Showing posts with label failure of grace. Show all posts
Showing posts with label failure of grace. Show all posts

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

The Tale of the Casual English Intellectuals Who Became the Sussex Wraiths (Episode 2 of 3)


Previously:
Episode 1: The Pipe-Smoking Casual English Intellectuals Fight for Seven Sinecures


Episode 2: The Night of the Strangulation Nightmares and the Infestation of the Sussex Wraiths

‘Father Joseph Kirkpatrick (he came originally from the nearby Scottish Coast) drank brandy with Mary Brandy and the rest of them at dusk, after the burial of John Barkley Towntower.
‘“These Apprehensions, which are sometimes known as the Nine Day Wonders, are frequent in history or at least in shadow-history,” he said. “Scarcely a century has been so poor that it has not had one or several of them. They are characterized by Pnigmophobia, both for the individual person and the world. I suppose that it’s really the contagion of a viral sickness. That being so, it will pass, and its dead will be buried, and the world will continue on its way. The fifth night of the sickness (that will be tonight, Friday night) is usually the worst, or that was the case in the epidemics of 1017, 1126, 1344, 1453, 1562, 1671, 1780, and 1889.”
‘“What happened to 1235?” Jane Hunting-Horn Chantal Ardri asked.
‘“The Thirteenth, the Holiest of Centuries, was spared the apprehensive sickness,” Father said. “But Friday night, the fifth night, is usually the worst for the victims. That is the night of the nightmares, of the deliriums, and of the deaths. The people have nightmares that they are choking to death, and so they do choke to death, a few millions of them, in their violent sleep. On the Friday night of the Strangle-Death of the year 1344, thirteen million died in Europe alone. The failure of the worldwide input is only the failure of grace. But you people here, being intellectually active, do not sleep much at night anyhow. Oh, one or two or three of you may die tonight (after you make your midnight jump I believe), but the rest of you should survive with minimal impairment. Bonfires are good to keep off the nightmares. And yes, young girl, hunting-horns. I see that you have yours about your neck.”
‘“Do you believing in Giants?” Jane Hunting-Horn Chantal asked.
'It was all strong talk with the horns and hooves still on it.'
(R. A. Lafferty, The Devil is Dead)