Pungent

The smell is foul. It is a stench. A repugnant odor. The air is thick with it, and I can barely stand. I don't want to know the source, because it could be too many things. It could be that wall, stained and sticky. Or that pile of rubbish, covered in flies. Or it could be that body, bloodied and bruised, decaying in the middle of the floor.

She held her nose and put on her gloves. Another lovely day at work.

Cachinnate

They talk about beautiful laughs, like the peal of bells, or the sound of angels. They say it lights up the face, and erases the years. They say it's mesmerizing. Maybe it could be bottled up and sold, like everything else. "Joy and humor, the key to beauty and agelessness." Maybe then people would buy it.

Jog trot

I remember the stable, its smell, a repulsive mix of hay and horse dung, of sweat and slop. I remember the leather saddles; they filled the room, resting on their racks, and we called them tacks, and I didn't know what that meant. All I knew was that I was finally going to ride, to swing my legs over the back of the most beautiful beast that walked the earth. I would soon know what a jog felt like, and a canter, and maybe even a trot. I would post. I would hold the reins. I would feel his muscles beneath mine. I would ride.

Sinecure

All I need is a sinecure. Something to put food on the table, to pay the rent and the bills. I don't want to worry about finding time. I don't want to worry about anything. I just want to put pen to paper and see my name printed on a hardcover spine. My words in someone else's eyes, someone else's mind.

Ludic

The white kittens played in a box, and the girl sat by the side of the road, waiting for someone to want them. Someone besides her. Someone who would feed them and love them and chase them and name them. Names are important. They let you know who you are, who you are to the person who calls you. The girl's name was Lucy, but her mother called her Sweetheart. Her brother called her Luce, which means Light in Spanish. And her father... Well, her father used to call her Kitten. Before he left. Then he didn't call her at all. He doesn't call her anymore.

So she sits by the side of the road, and she waits for someone who will want these kittens, and who will name them, and who will call them, and who will never, ever leave them.

Apparatchik

blindly devoted. hopelessly devoted. devoted devoted devoted.

what happened to miss independent?

i'm just a girl.

Zibeline

She spent the day curled up in the cave, waiting for her lover to return. The camel hair blanket kept her warm, the candle kept her sane. She watched the shadows on the wall. She counted the seconds. And after one nightfall, one daybreak, and one more nightfall, she began to worry.

Occident

Maybe I'll go west. Maybe there I'll be understood. Maybe there I'll be accepted.

Maybe I'll just be alone.

Corvée

I don't owe you anything. This has always been a one-way street, and I'm tired of walking down it. I sat down a few months ago, and now I'm finally ready to stand up and go back the direction I came. Because there is nothing for me here. There is nothing at the end of this road. Only you, and you are not something I desire any longer. I tried to want you, but I'm done. I'm done with you. I'm not your vassal anymore.

Panjandrum

This isn't a game. Well, this isn't just a game. This is 40 minutes of the most intense action of my life. This will make or break me. This could take me to the top. This could be the best day of my life. Or it could be the worst. There is no one I can bribe, no one I can suck up to. All I have is my own talent, my own drive, my own two hands and this orange rubber ball. So I will go out there, and I will give not just everything I have, but everything I will ever have. Because I can make more. God, if you just give me this one night, I can make more.

Imbroglio

Her mind was calm and clear, firm like a glacier floating peacefully on the arctic sea. There was no confusion, no chaos, no doubt. She knew what she had to do. No matter the personal cost, this was a battle that had to be fought. Justice was at stake. Honor. And truth. Nothing could make the current situation better, but maybe, just maybe, she thought, she could prevent it from happening again. That would be enough. That would have to be.

Hydromancy

Caroline used to stare at candles, hoping, thinking she could make them burst instantaneously into flame. She has a box of crystals that she would shake, and when the stones settled, she read the future in their positions. She has a journal with symbols and chants. She researched witches and their craft, believing that she belonged.

But she had never been able to prove that link, until today.

Today, she was walking to school alongside a pond. The same pond she walks by every day. Only today, it was half-frozen over. The other half moved slowly, calmly, almost imperceptibly. Then it saw her.

And suddenly it rushed about, swirling in a great frenzy. It had something to tell her, something that she desperately needed to know. Caroline, surprised but not afraid, listened to what it had to say.

Vanward

"It's funny how much less things matter in the morning," she said as they walked down the street.

"You just keep moving forward," her friend agreed. "No point dwelling on what can't be changed."

As they continued, the sun shone, and birds chirped, and the skies were a brilliant soft blue. It was cold out, but not bitterly so. The whole world seemed to be encouraging her, and she decided that whatever she'd thought to hold on to, she would just let go. It wasn't worth being changed.

