Word: Ruth

ruth

[rooth]

noun

1. pity or compassion.

2. sorrow or grief.

3. self-reproach; contrition; remorse. 

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Chuck’s chin lay slumped against the table.  His eyes stared out at the wall, somehow finding the one spot that was clear of people.  His body was hunched over in an almost painful way.  He strove to think about nothing, and mostly succeeded until one of his friends, Amy, started talking.

“Oh come on, I’m sure it’s not that bad.” She said.  Chuck did not expend the effort needed to look at the girl, nor did he dignify her words with a response.

A hand clasped his bent over shoulder in what was supposed to be a friendly, reassuring manner. “Yeah, I mean, you can always take summer classes.  That’ll make it all fine.” The boy who spoke was another of his friends, Willy. 

The group all looked at their fallen companion.  Even while avoiding their gazes, Chuck could still feel their pitying stares.  He took a deep breath and began to move.  He did so slowly, and only enough to bring a single sheet of paper onto the surface of the table.  The others looked at it and recoiled in shock.

“Okay, maybe not.” Willy corrected.  “But that doesn’t mean anything.  I mean, I bet lots of really successful people failed a grade or two.”

Chuck’s only response was a slow blink aimed at nothing.  His friends kept talking.  They kept trying to console him; make him feel better about failing the 10^th grade.  But they did not understand.  How could they?  They were all smart.  They all passed their classes.  Amy even did so with straight As.  How could they understand the plight of the idiot?  Their attempts at cheering him up sounded like nothing but them taking pity on him.

Maybe that’s all they ever did.  Maybe he was just too dumb to have noticed it until now.  Maybe they only hung out with him out of pity, since nobody else would.  Maybe they saw him as nothing but a charity case.  Hang out with the pathetic stupid boy and suddenly they look compassionate and good natured.

Chuck’s mouth curled down and his brow furrowed.  He had just figured it out.  His friendship was based on nothing but a big pity party.  What else could it be?  They were all smart and good looking and talented.  All Chuck had was sheer size.  He was just a big dumb lunk who was good for nothing but making the others look better.  And now that he was being held back a year, they could feel even better about being his so-called friend.  After all, what better way to make themselves look better than by continuing to allow him to be near them for a prolonged period of time?

Well, he might be dumb, but Chuck still had his pride.  He would have none of their false compassion.  He would find new friends.  Real friends.  Friends who did not hang out with him out of pity.  He stood up quickly, grabbed his report card and walked out of the room without saying a word.

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 So glad I never got held back a grade.  Really, that must be terrible for everyone involved, not just the person being held back. 

 

Word: Quaquaversal

quaquaversal

[kwey-kwuh-vur-suh l]

adjective

1. (of a geological formation) sloping downward from the center in all directions.

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                The sphere looked around, and was confused.  The landscape was wrong.  It simply was not like it should be.  The sphere was on top of a fairly small mountain, with the sun shining of its metal skin.  The mountain sloped down on all sides of it, spreading out and down in gentle but irregular ways.  That was not what was odd though.  What was odd was the other mountains.

                Seeing multiple mountains together was not unusual, as that is the way one normally sees such formations.  But here, each mountain was separate.  There were clear separations between each mountain.  And not small ones either.  The sphere could not be certain, but it estimated at least a mile between the mountain it was on and its closest neighbor.

                A humming sound came from inside the sphere.  It was thinking.  Thinking about how such odd formations could exit.  Surely they were not natural.  If they were natural, they would be in a rough line, and more or less attached to each other.  But what kind of beings could create entire mountains?  It was unfathomable to the sphere.  It clicked and whirred as it tried to find anything to explain what it was seeing.  Nothing it thought of fit.

                The sounds stopped.  The sphere was no longer thinking, or at least not as hard.  Although it had not come up with an explanation, it had also determined that it would not find one from its current place.  It had decided to start exploring.  It started moving, floating down the mountain at a slow, controlled speed.  It could go faster, but it wanted to take its time.  The slower it went, the better it would be able to see, and the more information it would gather about the unusual mountains. 

                It eventually reached the bottom of the mountain.  It began to look around, and saw nothing but the bases of other mountains, and the wide spaces between them.  There was nothing else.  The sphere simply chose a direction and started moving in it.

                It was quite some time before the sphere noticed something else.  The ground it was floating over was slanted.  It slanted down ever so slightly.  Most would not have noticed at all, but the sphere did.  It noticed many things.  It turned around and went in another direction.  The ground went up, but eventually slanted down again.  No matter which direction the sphere went, the ground eventually started to have a downward slant. 

