Word:preconcert

preconcert

\ pree-kuhn-SURT \  , verb;

1. To arrange in advance or beforehand, as by a previous agreement.

adjective:

1. Preceding a concert:  a preconcert reception for sponsors .

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                Jeff strode through the courtyard filled with an odd kind of confidence that only comes with knowing success is assured.  His professor for the lab class he was taking had posted lab partners for the semester.  He had gotten the one person who guaranteed he would get high marks on every assignment, with minimal work.  Her name was Violet, and she was the person who always got the highest scores on everything.  It was how she got those marks that had assured Jeff of his own success in that class.

                “Jeff, over here.”  Violet said from across the courtyard, waving in his direction to get his attention.  She didn’t need to; she stood out in a crowd just fine.  She was a very good looking girl, and caught the attention of just about every guy on campus, even if she didn’t necessarily dress for that purpose.  Her most noticeable feature by far though was her eyes.  They were bright purple, and almost seemed to glow if looked at from the correct angle.  In fact, it was those eyes that had made Jeff first talk to her in their freshman year.  She was friendly and easy to get along with, so they had been friends ever since. 

                Jeff walked over to her, Violet walking to meet him halfway.  Her steps were confident, and she seemed to know exactly where to put her feet to avoid obstacles others might encounter.  Violet moved next to him, matching his pace as they started walking together.  For a little bit, they chatted idly about various things.  Soon though, the topic turned to their latest assignment.

                “So, how much will I have to do?”  Jeff asked. 

                “You’ll have to do all of your part.  Don’t worry, it won’t take too long.”  She said.

                “I see.  And how long ago did you get your half done?”

                “I finished last week.”  She said, like it was no big deal. 

In all the time they had known each other, Jeff had noticed she got all her assignments done well in advance, before even knowing the content.  It was what led him to finding out her biggest secret.  Violet was an Oracle, gifted with the ability to see through time.  She knew exactly what was going to happen long before it actually did.  So far, Jeff had only seen her use this gift for two things.  One was acing all her classes by looking to see what was going to be covered and doing the assignments far before she needed to.  She even went as far as to ‘see’ the lectures days or even weeks in advance.  It was how she had the best grades in all her courses.  The second thing she used her foresight for was navigating her daily life. 

According to Violet, there were two kinds of sight; one was to see through space, and the other through time.  She claimed that having one prevented a person from having the other.  Violet had the ability to see through time, but as a consequence, she was unable to see through space.  In other words, she was blind.  Thanks to her ability though, she didn’t have any of the problems that other vision impaired people had.  It was how her steps were so well placed even though she couldn’t actually see her feet.  It also made it so people had no idea she was disabled at all, which she seemed to prefer.

                “So, I guess you’ll be pointing out what I should be doing?”  Jeff said, hoping to capitalize on her unique talents

                “Well, I’ll put you on the right track anyway.  I mean, you don’t want this to be too easy, right?”  She said. 

                “But I like easy.”  Jeff said, only half joking.  She chuckled for a few moments.

                “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll make sure you do everything right.  Oh, and you might want to take a step to the right in a second.”

                Jeff was confused at that, but he knew better than to question her.  He did as she asked, and a second later a Frisbee went rushing past the area where his head had just occupied.  He looked at the thrower who shouted a hasty and most likely halfhearted apology.  Violet for her part was humming confidently.  Even though he knew about what she could do, there were still things she did that surprised him.

                “Think I’m ever going to get used to that?” Jeff asked, more to himself than anything else.  “Don’t answer that.”  He quickly stated.  Violet had opened her mouth to answer his question, but she closed it and gave him an overly dramatic hurt look. 

                “Ok fine, I won’t tell you.”  She said, still acting hurt.  “Anyway, I’ll see you later to get started on that lab.  I think I’m going to get some work done now.”

                “Alright, see you later.”  He said.  Violet started to move away from him in the direction of her dorm room.  Jeff was going to let her go, but his curiosity got the better of him.  “So when is this assignment do?  And when will it be assigned?”

“Oh it’s my senior thesis.  It’s going to be pretty long, so I might as well get it done and out of the way now.”  She said.  She turned and walked away, humming to herself as she did. 

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Not sure how well this one sticks to the word I'm using, but meh, it's good enough for me.  Also, at times like this, I do so love being a fiction writer.  It's what lets me do things like this.  

word: pseudology

pseudology

\ soo-DOL-uh-jee \  , noun;

1. Lying considered as an art.

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                “You should let me go.”  Said the lithe, lanky man.  His voice was smooth as silk, and showed no signs of panic, fear, or worry, even though he was in chains.  “After all, I am an innocent man.”

