Word: Perfidious

perfidious

[per-fid-ee-uh s] 

adjective

1.

deliberately faithless; treacherous; deceitful:

a perfidious lover.

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                Avus made sure nobody was watching.  He had to be absolutely sure.  If anyone saw him, his Master would be displeased, and he would be punished.  The bright red crystal that was his target floated just above its resting place.  Avus slowly approached the stone.

                “Avus, what are you doing here?”

                Avus froze.  He should have known someone would be there.  The crystal would have detection runes around it.  But why did it have to be him?  This was the worst possible situation.

                “Master, what brings you here?” Avus asked. 

                He turned away from the crystal to face his master.

                “Answer me Aus.” The old man asked, crossing his arms.

                “I was just about to begin a cleansing ritual around the crystal, master.”

                The old wizard’s expression softened.  “I see.  Just remember to keep away from the Core Stone.”

                “Of course, master.  I am always careful when cleaning this area.”

                It was true, of course.  Avus had been the tower’s cleaner for nearly ten years, and he had always done his job well.  His Master would be disappointed if he did anything less.  After all, who other than the master would pay attention to a man whose only magical skill lay with cleaning rituals?

                “Good.” The master said.  “Carry on then.”

                “Master?  You will stay here then?”

                “Yes, Avus.  I have things I need to do with the Stone.  Don’t worry, they won’t interfere with your work.”

                “Is there something wrong with the Stone, master?”

                “Not wrong, no.  But I do fear there is a traitor among us.”

                “Who would dare oppose you, master?”

                “I’m not sure.  But whoever it is will surly come for the Stone, and I plan to ensure he never leaves this room with it.”

                That could be a problem.  The master was skilled.  Far more skilled than Avus.  Should the old wizard complete his ritual, then Avus would never be able to fulfill his task.  His Master might even consider it an act of treachery, something that would ensure the plan failed.  No, that could not happen.

                Avus acted.  He began his cleaning ritual.  Only the target was not the room, it was the master.  Most would consider cleaning a low class thing.  After all, all it did was remove dust and dirt from the target.  But Avus had learned something over the years.  The human body had many things happening inside of it.  More than most people were aware of.  And a well-aimed cleaning ritual could disrupt some of those things.  Important things.  The ritual alone would not harm a person, but when deprived of certain substances, the body would simply stop working.

                The master clutched his stomach as his insides desperately attempted to right themselves.  Avus took the chance to grab the glowing crystal. 

                “A-Avus…you traitor.” The master said.  His voice was hoarse and wet.  Things were going awry in his body and even his vast knowledge and power could not find a way to right the wrongs.

                “I am no traitor.” Avus said.  “I cannot betray a master whom I do not serve.  I am something of a trickster though.  That I admit to.  Goodbye, head wizard.  It has been interesting being here.”

                Avus tucked the crystal under his baggy clothes.  Clothes he had chosen precisely for their ability to hide things.  He started to leave the room, but was stopped by the increasingly weak words of the master.

                “You…you won’t escape.  You’ll be found and hung for your crimes.”

                “Oh no, no I won’t.  After all, nobody pays attention to the cleaners.” 

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It's true, you know.  Think about it.  When was the last time you thought about the cleaning crew?  Well, unless they do something wrong.  Then they're obvious.  But yeah, while they're doing their job well, they may as well be invisible.   

Word: Avarice

avarice

[av-er-is] 

noun

1.

insatiable greed for riches; inordinate, miserly desire to gain and hoard wealth.

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                “Now, which will you choose?” The hag said. 

                Her withered hand passed over the three balls.  Her wrinkled face curled into a smile filled with yellow teeth.

                Bruce looked at the offered treasures.  Each offered a world of possibilities.  Each could change his life in an instant.  One offered fame, another wealth, and the third would bring power.  How could he choose just one of them?  He wanted all three.  There had to be a way to get all of them.  There just had to be.  But how?

                An idea struck him.  Could it be so simple?  Could the old Aesop’s Fable apply here?

                “I choose none of them.” He answered.  “For none of them are rightfully mine, and so I am underserving of their gifts.”

                He forced himself to keep a straight face.  A look as hard and unyielding as a wall.  Yet his mind was praising his brilliance.  With that answer, he was sure to be rewarded for his humility.

                “Oh?” The hag said.  “Are you sure?  Do you not covet the powers of these treasures?”

                So, she would not yield immediately, would she?  He could keep the game going for as long as he needed to in order to get his treasures.