                The sphere went looking for any point that was not on a slant.  It found one in the middle of the scattered mountains.  Once it was there, it could see the mountains were not arraigned randomly, but rather in rings.  Huge rings that spread out over miles, and with irregular points made by the mountains themselves.  And, like the mountains, the ground around him sloped down in all directions, with rings of mountains moving down the almost imperceptible slope. 

                The sphere started thinking hard.  The sound of its clicks, whirs and hums echoed faintly off the mountains.  Once again, it knew that this had to have been created by someone, or something.  But it simply could not figure out what.  It spent a long time thinking.  But, like before, it decided that it needed to find out more about this land.  It chose a direction and started moving.  Maybe it would eventually find the bottom.

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So...fractal mountains?  Maybe?  Honestly, I have no idea.  I just kind of, you know, wrote something and that was it. 

Word: Paludal

paludal

[puh-lood-l, pal-yuh-dl]

adjective

1. of or relating to marshes.

2. produced by marshes, as miasma or disease.

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    “So, why are we here again?” Frank grumbled.  “And I don’t mean what we’re doing.  I mean why are we, specifically, here?  I mean, this would be so much easier if we let a drone come in while we sit somewhere that isn’t a swamp.”

    The other members of the team rolled their eyes behind their air masks.  They had gotten tired of Frank’s whining.  They had been able to ignore it to an extent, but he responded to their silence by complaining louder.

“First of all, this isn’t a swamp.  It’s a marsh.  Big difference.” The team leader, Michelle, said. Frank scoffed.  “No really, there is.  If this was a swamp, it’d be a lot harder, because there would be deeper water and bigger plants.  A marsh is relatively easy to get around in, even on foot.”

“Could’a fooled me.” Frank grumbled loudly.  He shook mud and water off the feet of his tightly sealed environment suit, just to show his point.

Michelle ignored the man and continued.  “And we’re here personally because drones won’t operate here.  The water would interfere with the mobility of a ground drone and air drones don’t have the equipment we need.”

“Then why couldn’t we get some techs or assistants here to do this?”

A sudden fog on the inside of Michelle’s mask made it hard to see for a moment, but it cleared quickly.  “Because they don’t have the expertise we do, and you know it.  I mean, we’re dealing with the worst viral outbreak since the Bubonic Plague.  Would you really trust some lab techs to find something out here that could lead to a cure?  Now stop complaining and keep moving.”

Frank grumbled for a few minutes, but said nothing that was intelligible.  That is, until he found something else to complain about.  “So why do we have to come out here?  I mean, we can do this in the lab just fine.”  Another groan to a another question that had been asked at least five times since the mission started.

“What better location to find a cure than the source of the disease?” Michelle said.  

Her tone made it very clear that she was not going to say anything else on the subject, and any more useless questions would be shot down immediately upon asking.  Again, Frank grumbled just loud enough that the people around him could hear the sounds.

It was not long before Frank’s need to complain about something kicked it.  “God damn it, why do these suits have to be so hot?” Frank asked. He pulled at the heavy plastic of the suit in order to keep it from clinging to his sweat covered body.  He was not met with much success.   

“Don’t like it?  Take it off.” Michelle said with a large eye roll.  “Maybe you’ll catch the disease and save us all a headache.”

The rest of the team sniggered quietly, their masks muffling most of the sound.  A low growl could be heard coming from Frank, but he said nothing.  He also made no motion to follow the team leader’s sarcastic suggestion.  He complained a lot, but he still liked his flesh attached to his body.

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Okay, I admit I wasn't quite sure how to end this one, so I just kind of did.  Probably could've done better, but oh well. 

Word: Mussitation

mussitation

[muhs-i-tey-shuh n]

noun

1. silent movement of the lips in simulation of the movements made in audible speech.

2. muttering; mumbling; murmuring. 

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Denise blinked a few times as she tried to process what she had just heard.

“I’m sorry, can you repeat that, please?” She asked.

The man sitting across from her mumbled something.  It was barely audible, and Dennise could not tell even the smallest of words he said.  

“I...see.” She said.

She wanted to ask him to talk louder, she really did.  But that might be considered rude to this man.  She had heard rumors about how easily offended he was, and she desperately needed to keep him in a good mood.  At least, she thought he was in a good mood.  It was hard to tell, what with his barely audible voice and mostly expressionless face.

