This Week in Word of the Day – 6/23/2013
phosphoresce \fos-fuh-RES\, verb:
to be luminous without sensible heat, as phosphorus.
An abandoned, dilapidated garage off Highway 9 was engulfed by a phosphoresce burst as 200 strands of Christmas lights ignited in one glorious beacon to guide the world toward the site of the victorious return of Edgar Winterfield and the Handmedowns.
Once a force of nature in the small, but gritty Tecumseh punk scene, EWH became legendary for their guerrilla gigs where kids from miles around squatted in abandoned buildings for 60 angry and primitive minutes of electrified chaos.
Now, two decades removed, the band members collided again for one last row, a final chance to scratch their mark into the collective psyche of central Oklahoma.
“Come celebrate with me, you insatiable bastards!” Edgar howled into the quiet rural night. “By morning, we will all be dead!”
falcate \FAL-keyt\, adjective:
curved like a scythe or sickle; hooked; falciform.
Rose was fed up with eHarmony and deleted her profile from her phone as her latest date sat across from her, uncomfortably smiling whenever she looked up from the screen. His name was Duke Agares and he was a tall, pale old man with a long, falcate nose that hooked over his wine glass awkwardly as he took a sip. Long, stingy grey hair was tied back with a black ribbon and his suit, although nice, looked to have been stolen from the grave of an 18th century noble.
He also smelled distinctly like sulphur covered up by a fog of Old Spice cologne.
“I understand that I may be a bit older than you anticipated,” the Duke said.
“Yeah, how old is that exactly?” Rose shot back.
“Um,” the Duke began, but stopped to nervously take another drink from his wine glass. “What year is it again?”
Rose huffed and shook her head.
“I am in upper management,” the Duke tried with an optimistic smile. “I am also a land owner.”
“Where? Is there a beach?”
“Yes! The western edge of my land touches a sea of blood, overlooked by a towering castle built from the leg bones of runaways who have abandoned their people in times of great need! There are thirty-four rooms, all wired for sound, with sixteen servants that will bend to your every whim! You will be my duchess and we shall be the toast of Hell!”
“Hmm. Can I swim in this sea of blood?”
“Yes, I mean, you could. I wouldn’t recommend it, though.”
“Hmm.”
“I have thought of putting in a pool!” the Duke offered.
“Wouldn’t the water just evaporate, it being Hell and all?”
The Duke bellowed a loud laugh as black smoke tumbled out of his mouth.
“Oh, no, no, no, my beautiful fool! My land is in the Eastern province, it is quite temperate. You are thinking of the fire scorched pits in the South. No, in the East, it is 75 and clear every day of the year.”
“So, I could sunbathe?”
“Well, no. It is Hell, after all. It’s – underground. We do have a stable of tame crocodiles you can ride!”
“Crocodiles?”
“Yes!”
“Not horses?”
“No. Crocodiles. And health insurance! The Demon Associated Alliance has a wonderful health plan and our 401K consistently outperforms the market. Lavish dances with the most distinguished of damned souls, a standing invitation to the GOP party convention, box seats at Oakland Raiders games, there are so many benefits in Hell! I know you will love it!”
“But no horses?”
“I could get some.”
Rose lifted up her purse, opened the latch and dug out a business card. She slid it across the table and his bony index finger grazed hers as he accepted the card. Through his skin crept a rush of sorrow, suffering, horror, and the dread of a billion tortured souls.
Her skin rose, a shiver coiled down her spine. She smiled, devilishly.
“I could get used to that,” she breathed into his ear, then stood and strode out of the restaurant.
balk \balk\, verb:
1. to stop, as at an obstacle, and refuse to proceed or to do something specified (usually followed by at): He balked at making the speech.
2. (of a horse, mule, etc.) to stop short and stubbornly refuse to go on.
3. to place an obstacle in the way of; hinder; thwart: a sudden reversal that balked her hopes.
Shame bound me, clinging to my wrists and ankles like tentacles pulling me deeper into the misery. I was hurting, confused, bitter, and sinking, inch by inch.
I balked at change, that was the heart of it. It’s time arrived, but I could not let let loose my past life. I dug my heels, tightened my grip and resisted the current sweeping it from me. In so doing, I did terrible, terrible things.
I know I hurt many of you during this madness, I think of this daily. I cringe at how weak and paranoid I became and I am truly sorry.
In time, light will break even the darkest storms, and light has broken for me. It is an odd thing to feel the sun on my face again after so long. I still am not sure how to accept it.
