Mazy, interpolate, and indigent

The mind corrupts the heart in its search for distraction, like a sinister old maid whispering rumors in the ear of an innocent girl in love. The girl knows nothing of riches or excess -- except for that of the heart. Her passion overflows and she thinks of her boy endlessly, but now these soft-spoken thoughts creep in like spells, poisoning her love. The cure is to beat them, to run ahead through the maze of her mind and cut them off before they can reach her heart. Can she do it? She will have to try.

Forlorn, Cockaigne and harbinger

Elov is said to be a place of extraordinary comfort and happiness. No one there cries or fights, no one is hungry, no one gets sick. The water is as deep and beautiful green as an emerald, the sky like sapphire, the mountains a beautiful onyx. We used to hear tales of the perfection of Elov, but I realize now we never heard about its people.
Elov was abandoned centuries ago, when the Helations came to look for slaves. The Elovians had to flee, taking precious little with them. What they didn't know, however, was that they could not survive anywhere but on Elov. That place was so pure that it had ruined them, and the other homes they tried to create poisoned their bodies and souls.

The Helations did not stay on Elov, for they had no use for more dirt or trees. They wanted people, hands and backs to do their work for them, while they exercised their minds instead. They left Elov, and alone and unused, it has lay in the middle of this solar system, waiting for the next people to arrive.

Capacious and glutinous

We sit in this room, just you and I, with everyone peeking in. But they can't hear us speak, they don't know the true content of our conversation. You tell me this is too sticky, too hot, too much for you. I ask why you are sitting all the way over there.

Can we share this space, make it both our own and each of ours? Can we be happy in this room, with everyone on the outside, and just our private words?

That is the question we all live and die for. That is the journey.

Choler and malediction

Losing steam, unwilling to blame outside factors, not wanting to blame myself. Can't fathom other way, especially not this close to the start. Angry at my sloth, my fear, my inhibition. Already been watching it meddle with other parts of me; already cursed and cursing. This can't end before it even begins. Too many people are watching. Not to mention, my heart is on the line.

Cogent and renascent

"You don't know anything about me," Tina whispered fiercely. "I thought you did. In fact, I thought you were the only one. But you either forgot it all, or you never knew."

Adam stayed quiet as she began to shake, not daring to touch her or even speak. He wanted to -- God, he wanted to -- but he felt it would be unfair. He could see how hard she was trying to keep her composure.

"I was so stupid," she said, more to herself than to him. "I came back here thinking I could... thinking things would be the same. Thinking I hadn't lost anything, or anyone. But my father died, my sister's getting married, and you're... Well, you've moved on."

Had he? He wasn't sure. But now was not the time to mention that.

She looked at him now, and he was taken aback by what he saw in her eyes. Not fire, not hope, not any of the things he usually saw in those emeralds. Just the opposite, in fact. He saw that she'd given up.

"I came here for you," she confessed.

Now Adam began to shake.

Dilatory and verdure

"This was the one thing Mom loved," Emily said, wiping her brow. Her soiled glove left a trail of dirt across her freckled forehead, and Tina had to smile.

"Yes, it was," Tina agreed. She looked at her sister for a moment, pressed her lips together in thought. Then she sighed. "But do you love it?"

Emily surveyed the lawn where she had labored for the past six weeks, working to nurture these stubborn bulbs into blooms that her mother would have been proud of. She'd put it off for so many reasons, but once her father passed, she felt like she'd delayed too long. It had seemed so important once, for her to do this, to honor her mother's memory, to bring cheer back to their house.

Now, as she stared at her muddy clothes, and felt the sun burning her cheeks and neck, and let herself realize just how tired she was, she realized her mother wouldn't have cared less. And she began to laugh.

"No," Emily said. "No! I hate this. I really and truly hate it."

Tina began to laugh as well, and she held out a hand to lift her sister up. Emily took it, and together they rose. "Come on," Tina said. "Let's get you a soda."

"And a shower," Emily added.

Prink and claque

She felt like a prize-winning pony, all decked out and performing on command. Trot this way, shimmy to the left, shake this hand, smile politely and bow your head. She was about two fake hugs away from chomping her bit. But for Emily's sake, she would reign herself in. She doubted if her sister could handle a dead father and a delinquent sister all in one day.

