Word: gastronomy

 

gastronomy

\ ga-STRON-uh-mee \  , noun;

1. the art or science of good eating.

2. a style of cooking or eating.

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               The aromas of various herbs and spices wafted through the house.  The sounds of a young boy humming a tuneless song filtered through from the kitchen, eliciting small smiles from the boy’s parents who were reading quietly in the adjoining room.

                “He gets it from your side of the family.”  Lora, the boy’s mother said.  Her tone was that of complaint, trying to call her son’s cooking habits out in a more negative way.  Her amused expression betrayed her though.

                “Well I can’t take all the blame now can I?”  Frank, the child’s father, said.  His own tone of voice and amused expression mirrored that of his wife. 

                “Now, now, I only taught him how to eat properly.  You were the one who got him in the kitchen.”

                “Only because he asked me to.”  Frank said.  He couldn’t help keep a smug grin off his face, which he promptly tried to repress, sticking to the little blame game they played whenever their son some form of culinary inspiration. 

                Their son’s desire to practice cooking came from both of them.  Frank was head chef at an upscale restaurant, and loved his job immensely.  It was because of him that their son had gotten into cooking at such a young age.  Lora occupied the other end of the culinary spectrum, working as a well respected food critic.  She had gotten the boy into what she termed proper eating early on, sparking his interest in quality food. 

                Thanks to their respective professions, the boy had been raised to see food as an almost religious thing.  Even though he was so young, he already scoffed at the ready made microwaveable dishes that his classmates and friends so readily enjoyed, preferring fresh made meals.  But after he had gone to his friend’s house a few times, he noticed that many families used those very meal options.  He could stomach them in needed, but he didn’t actually like them.  Because of this, he had asked Frank to help him deal with what was to his young mind a serious problem by learning to make his own food. 

                Both his parents readily encouraged their son’s endeavors, even when they didn’t turn out so well or came at odd hours.  Of course, since he was still so young, his creations were often times somewhat more creative and often times less palatable then desirable.  This came from the child’s rather unique methods.  It mainly involved picking things out seemingly at random and mixing them together in various ways.  Lora wouldn’t let her son use the stove or oven without supervision, so there were some limits to what he could make, but he still managed to do some interesting things, if not good tasting.

                Franks had, of course, tried to teach him from recopies of all kinds, but his son had proven resilient to the notions of measuring and picking out already chosen ingredients, and so had simply chosen to select his ingredients on a whim.  Frank had chosen to go along with this by trying to help his son choose what he used based on taste and texture instead of simply picking things out of drawers and cabinets. 

                Once the boy had learned there was a method to cooking and selecting ingredients, he had studied the science of food as much as such a young child could ever hope to.  It had improved his dishes greatly, but he still insisted on making a few things up out of the blue at times. 

                “Yes well, thank god that someone’s here to make sure things don’t go horribly wrong.”  Lora said.  She had helped guide her son’s culinary endeavors by teaching him proper eating, telling him that anything he made, he would have to eat.  For her, this was a very European method of taking small bites and savoring each bite.  She taught him to roll the food around his tongue, teaching him that each part of it tasted things differently, and to use the entire thing to get every bit of flavor possible. 

                She had also made sure that he knew about nutrition, doing her best to make sure he made balanced meals whenever possible.  It was something she also made sure her husband did.  For her eating was as much about health as it was about taste, and she tried to get those important to her to at least make an attempt at healthy eating.  Her son had responded to this desire as well as he could by using lost of fruits and vegetables in his dishes, even when he was allowed to use the stove or oven.  It lead to some of his more interesting ideas that had been put on the plate.

                “Aren’t we all glad to have you around to keep us on the right track.”  Frank said. 

                “And don’t you forget it.  Now then, shall we see what our little chef came up with this time?”  Lora said, already standing.  Frank made to follow his wife’s lead and started to rise from his chair.  Before he did though, their son bounded into the room carrying a plate of his latest creation.

