Sempiternal

Will we forever be held to this, made always to bear the burden and the shame and the regret? Why carry a torch that you cannot extinguish? You are certain only to burn.

I walked away long ago. I asked you to come with me, but you said no. You smiled as you doomed yourself to this. You, who does not believe in fate.

Gelid

She ventured out into the storm, despite her brother's warnings. She had to see Aidan, had to let him know the truth. He couldn't leave if he knew, and she didn't want him to go.

Snow pelted her face but she pulled the scarf tighter around her head. Nothing would stop her, not Joseph and not hail and not even God himself.

Tartar and bibulous

The drink made him strong. It wasn't the usual whiskey or tequila, but a special blend he liked to call Monster's Brew. The name was apt, and the resulting fists were hard.

Meliorism

Meliorism. n. The belief that the world tends to improve and that humans can aid its betterment.

I've saved this word for over 2 weeks. I wanted to write something very deep and meaningful, because the moment I read the definition, I felt something within me struck, plucked like the string of a harp.

But now I'm not sure it's the best idea.

Regardless, this word is representative of my optimism and my hope. I will leave it at that.

Compunction

Do your dreams whisper through your ear? The sound comes out the opposite side, as if you are speaking into the night. But your eyes are closed and you cannot see the truth for what it ought to be. Instead you are disturbed by the images behind your eyelids, the guilty people inside your behavior, the way he looks at you.

Multifarious and mimesis

Like a child, she sings back the words I speak. I am not so much older sometimes. We are a great diversity, so we cannot always get along. Maybe it was my fault this time. I am willing to forget if you are willing to forgive.

Niveous and gnomic

Blanket of white burying my thoughts, obscuring my disturbed recollections. These are the lights that twinkle in our eyes when we think we have nowhere else to turn. Old sayings and bits of wisdom are powerless in the battle for reason. Only experience can lead us into the clearing.

Amenable

He'd agreed to it, sure, but that didn't mean he liked it. Not one bit. It was always a bitter disappointment, never what he needed it to be. She specified her preferences, asked if he minded, and of course he said no. What choice did he have? She wouldn't have agreed to meet up if she didn't think she'd get her way. Sometimes he wondered why he didn't think of all this beforehand and then scrap the whole terrible idea. He supposed it was a matter of seeing. You had to see to believe. Well, he was seeing, all right, but he still could barely believe that he'd gotten himself into this. Again.

He was silent while she went at it. She kept looking at him, as if to see whether or not he was satisfied, but he knew she didn't really care. She would take her fill regardless of his displeasure. She would use him, as she always did.

"God, Michael," she finally said. "It's just a piece of pie."

He stared at her, realizing she didn't understand. And she probably never would.

Crèche and hermitage

Every year after Thanksgiving, Richard packed up all his things -- the clothes fit in the one plastic bag, the utensils and the photographs in the other -- and walked four blocks from the underpass to the Baptist church. He did it early in the morning while the sun was still hiding under its blanket of clouds, that way no one but the stars and the moon would see him. And those guys had always been his friends, his secret-keepers, his most trusted comrades.

The Baptist church had a young minister whose enthusiasm had led him to build by hand a manger for the nativity scene. This set was collapsible, and annually the congregation helped him pull it out from the adjacent garage, set it up on the front corner of the lot, and fill it with straw, giant figures of Mary and Joseph and the wisemen, and various farm animals. They left the baby Jesus out, because they thought it was sacrilege to imitate his form.

Richard was just fine with that. It left him someplace high and dry to store his things.

So with all his worldly possessions hidden under baby Jesus's blanket, he wrapped him self in straw and the shawl from Mary's shoulders, and he slept in the back of the manger. He could usually sneak in around midnight and stay until just before daybreak. The few cars that went by at night never saw him in the dark, not behind all those fake idols.

This was his home, more than anywhere else in the world. He only got it for a month or so each year, but that was better than nothing, he reckoned. Better than all the people who didn't have homes no time of year.

Reverberate and benefaction

The children's chatter echoed throughout the great halls. Little boys with felt caps and girls with long capes weaved between each other, on their way to lunch or class or recess. The Academy was full of students, but only one was there on scholarship: Geraldine Clemmons.

