Word: Trachle

 

trachle

or trau·chle

[ trah-khuhl ]

Scot.

noun

1. an exhausting effort, especially walking or working.

2. an exhausted or bedraggled person.

verb (used with object), tra·chled, tra·chling.

3. to fatigue; tire; wear out.

4. to bedraggle.

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Jeff had no idea that walking could be so exhausting. Just walking. Not even a fast walk. And yet, his feet felt like lead and sweat covered every inch of his body. The other members of the group were better off, but not by much. All of them were hot, sticky, and tired. Why they all kept going, he could not even begin to understand.

               “Hey, can we break for a bit?” Jeff called. A chorus of agreement greeted him.

               They moved off the trail, and every single one of them flopped onto the ground. Jeff did not even care that he was sitting on a small rock. He was just glad to be off his feet. Several members just lay down in the grass, while others gulped down as much water as they could.

               “Hey, whose idea was this again?”

               Jeff did not bother turning to face the speaker. It was one of the guys though. Probably Chris.

               “It’s the Appalachian Trail.” Came the reply. One of the women this time. Sue, maybe? “We gotta do it at least once, you know?”

               “Yeah, but did we have to agree to do the whole thing?”

               This time there was no reply. Jeff could understand that. It had seemed so easy on paper, after all. Sure the distance was long, but they had all spring and summer to do it, so there was no rush. They figured they would get out, walk around and see the beauty of nature. They thought it would be fun. Easy even. And even if they had trouble with something, there would be other hikers, and the trail even went through towns sometimes.

               None of them were ready for the reality of the hike. The long, mountainous hike. Jeff, in particular, and thought this was going to be a cakewalk, and had done almost no actual training to prepare for it. Now he was paying for it with blisters on his blisters.

               “I say we make it to the next town, find out where the nearest airport is, and go home.” Jeff said. “We made it pretty far, right? We get credit for that.”

               There was some half-hearted agreement. He knew some of them were completionists and would not be satisfied with a half-finished hike. He could care less. He had some good pictures and some nice videos to show off. That was good enough for him.

               “Come on, we’re more than halfway through.” Sue said. “We’ve made it this far, we can definitely finish, right?”

               There was some agreement with that. It was even weaker than with Jeff’s idea though.

               “Okay, look,” she continued. “We’re all tired, there’s no doubt about that. How about we rest here for a few hours before we keep going. This isn’t a good campsite anyway. Once we make camp and have had some dinner, we can talk about it there. Maybe even tomorrow before we get started. You know, sleep on it and have a discussion when we aren’t all worn out.”

               There was a lot of muttering about the idea of future discussion. Much of it was about the idea that they could be anywhere near well rested after one night. But at the same time, nobody wanted an in-depth discussion or planning session at that moment. And so the decision was made. Two or three hours of rest, then more hiking. Jeff did not think that was enough, but he would find a way to make do. Until then, he just lay back and did his best to commune with nature. 

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 There's no chance I would even hike the full length of the Appalachian Trail. I would never make it even to the half way point. I'm just not built for that kind of endurance. At least, not without putting way more effort than I'm willing to give into it. Maybe a small section someday, but probably not.

Word: Paresthesia

 

paresthesia

or par·aes·the·sia

[ par-uhs-thee-zhuh, -zhee-uh, -zee-uh ]

 

noun Pathology.

an abnormal sensation, as prickling, itching, etc.

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               The house loomed over the trio. Its windows were boarded up, its paint was nearly gone, and its door barely clung to the frame. The walls had holes in places, the roof was sagging, and the yard had been reclaimed by nature.

               “I don’t like this. I don’t think we should be here.” Bill said.

               “Yeah, we know. You’ve only told us about a dozen times now.” Ryan said as he rolled his eyes.

               “There’s nothing to be afraid of, you wuss.” Mike agreed. “As long as you watch your step, it’ll be fine. We’ll go in, snap a few pics, maybe grab some old stuff and leave. Easy.”