Favonian

She came in with the west wind. She almost melted into it herself. She blew down on the city. She carried the rain on her back. She froze his breath in the air. She waited for him to know her. She kissed the skin of his shoulder. She trembled as he ran through her.

Realia

"Lucky Charms aren't Irish," she said, lifting her nose with an air of superiority.

His lip trembled, then he spied her Cultural Show & Tell item. "And fortune cookies are authentic Chinese?"

She pouted, grabbed her bag of goodies, and stormed off. He poured a handful of cereal into his little palm and gulped it down happily. Once again, his dad's verdict proved true: women were stupid.

Injunction

I put an injunction on those memories, but there's nothing I can do about my dreams. The same image of her face haunts me, the same fear when I know it's him. I open my eyes to squeeze them out, the opposite of what you might think. I let your breathing settle me. I feel your arm on my chest and I know that I'm safe.

Bemuse

He left his hand where it was, bemused by her discomfort. "You know, you really shouldn't feel so self-conscious about this sort of thing anymore."

She squirmed. "Oh yeah? Who died and made you judge?"

He shrugged. "I'm just saying."

"And I'm just saying..." She shoved him away. "Later!" She laughed and pulled the comforter off the bed. Wrapping it around herself, she sashayed to the bathroom, swaying her hips with exaggerated seductiveness. "There is a time and place for everything."

"And what's wrong with morning in bed?" he called out.

But she shut the door behind her. He heard the shower turn on, and after a few minutes of waiting for her to end the joke, saw steam filter out from under the doorway. He sighed and leaned back in bed.

"Hey!" she said. He looked up. She had poked her head out the doorway, and he could see the comforter at her feet. "What's wrong with morning in the shower?" she asked.

He jumped up and followed her in.

Retrospective

"Okay, so you can't produce any new work yet, but you need something to put you back in the game," Colin said, thinking aloud. He drummed his fingers on the counter, and his mouth quirked as he pondered. Finally he said, "What about a retrospective?"

She said nothing.

"Did you hear me? What about a retrospective? You know, a look at your work from the past few years-- a decade. That way, your name is out there again, your work is out there again, you'll get the spotlight, and hopefully feel some pressure that will inspire you."

Madeline looked up, intrigued.

Assuage

I wish I could soothe this down, assuage this wound in you and me. My words and my tears; do they harm or do they heal? In the long run I have yet to see, for my vision blurs and my heart races and I feel nauseated when I don't know what's wrong and I'm waiting for you to speak. I feel weak, and your strength humiliates me. Maybe I think you deserve better, even if I'm not so bad, even if I love you so bad.

Comestible

Jolene presses her nose to the window, the way she did as a girl. Nearly a decade has passed since she last set foot in France, her home, her love. Now she is back, and her first stop is this bakery.

Éclairs, petit fours, and napoleons wink at her through the glass. Delicate flakes of flour and frosting, alongside fresh baguettes and croissants. She remembers pulling her mother's hand each morning on the way to school, their little detour for breakfast. Jolene's mother would sigh and groan, faking protest, but they both knew the routine.

Jolene purchases a gingery palmier and takes it to the Jardins du Luxembourg. There, among the flowers, under the sun, amidst the tourists, she savors the taste of the pastry and the memory of her mother. Next time, she promises herself, it will not be a full decade before she returns.

Adventitious

Discipline. It is advantageous. It cannot be adventitious.

Tawdry

Are these symbols that I write on your skin considered tawdry, or inappropriate, or too foreign to comprehend? I think we speak the same language, though. Your eyes tell me so sometimes. Your voice in my ear. Your face in my hair. I say things I don't mean, things I mean to say differently, things I regret. But underneath the sheets, hidden in the dark, I open up to you, and I hope that you understand.

Edulcorate

She took him by the hand and led him away. He wasn't ready for this, and she should have known. "Calm down, Sweetheart," she cooed as they walked down the hall to his bedroom. His eyes rolled, unseeing, and he shook his head and moaned in protest.

"It's okay," she soothed some more. "We're done with the part. We'll just play by ourselves for now."

He shook his head, not truly comprehending. She sighed and continued to lead him away. She could feel more hairs turning grey.

Later, she would have to apologize. He hadn't done any permanent or serious damage, but she imagine that the little girl's parents wouldn't care. And how could she blame them? Even she sometimes wished her son were normal.

Blowdown

The blowdown was everywhere, and the lowdown was that no one was coming to help them. Richard listened from his rooftop as his neighbors whispered in the dark.

"They don't care about us. We just some dumb spooks to all them oil-rich grown ass brats."
"Well I ain't gon' die up here."
"Lotsa people's dyin'."
"They shot some who was just tryin' t'git food out the corner store."
"I'm hungry."

As Richard lay on his back and stared up at the stars, he wondered where his wife was, if she was safe, if she was wondering about him. They hadn't been married long. There was still cake from the wedding sitting in their fridge.

