Word: Evenfall

evenfall

[ee-vuhn-fawl]

noun

1. the beginning of evening; even; evening; twilight; dusk.

 

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                It was twilight. That odd time when it was neither day nor night. The light from the sun cast its rays and reflected off the windows of the myriad skyscrapers. It seemed like the entire city was one big kaleidoscope. Really, it was one of Dan’s favorite times of day for that reason. Although today he was just wondering if it meant he would finally be able to go home.

                “There you are.”

                Dan did not turn to face the speaker. He just kept looking out over the city and slightly leaning on the railing of the building’s ornately decorated roof.

                “Yeah, I’m here.” He replied. “You gonna tell me to come back inside?”

                “That was the idea, yeah. I mean, it’s a party. We’re supposed to be enjoying it.”

                Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his girlfriend, Cleo, move next to him. The rays of the setting sun glinted off earrings that probably cost more than a year’s rent at his old apartment. That, when combined with the dress that was just bordering on inappropriate remined him why he had come out here in the first place.

                “Yeah, I know.” He said. “But I was thinking of getting a cab or something and heading home.”

                “Why? The party’s still going strong and will be for hours.”

                “That’s part of the problem. I shouldn’t have even come in the first place.”

                She looked at him sharply, and it took her a moment to reply. “What? Why not? I would’ve thought you’d love this kind of thing. Good food, good drink, good music. It’s right up your ally.”

                “Yeah, all that’s great. It’s the people that’s the problem.”

                “The people?”

                He took a long, slow breath. “Yeah. I don’t belong here, Cleo. They’re your people, not mine. And everyone here knows it. I hear what they’re saying about me. About us. I don’t know if they’ve had too many drinks to keep quiet, or if they’re saying these things so I can hear it, but that doesn’t matter. They all say things about how ‘I’m not good enough’ or I’m ‘some gutter trash gold digger.’ Just a lot of people spouting out a lot of insults. Most of them are aimed at me, but a few are going to you as well. And even those are related to me. They hide it better when talking face to face, but even then, you can tell what they think of me.”

                “Oh, I’m sure it’s not that bad. It can’t be everyone down there.”

                “Maybe not. But it’s everyone I talked or listened to.”

                The sun continued its decent, and the rays of light slid down the buildings, fading into darkness little by little. Cleo did not seem to notice this, or at least did not care about the coming darkness.

                “Well, I’m sure it’s all just because they don’t know you yet. After a few meet ups and parties, you’ll fit right in.”

                He turned to face her fully. It was getting harder to see her, with the light coming more and more from inside rather than out. But he could still see her expression. She really believed what she was saying. And maybe she was right. She had known the other party goers much longer than he had. But he doubted it.

                “Maybe. But that’s not going to happen here, and I’m not enjoying myself. But I know you are. I know you want to stay until the party is over. So, I’m going to head back. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

                He gave her a quick hug and a brief kiss, then turned away from the fading day and headed back into the artificial lights, before moving on and into the night. 

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I would've wanted to leave the party for an entirely different reason. Mostly because I'm not a big party guy and would've hated every moment of it, even if the people there were super friendly.  

Word: Cacography

cacography

[kuh-kog-ruh-fee]

noun

1. bad handwriting; poor penmanship.

2. incorrect spelling.

 

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                Ed wrung his hands nervously as Julie looked over his manuscript. He had put a lot of work into it, especially since he had handwritten everything. Sure, his wrist suffered from the extra effort, but it was worth it. At least, he thought it was.

                “So? How is it?” He asked.

                Julie’s forehead was scrunched up in a look of absolute focus. She nearly jumped when he asked his question. Ed hoped that was a good sign.

                “I’ll let you know as soon as I can read it.” She said.

                “But...you have been reading it. You’ve been reading it for the last half hour.”

                “Really? Only half an hour? It felt like longer.”

                Ed deflated. She hated it. That was the only explanation. She hated it and was having trouble getting through the pages.

                “Oh. That bad, huh?”

                “Oh yeah. The worst I’ve ever seen.”

                “Is...is there anything I can do to make it better?”

                “Yeah. Type it out. That’ll fix all the problems.”

                “What?”

                “Oh yeah, that’ll fix it for sure. I mean your handwriting is so bad I can barely tell where one word ends and another begins. Your g’s, p’s and q’s all look pretty much the same, your o’s, a’s and c’s may as well be the same letter. And those are just the letters that are similar in regular handwriting. How you made it so an m and a w are tough to tell apart I’ll never know, and yet you did.”

                “Oh, come on. It’s not that bad. I can read it just fine.”

                “That’s because you’re the one who wrote it. It might as well be a bunch of scribbles to everyone else. It might not read prescription scratch level, but it’s pretty damn close.”

