Word: Hadal

 

hadal

[ heyd-l ]

adjective Oceanography.

1. of or relating to the greatest ocean depths, below approximately 20,000 feet (6,500 meters).

2. of or relating to the biogeographic region of the ocean bottom below the abyssal zone.

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               A small figure looked out the small window into the blackness that the glass barely held back. Even with the supposedly powerful lights, the darkness was absolute. It was like they were trespassing in a domain where light was a cardinal sin.     Where light did not reach not because it could not, but because it dare not to.

               “Every time I look out there, I swear there’s something that’s going to pop out and eat us.” The figure said.

               “Yeah, I know.” Said another person. She moved beside the other, joining him at the window. “You’ve mentioned that a few times. And every time I give the same answer. That if there was anything that big nearby, the radar would pick it up.”

               “I know, I know. Doesn’t stop me from thinking it though.”

               The two of them were silent for a moment. The cold metal keeping the darkness at bay creaked. It was not the first time they had heard that sound. They both knew what it meant.

               “God damn, I hate these deep ocean missions.” The man said. “First things wanting to make a meal out of us, now the sub springing a leak. And yes, I know that’s not what those sounds are. I know it’s the tech doing its thing and adjusting the hull so that it doesn’t pop. I know that. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

               “Fair enough. I will admit it’s not a pleasant thing to hear. I freaked me out the first time I heard it too.”

               “Only the first time?” He said with a raised eyebrow.

               She did not answer, instead becoming increasingly fascinated by the outside. He had heard all he needed to on that front. A few small shapes flitted through the headlights. Daring beings brave or foolish enough to enter the forbidden light. Both occupants knew they may not even be able to see the beams. Eyes were rare in the depths.

               A larger fish swooped in and made a meal of the foolish ones. They sought the forbidden and were punished for it.

               “There’s always a bigger fish.” The man muttered. “Hopefully not too big though.”

               The woman let out a single, sharp chuckle. “Not too big, indeed.”

               The predator lingered around for a moment before heading off. It would seek more pray, with whatever senses it had. The two people watched it as it passed into the darkness, vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.

               The woman sighed. “Alright, I think that’s enough of a break. We’ve got work to do.”

               “Yeah, sure.” He said absently. He still looked out at the darkness. He almost thought he saw some vast shape moving around in the water, only to realize it was his mind playing tricks on him. He sat at one of the two seats.

               The small engine of the sub spun to life at the command of its occupants. At least sound was not forbidden so deep in the depths. The two of them guided the sub down, further into the complete darkness, and ever away from the light of the surface.

              ****************************

Just as long as they don't here a certain warning from their sub's computer, I'm sure they'll be fine...

Word: Tzatziki

 

tzatziki

[ tsah-tsee-kee ]

 

noun

a condiment or dip consisting of yogurt, cucumber, garlic, and usually mint.

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               “Come on, just try a little bit.” Jack said. Mary watched the proceedings with mild amusement.

               “No. It’s yucky.” Billy said.

               “How do you know if you’ve never tried it?”

               “Because I do.” The child insisted.

               “Come on, buddy. It’s really good, I promise.”

               Jack took a small slice of pita bread and dipped it into the paired sauce. Billy watched his father like a hawk as he ate the appetizer. The boy did not seem convinced. Since the food was not brightly colored or dinosaur shaped, he wanted none of it.

               “No.” Billy said firmly.

               He crossed his arms and pouted. It was the pout that only a young child could manage that was equal parts incredibly endearing and endlessly frustrating. Jack looked at his wife for support. She held up her hands with a smirk on her face.

               “Hey, don’t look at me. This was your idea. You get him to eat it.” She said. Jack took a deep breath.

               “Hey, buddy, do you know what this is?”

               “It’s yucky stuff.” Billy insisted.

               “No it’s not. It’s…it’s like your yogurt snack.” Jack said. Mary raised an eyebrow. Jack shrugged. “Well, it has yogurt in it.”

               Billy looked at the small container critically. “Really? It doesn’t look like it.”

               “Yup. Come on, just try a little bit and if you don’t like it, I won’t ask you again.”

               Billy looked conflicted. Jack swore the rest of the restaurant grew quiet as his son contemplated whether it was worth the risk or not. The child looked from father to food and back again. Then he took one of the smaller pieces of bread and dipped just a tiny bit of it in the sauce. It was barely enough to even see. Probably not enough to taste.

               “Come on, you can do a little more than that.” Jack urged.