                “Mom, dad, look what I made!”  He said excitedly holding the plate out to them.  The dish in question consisted of various kinds of fruits that had a fine coating of herbs and spices on the surface.  He had put them on small skewers.  In between the fruit were small chunks of meat that Frank had made the day before and was now leftovers sitting in the fridge.  It seemed like the boy had done some dressing up of these as well.  It was colorful though, and was arranged as nicely as a child could hope to do.  The two adults looked at each other and smiled, each taking one.  They already knew their son wanted them to try in before offering any kind of opinions.  Each of them held their portion in front of them and took a bit.

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Food is serious business, am I right?  Seriously, there's a whole field of study about just eating it, let alone making it.  Now go and have something tasty, ok?  

Word: wellaway

wellaway

\ WEL-uh-WEY \  , interjection;

1. (Used to express sorrow.)

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                Margret sat staring out the window to the back yard.  She sat so still and quiet that someone unfamiliar with her might think she was made of stone had it not been for the occasional slow blinking of her eyes and the light, rhythmic motion of her breathing.  She had sat in that same chair for nearly a month, with no signs of moving any time in the near future.  She ate and drank only at the pleading behest of her husband, and even then, she only ate simple, plain foods with water, and only in small amounts.

                Her body was slowly wasting away.  Where she was once had a lively, energetic beauty to her, she now had the appearance of a wraith.  Painfully thin, with many of her bones starting to show themselves under her unwashed skin.  Her eyes, which used to shine with a light all their own, now were dull and vacant, with a dark, sunken appearance.  Lines and wrinkles criss-crossed all over her face, making her seem twenty years older than she was. 

                Her husband, Ray, had tried and failed more times then he cared to remember to get her out of the chair she seemed to be permanently attached to.  He wanted so badly for her to at least try to move on with her life.  After all, she was still a young woman, even if she no longer looked it.  Still, he had to try, for her sake as well as his. 

                He went up behind her and placed a gentle hand on her thin, bony shoulder.  She didn’t react to his presence at all.  Ray looked out the window to see what she was looking at.  He already knew what held her attention so strongly, but he looked anyway.  The large oak tree stood in the center of their back yard, its branches covered with large green leaves.  Ray held a certain pride in the tree.  It was one of the reasons they had bought the house soon after they got married.  He tended the tree like a child, trimming its branches when needed and removing pests from its leaves.  It was a marvelous plant to be sure, yet that was not what held Margret’s focus.

                Hanging from one of the low, thick branches was a swing.  It wasn’t anything special by itself.  It was a cheap yellow and orange plastic swing hanging from bright red ropes they had picked up from a toy store several years ago.  They had gotten it for their then unborn child, and it had served them well many years after the boy was born.  Now, it hung there, blowing slightly in a breeze unfelt by the couple.  It hadn’t seen use in months, yet it hung there, one of the few remaining remnants of the happiness they used to have.

                Ray had thought about taking it down many times since his wife had taken to staring at it.  He had even gone out with a step ladder.  But every time he got near it, he simply couldn’t bring himself to do anything, and he went inside, defeated by the swing.  The little piece of colorful plastic held an odd power over them that seemed to keep them from moving on, no matter how much Ray wanted to. 

                Suddenly, something behind the tree caught his attention.  A new family was moving in across the street.  A moving van and two cars were parked outside the formerly empty house, and large men were busy carrying furniture into the house.  Two children ran around their new yard, looking and poking around to see what they could.  Ray could almost hear their laughter as they ran around and chased each other. 

                One of them, a boy that looked a few years younger than their son had been looked at the tree, and the swing hanging from its branch.  He pointed excitedly at it, no doubt thinking that it would be a great thing to play on.  He brought his mother to look at it, probably asking permission to use it.  She simply smiled and shook her head before leaving to attend to the matter of getting settled into their new home.  The boy looked disappointed, but the other child, a young girl, quickly drew his attention to something else. 