So much space in my heart has been cluttered with pain, it is due time for a house cleaning. Forgiveness is where it will start.
I will mourn the friendships my weakness cost me, but I will also celebrate the possibilities of this grand new beginning. I believe that, this time, I am actually ready for it.
hamlet \HAM-lit\, noun:
1. a small village.
2. British. a village without a church of its own, belonging to the parish of another village or town.
A lone girl walked out of the decimated hamlet, now just an open grave where the mysterious illness swept through the small community, leaving every soul dead within the day.
The area was quickly cleared out as rumors raged through the parish. Weeks passed before a priest stumbled upon the girl. She was famished and chilled to the bone, perhaps only hours from death.
Days later, she would finally begin answering questions and it became clear that the small child possessed an incredible fury.
“A witch,” the normally somber-minded doctor whispered in an adjoining room.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” the priest replied. “The sorrow has tainted her mind. Give her time.”
But the doctor was right. She possessed power not seen in her lineage for twelve generations, but a diseased mind would warp that power and threaten the lives of every man, woman, and child in all of England.
poniard \PON-yerd\, noun:
1. a small, slender dagger.
verb:
1. to stab with a poniard.
The crooked old geezer fingered the closed latch on his cane that unleashed a poison-tipped poniard from the handle. Made entirely of plastic, Ned could hobble through metal detectors and even get onto a plane and no one would be the wiser. He had no interest in planes, though. He wasn’t a terrorist, just a dedicated patriot.
Ned waited on the steps of the US Capitol building, fumbling with a tourist guide, trying not to attract attention.
“This Internet is a cancer, honey,” she told him months ago. “All these theories, the UN, 9-11, the IRS, they are crazy. These people you are reading, they are leading you into a dark world that I can’t follow. None of this is real, but I am, your kids are, this house is. Come back to us, please.”
But Ned was protecting them, that is what she couldn’t understand. There were powers at work that the public didn’t see, couldn’t recognize, but he saw the face of evil and he would strike at it. He would dispatch one of its agents and ignite a revolution that would reclaim this nation for its people.
The young senator finally emerged at the top of the steps, distracted as he talked on his cell phone. Ned did his homework, he knew the senator was a family man, attended church weekly, maybe didn’t even know that he was just a tool for a nationless agency trying to dissolve American sovereignty.
Soon, they would both be symbols for the greater struggle, this moment a flashpoint for the American Reclamation Project.
The latch clicked and the poniard emerged. Ned hobbled toward the senator, toward his destiny.
fen \fen\, noun:
1. low land covered wholly or partially with water; boggy land; a marsh.
2. the Fens, a marshy region W and S of The Wash, in E England.
Sickly green haze tumbled through the fens as the sun dipped into the horizon. The chorus of insects hushed, birds took to the sky in search of safer nesting and the bogs prepared for the nightly arrival of the Screaming Norseman.
Lindy and Edward took a moment to feed each other encouraging nods before plunging deeper into the desolate landscape, determined to catch the phantom and free the terrified community.
“And you said there was no future in ghost extermination,” Lindy said with a smirk. She nudged Edward in the shoulder before lowering the Sixth Sense Spectral Goggles over her sharp and clever green eyes.
Edward sighed, thinking of the mountain of debt they incurred to start the agency, just to wait two years for their first job.
He gripped his TI-128 Ectoplasm Anchor tightly and led his sister on into the darkening marsh.
A distant, desperate scream sounded and the last of the sunlight and all of the stars were snuffed out like ink spilling onto a page.
In the dreadful darkness, the brother and sister pressed their backs together. Edward attempted to flick on his All-Worlds Multi-Lantern, but even its light couldn’t penetrate into the gloom.
drawl \drawl\, verb:
1. to say or speak in a slow manner, usually prolonging the vowels.
noun:
1. an act or utterance of a person who drawls.
He rode into town armed with two six shooters, a war-worn Confederate cap and a lazy drawl as long as the Mississippi.
He wasn’t a bad man, he had a decent enough heart, but also a knack for finding himself on the losing side of things. Perpetually rebuilding his life, backtracking, walking away and starting again.
He once dreamed of a family, land rolling into the horizon, respect and position. These days, he just hoped to find a sympathetic ear and an honest wage.
Dismissive glances and hushed jokes tipped the town’s hand. It wouldn’t be any different for the stranger here. New people, same stories, same troubles. He would find a bed and scratch for work, then disappear again a few weeks later.
But trouble was on its way. An evil was migrating across the plains and would soon descend on the town. The stranger’s time had finally come.
