Word: Ophidian

ophidian

[oh-fid-ee-uh n]

adjective

1. belonging or pertaining to the suborder Ophidia (Serpentes), comprising the snakes.

noun

2. a snake.

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                Rick couldn’t believe how well the date was going.  The woman he was with, Olivia, was everything she had claimed to be online.  She was smart, beautiful, and easy to talk with.  She seemed absolutely perfect.  A part of him knew there had to be something wrong with her, but he had given up looking for flaws an hour ago.

                The two of them sat in the restaurant and were having a fine conversation while waiting for their meal.  Rick was quite relieved when she had ordered pork chops.  It meant she had no problem with meat and, should they start dating exclusively, she would probably not force him to adhere to any weird diets.

                When the food finally arrived, Olivia dug in right away.  She cut a very large chunk of meat off of it.  Rick thought nothing of it, as he thought she would just cut it into smaller, more reasonable bites.  That is, until she speared the entire thing with her fork and brought it to her mouth.  The piece of meat was larger than what would fit in her mouth, yet, she still tried to fit it all in.

                “Are…are you okay?” Rick asked.  It looked like Olivia was trying to open her mouth wider than it would naturally go, but she stopped and put the meat down when he asked his question.

                “Yeah, I’m fine.” She said.  “Sorry about that.  I’m hungry and I guess I accidentally let my inner self out.”

                “Inner self?” Rick was starting to get worried.  The part of his mind that was warning him about potential flaws had come back and was now screaming at him.

                “Yup.  I’m a snake, you see.  A copperhead to be precise.”

                “Uh, what?”

                “Yup, I’m a snake.  Oh, don’t get me wrong, I was born human, just like everyone else, but on the inside, I’m a copperhead snake.”

                “Oh.  I see.”

                And there it was.  She was a therian.  A person who felt spiritually connected with an animal, sometimes to the point where they could actually think they are that animal on a spiritual level.

                “So, yeah, I guess I just let it out too much and tried to unhinge my jaw.” She continued.  She began cutting her meal into smaller, more manageable pieces.  “Is there a problem?” She asked once she noticed how Rick was looking at her.

                “Uh, nope.  No, no problem.” He said nervously.    

                “You sure?  You’re looking a bit weird.”

                “What?  No I’m not.  I would never do that.”

                “You think I’m weird or crazy or something, don’t you.” She said flatly.  “It’s okay, you can tell me.”

                “No, no, of course not.  Well, maybe just a little.”

                “It’s not that weird, you know.  Lots of people associate themselves with being something other than what their body is.  For most people like that, it’s the opposite gender.  For me, it’s a copperhead instead of a human.  It’s not that strange if you think about it like that.  And no, I don’t try and…do anything with snakes.  I am fully aware that biologically, I’m homo sapien, even if spiritually, I’m agkistrodon contortrix.  Most of the time, I’m perfectly normal by society’s standards.  My inner snake mostly comes out with my liking to sit under hot lights and liking warm weather.  And, the occasional attempt to unhinge my jaw, but that doesn’t happen often.  And no, I don’t keep any snakes at home.”

                “If you say so.” Rick said. 

He was not so sure.  But, on the other hand, she was quite pleasant when not talking about her supposed serpentine nature, and he had been having a good time until she brought that up.  As the meal went on, he decided to at least give it another chance and hope she did not try to bite him.

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

Yes, this is a real thing.  I haven't encountered any myself, but they exist.  Look it up, it's there online.  Not that that mean anything, since pretty much everything's online these days, but it's still there.

Word: Estival

estival

[es-tuh-vuh l, e-stahy-vuh l]

adjective

1. pertaining or appropriate to summer. 

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               “You know what my favorite part about summer is?” Rodney said as he sat on the park bench.

                “Ice cream?  Sports?  The fact that we’re no longer trapped inside by bitter cold and snow?” Josh replied.  He was leaning backwards over the back of the bench, looking at passing clouds.

                “Nope.  It’s the fashion.” Rodney replied.

                Josh returned to a normal sitting position and looked at his friend.

                “Fashion?” He asked.

                “Yup.  The fashion has got to be the best part about summer.”

                “How so?”

                “Well, just take a look.”

                Rodney nodded towards a group of pretty young women dressed in seasonally appropriate outfits.