                Ray watched the children playing and a small smile came to his lips, the first in well over a month.  He looked down at the withered form of his wife to see if she had any reaction.  She sat there as detached, unmoving, and emotionless as ever.  The smile faded from his face as he looked at her.  Returning his gaze to the swing, and then to the children, Ray took a deep breath, squared his shoulders.  He left Margret’s side and went to get the step ladder. 

                Once outside, he looked at the swing, the ropes, and the tree branch.  As he got up onto the small step ladder, drops of water fell on his hands and arms.  His hands shook as he took hold of the bright red knots that held the swing to the branch.  He took one final deep breath and took down the swing.

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Not exactly a happy thing, is it?  I'll try and write something a little more upbeat next week though.  No promises though.  The words of any given day may not lend themselves to happy tales after all.  Well, I hope you enjoy it anyway. 

Word: Gorgonize

gorgonize

\ GAWR-guh-nahyz \  , verb;

1. To affect as a Gorgon; hypnotize; petrify.

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                The cave was dank, and the sound of water dripping from the ceiling rang out from the depths.  Light filtered in from the mouth, casting an ever diminishing light.  No signs of life presented themselves in the cave, not even a single bone lay strewn on the floor.  In many ways, it was even more unsettling than if there were remains. 

                “This place gives me the creeps.”  Lars said, looking around nervously.

                “Yeah, I think that goes for all of us.” Caruss said.  He was in no mood to argue about that one.  The cool damp air sent chills through the big man’s spine.  Grena nodded her agreement.  None of them wanted to be there, and all of them wished to be somewhere far, far away.

                The trio had been enlisted by a nearby town to deal with a particularly dangerous creature that had taken up residence nearby.  The hefty reward had caused them to take the job without much thought.  They had regretted it immensely when they heard what it was.  It was a Gorgon, one of the more dangerous creatures one could face.  The only reason they didn’t back out immediately was because they had already agreed to take care of it.  At that point, it was a matter of professional pride that spurred them to action.

                They had taken precautions against the foe they were to face.  Lars and Caruss had polished their weapons and armor to a mirror’s shine, and Grena had adorned herself with accessories that were just as reflective.  All three carried charms that would remove petrifaction if applied quickly enough, as well as antidotes to the Gorgon’s poisons.  Most importantly though, they had blindfolds to ward of the creature’s stone inducing gaze.  While they weren’t coving their eyes at that moment, they were ready at a moment’s notice.  The lack of sight didn’t bother them, as all three had learned quite some time ago how to fight without their eyes. 

                Even with all their preparations, it was still a daunting task.  Gorgons were considered some of the most dangerous creatures in the world, and for good reason.  Even the slightest look into their eyes could turn anyone, man or woman, into stone.  Their hair was made of snakes, which were more often than not, poisonous.  The main body itself was like one long snake; powerful coils that could squeeze the life out of even a strong man like a boa constrictor with a mouse.  Atop the tail was the upper body of a human woman, green skinned and horrid to behold.  And, while all of that made them dangerous alone, they were also intelligent.  They tended to be about as smart as an above average human, and it was this that made them so deadly.  Some of the more powerful Gorgons were even said to be able to use magic. 

                They could be dealt with by turning their own gaze back on them with a mirror, which was why they had come in with such well polished equipment, but that was a long shot, since the Gorgon would no doubt know about this, and be looking at their faces, not at their bodies.  And, since none of them would have the use of their eyes, the Gorgon had an almost overwhelming advantage, since it could move with all the speed of a striking snake.  They’re only real hope of escaping unscathed was to catch it off guard and take it out before it knew they were there.  The only problem was, that it was probably aware of them, since humans were somewhat less stealthy then other species, no matter how hard they tried. 

                “What was that?”  Lars asked, having heard a noise off in the distance.  It was nothing but another water droplet falling, but they were so on edge that it still made him go for his blindfold.

                “Nothing.  I think.”  Grena said, not sure of anything.  “Now be quiet, we don’t want to give ourselves away too badly.”