                Ed looked at his manuscript. Sure, he didn’t have perfect handwriting, but he at least thought it was good enough to use. Although, if that was her biggest complaint, then maybe the actual contents were good?

                “Okay, so—“

                “And then there’s your spelling. I don’t know if its because I’m getting things wrong because of your handwriting, but damn. I know you’re not using spellchecker, but dictionaries still exist. If you don’t know how to spell a word, look it up instead of guessing.”

                “That...that’s not important for a first draft, Julie. What about the contents? The actual story.”

                “Well, I’ve only gotten to the first, like, ten pages because I have to keep figuring out what each word says, but I think it’s okay.”

                “Really?”

                “Yeah, but it’s hard to know for sure. Type it out, then give it to me. That way I’ll be able to read it instead of guessing what you wrote for every other word.”

                She slid the bundle of papers back to him. He looked at the papers that he had put so much effort into. On a second look, he supposed he could see what she meant about being nearly illegible. But if that was her biggest issue with it, he could live with that. Hopefully she would like it when she could read it.

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Showing your finished draft to someone is nerve wracking. Is it good? Is it bad? Did you just waste weeks, or even months, on something that nobody will want to read? Of course, getting a test reader is just the next step in the process. After that comes the second draft.  

Word: Cherub

cherub

[cher-uhb]

noun

plural

cherubs, cherubim 

1. (in the Bible) a celestial being.

2. Theology.,  a member of the second order of angels, often represented as a beautiful rosy-cheeked child with wings.

3. a beautiful or innocent person, especially a child.

4. a person, especially a child, with a sweet, chubby, innocent face.

 

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                Allan was dating an angel. He had always thought that, but in a metaphorical sense, but ten minutes ago, he found that it was very literal. He was currently sitting on the living room couch next to Molly. Her large, white wings were folded up neatly behind her back. Luckily, she did not glow, nor did she seem to have a halo.

                “So ... how much of the various religious texts are real?” He asked. It was not what he really wanted to ask, but it was as good a starting point as any.

                “Very little.” She replied. “For one thing, I’m not some dead person who got to heaven, and I wasn’t created by a deity. We’re real, living creatures. I have parents, siblings. All that good stuff. Maybe I’ll introduce you to them one of these days.”

                Allan was not about to comment on meeting her parents. That was a whole different discussion, regardless of her species. “Huh, okay. So, God?”

                “Nope. Well, I guess the head of our leadership council has a title that could loosely be translated as ‘deity,’ but that’s about it.”

                “What about different types of angels?”

                “Different types?”

                “Yeah, like cherubs, seraphs and all that stuff.”

                “Ah, got it.” She shifted around a bit on the couch. Her wings almost hit him. The feathers did brush against his arm. They were a lot stiffer than he would have thought. “Let’s see, cherubs are just what we call our babies, so those are certainly real. Then there are seraphim and archangels. Although, those are complicated, and seraphs aren’t even angels. They’re basically light elementals we outfit in special armor.”

                “Okay, what? Light elementals?”

                “Oh sure. All kinds of elementals exist. We have a bit of a relationship with the light variety, for obvious reasons.” As she said those last words, her eyes began to glow a golden light. Whatever she was doing, she ended quickly. “Don’t worry, outfitting them in seraph armor doesn’t hurt them. Actually, they like it.”

                “They do? How do you know? Can they talk?”

                “The oldest and most powerful can. They say the seraph armor feels really good and supplies them with more power than they’d be able to gain on their own. So yeah, that’s the seraphim. Archangels are more complicated. That’s going to need a lot of background stuff and all kinds of explanations. But for now, the super simple answer is that they’re elevated angels.”

                “I’ll take your word for it. So, what about the other kinds? I can pull up a list if you don’t know.”

                She chuckled. “Maybe later. For now, I’m wondering how you’re holding up. I mean, you’re taking this a lot better than I thought you would be. I expected a much more, uh, dramatic reaction.”

                “Oh, I am barely keeping it together. I expect once you’re gone, I’ll probably collapse into a senseless pile as my entire worldview collapses down around me.”

                “Got it. If you want, I can stay longer to delay that. You know, give you more time to mentally process and hopefully not have a mental breakdown.”

                “That’s...probably a good idea.” He paused for a few seconds. There were so many questions running through his mind. Topics both big and small, important and irrelevant. He was not sure why he asked the next question, only that’s what his mind landed on. “So, do you call them cherub pictures?”

                Molly snorted, then burst out laughing. It was a good sound. Maybe he could deal with having a literally angelic girlfriend. Once he got over the fact that angels existed to begin with anyway.

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Honestly, I have no idea if I ended this at a good place. A conversation like this can last a long time. Way too long for a story of this length. So yeah, hopefully this is a good enough ending point.