                “Yeah, I’m sure you are.”  Lars said, rolling his eyes as the group walked. 

                The trio’s current job was escorting a prisoner named Alagon to a heavily fortified prison.  The officials who hired them said they didn’t want to attract attention by putting forth a large escort as they normally would, and so wished to hire a small, experienced group.  That had really meant that this man was either too important to risk their own men on, or not worth putting any real effort into his transfer.  Given his crime was murdering several high class people, it was probably the former.  A large group of fully armed soldiers would attract a lot of attention, and was at risk of attack by bandits or some such.  A smaller group was less of a target, and therefore more likely to make the trip successful. 

                “No really, I am.  I haven’t committed a single crime in my life.”  Alagon said. 

                “And I don’t really care.  We’re just here to take you to jail.”  Lars said.  Prisoners always said they were innocent.  He found it best to just ignore such pleas and finish the job.  The other two members of the group tended to agree with him on this point.  This time it was a bit trickier to do this.

                Alagon was a criminal of the most dangerous type:  a liar.  And not just any liar, a smart, manipulative one.  His was a tongue that was both silver and forked.  He was a man who saw lying not just as something one did to get out of something.  No, for him, lies were a form of art.  He killed not with knives and arrows, but with words.  He knew how to manipulate people with lies that were perfectly plausible.  He had reached such a mastery of the craft of falsehood, that he could tell a lie while still being completely honest. 

                That was what he was trying to do at that moment.  Technically speaking, he was being honest when he said he didn’t kill anyone.  He had however, used a web of masterfully spun lies to kill his victims, either by convincing them to commit suicide, or convincing others to do the job for him.  The only reason he was currently in custody was due to magical interference.  While Alagon could fool even the most powerful of truth spells, the same could not be said for those he manipulated.  One of the people he convinced into doing his dirty work had identified him, which lead to more evidence being found against him, which lead to his conviction. 

                “Now what kind of attitude is that?” Alagon asked.  “After all, would it not weight heavily on the consciousnesses of three such fine young people such as yourselves?”  It was the first barrage he used:  petty compliments.  The trio had been warned about his methods.  Still, his poisoned words were starting to have an effect.

                “How’s the research on the silence spell going?”  Caruss asked, leaning in close to Grena.  Her head was buried in a magic book.  She had wanted to learn the spell for robbing a person’s voice before the journey started, but the time frame the officials gave them didn’t allow for her to do so.

                “Almost got it.  I should be able to shut him up in a few hours.”  She said, not taking her eyes off the book for a moment. 

                “You know, I am rather influential.  I can offer you a substantial sum to secure my release.”  Alagon said.  It was another of his true lies.  While the man was indeed very influential, and exceedingly wealthy, most of his money was not accessible for various reasons.  The trio had been warned that he currently didn’t have any usable money, no matter what he said.

                “Yeah, sure you do.  Except it’s in other countries.”  Lars said, doing his best to keep from doing something he would later regret.

                “Ah, yes.  Of course.”  Alagon said simply.  It was hard to tell if he was angered in any way by his lack of progress.  His facial expression never seemed to change from a small, aloof smile.  “However that doesn’t mean I can’t compensate you for my release you know.  After all, not all that is valuable is money.  I know quite a bit of useful information after all.  Information that you can use to great advantage in the right circle.”

                “Oh man, can you guys imagine me blackmailing someone into nobility?”  Lars said jovially.  He did have to admit that it sounded very tempting though.

                “You’d never last.”  Caruss said.  “They’d run you out of town for getting drunk and trying to sleep with someone’s daughter.  Or wife.”  Grena smirked into her book at the thought. 

                “And what of you my good sir?  Or perhaps the lovely young lady here?  I’m sure you would look dashing in the position of nobility.” 

                Neither commented.  They were all picturing themselves living in large houses and wearing fine clothes instead of trapping around the wilderness in rugged leathers.  They hated to admit it, but he was starting to get to them, if only a little.  Alagon continued speaking, each word carefully chosen to get under the trio’s skin.  His smile widened a bit.  He knew it was only a matter of time before he could trick them into letting him go.  All four of them were so distracted that they didn’t notice a group of rough, armed men were standing in the middle of the road until it was too late. 

                “Alright then, let’s take out any valuables you lot might have.”  Said a very large man brandishing a crude short sword.  None of them reacted to the bandit’s threat.  Three of them were used to such things, and the other had nothing of value to give.  “You hear me?  Give up anything worth something you have, or we gut you and take it.”  The man said, holding his sword out menacingly. 

                “I’ll take the guys on the left, you take the right?”  Lars said, unperturbed by the threat.