               Ryan and Mike barely hesitated as they went up to the old building. Bill’s head was on a swivel and palms were sweaty as he slowly followed his friends. When he entered, he shivered. There was something very wrong. He felt it. Actually felt it.

               It was a tingling, or prickling feeling running down his back, like someone was poking him with dozens of tiny pins. Apparently the other two felt nothing of the sort, as they walked without care over the aged floor. The feeling passed quickly, and Bill moved just fast enough to keep the other two in sight.

               The feeling came back not long after though, but this time it spread through his arms and shoulders as well. He shuddered and looked around. He looked around, trying to find what might be causing his distress. He saw something. He was not sure what it was, but it was definitely there. A small glowing area on the wall, caused by a small object that looked almost like the back of a hand. But it faded into the wall, so he could not be sure. At the same time, the feeling disappeared.

               “Hey, guys? I really think we need to leave.” Bill said. “There’s something weird here.”

               “It’s just your imagination.” Ryan said. “Maybe, like, a mouse or something at best. Now come on, we’re not that deep in.”

               Mike and Ryan continued on, without even looking back. The feeling came back. This time, oddly enough, located at the top of his head. He looked up. There was a face. The face of a young woman, glowing faintly and slightly transparent. And It was coming out of the ceiling. Bill let out a few squeaks and his entire body stiffened as the ghost woman floated down. She looked at Mike and Ryan as they rounded a corner. She crossed her arms.

               “Oh dear. They went down that hallway. Hopefully they see the hole. That can be a nasty drop.” She turned to look at Bill, who stood there unmoving. “Well, at least they have someone here with a bit of sense. Hopefully if they fall then…hmm?” She tilted her head from side to side. Then she held up a spectral finger in front of his eyes. She moved it. Bill reflexively followed it with his eyes. A wide grin formed on her face. “You can see me? How wonderful! Oh, oh, can you hear me too? Can you? Please tell me you can hear me. It’s been so long since I’ve had a conversation.”

               Bill’s brow wrinkled in confusion. She wanted to…talk? “Uh…conversation?”

               She squealed with glee. “You can! You can see and hear me! How wonderful! You have no idea how rare that is. Most people with the gift can only do one or the other, and it makes talking so difficult. Oh, right, how rude of me. My name is Agatha, and it’s a true pleasure to mee you.”

               “Um, I’m…I’m Bill. You’re not going to, like, possess me or use some kind of ghost power to steal my soul or anything, are you?”

               Agatha burst out laughing. “Kill you? I couldn’t do that even if I wanted to, silly. I’m just a normal ghost, not a poltergeist or a specter. Those you need to watch out for. But me? Nothing. You’re in more danger from a collapsed floorboard than me. I don’t think I can even touch you.” She held out a hand and laid it on his shoulder. It was cold, and his shoulder tingled fiercely. She gasped. “I…I can touch you? Oh my word, you really are something special. To be able to touch a ghost, you must be able to perform real miracles. Well, maybe not right now, but if you learned how to do things.”

               “Wait, things? What kind of things? Like, magic?” Bill asked, completely forgetting his previous fear.

               “Oh no, magic is the work of stage magicians. I’m talking something more like spiritual power. I don’t know enough about it to tell you what that mean, just that it can be done. Oh, but I know of some people who know more. They came by a few years ago, but they could barely feel me. Just enough to know I was there, and tell me where they could be found if someone like you came along. Oh, but please don’t leave right away. I get so lonely, being here all alone.”

               “I…Guess I can stay for a little while? I’ve never really talked to a ghost before. Or seen one. But, uh what did you say about a hole?”

               “Hm? Oh! Right, the hole. Yes, the floors have rotten away in the hall your friends went down. Come on, I’ll show you!” She took his hand and started floating towards where Mike and Ryan went. “You should hopefully be in time to warn them of the danger. And if you three want to stick around and, I don’t know, prove your bravery, then I’ll be sure to show you where all the bad spots are so that nothing happens. Oh, I’m so excited! This is going to be the first real conversation I’ve had in I don’t know how long!”