The man mumbled something else.  Denise nodded along, pretending to hear what he said.  A drop of sweat marched down her back.  The biggest potential contract in her company’s history was dependent on her ability to understand the worst mumbler she had ever met.  Not a good combination.

He stopped talking and looked at her expectantly.  She took a deep breath.  What she said next could determine the future of her company.

“I think I understand what you’re saying.” She said.  “Let me see if I’ve got this right.”

She went through the details of what she hoped he said.  She had no idea if she was correct, or even in the ballpark, but it was what made sense to her.  When she was finished, she looked at the mumbling businessman.  He again started to mumble.  She could not hear what he said, but whatever words he was saying did not sound angry.  That was a start.  

Denise had given up trying to figure out what he was saying.  It was time to use one of the many skills she had obtained in the business world: faking it.  If she played her cards right and kept her statements vague enough, he would fill in the blanks any way he wanted.

“That sounds good.” Denise said.  “And that will lead to more upward growth, right?”

Buzzwords.  Most people hated them.  But they were Denise’s bread and butter, especially in times like this.  Her potential business partner mumbled something that sounded like an answer.  Denise replied with more buzzword heavy phrases and statements, and the mumbler nodded along just as much as she did when he spoke.  It was either very good or very bad.  He either approved of what she said, or he was much better at hiding his annoyance than the rumors had led her to believe.  

The man said something that sounded quite final.  An expression not unlike a smile crossed his face and he stood up.  Denise followed suit.  He held out his right hand, which she took.  A firm handshake, a quick nod, and the man walked out the door.

Denise flopped back down in her seat and breathed a sigh of relief.  She still had no idea what had just happened, but it seemed to have gone well.  Now she just had to hope the actual contract creation would go as well. 

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Remember people, speak so that other people can hear you.  Just because you can hear your own voice does not mean others can do the same.  It's a skill that's a lot harder to learn than you might think.  I'm still trying to figure it out.  

 

Word: Dorp

dorp

[dawrp]

noun

1. a village; hamlet.

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It was a tiny little village.  The kind where everyone knew each other, and one person’s business was everyone’s business and nobody cared to leave.  All the stores were lined up on two parallel streets, with the houses set up around them.  It was a quaint little place, filled with good, normal people.     At least, that’s what it looked like at first glance.  As the two travelers drove through the place, they could feel the gazes of the locals.  They drove at a reasonable pace, appropriate to the posted speed limit.  And yet, both could tell there was something off about the way the residents were looking at them.  It was not just the idle stares of people who rarely saw any strangers.  No, this was something else.  There was purpose in the local’s eyes.  

    The driver pushed down on the gas slightly harder.  The car increased in speed at a slow rate.  Nothing that would get them arrested for speeding, but just enough that it would get the two travelers out of the village a few seconds sooner.  

    The driver’s efforts were ended when a person crossing the road at a slow pace came into view.  The brake was pressed, and the car slowed to a stop.  The crossing person did not seem to have any interest in getting across faster.  In fact, the person seemed to slow down when the car stopped.  The driver drummed on the wheel, suppressing the desire to use the car’s horn to hurry the person along.

    People began gathering around the sidewalks.  They simply stood there in greater and greater numbers.  They watched, unmoving, while the person crossing finished the task of getting to the other side of the road.  The moment that person finished crossing, another took up the task, preventing the driver from setting the car into motion again.  

    The car’s passenger felt a drop of sweat forming.  There was no reason to be nervous, but the signs were developing.  Another person was crossing the road now.  It seemed like the locals were arranging the process.  Trying to keep the travelers in one place.  

    The locals were gathered in such great numbers that it seemed like the entire village had gathered, just to stare at the travelers and their inability to continue their journey.  The driver felt a sudden chill and locked the doors.  There was a lull in the crossings.  One person finished, and for a brief second, nobody was starting.  The driver pressed the gas pedal as much as he could, and the car lurched forward before anyone could start crossing again.  The car started moving again, building up speed as the driver silently urged it on.

It was a tiny little village.  The kind where everyone knew each other, and one person’s business was everyone’s business.  The kind where all the businesses were on two streets with all the houses were set up neatly around them.  And it was a town with two new residents.  Because in this tiny little town, nobody ever leaves.

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For best results, listen to the Twilight Zone theme song while reading this story.  Thank you and have a nice day.