                “Yeah, sure.”  Caruss said.  Both men went for their weapons, but Grena pushed past them before they could.

                “Excuse me, but I think I’m going to deal with this one.”  She said.  She had stuck her finger in her book as an improvised bookmark, and dangled her beads from her finger.  “Now, I guess you guys should want to run now.”  She said, smiling pleasantly. 

The bandits just looked at her blankly, obviously confused.  However, that soon changed as she started spinning the beads around her fingers.  A ball of arcane energy gathered around the end of it.  The bandits eyes widened and many of them looked around nervously at each other.  Grena had learned almost as soon as she started practicing magic that bandits were cowards that wanted nothing to do with a Spellsplinger of any kind.  As the ball of energy expanded, the bandits backed away slowly before turning and running as quickly as they could.  Grena chuckled as she dissipated the energy.

“I love doing that.”  She said, putting her beads away and reopened her book.

“What was that spell exactly?”  Caruss asked.

“Oh, nothing special.  Just a light spell.”  She said, once again pouring over the spell.

“Ah, a woman after my own heart.”  Alagon said.

“Oh shut up.”  She said. 

“Oh, I’m sure that there are many things we have yet to talk about.”  He said

“How’s that spell coming again?”  Caruss asked.

“Almost there.”  She said simply.

“This is gonna be a long walk.”  Lars muttered to himself.  

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It's been awhile since we've seen these three right?  Not really sure if it turned out ok though, but hey, not every one can be a winner, right?

 

 

word: compotation

compotation

\ kom-puh-TEY-shuhn \  , noun;

1. An act or instance of drinking or tippling together.

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                Where is she?  She’s here, I know it.  Ok there she is.  Alright, how do I do this then?  Do I just go up to her and kiss her?  Do I have to ask first, or will that be awkward?  I know I have to wait till midnight, but what happens then?  Oh god, what time is it?  11:50, that’s it?  Wait, where did she go?  How could someone move so quickly?  Ah, there she is, at the bar.  God, I need a drink.  Maybe that’ll help settle my nerves.  Everyone else seems to have one, and they’re all really happy.  Maybe too happy.  What if I have too many drinks?  Should I only have one?  What kind should I get?  Damn it, this is what I get for never drinking before today.  Well, maybe it won’t be so bad.  I hear one or two drinks can help settle your nerves, and I can really use that right now.  Ok, what looks good?  I have no idea what half of this stuff is.  Oh, this one looks good.  Oh wait, she’s looking at me.  Is this a good drink for a guy?  Or is it too girly?  It looks like some kind of fruity drink, so maybe I shouldn’t.  Will she think I’m not good enough if I take it, or will she think I’m sensitive?  Does it even matter?  Probably not, but I’d better take a beer or something, just in case.  Wait, will she think I’m a drunk or something if I take one of those?  Oh god I have no idea what to do.  Is she even looking at me?  No, she’s taking with some other guy.  Oh god, what if he kisses her before I can?  What should I do?  Should I just go talk to her to get in her good graces?  Will it even matter?  Here we go.  Ugh, this stuff tastes terrible.  How do people drink this all the time?  Well, I’ll keep it with me, just in case.  I want to seem like I actually know what I’m doing after all.  If I have a soda or something, she might think I’m a wuss, or childish or something.  Wait a sec, that guy is getting her a drink.  What should I do?  I should talk to her now, while he’s gone.  What if he comes back too soon though?  He looks tough, he could probably beat me in a fight.  Wait, why would we be fighting?  It’s a New Year’s party, why should me talking to her bother him?  Maybe he’s a really nice guy that’ll let me kiss her when it’s time.  What time is it anyway?  11:55.  Five more minutes, it’s now or never.  Ok, here I go.  Oh god, I can’t.  She’s too pretty for me.  She seems to like that guy though, maybe I should just let him have her.  He probably knows how to treat a girl, unlike me.  Maybe he could teach me some tricks?  Or is experience the best teacher for this kind of thing.  I mean, all girls are different, so how could there be one way to make them happy?  Wait a sec, now there’s another guy there, what’s he doing?  The guys are holding hands?  Oh, they’re gay.  That means I probably still have a shot with her.  Hm, I wonder what it’s like to be with another guy.  Is it a lot different?  It must be.  Of course, it wouldn’t matter anyway; I can’t even get a girl, let alone a guy.  Not that I’d want one, but it would be kind of cool to know that I would be able to.  Ok, now that the main obstacle is out of the way, it should be easy to just go up to her and kiss her.  I should probably at least introduce myself first.  After all, it would probably be awkward to just go up and kiss her when she doesn’t even know my name.  How much time do I have?  Oh god, there’s only two minutes left.  Better move quickly.  Bleh, this beer really does taste terrible.  Is it even working?  I think it is, I mean, everything looks kinda weird.  Wait, where’d she go?  Oh, she hasn’t moved.  Great, I’m getting disoriented, and I haven’t even had a whole drink.  Ok, just go up and talk to her.  Wait, what is she drinking?  Is it better than what I have.  Maybe that’s how I should break the ice, by asking her about her drink.  I mean, it’s better than just going up and telling her my name, right?  Do I have enough time for all that?  No, no I don’t.  There’s only a few seconds left.  And here comes the countdown, it’s now or never.  Ten, just do it.  Nine, hurry up legs, move it!  Eight, good, she’s not moving, I still have a chance to get to her.  Seven, go, why are there so many people here?  Six, wait, what if she doesn’t want to be kissed?  Five, oh what the heck, I’ll worry about that later.  Four, almost there.  Three, she’s right in front of me.  Two, just reach out and kiss her.  One, here we go.  Happy New Year!