                “No, Great Elder, I do not, for with each comes far too much difficulty.  With fame comes a lack of privacy, as those who are famous are always seen, even when they don’t want to be.  With wealth comes isolation.  Those who are wealthy can buy many things, but not companions or friends.  People might cling to them with the hopes of feeding off the scraps of the rich, but that is not true friendship.  And with power comes responsibility.  One must use his power for others, or else be called an evil, selfish man, and so become shunned by others.  I do not want any of that.”

                That answer was sure to win over the hag.  Although, in hindsight, his plan could end up backfiring.  Maybe she would take him literally and deprive him of his prize.  No.  No she would not do that.  This was a test.  If he took just one so easily, he would be punished.  If he denied all three, he would be rewarded with all of them.  That was how these things worked in all the stories.  He was sure of it.

                “Ah, I see you are wise.” The hag said with a cackle.  “But I wonder if you truly mean that.”

                “Of course I do.”

                The hag’s sallow eyes looked at him.  Bruce was sinking.  He was falling and sinking.  He turned inside out and upside down and every other way he could be turned.  And then all was normal.

                “I see.” The hag said.  Her smile grew even wider.  “In that case, you are quite worthy of these gifts.”

                Jackpot.  He had them.  He resisted the urge to grab the balls right away.  He had to play it cool.  If he grabbed them too quickly, she might change her mind and take them.  He needed to refuse them.

                “As flattered as I am, I must still—“

                “Oh, but I insist.  For it is the one who knows not to use the gifts that is the best one to use them.”

                Bruce paused.  He acted like he was considering her words.  He needed to think.  Or at least pretend to. 

                “I…understand.” He said quietly.  “In that case, I will humbly accept these items.”

                He slowly took the three balls and pocketed them carefully, slowly.  He wanted this show to last as long as he could.

                “I hope you enjoy yourself.” The hag said as he left the old woman’s shack.

                The last thing he heard of her was the hag’s cackling laughter.     

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Not sure whether I would take the balls or not.  Would anyone else I wonder?  Or would you be able to resist the tempation?

Word: Rebarbative

rebarbative

[ree-bahr-buh-tiv]

adjective

1. causing annoyance, irritation, or aversion; repellent.

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               Walt waved his hands wildly.  There was nothing else he could do.  They had run out of bug spray long ago, and the cloud of insects seemed to know it.  Individually, their high pitched whine was simply annoying.  But with the great cloud of them, it was maddening.

                “God damn these bugs!” He roared.  The sound of his voice scattered a few of them, but they quickly returned to their original spot swirling around his head.

                “It could be worse you know.” Nancy said.  She only took the effort to swat away the tiny insects from directly in front of her face.

                “How?”

                “These are just gnats.  But they could be mosquitoes.”

                Walt shuddered at the thought.  The tiny buzzing cloud was bad enough as it was, but adding in blood sucking bites to the mix?  She was right.  It could have been much, much worse.

                “Okay, fair point.” He said.  “But that doesn’t mean I have to like this.”

                “Trust me, I understand completely.”

                “How much farther is it?”

                Nancy took out the map.  They both hated having to use the low tech variety.  But, since they were so far away from any kind of civilization, they had to rely on paper.  She fumbled with it for a few moments before finding what she hoped was their location, and then again when she thought she found their destination. 

                “A few more miles.  I think.”

                “You think?”

                “Yes.  I think.  It’s not like there’re a lot of landmarks to go by around here.”

                A few more miles.  He hoped she was wrong about the “few” part.  Walking through such a deep forest while being constantly surrounded by gnats was not pleasant.  He might have been able to handle the walking.  The forest was quite nice, and afforded some impressive scenery.  But the bugs.  Those horrid little things made the trek far more troublesome than it should have been.

                “Great.  Do you even know where we are now?”

                “Do you want the hopeful answer, or the real one?”

                That told him all he needed to know.  She had no idea if she was reading the map right.  Which meant that, at best there were several more miles than she thought there were.  At worst, they could have been in the wrong part of the forest and not know it. 

                Nancy did her best to close the map neatly and stuffed it into the side pocket of her backpack.  She looked around at the trees some more, waving away as many of the gnats as she could.  The trees all looked the same, which made it difficult to tell anything about location.  Still, she thought she had read the map correctly, even if Walt was not nearly as hopeful.

                “Hopefully there’s bug spray there.” He said as the duo continued to march through the trees.

                “Wouldn’t do much anyway.  That stuff only keeps bugs from landing on you.  It won’t do anything to keep these guys away, since they keep off of us.”