Provenience and amity

From the start, we had an understanding.

Pero durante el viaje, nos perdimos, y ahora estamos muy lejos de la mar buena. Estos aguas nos rotan, nos mienten, nos ahogan. No puedo olvidarme. No puedo perdonar.

I think my obsession is telling.

Persiflage

I could tell you that none of this matters, that it's all just frivolous talk, but the truth is, I might want it to be more. The truth is, I don't know. The truth is, I hope you do. The truth is, we just keep going from here.

Calumny

You can blacken my name, but I will not raise a hand against you. We work in different ways. I know forgiveness, I know happiness. You know jealousy and bitter righteousness. You know no peace.

Finical

He hated the damn machine almost as much as he hated not having it. She fell in and out of commission the same way human women fell in and out of love. He wondered if there was something wrong in his techniques towards both.

"Come on, baby, just do this for me one more time," he coaxed. He hit the right buttons, but nothing happened. Again, he couldn't help but think of the similiarities between this stupid processor and those in the opposite gender.

Discursive

Rambling discourse, avoidance of truth. Never lies but always shadows. These are the ways men creep around themselves. We are but specks of light in the black, moonless night. Our silence creeps into their skin. There may be a way to save everyone, but I think we've buried it in the earth.

Doch-an-dorris

"Just a quick parting drink," he said. It was more of an order than a request. I'd had a few myself, and as we'd done this many times, I didn't think much of it. He was a big guy, and he could handle his drink.

The one who couldn't handle it was the young woman he hit on his way home. She shrieked and shattered and rolled into a ditch. She was like glass: broken and unfixable.

Now he doesn't drink -- not a sip, not ever -- and I am the only one who knows why. They never found her body, so we did a good job. But a good job at a bad thing isn't really a good job at all...

Quorum and tocsin

The council met in secret, hoping not to betray their betrayal. All but one had arrived, and they waited nearly half an hour before they decided they must continue without him. Who knew how long they had before they were discovered?

They conducted their entire meeting, made the decision to overrule their leader. They voted, they recorded it, and they swore themselves to secrecy. That's when the missing man stepped out of the shadows.

"I never intended to take part in this," he said. "I merely wondered whom of you would go through with it. Now I know."

Then he sounded the alarm.

Pari passu

The distance you slip away from me every day is the same as the height I move my heart up, away on shelves, to keep you from reaching, from touching, from breaking. It hurts less that way, the magnetic pull weaker and less appealing. I can resist your gravity. It's a good thing I never believed in it.

Unfledged

She was not ready to fly. Some said it was a matter of time, some of maturity. The fact is, she was afraid.

Touchstone and elucidate

"He was a quintessential part of our lives. Of mine, at least. A touchstone. A real gem."

Here she broke down. The crowd watched as she struggled with her tears, as they fought her face and won. She gripped the podium, her knuckles turning white.

"I... I can't... I can't say it."

The people were strangely fascinated, but they were not heartless. They pitied her too.

Finally someone stood and led her away. The minister returned, cleared his throat, and opened his Bible. He read a prayer.

Somehow his borrowed eloquence did not speak the same volumes as her emotional collapse.

Circuitous

He'd gone in the most roundabout way possible. From A to X to C to F to Z to L. Then back to Z. Because he was supposed to be at Z. Waiting for her.

But maybe he'd missed her. In taking a longer, stranger route, had he wasted too much time? Had she already come, and waited, and gone?

Yes, this was possible. Probable, in fact.

His head slumped against the dash and the car hummed beneath him. He wondered if she would come back, and how long he would stay here with that hope. It wouldn't feed him or keep him warm, hope. But maybe it would be enough.

Grinch

I never read that book, or saw the movie. The one about the mean green goblin that ruins Christmas? Yeah, I wasn't allowed. My mother thought it would taint me, as if any mention of an alternate religion would forever poison my mind, and my soul.

You could call it a deprived childhood.

