Word: Grandfamily

 

grandfamily

[ grand-fam-uh-lee, fam-lee ]

 

nounplural grand·fam·i·lies.

1. a family in which one or more children live with and are raised by their grandparent or grandparents: Grandfamilies exist because of absent parents, and the circumstances behind that can vary greatly from one case to the next.

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               Three people sat around a small dinner table, eating the small meal set out on it. They were silent, for the most part. Two were elderly, the third was a child. A young boy who glanced at two plates. Two plates that had gone unused for as long as he could remember. That was not a very long time, even if it felt like it was. He set down his fork and looked at the elders.

               “Grandma, Grandpa? Where are my mom and dad?” The boy asked.

               The old couple stopped eating and looked at each other. It was a question they had been expecting for some time. It was also a question that they did not want to answer. At least, not yet. The answer was complicated. Too complicated for a child. But they had to say something.

               “That’s not an easy thing to say.” Grandpa said. “We don’t know exactly where they are, you see.”

               “That’s right.” Grandma said. “You parents are…they’re explorers. They’re out there, seeing and discovering things that nobody else has ever seen before.”

               “Really? But at school, Mrs. Lairn said that we’ve already explored everywhere we can go.”

               “Oh no.” Grandma said. “That’s not true at all. There’s always more places to explore, even right here on Earth.”

               “That’s right. Like, did you know we know more about other planets than we do about the ocean?” Grandpa stated.

               The boy’s eyes widened at that thought. “So Mom and Dad are exploring the oceans?”

               “Maybe.” The old man said. “They’re certainly in a place where they can’t reach us though. But wherever they are, I’m sure they’re thinking of you and waiting for the day they can come back.”

               The young boy thought about his grandparent’s words for a moment. “But they’ll come back one day, right?”

               “Of course they will!” Grandpa exclaimed. “When they left, they told us two things. To look after you, and that they’d be back as soon as they could. And those two always kept their word.”

               Grandma nodded her head. The child looked from one to the other and nodded.

               “Okay. I’m gonna go now. I’m gonna try and find where they are. If they’re in the ocean, I bet someone’s seen their submarine when it comes up.”

               The child slid out of his seat and headed for his room. His grandparents sighed in relief. It was not accurate, but it would keep the lad busy for many years.

               “That won’t hold up forever.” Grandpa said in a quiet voice.

               “I know, I know. But it’s better he believes that. For now, at least.”

               “Maybe if he asks some other time, we can imply they’re on another planet or something. It’s closer to the truth.”

               “You know he’s going to find out eventually. Maybe we should just rip the band aid off and tell him.”

               Grandpa looked at his wife and sighed. “Tell him? Really? What do you think that’ll do to him? At least this way he can tell other kids what his parents do, even if it isn’t true.”

               “I suppose so.” Grandma said with a sigh. “But still, we do need to tell him eventually.”

               “I know. And we will. But not until he’s ready to hear it.” The old man leaned back in his chair, gazing up at the ceiling. “But it’s not going to be easy, no matter how old he is. Having to hear that your parents were called to another universe won’t be easy to hear for anyone.”

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I hope everyone had a lovely holiday over the weekend. And that the upcoming New Year's is just as excellent. 

Word: Cromulent

 

cromulent

[ krom-yuh-luhnt ]

 

adjective Often Facetious.

1. acceptable or legitimate: People disagree on using the singular “they,” but it's perfectly cromulent as far as I'm concerned.

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               “And so, I present to you, my offering for the Princess’s hand!” The warrior shouted.

               The large cloth behind him was pulled back, showing a stuffed monster. It was a chimera, and a large one at that. King Joseph ran his fingers though his beard as he considered the monster. The warrior kept going.

               “This great beast was laid low by my own hand in single combat! Truly it was a grand battle worthy of many a song, but I shall not give such details here, in front of such esteemed personages. All the bones, meat and organs have been perfectly preserved, held in a magic bag, and are part of my offering.”

               The king nodded. It was probably the best offering prepared today, and by all means it should have been more than sufficient. Any noble would be proud to have the blood of a warrior capable of slaying a chimera in their line. Most royals he knew would accept him as well. If things were up to him, and only him, he would certainly have accepted the man’s offering. Unfortunately, given the circumstances, he was not the only person involved.

               “Well? He’s certainly a fine warrior.” King Joseph said. “And quite fine to look at as well.”

               His daughter, Princess Cecillia, sat slumped in a very un-princess like fashion. Luckily the illusion wards around her kept that from being seen by the court. All they saw was the princess sitting straight and smiling gently.

               “He looks insufferable. I bet he spends more time on his hair than on his sword. I wonder if he actually killed that thing. Even if he did, it’s nothing special.”

               “Nothing special? A chimera that size would be be able to fend off a group of twenty of our knights.”

               “Like I said. Nothing special.”

               “Cecillia…” The king said with a warning tone.

               “What? It’s true. I can kill something like that unarmed with one hand tied behind my back.”

               It irked him that she was right. And her room was decorated with the trophies to show it. King Joseph sighed.

               “Then don’t judge him by his martial abilities. Gods know if that’s your main criteria you’ll never get married.”