No, he reminded himself, there was nothing. Nothing left of their house, of the new life they had just started together. The house on which he sat was junk now, only useful for keeping him out of the dirty, dangerous waters. He sighed and tried to think of something else.

His mind connected the dots like stars, making her teeth, her smile, her eyes, her hair. The image of her face soothed him, and he thought maybe he would be able to sleep that night after all. Worries could wait, he figured. They'd still be there in the morning.

Mansuetude

She was overcome by a meekness, a humility that she couldn't shake. It made her quiver in the slightest breeze, bow to the shortest tree. She felt sorry for herself, but she didn't want to apologize. She did enough of that already.

Undergird

He took the most time with the base. Each card placed exactly against another, edges perfectly in line, rounded corners meeting as if mirrored. Then he worked his way up, layer by layer. He moved quicker and quicker, spurred on by excitement. Soon there was just the straight shaft up, and finally, the tip. A beautiful replica: the Eiffel Tower.

Then she ran by, squealing like the delighted child that she was, and all his cards came tumbling down.

For a moment he thought he might cry. Instead, he sighed, picked up the deck and stored it back in its box, and then rushed after her to join in the fun and games.

Stolid

I thought you stolid, solid, with only a few squalid thoughts running rampant in your well-regulated mind. There's nothing wrong with that, even if it's wrong. But now I think I see something deeper, something steeper that I might fall into. I find it in the night, but only the light of day gives me sight into your slow and careful ways. So I will search in secret while I save my sensibilities for a safer expression. Someday soon, I think, we will read each word together.

Chivalry

Knight in shining blue athletic shorts, princess wearing jeans and a faded old t-shirt. Fairytales do exist, and that's the only thing I'll believe.

Perpetuity

Slowly, she stepped up to the edge of the ship. There was fire in her eyes, and fear in her heart. She closed her eyes for a moment, gathering courage. She opened them. Before her spanned the vast ocean, dark and blue and unknown.

Below her -- far, far below her -- she could hear the waves foaming and frothing against the ship's massive body. She wanted to see them, to marvel at the power of their beauty and force, but she was afraid. She'd never had the best sense of balance, and the angle of the hull was a precarious one. She could fall in. She probably would.

So she stayed there for a few moments more, wondering, imagining, hoping to ready herself, steady herself, to take that chance and look over the edge, and perhaps to see eternity.

Squib

"I don't really have time for this." His chiseled face was perfect, even now as he scowled at her. She would have hated him for it, if hers wasn't just as beautiful, just as strong.

"Well, make time. I'm not going anywhere until I'm done."

He growled, but with the flick of his hand he gestured to the cameraman and walked to the side of the set. He grabbed her forcefully by the wrist and dragged her with him.

"Hey!" she protested, twisting away. "That hurts." Angrily, she slapped him on the chest.

Next thing they knew, they were both covered in dark red liquid. She screamed, and he cried out in surprise.

"The squib!" came a voice from somewhere in the dark. A small man in glasses rushed forward. "Dammit, now we have to redo wardrobe, makeup, and the squib!" He turned his furious four-eyes onto the woman. "You're all the same!" he shouted, mere inches from her face, before stalking off.

Disgusted, she wiped the spittle off her face. Then she looked up at her partner and previous victim. He was suppressing a fierce grin. She shook her head. "Just let it out," she said with a sigh.

And then they were both laughing.

Abbreviate

Time cut short. She should have known better. She always played her hand out, even though she didn't know the rules of the game. She bet the max, and lost. Because of her sense of urgency, her desperation for immediate satisfaction. Patience would have done her a world of good. Would have been better for them both. He wasn't the type that could handle a lot all at once. And she was pushy.

Raffish

Jamie walked down the Strip, with its flashing lights and flashy women. She'd gotten separated from her parents, but right now she didn't really care. An adventurous explorer who worshipped Indiana Jones, she was ready to see the world.

Cars passed, and the sounds of people shouting with delight or groaning in frustration filtered out of the casinos. There was the chinkchinkchink of coins falling into trays, and heavy smoke drifting in the air.

Jamie coughed, her little hand covering her little mouth. When she took it away again, someone walking by thrust a card into her fingers. She glanced down at it.

There was a woman, with big breasts and small clothes. She had a certain smile--provocative, Jamie thought it was called--and her hair looked like she'd just gotten out of bed or had been jumping and dancing around having fun. Jamie couldn't read all the words on the card yet, but there was a phone number and an address, and something about a show.

Jamie looked up at the street sign. Las Vegas Blvd. She was already on the right road! Now all she needed was to find... Sahara Ave. Sahara, like the desert. Jamie grinned and started down the wide bustling street. Now she really was going on an adventure.