                “Oh yeah.  That is pretty great.” Josh agreed.  “Hey, how come you don’t dress like that?”

                He turned to face a young woman leaning against a nearby tree.  She was dressed in decidedly non-summer clothes, forgoing the shorts and T-shirts for loose jeans and a relatively light long sleeved shirt.  She had been trying to ignore her two male friend’s conversation until she had been brought into it.

                She replied by slowly turning her head to face Josh and blinking slowly.  She then returned her head to a forward facing position just as slowly.

                “Okay, fair enough.” Josh said. 

                “She’s just self conscious is all.” Rodney said.  “She knows she couldn’t pull off the ‘summer’ look like some other ladies out there.”

                Her eye twitched.

                “Hey now, let’s not go overboard.” Josh said.  He tried to think the warning to Rodney.  Like many times before, he lamented the fictional nature of telepathy.

                “I’m just stating a fact.” Rodney continued, oblivious to his impending doom.  “It’s not like it’s a mystery.  Cass says it herself all the time.  Oh don’t give me that look, you know you do.”

                “Hey, uh, I think I have to go be somewhere else.” Josh said. 

He got up and walked away as quickly as his feet would carry him.  His seat was taken over by Cassie.

“So, I can’t pull off the ‘summer’ look, can I?” She said.  Her voice seemed to have forgotten in was supposed to be hot out.

“Hey now, don’t act like that.” Rodney said.  “You’ve admitted it a bunch of times.  What was it you said?  Something about a chunky butt?”  Cassie’s eye twitched again.  “Your words, not mine.” Rodney said.  “I mean, come on, even you have to admit that those girls look a lot better in those shorts than you would.”

Cassie slowly stood up and turned stiffly towards the women in question.  She marched up to them and struck up a conversation.  A conversation in which they all ended up looking at Rodney several times.  One of the women gave Cassie a cup that she had been previously drinking out of. 

It was at the point where Cassie marched over to him that Rodney began to regret his choice of words.  And when the cup was held over his head, he lamented the fictional nature of time travel.  And when the ice cold beverage was covering a great deal of his upper body, he really wished he could just learn not to talk sometimes.  

  *****************************

Woo summer!  Nice weather!  Ice cream!  Bugs!  Okay, so sometimes you gotta take the good with the bad.   

Word: Sibylline

sibylline

[sib-uh-leen, -lahyn, -lin]

adjective

1.

of, resembling, or characteristic of a sibyl; prophetic; oracular.

2.

mysterious; cryptic.

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

                Something hit Chris in the back of the head.  She looked around and saw nothing.  Then she looked at the floor.  There was a paper airplane with a slightly dented tip lying there.  She looked around.  The window was open, but there was a screen covering it.  The door was closed, and she had not heard it open.  How the airplane had gotten in her room was a complete mystery.

                Chris picked the paper up.  It was thick and heavy, as far as paper airplanes went.  It had a slightly rough texture and a slight yellow tint to it.  Chris did the obvious thing and tossed it gently.  It arced through the air and landed.  It did not fly very far, thanks to its weight and dented tip, but it mostly behaved like any other paper airplane.

                Chris retrieved the thing and did the next most obvious thing.  She unfolded the paper to see if anything was written on it.  There was indeed ink on the paper.  The paper had circles and letters on it.  The circles were of varying sizes, and overlapped each other seemingly at random.  Each circle had an ornately drawn letter written in the middle of it.  They did not spell out anything, as far as Chris could tell, nor was there any discernible hidden meaning to the placement of the letters and circles.

                She twisted the paper around to look at it at different angles.  She folded the paper in different ways.  She tried unfocusing her eyes.  Nothing yielded any clue as to the nature of the paper.  It simply refused to give up any secrets.

                She huffed and went to put the paper on her desk in the hopes that time would give her some form of clarity.  Suddenly, an image flashed into her mind.  The image of a bird flying into the glass of her window.  It was brief, lasting only a split second.  Chris froze.  She looked at the paper.  Her thumb had brushed one of the letters while she was placing it on her desk.  Tentatively, she touched the letter again.  The image of the bird hitting the window came again.  She held her finger on the letter and she saw the bird flutter around for a moment before taking off in a different direction.