               Cecillia huffed. “Well how else am I supposed to judge them? Not like I can actually talk to them, with all the wards you have around me all the time. Besides, is it so bad to want a husband that I can’t immediately break?”

               He sighed. He turned back to the warrior. “Thank you, good sir. Your offering is truly magnificent, and the Princess will surely keep you in her heart. But many more are vying for her hand, and it would not be fair to them if they did not get the chance to present their own offerings.”

               The warrior bowed low. He did not complain and simply moved aside for the next suitor. That was certainly another mark in his favor. King Joseph could not believe how many potential suitors had tried to prevent other suitors from coming forth.

               “He’s polite.” The king said to his daughter.

               “Oh yeah. Because that’s what I’m looking for. A guy who can pretend to be nice to people. I bet he acts completely different when he isn’t talking to nobles that can have him killed for no reason.”

               “You could at least pretend to be taking this seriously. I wish I didn’t need to have the wards up, you know.”

               “I’ll take it seriously as soon as you start having people who are actually serious about this. No more pretend warriors who care more about looks and position than anything else. Have the mages take down the wards and let them deal with who I am. Hell, let me fight them and see who can handle a woman who can beat them in a fight. That’s someone I’ll consider.”

               The king grumbled, but did not say anything. He wondered, not for the first time, what he had done to deserve a daughter like her. He took a deep, steadying breath, and called for the next suitor. Maybe this one would finally be sufficient in her eye. 

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It's amazing how language works, isn't it? A word can be made up on the spot and as long ass enough people agree it's a word, it is. I mean, this one got started as a joke on The Simpsons. Sure it's not exactly in common use, but it's a word that people know and understand. And that's pretty cool.

Word: Pernicious

 

pernicious

[ per-nish-uhs ]

adjective

1. causing insidious harm or ruin; ruinous; injurious; hurtful: pernicious teachings;a pernicious lie.

2. deadly; fatal: a pernicious disease.

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               The man finished his preparations. A door of chalk was drawn on the wall, with a small cake in and cup of milk in front of it. A circle of salt and iron filings was around the pastry, and he had a small iron spike hidden in his sleeve. He went over everything he needed to do, and then began by knocking on the door.

               His heart beat rapidly as nothing happened. He worried that his preparations had been for naught. Then it happened. The wall creaked and the outline of the door shifted as it opened as if on hinges. And a small creature exited. It was barely a foot tall, with dusky skin and large eyes. The wings on its back were fine and translucent, like an insect’s.

               The fairy fluttered over to the cake and milk and sniffed it. It looked up at the man and grinned, wide enough to show teeth like needles. And it spoke in a voice like pine needles on snow.

               “Ah, a fine offering. It has been so long since your kind has sought out mine. We were beginning to worry you had forgotten. May I have the name of you who would call me here?”

               “You may not have my name, for it is mine alone.” The man said. The fairy twitched slightly. “But if you must call me something, call me P.” It was far from his name, which made it perfect. “And what may I call you, good sir? I would, of course, not presume to ask your name. But I must call you something.”

               “Hm, a clever one, are you? Well then, if a single letter will do, call me O.”

               The man frowned. An interesting choice of letter. One that came right before the one he had chosen. He could think of several reasons why that was. None of them pleasant for him.

               O took a piece of cake and nibbled on it. “So, P, to what do I owe the pleasure of this calling? I assume you want something?”

               “I do. There is a man. A man that must be harmed, and badly. But I cannot be connected to this inflicted harm.”

               “Ah, I see. Yes, I can certainly do this. How badly do you wish this man harmed?”

               “I wish to see him ruined. Brought crashing from his lofty home. Hurt him physically, of course, but do not limit it to something so mundane.”

               The fairy chewed thoroughly. It took a long sip of the milk. Only then did it reply. “I can do this. I can reduce him from the greatest of lord to one who has only rats for companions. But not for free. I hope you do not think some cake and milk will do as my payment.”

               “Of course not. A favor for a favor. A task for a task.”

               The fairy grinned and its large eyes grew wider. It seemed as though nearly half its small face was taken up by those dark portals. P did not stop there though.

               “With some rules in place, for the both of us.” He said. The fairy’s eyes twitched. “No laws of either man or fay may be broken by either of us. Nor will any lives be taken, traded, or used. Again, by either of us. And, should you wish me to inflict harm on another, as you have done, it may only be to one individual, as I ask that you only bring harm and ruin upon the one man. And, obviously, the only name to be used in any way is that of the intended target.”

               “Hmph.” The fairy huffed. “Clever indeed, P. Clever indeed. Hm, but I can still work with this. Yes. You have a deal. Give me one day, write your hated enemy’s name and leave his image before this door. This task will take some time, but within the month, he shall be brought low.”

               “Good. And I’m sure you will have my task ready for me once you’re finished?”

               “But of course. Oh, and make sure to leave another offering. And no circle of iron to bar my way.”

               P nodded. O took the rest of the cake and milk and went to the chalk door. He tipped an imaginary hat to P and left. The door swung shut and once more became the wall. The man breathed out a long breath, relieved that the first task was done. Now he just needed to prepare the materials and wait. Wait for everything to be done.

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Be careful when making a deal with the fay. They're tricky.