherd, lost in the fields of pain and desolation. Thus is was her Divine Duty to bring them all to light, to show them the Christ in the flesh.
More and more time was spent at her home desk, copying passages from the book, digging through her large library for clues to the prophecies. She was up to number 610 now, and new perfectly well that it was going to take her years to finish. Hopefully she keep her sanity that long.
Some leapt up and grabbed one by the throat, such as:
357: When the Healer is loos'd of the Serpente, he shall leave Londonton and moveth to where the Lamb doth nest, the better to be on Guarde.
This made Ginger sigh hugely with relief. The demon had been dispatched, and the angel was watching over the child Christ. He would obviously be safe until Ginger herself could reach him.
And she knew that she would actually be there, in person, to speak to the Christ at some point, because of this:
421: It is thru the Owle's efforts that the Christ be found. She sharl hold the very hand of the Lamb onto the Circlef of Lyfe. If not for the Owle Maid, this would not be, nor would there be Peace upon earth.
That alone kept her going, filled her with a bonfire of righteousness. She would be not only at the right hand of Christ, but literally holding it. Her entire being shivered with delight. When she found the Christ, when she helped Him in whatever way it was that she was destined to help… then she would watch from on high as the godless masses who never repented were punished, devoured by the Pit. They deserved it, the lot of them.
But Agnes' book could be very puzzling as well. Her labyrinthine methods aside, she included many things about the world in general and specifically about other individuals to which there were, as yet, no real connection to the Christ. For instance:
For instance:
453: The Black thinne one and She who cooketh the finest join themselfs together. They sharl sell the seed of caffea with alle manner of spices and cow's milke, and they selleth with grate haste. Yet they deceive into death.
She knew this referred to the almost unholy speed with which the Mocha Dick's coffee shop chain was advancing, a hoard of vampiric baristas sucking the caffeinated lifeblood out of trendy nineties yuppies everywhere. Then again, maybe the two famous food-mongers were doing the world a favour there. But how these people were connected to the Christ was still a mystery.
Number 217 regarding 'wyre and board' had also cleared itself up in the last month. There was a young woman, a brilliant software designer from Switzerland, who had joined efforts with a young man who appeared to be an albino. He was apparently the inventor of a revolutionary and extremely durable plastic. Together they had created the SloLutions Company and released a high-tech toy called a Vis-A-Vive. Initially marketed toward the upper echelon of high business, it was of course claiming a hold on the youth of the world as well. The Vis-A-Vive was ingenious but disturbing. It consisted of a tiny earpiece and microphone, along with a postage-stamp sized see-through viewing screen showing images of news, entertainment, and movies created by laser and sent by satellite feed. Touted as being 'science fiction come to life' and 'cyberpunk' (whatever that was), it was quickly turning to mush the brains of those who used them. Just because one could walk and talk and use the item at the same time, didn't mean one should. It was quickly becoming a hazard. There had been a number of catastrophic accidents by drivers watching the view-screen while pretending to watch the road. And since it was virtually invisible to other people, even children were playing with the gadget in school rather than learning. The Vis-A-Vive was creating an instant age of idiots.
Ginger prayed even harder that this trendy new toy would vanish from the face of the earth. Perhaps she could write to the company and appeal to their Christian sensibilities. If they had such a thing.
Whatever reason this was in the prophecies, and whatever these people had to do with the Christ, was also still a mystery.
Her concern over the prophecy of Christ being in a terrifying place with a flowered name had been laid to rest later though a prophecy she'd just found.
602: The Home of the Dove sharl cease to be the Floweryng Place, by my blood and the Heal'rs help.
She had nearly wept in relief. Of course that meant her cousin Philip had wasted months on compiling a list of UK homes with floral names. He'd finished it just last week and sent it to her, and it was truly impressive. Oh, well, at least it had kept him busy and out of the usual trouble, and Ginger hadn't had to carry through her threat. Though he would probably pay for it anyway when he faced Christ. Drinking and pornography were still frowned upon by all those who followed the True Path.
Now, continuing her project, she came upon this passage:
611: From thy husband's book ande that of hif brother, read thee twenty and five-teen, ten to six-teen, twenty-seven to thirty-two. These are the thingf which maketh Him of the Darkness most angry, which maketh Him plot againft the world.
Her husband had been Matthias. His brother was Lucius. This was, of course, reference to Bible verses, Matthew 20:1-16 and Luke 15:11-32.
Ginger had always prided herself on her vast Biblical knowledge, having large portions virtually memorised. But her memory lately seemed to be focused too much on Agnes' book, which rankled just a bit. Conceding defeat on her memory, she retrieved one of her many Bibles and read the passages.
They were both parables, concerned with how one gets into Heaven regardless of how one has lived. If only one repented sincerely and declared their belief in the Saviour, they would be saved from Hell. Even upon one's deathbed, the grace of utter forgiveness was bestowed, allowing a person to sin and sin until the last breath of their lives.
Ginger had always thought it a rather poorly thought-out idea, but who was she to dispute what Christ had declared? She thought about this a moment, then wrote on the side of the card with the prophecy:
Is this how the Antichrist feels? Does he resent that others may ascend when he will never do so?… Now that he has failed once to destroy the earth, he will try again, no doubt, and only the good grace of the Christ shall save us all.
It was all rather pleasant, knowing the Christ was here and would be found by herself, of all people. It humbled her while also making her proud. How remarkable it all was. If only…
If only she had some clue to the timeframe, and to where or even how she would find Him. Of course she knew she 'fynd the Lamb when it be tyme and not one minute sooner.' But still, a little clue would be nice to have.
Agnes must have known that, and taken a single moment of pity upon Ginger, because the next page contained this rhyming prophecy:
622: Upon the day of Bread Mass, it sharl cometh to pass;
623: In the year of nyne-teen and ninety and eighte, then sharl we alle know the world's fate;
624: The world sits in the hande of the Dove, to send it unto the hande of Love;
625: One moment of Peace sharl all harts feel; the fate of us alle this peace sharl heale.
Ginger sat for a second as her brain absorbed this poetic prediction, utterly stunned that Agnes had been so very straightforward. She had a date, a precise date. If she could figure out what the day of Bread Mass meant. But the year, oh heavens, there was a year! 1998, just seven more years!
Seven years. The Christ would still be a child!
That changed everything. No wonder it was so vital that Ginger be present to take His hand. He would need an adult to help him accomplish the goal. Her heart swelled with joy yet again, almost becoming more than she could contain.
Ginger sat back in great satisfaction, knowing how very blessed and special she was to be given this gift.
She felt, for just a moment, the weight of the past wrapped around her shoulders like a mantle of heritage, the knowledge of the Prophets of old. Perhaps… she too was a Prophet. They needn't all have been speaking directly to the Metatron or well-known angels to receive such messages. They might have used other means to read the future. Her Boss was her method, having brought unto her the book of Agnes Nutter, however mad the woman had been. The last passage would save Ginger herself from madness.
The year was now available and she would discover the date. And she had the list of floral named homes to delve into. She might be able to convince her Boss to investigate these places, as he had far easier means of traveling than she did, and far more time on his hands. Still it would help if they knew the general area. Hopefully the prophecies would contain that answer as well.
Energy for her project renewed, she turned the next page and continued writing.