Caterwaul and indelible

God, I'm never going to forget that. That awful wailing sound. That terrible shrieking hideous song. The way it rips apart your insides, from the organs out to the bones. From the head to the toes. The way it makes you want to die, or think you already did.

And I'm never going to forget the girl who sang it. Her long legs, her long hair, her long, sad face. Her haunting eyes. Her slim sexy hands, so strong and yet so fragile. She's the devil's angel, or an angel's devil. And I want her to be mine.

Disheveled

Morning after, smiles tangled up in each other, music blaring but not on the stereo. Fix your hair, fix your clothes, fix your mind on the task at hand. Not so easy to focus when the sky has come down to your level. Not so easy to breathe among the clouds. But oh so easy to glide.

I know a guy who likes sunflower seeds. He eats them while he watches TV. He eats them while he plays monotonous computer games. He eats them when he pleasures himself. He spits out the seeds as if they were the demons within his gut. He is the sunflower seed... man.

Nolens volens

"You're in this, whether you like it or not."

"And if I leave?"

"Would you?"

"You don't know."

"Neither do you."

Effusive

"Gushing is not my style," she said.

She's not kidding, he thought. Her heels struck the floor like knives, and the cut of her coat was vicious, sharp against her body. Black hair pulled back in a bun, severe and yet sexy, with those wisps flowing around her face. Even her teeth seemed fierece, too white, canine and ready to crush.

He tried to keep his mind on business as their meeting continued, but there's little point saying how difficult that was.

Permeate

Within seconds, the virus spread. A microscopic view would have allowed him to see the tiny parasitic cells mingling with his own. Like two shy teenagers on a date, they circled each other, flirting, dancing, until finally one (the parasite) worked up the nerve to move in, to cop a feel. His cells were helpless against the lust of the virus.

But in truth, this was a good thing. This instant attraction was the goal. He would be paid handsomely for this matchmaking. Even if he would suffer as well.

Callow

Sometimes she thinks she's being naive, callow, unsophisticated. There's a whole planet which she knows very little about, and doesn't try very hard to either. She dreams about it, reads about it, sees it on TV. But she doesn't experience it. Doesn't taste, doesn't hear, doesn't feel. It's all so visceral. And yet it's her world.

Adventitious

He wanted to put the finishing touch on the meal, that last bit of gusto, the thing that would seal the deal. He wanted her to be blown away. He wanted her to know how much he'd put into this. He knew she thought it was nothing to him -- she thought she was nothing to him -- and she need to know the truth. He had to make her see. Even if it meant adding something that wasn't absolutely necessary, something he would never do in his restaurant, where "essential" was the rule.

Quietus

They are afraid. That is why we are not allowed to use our voices. We write, we point, we gesture. But we do not speak. We cannot. If we are heard, we are killed. There are no questions. These are the rules. They are simple. They are afraid.

Upbraid and stoic

Lauren took the upbraiding stoically, never flinching, never crying out, never protesting or defending herself. She kept silent and still until it was over, and then she pulled her shirt tight around body and walked back to her room. She wasn't allowed to close the door, but she wouldn't have anyway. She wouldn't have given them the satisfaction. Same with her tears. She kept them inside, letting out only her pride. It was her shield, her shelter, her identity. It was everything. The only thing she really had.

Nonagerian

At ninety years, Emma Mae decided it was time to leave Oklahoma. She'd been there her whole life -- sitting on that same dang porch for nearly the last thirty -- and that was more than enough. If she was gonna die -- and she daggone well better, soon! -- she wanted to do it someplace glamorous. Or at least someplace different.

Inculcate

She sought to teach by repetition, to beat it into my head. I sought to defy her every second. We'd see who won in the end.

Primogeniture

First born, first borne. Carry this love inside you until you can't hold it in anymore. It's ready to come out. With it, all the rights and demands that you can't ignore, you must be subject to. You fight for fairness and equality, but in the end you know this love will win. No matter what, you cannot deny its primogeniture.

Supplicate

The ceiling loomed overhead, shadows decorating each lofty arch. Candles flickered on the front altar. Prayers whispered like wind through the cracks in the masonry.

When he entered, he felt the reverence in the cool damp air. He knew this was not a place to be messed with. He lifted his eyes up to the golden figure above the candles, and he stayed there, watching.