                Chris dropped the paper on her desk.  Her eyes were open wide and she was breathing hard.  She had no idea what had just happened.  She looked over at the window and saw nothing.  She turned back to look at the paper.  Just then, there was a dull thump at her window, like something had hit the glass weakly.  Chris turned and saw a bird fluttering around nearby, and a tiny smudge on the glass where it had hit the material. 

                Chris blinked as the bird flew off to recover.  She looked at the paper, then at the window, and back to the paper again.  She thought about what had just happened.  A slow smile crossed her face. 

                This was going to be interesting. 

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

I wonder where this might be headed...

No really, I do.  I have no idea what I might do with this set-up, or even if this is indeed the set-up to something greater.  Probably not though.  I've done this kind of thing before, after all.  We'll just have to see what happens. 

Word: Serendipity

serendipity

[ser-uh n-dip-i-tee]

noun

1. an aptitude for making desirable discoveries by accident.

2. good fortune; luck:

the serendipity of getting the first job she applied for.

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

                Teddy glanced over his hand at his opponent.  He used his cards to conceal his grin.  It was the best hand he had had all game.  Every card was set to be played in turn, and every one would guarantee his victory. 

He looked to the table.  It too was overwhelmingly in his favor.  Teddy had three cards on the field, all of them big, beefy creatures that were ready to stomp all over his opponent’s single, frail guardian.  It was not enough to win next turn, but it was a good start.  He went over his next few turns in his mind.  Three turns.  That was all it would take to get him the victory.

The only problem was that he had just ended his turn.  He had, of course, dealt heavy damage to his opponent.  And yet, the other guy did not look in the least bit upset.  Most people would be frustrated after taking so much damage on a single turn, but not this guy.  He still had that infuriating small grin on his face.

“I’m done for now.” Teddy said through his wide, smirking smile.

The other man’s confidence was a ploy.  It had to be.  There was no way he was coming back from Teddy’s substantial lead.  Not this time.  Not this game.  The odds were against the guy, and in Teddy’s favor. 

“Okay.” The other guy said.  “Let’s see what I get here.”

He drew a card off the top of his deck and added it to his hand.  His eyes ran over the colorful cards.  He now held five cards.  Those five cards were unlikely to be able to counter Teddy’s hand of six powerful cards, but Teddy was oddly nervous.  He had lost to five cards before.  But not this time.  Nobody was that lucky.  Nobody.  Especially given how the guy had acquired those five cards.  Five turns ago he had an empty hand, thanks to a nasty thing Teddy had played.  Since then, the guy had not played anything.

“I think I’ll play…everything I have here.” The guy said.

He laid his cards out one at a time for Teddy to see.  No.  There was no way.  It was impossible.  Teddy’s eye twitched.  That five-card combo.  The perfect blend of five separate cards which were individually annoying, but together, won their user the game.  Teddy knew that combo.  He had lost to that combo.  Five times.  Six now, counting the current game. 

Teddy’s eyes bulged.  There was no way.  He could understand drawing the cards and keeping them in his hand until ready to use, but this?  He had to have drawn all five cards one after another.  And this was by no means the first time this had happened.  Of the last six games, the same occurrence had come up three separate times. 

“Whelp, good game.” The guy said.  Teddy just stared and blinked.

“You…you…”Teddy said in disbelief.  “You’re cheating.  You have to be.  Nobody can draw a five-card combo like that.  You have to had stacked your deck or something.”

The guy looked hurt.  “Hey now, how can you say that?  I mean, you shuffled my deck and everything.  I can’t possibly be cheating.”

“I…I…I don’t know how, but you are.  Even if you have four copies of all those cards, they can’t come up so smoothly one after another like that.  Once maybe, but not so many times.  Spill it.  How’re you doing that?  Do you have copies in your sleeve or something?”

“In a T-shirt?”

“Okay, maybe not sleeves, but somewhere.  I know it.”

“Now, now.  No need to get all hot and bothered.  I’m just having a run of good luck is all.”

Teddy narrowed his eyes to slits.  If he could, he would have incinerated the smug look off the other guy’s face.

“Now then, if you’re done complaining, are you done?  Or do you want to try again?”

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

Just so we're clear, this is not a traditional card game.  It's a trading card game, if you hadn't guessed it already.  It's not any specific game, just some generic type thing whose rules don't matter all that much.