Apprise

"She never told me she was leaving. I suppose there were clues--in her eyes, in the way she began to pull away both physically and emotionally--but she never said a damn thing. And then I went over to her house and she was just gone. The love of my life, gone. No letter, no phone call, no notice at all.

"How do you get over something like that?"

"I'm not sure you ever really do..."

Surfeit and patrician

I long for ideas overflowing my mind, indulgence, imagination, excess. I dream of endless days outdoors with a keyboard beneath my fingertips, pounding out stories of love and adventure and mystery and enlightenment. I yearn to breathe someone else's life through my lungs, to hear their story in my ears, to see their world through my eyes.

These are the bread and water to my body, the light and dark for my soul.

Raconteur

The old woman lit the candle on the windowsill and brought it with her to the center of the room. The children, who ranged in age from almost-adult to infant, settled onto the various cushions and covered themselves with blankets and shawls. They were prepared for a long night, handing out glasses of water and plates of cookies. No one would leave before she was done; Nanita's story times were not to be missed.

Potentate and minatory

One of the common misconceptions, Siu thought, was that only emperors could make decisions. But, she smiled through her red silk veil, she knew the power that a smart woman could have -- could take -- if she were clever enough. If she were controlled enough. If she were loved enough.

Repletion

The wine glasses were full to excess, and classical music played softly in the background. Jason's playboy father had taught him well the ways of seducing a woman, but Jason chose to employ his skills on one woman rather than many.

Checking his watch, he noted that Sidney would be here soon. It was seven o'clock now, and she always ran ten minutes late. It wasn't his favorite thing about her, but he reminded himself that one must take the thorn with the rose.

Tremulous

Hand shaking as she brought it up, touching unfamiliar territory. Smooth and strong, soft and warm.

She lay in bed with her knees tucked to her chest, trembling with the force of her sobs. The vent overhead molested her with cold air, but she was too distraught to even think of the covers.

His eyes smiling, his lips welcoming. Safe in his arms, in his bed. Fingers grazing, sensitive, surprised. Nothing has ever made her feel so alive before.

She contemplates what things will be like now. Empty, alone, dark, and silent. She cannot stand it, but she cannot fix it. She will survive, but barely.

Bagatelle and lachrymose

Anabelle sprinted down the hall, ignoring the boys' shouts. She refused to turn back, refused to let them see her tears.

You don't mean anything to him, Yolanda had tried to warn her. It's just a game he's playing with his friends. To see if he can fool you, and he has.

She hadn't listened. She'd wanted so badly to be right, to be loved, that she had ignored her best friend, had overlooked reason, had stubbornly stifled her own misgivings. And all she had done was delayed the inevitable.

There was never going to be a happy ending, she admitted as she sank to the floor in the choir room. Not for us, not for me. Never for me.

Her wretched sobs echoed off the walls, amplified by the vibrations against the drums.

Patina, harridan, and counterman

She wore her makeup like patina on a fine bronze sculpture. She may have been a little worn out, but Nick could appreciate the original art. He held up a hand, ordering his men to halt. "Let her go," Nick said.

They released her, and she rubbed her wrists and sneered at him. It wasn't quite the appreciation he'd hoped for, but he couldn't say he blamed her. He'd come into her home with his band of thugs and killed her drug-dealing sugar daddy. Now she must be wondering what he planned to do with her.

Originally Nick had planned to send her the way of her deadbeat boytoy. Now he wasn't so sure...

Schadenfreude and grandee

The nobleman had a reputation for malice, but it was a reputation undeserved. In fact, he was the gentlest of men, once sobbing when he accidentally killed a fly.

His mother preferred the harsh rumors to the truth of his almost idiotic kindness. "How are you keep the peasants under control if you cannot even stand to harm a bug?"

The nobleman shrugged, and his mother slapped him. He bit his bottom lip so as not to cry.

"Ugh!" she exclaimed, whirling out of the room in a fury. "I tried to raise a lion and I ended up with a slug."