Word: Skylark

 

skylark

[ skahy-lahrk ]

noun

a brown-speckled European lark, Alauda arvensis, famed for its melodious song.

verb (used without object)

to frolic; sport: The children were skylarking on the beach.

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               John and Sarah watched their kids run around the yard, laughing and shouting as they did. They were playing some child’s game, chasing and being chased by something that did not exist. And the two adults had to admit they kids were good at it. If Jack did not know any better, he would have sworn they actually were playing with something.

               “We’ve got some good kids, don’t we?” He said.

               “Yeah, we do.” Sarah agreed. “But why mention it now?”

               “Well, when I’m at work, all I hear about is kids playing video games and watching YouTube videos.”

               “Jason and Loura do both of those. What about it?”

               “True, but not as much as what I hear. Those two are just as happy running around, chasing the air. Our kids have imagination that I never hear from anyone else.”

               “Good point.” The two of them said nothing as they watched their kids playing. “We should make sure they keep it. You know, encourage creativity and all that.”

               “Obviously. Make sure they drawn and play music and all that.”

               The kids stopped running, probably to catch their breath. They spoke quietly to each other. At least, John thought they were talking to each other. There were times when one would talk, and it would be several seconds before the other replied. And there was something else. He thought he saw some kind of distortion in the air around them, but it was faint and probably just a trick of the light.

               Jason, the older brother, walked over to his parents.

               “What is it, sweety?” Sarah asked.

               “Mommy, can we have some juice?” The boy asked.

               “Of course, dear.  Hold on, I’ll get you some.”

               “And some for the fairies too?”

               “The fairies?” John asked.

               “Uh huh. We’re playing with them, and they’re really nice. They said that they like juice too.”

               “Oh, well, in that case, I’ll get a little bit just for them.” Sarah said with a twinkle in her eye.

               “So, do you want to tell me about the fairies?” John asked.

               “Uh huh. They’re really nice. They said they like to play with people, but don’t get to. They said it’s because nobody can see them, but Loura and I can because we have magic and stuff.”

               “Really? And what kind of magic do you have?”

               Jason shrugged his shoulders. “I dunno. The fairies can’t tell yet. They just know we have it.”

               “Well, if the fairies say so, it’s probably true.” John said. He could not suppress his smile. His kids really did have a wonderful imagination, and he would not be the one to squash them. Although, he could still encourage a few more practical traits as well. “But you know, being able to use magic is really hard, right? So you have to be smart and study really hard in school, okay?”

               “Okay.” Jason said.

               At that moment, Sarah came back out. On a tray, she held two child sized cups of apple juice, and a few thimble-fulls of the same.

               “You didn’t tell me how many there were, so I brought a few.” She said, following their son. She set the tray down and rejoined her husband.

               They smiled and winked at each other, happy that their kids were shaping up to be so creative. Both kids drank their juice and then picked up a thimble. Jack saw something. At least, he thought he did. He thought he saw the juice flow up over the lip of the thimble and disappear. But that could not be right. He had to have been seeing things. It was several yards away, and such a small amount that he was certain it was his eyes playing tricks on him.

               “Hey, Sarah, did you see something weird just now?” He asked.

               “I…don’t know.” She said. “I thought I did, but I just can’t tell for sure.”

               So it was not just him. Was it?

               “You don’t think…” He began.

               “No, no. Couldn’t be. Fairies aren’t real. Are they?”

               Once hydrated, the kids went back to their game. Sarah moved quickly to retrieve the tray of cups and thimbles. When she came back, she looked mystified. Not one of the thimbles held any juice. She sat down, setting the tray on the floor. In silence, the two of them watched as their children played with fairies. 

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Let's just hope they aren't mythologically accurate fairies. Those can get...nasty.

Word: Judder

 

judder

[ juhd-er ]

Chiefly British

verb (used without object)

to vibrate violently: an old automobile with a clutch that judders.

noun

a state or instance of juddering.

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               Bill burst into the room, wide eyed with excitement. He looked frantically around, spotting his girlfriend, Lisa, curled up in her favorite chair with a tablet in her hands. She did not seem to notice his antics. Why would she? He did that a lot, and her book was just getting really good.

               “Lisa, Lisa, I did it! I finally did it!” Bill cheered. She sighed, set her virtual bookmark and turned to her overly excited boyfriend.

               “What did you do, and how expensive will it be to fix?” She asked.

               “I didn’t break anything. This time. But come on, come and see. This is great. It’ll change everything!”

               He waited for her to stand before grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the garage. The garage he had vehemently insisted she not enter since she had moved in with him. He threw open the door and nearly dragged her inside. The place was a mess, with tools and parts scattered everywhere. The only place where such hardware was not located was occupied by a car.

               It was small, sleek, and no model she recognized. Of course, she did not know a lot about cars, but even she could tell this was custom made. Probably by Bill himself, if the rest of the garage was any indication.

               “Okay, it’s a car. So what?” Lisa asked.

               “So what So what? Lisa, this is no ordinary car. This car will change the world.”

               “Okay?”

               “Ask me what the milage is. Go on, ask.” He was practically bouncing when he made the request.

               “Okay, what’s the milage?”

               “Oh, about a thousand miles a gallon.” He said proudly. That got her attention.