               Billy looked nervous as he put more of the pita into the serving cup. It came out with just enough register as a flavor. Jack nodded encouragingly as Billy brought it to his mouth and bit into it. It looked like he was in pain as he began to chew.

               Then his eyes opened wide. Jack could see the gears turning as a whole new world opened up before his son. He immediately lashed out and plunged the bread into it and took a much bigger bite. Jack let out a breath of relief.

               “See? I told you it was good.” Jack said.

               “Uh-huh.” Billy said around a mouthful of bread and tzatziki.

               “Now, when I say something is good and that you should try it, will you do it?”

               Billy paused his chewing to think as hard as a six-year-old could. He went to open his mouth to answer, but a quick look at his mother told him to swallow first.

               “I dunno. I guess so.” He said slowly.

               It was about as good as he was going to get, so Jack would have to take it.

               “Good. That’s what I like to hear. Remember that when you pick out your dinner, okay?”

               “Okay.”

               Jack knew his son would most likely just get the hamburger off the kid’s menu. But just him trying the sauce was a step forward, so he would accept some familiarity in his son’s diet. Getting his boy to be more adventurous with food would be a long, slow journey, but one well worth taking. 

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It's not my favorite condiment, I'll admit that. It's fine every now and then, but not my go to. Then again, that may be because there's no super good Greek places near me, so I haven't really had any of the high quality stuff. That probably has something to do with it.  

Word: Xerophyte

 

xerophyte

[ zeer-uh-fahyt ]

 

noun

a plant adapted for growth under dry conditions.

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               It was hot. Jack knew how much of an understatement that was, but it was all he could think. His mind felt like it was in an oven. The rest of him felt even hotter. His skin was cracked and dry, as all the moisture meant to keep him relatively cool had long since dried up. His only saving grace was that the ground was had packed dirt and clay instead of sand and dust. It was easier to walk on and was less likely to be blown into the open wounds that had cracked open in during his trek.

               Jack could barely see. His eyes had almost completely dried up, and everything at a distance was a blur. That he could see at all was a small miracle. And it was because of that, that he had seen something that could be what saved him. A plant. A large cactus that stood tall and proud against the blazing sun. Jack did not know what kind it was, nor did he care.

               All he knew was that it was tall enough to offer a small amount of shade, and probably had some water deep inside. His feet, clad in shoes that were falling apart, shuffled along. He would have liked to move even a tiny bit faster, but he could not bring himself to do so. But he kept moving. He kept heading towards the cactus with every ounce of willpower he still had.

               He did not know how long it took, but he made it. Jack had made it. The plant really was huge. Taller than he was for sure. The needles presented a nasty problem he would have to deal with, but that was for later. For now, he lay down. He lay in the narrow band of shade the cactus produced. It was the greatest thing he had ever felt, even if the difference was not actually that large. It was still cooler than the rest of the desert.

               Jack let himself simply be for a few minutes, letting the weariness take over. Just for a little while. Then his dry throat and tongue reminded him of what else the cactus represented. If only he could get at it. He used to have a knife, but he had lost that. He had once had thick gloves, but those had long since fallen apart.

               Jack looked around for anything that might let him bypass the spiky exterior. All he found was rocks, jutting out of the ground. They were not ideal, but they would have to do. He did not need much of the plant, after all. Just enough to keep going and find some kind of civilization. Hopefully.

               He heaved, using all his remaining strength to lift one of the rocks. Had he been healthy, such a task would have been much easier. But in his current state, he barely managed to get it off the ground. He eyed his target: a thick branch that was lower than the others, and within his reach. He struggled against the weight of the rock and brought it down, letting gravity do most of the work. The branch remained stubbornly attached, although not unharmed.

               Seeing the green interior made Jack’s heart beat just a little faster, sending a small surge of adrenaline through his body. He smashed against the branch over and over until it finally yielded. It hit the ground with a satisfying thud, breaking open more. Jack rushed forward, taking hold of a spike free area and taking a deep bite of the flesh.

               He felt it. Water. It flowed down into his throat, stinging his dry body. But it was water. He ate as much as he could, getting as much energy and fluid as possible. And then he once more lay down. He would let his starved and dehydrated body work with what it had just been given. And then he would have to move on. Although he wanted more of the cactus’s bounty, he knew otherwise. Even in his current condition. He would not kill the plant that saved him.

               He would just have to hope there were more out there, waiting for him in the dry, empty desert. 

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I can't image being in this position. I probably wouldn't last very long, what with my non-existent survival skills.