               Bill let himself be guided by the ghost. He was still processing what was happening. Apparently ghosts were real, and he could fully interact with them. What that meant, he had no idea. But maybe finding out would not be so bad.

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 I imagine that if ghosts were real, most of them would just be normal people. You know, more like Casper than The Ring girl. Just normal people who died and weren't quite done with life, but don't know what to do in death, so they just kind of hang out.

Word: Malinger

 

malinger

[ muh-ling-ger ]

 

verb (used without object)

to pretend illness, especially in order to shirk one's duty, avoid work, etc.

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               Mark stumbled downstairs, emitting a weak moan as he did. He leaned against a wall to steady his steps. His parents were glued to the TV, and did not immediately notice. Mark could understand that, since they were watching the latest story about Cosmic Girl, the world’s only real super hero. Still, it would be nice to get more of a reaction.

               His mom was the first to notice his current state. She abandoned the news and dashed over to him. Without a word, her hand was on his forehead.

               “Hm, you’re warm.” She said. “How do you feel?”

               “Not great.” Mark said. “I don’t think I can go to school.”

               Mom tilted his head up and turned it from side to side. Her eyes seemed to bore into him using whatever powers mothers got. He could feel a bead of sweat run down his back.

               “Seems like it.” She concluded. “You’re staying home today.”

               “Sure he’s not faking it?” Dad said. The news had gone to commercial and he was finally paying attention.

               “I’m sure.” Mom said. “Why would he be faking it anyway?”

               Dad pointed at the TV with his thumb. “That super girl is having her little meet and greet today. If I was a teenage boy, I’d make any excuse to see her in person.” Mom glared at him. “What? I’m just saying, she’s a pretty girl, and you and I both know how boys his age get around pretty girls.”

               Mark groaned, for multiple reasons. “I wouldn’t go even if I could, Dad.” He said. His voice croaked and he barely formed the words loud enough to be heard.

               “Alright, I’m just saying.” Dad said. “But I guess you do look pretty miserable.”

               “That’s right. And that’s why he’s staying home.” Mom said. Her face creased in worry. “I should stay home too.”

               “I’ll be okay, Mom. I can at least put a can of soup in for, you know, eating and…stuff.” His eyes drooped and his head fell forward, but it snapped up quickly. “You and Dad can go do work stuff.”

               “You sure? Do you want us to call Becky?”

               Another bead of sweat ran down his back as Mom mentioned their next door neighbor.

               “She’ll be at school.”

               Dad placed a hand on Mom’s shoulder. “Why don’t we let him have some time alone? He’s 17, he can handle this much.”

               “Are you sure?” Mom asked. “I don’t mind calling out.”

               It took almost half an hour before Mom reluctantly agreed to leave Mark alone and go to work. And even then, it was obvious she was a hair’s breadth away from calling out from work. But, she did leave. And once Dad left, Mark was officially home alone. He trudged up to his room and waited until he was sure that his parents were gone.

               Then he straightened up and wiped his face clean of the stuff he had used to make himself look pale, and slipped the tiny device he had used to warm his skin off. He sat at his computer and put his headset on before logging into his special voice carrier.

               “About time you got on. I was worried you wouldn’t make it.” The voice on the other end said.

               “Sorry, Becky, but it wasn’t easy fooling my parents. I had to make a whole new thing just to fake a fever.”

               “That’s nice, but what’d I tell you about the names? Man for a guy as smart as you, you really do slip up a lot there.”

               “Right, right. Not like anyone’s eavesdropping on this line. But fine. You ready for this stupid little media stunt, Cosmic Girl?”

               “As ready as I’ll ever be. How about you?”

               Mark cracked his knuckles, pulled up numerous programs for a wide variety of purposes and got ready to do his thing.

               “Oh yeah. Let’s do this.”

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Could I have made this just a normal teen playing hooky? Yes, yes I could. But that's been done to death and is super boring. So I did this instead. Is it more interesting? I think so, but that's just me.