What my mother failed to anticipate was the effect her own zealousness would have. I haven't been to worship in thirty years, and hadn't spoken to her in thirty-three. She died yesterday, so I guess I won't ever get the chance.

Maybe it's time I finally found out about that grouchy green fellow. He may remind me of her, and that may make me feel better.

Complement and draconian

I always wondered what he saw in her. She wore her hair in a slick ponytail, spoke in quick, sharp sentences, and had ten different heels, all stilettos that clicked violently against the floor. She rarely said a kind word about anyone, including him. She refused any gift that cost less than fifty dollars.

I wondered, until I got to know him better. From afar, he was a senior with good teddy bear looks, like a friendly jock or a hot bio major. But then we were assigned as partners in Jacobs's Art in Life class (a blowoff for both of us, since we just needed the credits to fulfill our requirements and walk in May). After several hours in a library and unfortunately a few at his dorm, I came to understand that he was led and controlled almost solely by his dick. And that she could satisfy. Certainly nothing else.

Eclectic

The boy was considered eclectic, although Mr. Torrence had yet to understand why. On this his first day at Collington Academy as a substitute for Mrs. Brody's third-grade class, he had already been warned about the flirtatious lunch lady, the tricky toilet in the teacher's lounge, and Elroy Scott.

"He's eight years old. How strange can he be?"

The principal did not reply. Instead he drew his thin lips into a thin smile and smoothed his combover. "Have a good day, Raymond."

Mr. Torrence nodded. The principal's shoes clicked against the marble as he walked away, leaving Torrence alone in the hallway. Torrence straightened his tie and turned to the door. His hand paused on the knob.

"Come on, Ray," he said. "The boy is eight years old. How strange can he be?"

Later that day, he knew.

Cacophony, frangible, and hotdog

All these voices, raised as one, but saying different things. That is the way we are built: fragile glass made of grains of sand. We carry our sweeping curves with pride, but we shatter at the lightest impact.

Recidivism

She wakes up every morning thinking today will be different. Today she will smile, and keep smiling. Today she will laugh, and mean it. Today she will take the words of her friends to heart, and she will believe them.

But it's so easy to slide back into that dark blue-grey mist, into those waters, under those sheets. It's warm and cold there at the same time. It's comfortable and alien. It's everything she knows and nothing she needs or wants. How should she escape?

That's what she keeps coming back to.

The questions.

Warp speed and dishabille

Me recuerdo los días que jugábamos. Éramos niñas, inocente y pura. Anduvimos como ciervas. Nunca tuvimos prisa, ni preocupación. Nuestros juegos constituyeron el mundo.

Qué hemos perdido? Quizás todo. Quizás la inevitable.

Artifice and rubric

The rabbit and the hare. Different as two creatures can be. One is slow and steady, the other fast and crafty. Only one can win the race. Only one will cross the finish line.

I know who I'm putting my money on.

--

I don't know what you think this is. A game, a test, an act? But you're so determined to label it--to label everything--that you'll never take the time to truly understand.

Palimpsest and perspicacity

"You have to look beneath the surface," she said. "To penetrate the layers."

Now I understand what she meant.

It's a very simple thing, this power, once you can comprehend its form. Like a flower that blossoms from a seed, then peels back its petals to reveal to you its nectar, it lives and grows. I have finally seen its true face, and I know how to care for it. She taught me the way.

And she paid the price.

I will use this power to save her, and then I will destroy it. That is how I must live with myself. That is the price I will pay.

Mendicant, rapprochement, and fireworks

J.D. warms his hands over the fire in the trash can. All around him, fireworks are going off. Their beauty irritates him. He thinks of all the money that is exploding in the air.

"Sum' else, eh?"

J.D. glances at the newcomer. He snorts in response.

"Can I get sum'at?" The new guy eyes the fire and scratches his neck. J.D. can see the chapped skin of the man's knuckles and hear the chattering of his teeth.

J.D. nods and takes a step to the side.

The new guy smiles and scurries forward. Hands over the flames, he smacks his lips as if he has just been granted a seat at a table set for a feast.

The fireworks continue overhead.