               “Seriously? A thousand? Are you sure about that?” If that was true, it was going to make a lot of very powerful people very upset, while making everyone else very happy.

               “As sure as I ever am about something I haven’t tested yet.”

               “You haven’t even driven it yet? Then how do you know it even works?”

               “I ran simulations. Lots of them. Thousands of them. And I just finished assembling it. I haven’t had the chance to test it. Come on, let’s give it a ride.”

               He opened the passenger door for her. She hesitated before getting in. He quickly made his way to the driver’s side, opened the garage door and turned the ignition key. The engine was loud. Very loud. And the whole car shook more than a washing machine. In fact, she was not sure if the sound it made was purely from the engine, or if the car’s vibration was contributing. It was actually quite painful to sit in, and she swore she would have develop bruises everywhere that came in contact with the seat.

               “It’s a little loud.” She shouted. “And is it supposed to shake this much?”

               “No idea! Don’t worry, I’ll work out the kinks later.” He shouted back. “In the mean time, let’s see how this baby runs!”

               She would have gotten out right then and there. The only thing keeping her in the seat was the fact that Bill had pressed the accelerator. The car launched forward with what she had to admit was very impressive acceleration. He was thrilled. She was not. But now, for better or for worse, she was along for a very rough, bumpy, noisy ride.

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 A thousand miles per gallon is pretty damn good, isn't it? Not sure it's worth getting a bruised tailbone every time you drive though.

Word: Pulchritudinous

 

pulchritudinous

[ puhl-kri-tood-n-uhs, -tyood- ]

adjective

physically beautiful; comely.

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               The mood around the table was excited. They finally had a fifth player, which meant they could finally begin the campaign. The DM, Henry, had been working hard for months, both to get his masterpiece ready and to find the magic number of players to bring his world to life. Four of them sat eagerly around the table, dice and character sheets at the ready. The fifth player, Chris, would be arriving any minute.

               He watched the door carefully as the players chatted among themselves. Mostly about their new arrival, who had so far not met with any of them. Everyone hoped he would be a good player. That he would not be a rules lawyer or a power gamer. That he would get along with everyone and be able to role play well.

               The door opened and Chris walked in. All talk stopped, eyes widened hearts raced.

               “Sorry I’m late.” Chris said as she made her way to the open seat at the table. “Traffic sucks right now, and I lost track of time. I am in the right place, right? I can see you guys have sheets out, so I guess I am.”

               “You…you’re, uh, you’re Chris?” Henry asked.

               “Yup, that’s me. Something wrong? Oh, right. You guys probably thought I’m Christopher, not Christena, right? Yeah, that’s a common thing for me.”

               That was one problem, and as far as the other players and Henry were concerned, a minor one. The bigger problem, if it could be called that, was that Chris was gorgeous. Hers was a face that would make Hollywood actresses jealous. With her elegant facial features, lustrous black hair and vibrant blue eyes, everyone else in the room was left with a dry mouth. And even though she wore baggy, well worn clothes, they could also tell she had a figure most supermodels did not have.

               She was not the kind of woman who they associated with DnD. In their experience, she was more in line with those who made fun of people who played the game.

               Chris shrugged a backpack from across her shoulder and onto the floor next to her. She rummaged around and pulled out a sheet of paper.

               “Okay, so I’m going with a paladin. Got everything set up except the stats. Figured it’d be best to roll those here. I assume we are rolling, right?” When she got no response, she looked up at her new gaming group. She sighed. “Okay, let’s get this over with. Obviously, I’m a girl. That doesn’t mean I’m a newbie or need to be coddled. I’ve been playing DnD since I was 10. I’ve been in over a dozen campaigns, and have been pretty much every class at least once. I have three sets of dice for each damage type. This game, I’m going with my radiant set.” To emphasize her point, she pulled out three tubes, each containing a full set of white dice.

               With her dice on the table, she faced Henry. “Now, let me be clear. I do not want any favoritism in or out of game.  I don’t need it, I don’t want it. Now, getting cool magic items is great, but if I’m the only one getting them, I walk. If cool things only happen to me, and NPCs only talk to me, I walk. I’m part of a group. I have no desire to be the main character. That means everyone gets the chance to be awesome, got it?”

               It took a moment for Henry to remember he had to respond. He did so with a nod.

               “Good. That goes for the rest of you too.” She said, looking over the rest of the party. “No favorites. Also, just to get this out of the way now, my character does not like getting hit on. She’s all business and isn’t interested in a relationship. That goes for me too. Just to be clear, yes, I am single. No, I will not date any of you. I’m here to have fun and roll dice, not to find a boyfriend. If you ask me out on a date, I will probably refuse. But, to be fair, if you impress me enough, maybe, and this is a pretty big maybe, I will consider it. And when I say big, I mean tarrasque big. Don’t get your hopes up, and let’s have some fun playing, okay?”

               The other players managed to take their eyes off Chris long enough to process what she had said. Just the fact that there was a chance, however slim, of being with her filled each of them with more hope than any had ever felt in their lives.

               “We good here?” She asked. All responded positively. Chris grabbed four normal six sided dice. “In that case, let’s roll some stats and play some DnD.”

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In case you aren't familiar with DnD, a tarrasque is an end game monster that only the greatest of parties dare take on. it looks like this and is the kind of thing that both can and will step on houses. It's pretty nasty.