Word: Ghosting

    

ghosting

[goh-sting]

noun

1. Television . the appearance of multiple images, or ghosts, on a television screen.
2. Informal .
   1. the practice of suddenly ending all contact with a person without explanation, especially in a romantic relationship: He was a victim of ghosting.
   2. Also called French goodbye, Irish goodbye . the act of leaving a social event or engagement suddenly without saying goodbye: Ghosting might be the best option if we want to get home before midnight.
3. Digital Technology . the removal of comments, threads, or other content from a website or online forum without informing the poster, keeping them hidden from the public but still visible to the poster.

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               Brad checked his phone, seeing that there was still no response. 

               “Man, I don’t get it.  Why hasn’t she replied yet.  I’m starting to get worried, you know?’

               “Why, because your girlfriend is giving you the silent treatment?  It happens.  Next time you see her, apologize with everything you have.” Chuck said. 

He was busy clicking the remote, trying to find anything good on TV.  The two had already browsed just about everything on their streaming sites, and found nothing.  So now, they were trying to rely on old fashioned TV.  It was proving just as fruitless. 

“No, this is different.” Brad said, putting his phone away.  “I’ve gotten the silent treatment before.  I know what that’s like.  If it was just the silent treatment, she’d probably be here, so that I know she’s ignoring me.”

“You know, I’ve always wondered why women do that.  I mean, they want to ignore you, by making sure you know they’re ignoring you.  It makes no sense.”

“True that.  And this isn’t her just ignoring me.  She wasn’t home when I check either.”

“So?  She could be out shopping or something.  Plus, it’s not like the two of us are the sum total of Ashley’s social life.”

Brad sighed and stood up.  He began to slowly pace around the room, trying to work thing out in his mind. 

“I know that.” He said.  “But her car was still there, and you know how she feels about getting rides from others.  It’s like she just disappeared.”

“Sure, man, sure.”

“Besides, she wouldn’t be giving me the silent treatment.  We haven’t had any arguments recently.”

“Did you forget her birthday?”

“Got her a new set of earrings that she loves.”

“Anniversary?”

“That’s in December, and I’ve got plans already made for that.”

“Huh.  That is weird.  You sure you didn’t do anything to make her mad?”

“Not that I can think of.”

“Okay, yeah, I guess…”

Chucked stopped.  His thumb hovered over the remote and his breath caught in his throat.

“Uh, hey, Brad, I, uh, I think I found Ashely.”

“What, where?”

Chuck pointed at the screen.  Brad looked and nearly fell over.  The TV was currently showing some kind of game show.  But that was not what they were looking at.  There was another image on the screen.  It was faint, like it was behind a thin curtain, but it was there.  And it was definitely Ashely.  Brad would recognize her anywhere, even if her image was faint. 

The girl was wandering around the screen, like she was looking for something.  Then she paused and faced the two viewers.  She made a mad dash for the foreground and slammed into the glass.  She recovered quickly and began pounding on the screen.  Her lips opened wide, like she was shouting, but no sound came.

“Ashely!” Brad shouted and ran to the TV.

He probed the glass, hoping that somehow he could reach her through the barrier.  The two guys began scrambling, trying to find something to do.  They checked behind the set, hit buttons on the remote until their fingers cramped.  None of it did anything.  And all the while, Ashely looked on, helpless on the other side of the screen, a ghost in front of whatever show happened to be on.

“It’s no use, man.” Chuck said eventually.  “We don’t even know what’s going on, let alone how to fix it.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Brad said quietly.  He knelt in front of the screen and looked at the faint image of his girlfriend.  “Ash, I don’t know if you can hear me right now, but I’m going to find out what happened to you, and how to fix it.  Just…just hang tight, okay?  I’ll figure something out.  And Chuck?”

“Yeah?”

“Whatever you do, make sure this TV stays on.”

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Happy Halloween everyone!  Stay safe, have fun, and get lots of candy!  Just remember to brush your teeth afterwards, okay?