                “I don’t think it matters right now.” Caruss said, nodding at something in front of them.  It looked to be a statue of a man in a pose of fear and revulsion.  It was one of the Gorgon’s victims, and told them that it was close.  As soon as they saw it, they fitted their blindfolds over their eyes and stood back to back, weapons out and ready. 

                Suddenly, Lars let out a horrid yell while a hissing laughter echoed through the cavern.  The Gorgon was upon them, using the sound of the water droplets falling to mask its own movement.  Lars let out a yell to alert the other two, but he was trapped by its coils.  He expected to be crushed to death by it, but its embrace was surprisingly light, only enough to hold him.  As the other two sprung into action, using his voice to guide them towards their target, Lars felt his blindfold being removed by cold, scaly hands.  He shut his eyes immediately, knowing what would happen should he open them. 

                He felt a sharp pain in his side as the Gorgon squeezed him.  It wasn’t much, but it was enough to get him to open his eyes out of pure reflex.  It was enough.  Before Caruss could get to him, and Grena could let loose a spell, Lars had been petrified. 

Not a moment after, Caruss’ warhammer swung down on where he thought the Gorgon was.  By luck or skill, it would have hit the beast square on the head.  However, it was far too quick, and easily avoided the crippling blow.  The hammer struck nothing but rock, sending tremors through his thick arms.  Grena let forth a wide arch of arcane energy, engulfing a wide area with the purple light.  The spell was designed for group combat, harming enemies while ignoring those she considered allies.  It didn’t do a lot of damage, but it would be enough to alert them to where the Gorgon was. 

Sure enough, an angry hiss echoed forth from the cave as the spell struck the creature.  Caruss wasted no time, rushing in towards where the sound had come from and swinging wildly.  Grena kept firing off the arcane waves as often as she could, doing her best to direct Caruss by the sound it made when hit. 

As he got closer to the current location of the swift moving creature, he felt something.  It was nothing but a pin prick to him, but he knew what it must mean.  The Gorgon had used it serpentine hair to bite him, filling him with poison.  It made him smile more than it should have as he felt more and more of the tiny bites hitting him.  While it meant that he was being filled with more and more toxins each time, it also meant that it was close, and not moving. 

He called out to Grena, who reacted as quickly as she could, switching from the wave spell to an immobilization spell.  The blast hit its target, paralyzing the Gorgon.  While she didn’t have enough time to give the spell any real power, it was enough to keep it still long enough for Caruss to land a heavy blow with his hammer.  The poison had severely weakened him, but he was still able to cripple it.  He attacked as much as he could, delivering blow after blow to what he hoped was the creatures head.  He soon collapsed due to the poison, hoping he had dealt enough damage to kill it. 

An angry hiss issued forth from its mouth.  While it had been hurt badly, it was still alive.  Grena reacted mostly on instinct, and launched as many spells as she could towards where she hoped it was, scattering the arcane energy as wildly as she dared.  Suddenly, a great weight fell on her.  The Gorgon had reached her, while finally succumbing to its injuries, and her spells had been the icing on the cake.  The beast was heavy, and she collapsed under it.

She was very much regretting not having learned any levitation spells.  She tried to move the dead creature herself, but lacked the strength of body to do so.  Suddenly though, the weight shifted off her, enough to allow her to crawl out from under it.  Caruss had drunken his antidote.  While he wasn’t fully recovered, it was enough to move the dead Gorgon. 

Once freed, Grena cast off her blindfold and found Lars, still petrified.  She immediately pulled out the petrifaction cure; a small slip of paper with magic writing scrawled on him.  She affixed it to Lars’ body and hoped it would work.

“Think it’s been short enough?”  Caruss coughed out as he rose shakily.

“I think so.”  Grena said, gasping for breath.  They waited for awhile to see what would happen.  Sure enough, the stone slowly melted off him.  Lars collapsed once freed.  He looked up wearily at his companions.

“Did we win?”  He sputtered weakly.

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 Yeah, I don't have anything to say right now.  So yeah, have a nice day and such.

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.