Raillery

For years, he lived with the fact that she couldn't take a joke. He pined, he regretted, he wished. He spent countless hours thinking about her, her red hair, her freckles, her inability to hold her tongue. God he loved how she rambled on, how she turned everything into a story or a poem. He loved everything about her. And she was still mad that he'd called her a name.

Imprimatur

"Mallard received approval yesterday."
"Are you serious?"
"Wouldn't five cups of coffee indicate seriousness?"
She rolled her eyes.
"I just never expected this."
"Me either. Nor Mallard, for that matter."
"Is he happy?"
"Do you really care?"
"No."
"Yes, he's happy."
"Oh, good."
He shook his head.
"Yeah, whatever."

Remonstrate

I pleaded with her not to go. I grabbed her arm, I pulled her coat, I begged and cried and threatened.

Still she stepped into the closet.

I haven't seen her since.

She told me about the world on the other side, but I can't see it. When I go into the closet, I see coats and boots and boxes full of things we haven't looked at in years. I don't know whether she's the delusional one or I am, because the fact is, she stepped into this closet, and I don't see her.

Pertinacious

Julie had never let go of her dream. Though they told her it couldn't be done, she persisted. She was the epitome of bull-headed. She was an ox, after all.

Mimetic

The boy and the monkey stared at each other through the iron bars. The one made a face at the other; the other copied the expression. The one jumped back in surprise; the other jumped back too. The one grabbed a stone from the floor and threw it at the other; the other caught it, and threw it back. The one cried; the other shrieked with laughter.

Scrabble

Scribble scrabble across this hard dry landscape. A crab, I cannot leave my shell. But a foot is slowly crushing me, applying a pressure I cannot withstand. I want to leave, but I am trapped. I don't want to want to leave.

Friable

One misspoken word can tumble this house of cards, can crumble this sandcastle, can blow out the light of the candle that is only just beginning to burn. I cannot risk that. I will not be an ember, a wisp of smoke someone catches a hint of and then forgets. Not if it's up to me, anyway.

Lacuna

She'd hidden the diamonds on the body, and he knew that. What he didn't know, was where.

So he'd dragged her here, forced her to dig the body back up herself, and now he would make her reveal the treasure's location.

She laughed. "There are only so many holes in the human body, and he's got one less than a woman so we know it's not there."

"Oh yes, you are so funny." He scowled. "Just get them."

"Who me? Oh no. I put them in there, and that was gross enough. I have no intention of getting them out again."

He thrust the gun into her face. "Well I have the intention that you will."

She stared at the gun's barrel, then at him. She smiled. "You think I'm afraid? You think I don't know you'll kill me once you have the diamonds, anyway?" She scoffed. "I'm not stupid."

He grit his teeth. "You are something, though."

He knew where they were, now, and he knew how unpleasant it would be to get them. But get them he would. He hadn't come this far to walk away empty-handed.

She would run. While he was busy sticking his hand into this dead man's bloated intestines, she would run, and she would get away. And he would be trapped with a corpse puppet. But a corpse puppet worth over ten million. For that price, he could let her go. This time.

Obdurate

Shelley thought he was a hot-headed fool. She paced her room like a tornado through the plains, yowling and tossing her things about. She couldn't believe how stubborn and unfair he was being. She knew he loved to torture her this way.

Well someday she would make daddy pay.

Faineant

Regina wondered when she would ever learn. She'd hooked up with yet another loser, another deadbeat who only looked at her chest, her legs, and her mouth. Now she was walking home alone at five in the morning, heels dangling from her fingertips, clothes in disarray. Another night she wouldn't remember. Not like she wanted to anyway.

Arcanum

Alvin can spell every word in the dictionary, but he can't talk to his peers. He has no friends aside from Merriam and Webster. He has no home outside of the thin, flaky pages with definitions and pronunciation guides. The hard, cloth-bound covers are his shelter, and the soft, small-print words are his lullabies. He doesn't know how to fix his dilemma, but he does know how to elucidate it.

Precatory, ebullient and Zeitgeist

This is the clean slate, the new day, the cliché. This is the first and last and the best. This is the path set forward for the rest of my life. This is the success that will come to me. This is the optimism I will share. This is the beauty of wishing and dreaming. This is the spirit of my time.