                “Wonderful.  Just wonderful.  Remind me again why I signed up to do this?”

                “The saleswoman was really pretty.”

                “Oh.  Right.  Why didn’t you talk me out of it?”

                “Same reason.”

                “Of course.” The two walked in silence for a few more feet.  “We’re going to get lost and die out here, aren’t we?”
                “No we’re not.”

                “How can you be so certain?”

                Nancy pulled out the map again and scrutinized it some more.  “Because I’m pretty sure that I see something on the map.  It means we’re on the right track.”

                “Good.  Then let’s hurry it up.”

                As they walked, Walt felt something land on his arm.  He instinctively swatted at it.  When he looked at his arm, he saw bug guts and a tiny smear of something red.

                “Oh god damn it.”

****************************************

 Sorry, I don't really have much to say right now.  Maybe next time.

                 

Word: Fanfaronade

fanfaronade

[fan-fer-uh-neyd]

noun

1.

bragging; bravado; bluster.

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               “I’m telling you, I did it.” Jason said with pride.

                “No way.  It’s not possible for anyone.” Chase said. 

                The other two members of the group nodded their agreement.  They all knew it was impossible to do what Jason claimed.

                “I’m telling you, I did it.” Jason said again.  He would have puffed out his chest, if it were not for the fact that doing so would make steering his bicycle difficult.

                “No you didn’t.”  Another boy in the group, Tom, said.  “There’s no way you can jump over a bus on that bike.  Not even the short way.”

                “You can’t, but I can.”

                “Yeah, right.  You have a video of it?” Chase asked.

                Jason suddenly got a lot quieter. 

                “Of course he doesn’t.” Tom said. “Because it didn’t happen.”

                “Did to!”

                “If you did it, then why didn’t you record it?  You always record everything, even the lame stuff.”  Said George, the last member of the group, as he pedaled furiously to keep up with the larger boys.

                “He’s right.  How come you didn’t record it?”

                “There was nobody around.” Jason said.  “I couldn’t leave my phone on the ground you know.”

                “There was nobody around a school bus?” Tom asked.  “What about the driver?”

                “I don’t know where the driver was.  He just wasn’t there is all.”

                “So nobody saw you setting up a really big ramp next to a parked bus, even though it would take a really long time to set up?” Chase asked.  He pedaled his bike closer to Jason. 

                Jason moved his away.  He told himself it was to not hit his friend if anything were to happen.

                “Nope.  I don’t question it.  I just do.”

                Each of the other boys rolled their eyes.  Even though they could not look at each other directly, each knew they did so at almost the same time.

                “Look, all you need to know is that I definitely jumped over a bus on my bike.  The long way over.”

                “Look, there’s a bunch of reasons why you can’t.” George said through deep breaths.  He had finally managed to ride even with the others.  More or less. 

                “Oh yeah?  Name one.” Jason asked defensively.

                “I can think of three.” George said.  “One:  Your bike isn’t made for jumps, so it’s too heavy.  Two:  You’re too heavy.”  The other two boys snickered at the thinly-veiled jab.  “And three, there’s no way you can build up enough speed to make a jump like that.  Maybe if you were on a motorcycle, but even then, probably not.”

                “I started on a hill.”

                “What hill?” Chase asked.  “There’re no hills around here.”

                “I don’t know which hill.  All I know is that there was a bus with nobody around it next to a hill.  I made a ramp and jumped over it.  That’s what happened.”

                “Do it again.” Tom said.

                “What?”

                “Do it again.  Take us to the hill and make the jump again.”

                “There probably won’t be a bus there anymore.”

                “So?  As long as jump high and far enough, what difference does it make?”

                “It…it just does, okay?”

                “Uh huh.”

                “What?  It does.  It, uh, it sets the mood.”

                “The mood?” Chase repeated.

                “Yeah, the mood.” Jason said firmly.  “I have to be in the right mood, or I can’t do it.”

                “So…it’s like you have to wish really hard and it’ll happen?” Tom said.  The other two started laughing at the flustered look coloring Jason’s face.

                “You guys don’t get it at all.  And if you don’t get it, I don’t have anything to say to you anymore.”

                Jason rose up slightly off the seat, letting him pedal harder.  He broke away from the rest of his group, doing his best to ignore their snickering laughter.     

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I think almost everyone knew at least one person like this growing up.  Or maybe even now.  That kind of bragging happens at all ages, even if the form changes slightly.