Turpitude

You think it is one thing. I think it is another. These differences are what keep us apart, not the miles or the hours or the memories. Depravity, or a mere mistake? Friendship, or convenience? Perspective is key, and I don't think we have ever unlocked each other's doors.

Histrionic and surly

He leapt onto the counter and pulled at his hair. Eyes wild, he began to squawk and thrash about. Passersby stared through the window, hurrying after they had gotten their visual fill.

"Well, at least he's not surly and silent anymore, right?"

Wendy sighed and didn't answer. She didn't know if it was better or worse, she only knew it still wasn't good. She closed her eyes, pressed her fingers against her temples, and wondered when, if ever, she would have a normal son.

Dreidel, tarradiddle, and deracinate

She picked up the old department store bag and moved it to the other side of the attic. Now there would be room for the summer clothes she was storing. With the snow just coming in late December, she figured it would be a long winter and quite a while before she'd need shorts or t-shirts again.

As she climbed back down the ladder to the main floor, she noticed a small object on the floor. She picked it up and dusted it off. A dreidel. From her father.

She remembered getting it -- her first -- from him when she was a girl. A girl who still believed in her father. Who thought he was like Superman: strong, smart, kind, and indestructible.

Now she knew better.

Those things, those were all lies. Genetic and cultural fibs meant to keep you in line. Only, she didn't like this line, didn't want what he was selling. So she'd stepped out. And he'd never forgiven her.

She took the dreidel back downstairs with her. She put it in the change jar in the kitchen. She thought the location was fitting.

At one time, it had been worth a lot. Now, it was pennies.

Impolitic

Would it be impolitic of me to speak my mind? All the world seems to think so. Since when was honesty so frowned upon? Since when did we all become bound by the chains of society? Really that means we are bound by ourselves, because what is society but a collective of individuals? Why do we limit ourselves so?

Noisome

"I have to admit, the smell is getting to me."

"What, his poop?"

"No, his breath."

"Oh. Yes, well, he is a dog."

"So? He can still eat mints or something."

"What, like Altoids?

"Sure."

"... Um, no."

"Darn."

Profuse

I wish I could be happy for you. I wish I could think it was for the best. I wish I weren't saddened or a little jealous. I wish she wouldn't think of it as a victory. I wish I wouldn't think of it as a loss. I wish it weren't a fight. I wish you'd open your eyes. I wish you'd do what you say instead of saying anything. I wish you'd never gotten so close.

I wish a lot of things. I have a lot of wishes. None of these have come true.

Vernissage and soporific

Bill tried not to yawn as he followed Sophie around the gallery. She pointed at sculptures and waxed on about paintings, and he smiled and nodded and just prayed he was going to get laid tonight. Otherwise this was so not worth missing the game for. Hopefully Jackson would be texting the score soon...

Bimillenary and vicissitude

"In 2,000 years, nothing changed."

The woman's voice was both informative and sad.

"Weapons, war, violence, hate. Plagues, fires, droughts, earthquakes. Together, men and nature brought us down. Now this Dome is all we have to remember Earth by."

The children stared wide-eyed at the video screen. The amphitheater filled with the blue and white of a planet's surface.

"Someday we may be able to return. But not until Earth has a chance to heal itself."

A little girl raised her hand. "How long will that take?"

The woman sighed. "We don't know, Charlotte. We don't know exactly how long that will take, but we know it will be a long, long time. Long after you, or your children, or your children's children are gone."

With this thought, the children grew even quieter than before. Fittingly, the silence felt like death.

Porcine, cavalcade, and malapropros

She sat down at the lunch table with a tray of roast beef, corn, and pinkish-orange jello. She couldn't tell what flavor it was supposed to be, and she figured it was better not to ask.

On her left, a procession of boys in baggy jeans and white sneakers approached. "Look at Porky," they jeered. "Look at that big old house of meat on her plate. I bet I know where all that junk goes." They laughed as one boy pointed below his waist. Then they walked by her, another boy tugging her hair as they passed.

For the third day in a row, Polly skippd lunch. She pushed her tray aside and pulled out the homework assignment due tomorrow. As she added decimals and divided fractions, she held back her tears.

Why oh why did she have to come to this new school?