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Happy New Year!  Don't get too drunk, ok?   Also, aren't streams of consciousness fun?

word: stridulous

 

stridulous

\ STRIJ-uh-luhs \  , adjective;

1. Also, strid·u·lant . Making or having a harsh or grating sound.

2. Pathology . Pertaining to or characterized by stridor.

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                A harsh, grating screech filled the small room as the young boy drew his bow roughly along the strings of his violin.  Amelia resisted the urge to cringe at the sound, instead offering a warm, encouraging smile.

                “That was a very…nice first try Derrick.”  She said.  The boy gave a wide smile at the compliment, his missing baby teeth making his mouth look like a mini piano keyboard.  “But maybe you should try to be a bit gentler with your bow.”

                “How come?” Derrick asked, his smile turning into a quizzical line.

                “Because the violin likes it when you’re gentle.”  She said, bracing herself for the inevitable question.

                “Why?”  The boy asked.  Amelia smiled through her frustration.  She had been teaching music to children for almost ten years, and that one question never failed to show itself in just about every lesson.  She knew the response by heart.

                “Because when you move the bow along the strings too hard, you hurt it.  That’s why it was screaming like that.  But when you move it lightly, you’re tickling it.  The music is the violin laughing.”  She said.  It was like clockwork for her.  And it usually worked.  The results were never perfect, but it was a start.  Her job was to get the students making sounds instead of noise.  Actual music would come later.

                Derrick thought about her words for a bit.  Amelia was just glad he was one of the nicer kids that would at least try to do what she said.  Some of the meaner kids would actually press on the strings harder after she said that.  The results were not pleasant, and the harsh noises could even border on painful sometimes.

                “But when I pluck the strings you say to do that harder.”  Derrick said.

                Amelia had started the violin lessons by teaching the students pizzicato, which was playing by plucking the strings instead of using the bow.  It got them used to handling the instrument, but some of the more inquisitive or compassionate students found fault with that once she gave her tickle reason for lightening up on the bow.  Like her previous response, she had this one memorized to the point where she could recite it in her sleep.

                “Well, you know when you’re really tired in the morning and your mommy has to come in and nudge you awake?  Plucking the strings is kind of like that.  So the harder you pluck them, the easier it is to wake up the violin.  Then it likes to be tickled by the bow.”  She said. 

She knew it was completely inaccurate, even with what she was trying to do, but it would work until Derrick understood enough about music to know what was actually happening.  Until then, she would try to make music more appealing to him in the same way she always did.  By telling students the violin had feelings and likes and dislikes, she hoped to make music more enjoyable by making it seem less like a chore and more like being with a good friend.  It had its difficulties, but she also noticed that it tended to make students more willing to play that those taught in a more conventional manner.  Of course, that may have just been because of her own bias showing her only the successes, but she didn’t much care about such things.  Derrick, one of the five violin students this year, seemed to be shaping up to be another of her successes.

                He looked at the violin intently for a bit, then smiled.  He nodded his understanding of her words.  He raised the instrument up to his chin and began another attempt at the A note.  Again, the sharp, grating screech filled the room.  However, it wasn’t quite as bad as it had been the first time.  Amelia smiled through the buzzing in her ear.  He might turn out well enough, but it would take quite some time, just as it had with all her previous students.  It was what kept her going really. 

                “Better.”  She said.  The boy looked up and smiled his big, gapped toothed grin.  He churned out another horrendously grating note.  The only thought that ran through Amelia’s head as he tried to play were: ‘this is going to take awhile’.

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I used to play the violin in school.  My teacher didn't say things like this to me though.  Also, music!