WHO KNOWS?

I was sitting at my antique desk, going over for the third time, the translation of Nostradamus’ quatrains. The lamp is top quality, sheds perfect study light. I was comfortable for the rest of the evening.

At 9 o’clock my lamp began to dim. That was strange indeed. In my years of experience bulbs burn out, they don’t fade, but this one was dimming slowly. With it there was a strange shift in the air. As the bulb died, a small candle in a metal holder came to life on the right end of my desk. I almost fell to the floor in shock and fear. It gave off just enough light for me to try the lamp again. It was useless. The odor of candles is usually soothing, even romantic at times. This candle smelled old as if it had been in a tightly closed area for a long time, the wax absorbing the stuffiness.

I was afraid but knew that just sitting there watching, smelling would not solve anything. I rose and went to the light switch at the library door. It did not work. From there I barely made out something in my brown leather revolving chair. Somebody was sitting in it. I could tell my voice was shaky as I called out, ‘Who are you? How did you get in here? What do you want? What has happened to my lights?’ All those questions poured from my lips one after the other. There were no answers.

Moving a little closer to the shadow, I was afraid to be touched or perhaps bitten. Two more steps and I saw scruffy leather sandals on bare, dirty feet. I asked again, ‘Who are you?’ A soft, almost kind voice spoke in French. My scant knowledge of French let me understand . ‘Comment allez vous, Monsieur’. Period. ‘Can you speak in English, Sir?’

The voice became more harsh. Then ‘it’ coughed and said, ‘Yes, I can. Don’t be afraid. You know me very well. I am Nostradamus.’ What the hell is going on? Who is playing such a garish trick on me? ‘Charlie, if you are in this room, show yourself. Turn the lights back on.’ The brown clad figure rose slowly. My god, I thought. He looks just like the Nostradamus on the History channel. ‘Charlie, where did you get that beard? Great trick but I’ve had enough. Turn on the lights. We’ll have a drink and laugh at me.’

The phone rang. I almost tripped on my own feet as I managed to get to the phone. Charlie asked me to go to the movies with him tonight. ‘Where are you?’ ‘I’m home.’ he answered. ‘Go by yourself. I have company. Goodnite.’

Nostradamus sternly told me to ‘assez a vous.,’ so I sat down. He stood beside me. The quatrains began to turn by themselves, slowly, one page at a time. ‘Stop, Read this one to me.’ I read him his prediction about the downfall of the French empire. ‘ Do you truly believe I had fore thoughts, as much as 500 years after I was dead, that I was a seer, a fortuneteller? I didn’t know there would be a United States of America but did know a new land was found.’ ‘But how did you know blacks were going to be set free. There were no slaves in France and you wrote about great storms that blew strong winds that destroyed cities upon the water.’ ‘ was a story teller most of the time. People believed me. They shouldn’t have. When my children and wife died in the plague, there was nothing left for me. I was a lunatic, wandering aimlessly. I studied. I wrote and was famous. Imagining ships in the air, hah. That was going to happen with or without my prophesy.

I’m here because I am desperate. There was a book of quatrains after my Les Prophetics that is about to be found and I don’t want it to appear.’‘Why?’ Because I foresaw the Armageddon. It IS coming May 12, 2012. This one I didn’t make up. The world is going to end.’ ‘Don’t worry, Sir. People have been walking with signs on their backs, churches have warned us for years, and it hasn’t happened yet. IF you are correct, so be it. Who will be here to chastise you? Until then, disappear, go back to France. Leave me in peace. I won’t tell anyone you were here. They will call me a kook, and maybe I am . As for me, I’m going on living, reading more about you and Da Vinci. My lips are sealed.’

Nostradamus went up in smoke as he blew out the candle. I called to him, ‘Hey, turn my lights back on!’