Word: Timorous

timorous

[tim-er-uh s]

adjective

1. full of fear; fearful: The noise made them timorous.
2. subject to fear; timid.
3. characterized by or indicating fear: a timorous whisper.

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               The dungeon was surprisingly comfortable.  It was not dark, as magical light stones lined the walls with alarming regularity.  It was not damp, as a breeze kept it oddly fresh.  The only thing that gave any indication of its nature was the smell of blood that lingered in the air.  The entire place was silent, save for the footsteps of a single group of adventurers who dared enter the dungeon.

               “We shouldn’t be here.” One of the adventurers, a slight young man wearing thinly armored robes, said.  He trembled as he clutched a book in one hand and a small rod in the other.

               “Oh, lighten up, Hevi.” Another man said.  This one wore light metal armor and bore a sword strapped to his left hip.  He walked with an effortless confidence, and in no way shared his companion’s fear.  “There’s nothing in here we can’t handle.”

               “I’m sure everyone says that.” Hevi replied.  “There’s a reason they call his place the Rookie Killer, you know.”

               “Uh huh.  We’ve all heard the rumors.” The swordsman, Wiss, said while rolling his eyes.  “And we’re plenty capable of dealing with anything that pops up.  If anything, we’re overpowered for this one.  It’ll be easy, you’ll see.”

               Hevi wanted to voice his doubt again, but something made a sound nearby.  The mage’s words got caught in his throat and a cold sweat ran down his back.  The other members of the party paid the sound no mind.  Suddenly, something touched his shoulder.  He nearly reached the high roof of the dungeon, he jumped so high.  And that said nothing of the scream that tore through the halls.  It was soon replaced by laughter.

               “Don’t…don’t do that!” Hevi cried out. 

The one who touched him faded into view.  A young woman wearing black cloth pulled a half face mask off, showing her smiling visage. 

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help myself.” She said through her laughter.  “It was too good to pass up.”

“Vin.” The final member of the group, a huge man wearing thick plate armor and carrying a massive tower shield on his back said.  Nothing else was needed.

“Just having a little fun is all.” Vin said.

“Go. Scout.” The armored man said.  Vin scoffed and used the mask to cover the lower half of her face before fading from view.

“Oh, lighten up, big guy.” Wiss said.  “It was just a little joke.”

Olis, the shield barer, said nothing.  He just kept walking.  Hevi, for his part, did everything he could to still his heart.  His attempts yielded no result.

“Look, Hevi, I don’t see why you’re so scared.” Wiss said.  “You, especially.  Of all of us, you’re probably the only one who can solo this place.”

“Huh?” Hevi had been too distracted by a shadow he felt was moving oddly to hear his companion’s words.

               “It’s simple, are you or are you not the greatest magical genius ever.”

               “I wouldn’t classify myself as such, no.”

               “You can learn any spell just by seeing it once.  You know spells that mages spend lifetimes learning.  I mean, weren’t you up for the position of Archmage last week.”

               “Well, yeah, but I just couldn’t accept it.”

               “Because you were too scared, I know.  Look, the point is, if any of us has nothing to be afraid of, it’s you.  So why are you the only one scared?”

               “Wiss.  Stop.” Olis said. 

               “I’m just—” The swordsman was silenced by the large man raising a gauntleted hand.

               Not a moment later, Vin reappeared, pulling down her mask as she became visible.  The laughter in her face was gone. 

               “We’ve got incoming.  A dozen goblins, with more on the way.  I’d say they heard a certain someone screaming and came to investigate.”

               “That was your fault, not mine.” Hevi insisted.

               “Doesn’t matter.  They’re still coming.  So buck up, grow a pair and get ready to roast some gobs.”

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Been awhile since I've done a pure fantasy story, hasn't it?  I should do these more often.  They can be fun.  Sometimes.  They can also be a bit of a pain to write at times, so maybe that's why I don't.