Word: Vastitude

vastitude

\ VAS-ti-tood, -tyood, VAH-sti- \  , noun;

1. vastness; immensity: the vastitude of his love for all humankind .

2. a vast expanse or space: the ocean vastitude .

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

                Jill crawled out of the entryway of the Feline’s domain into the vast main cavern.  The blue light revealed nothing dangerous.  Kyle stood there already, having left the smaller section of the cave just before her.  He was keeping as keen an eye as possible open for any of the dangerous creatures that might be around.  It seemed like they had learned to keep away from that area of the cave though, and the only creatures in the place capable of killing them.  As such, as long as the two humans kept around the general area, they should be safe.  It was once they got farther away that they really had to worry.

                Jill had been in sporadic contact with the outside world a few more times since her original contact was made.  They now had a definite rescue coming, and maybe even a better prepared expedition to really find out about the local flora and fauna in the large cavern.  First though, they had to get back where they started. 

                “We good?”  Jill asked once she stood up.

                “Looks like it.  I don’t see anything around.”  Kyle responded.

                “Good.  Hopefully it stays that way.”  She cast a quick glance back towards the small opening. None of the Felines were coming through it. 

                Although it was difficult to say for sure, but Jill suspected they thought leaving the cave would be akin to some kind of religious journey, and therefore, must be taken only by the two of them.  Jill had tried to get at least one of them to come along, but it was an effort in futility since they couldn’t properly communicate. 

                Kyle nodded and started moving slowly through the cavern, taking care to set his feet down carefully with each step.  Jill moved behind him with the same slow, cautious steps.  The springy moss made normal walking difficult, but it would be helpful if they ran into one of the monsters that lurked the expanses of the cavern.

                “So, they know what to bring, right?”  Kyle whispered.

                “Yes.”  Jill said, rolling her eyes.  They had had this same conversation several times in the last hour alone.  “I made sure to tell them to bring multiple lengths of very long chain instead of rope, lots of flashlights, food and water, bio sample bags, and some kind of weapon.  They know what to bring.  Now stop asking.  The answer won’t change in the next five minutes you know.”

                “All right, all right.  I’m just a little nervous about this, you know?”

                “Yeah, me too.  But hey, if everything goes well, we can be out of this place before night falls.”

                “That would be good, yes.”  Kyle said.  A stray thought entered his mind when she said that.  “Hey, how long do you think we’ve been down here anyway?”

                “Huh?  Couldn’t have been more than a few hours.  Half a day tops.  Why?”

                “Nothing.  Just wondering.  What did your phone say though?”

                “I didn’t check the date, but I don’t think it was very long.  Why?  Something happening?”
                “No, just curious is all.  I mean, what if we were down here longer than we thought, and people have been searching for us?”

                “So what if they are?”

                “Well, people knew we were coming to this cave, right?  Well, wouldn’t we have heard of some other humans down here?  Even if we didn’t see them, we probably would hear them.  It’s not like there’s a whole lot of other noise down here.”  Kyle said.  Jill became more than a little nervous as he spoke.

                “Well, this is a pretty big place.  Maybe they were just too far away for us to hear.  Or, maybe they turned around before they even got to this cave.  That tunnel was pretty long you know.”

                “Yeah, I know.  But still.  I can’t help but wonder.”  Kyle caught a glimpse of movement from behind a butterfly covered stalagmite and froze.  He held a hand up as a signal to Jill, who stopped short. 

                Kyle knelt down and started crawling along the mossy floor, using his hands to get a better grip on the purple groundcover.  He slowly peaked around a corner and froze.  One of the large beasts was creeping along almost as slowly as Kyle was.  The membrane on its back protruded quite a bit, so it had likely just eaten.  Kyle slowly backed away and hoped the creature didn’t see him.

                Once he was out of view, he gave a silent signal to Jill.  She nodded in understanding.  The two continued on their way, hearts pounding and feet moving as quietly as possible. 

                It took them awhile, but they reached the wall of the cave.  The blue paint marks there were different than those they had first seen, so they were able to tell they were in a different part of the cave.  It was enough for them though, since all they needed to do was follow it until they reached the entrance to the tunnel they had come in from. 

                Hour after endless, silent hour crept by as they made their way through the cave.  Neither knew how far away they were, but at the very least they knew that every step brought them closer.  Sure enough, they came upon it.

                It was like a beacon to them.  A large, dark hole in the side of the cave wall.  The two of them looked at each other with glowing faces. Jill had to force herself not to yell in joy and start running.  Even so, both of their paces quickened just a little bit.

                Then, with just a few feet to go before they reached to tunnel, an odd growling noise issued forth from behind them.  Jill froze, not wanting to see what was there.   Kyle did turn.  It was one of the predatory creatures, smaller than the one he had seen earlier, but no less dangerous.  And, if the fat membrane on its rear was anything to go by, it was hungry.

                “Uh.  Run.”  Kyle said simply. 

                Both of them burst into as fast a run as they could, although it was more akin to a leaping stride than an actual run.  It didn’t matter to them though, as the springy moss let them move quicker than normal.  Kyle risked a quick glance over his shoulder and saw the beast was keeping pace with them.  Its lumbering body ran on the moss with surprising surety.  He didn’t stop to try and figure out why though.

                A few feet before the entrance, Kyle felt a sharp sting on his shoulder.  He let out a cry of pain and stumbled.  Jill stopped and turned. 

                “I’m fine, let’s go!”  Kyle said, standing while clutching his shoulder.  He felt the nub of the beast’s tooth digging into his skin, hitting his shoulder blade.  He did his best to ignore the pain and keep moving.

                Just as his foot touched the cold, hard stone of the tunnel, another tooth hit him, this time in his calf.  He stumbled again.  This time, his knees hit stone.  He could almost feel the cracks form in the small bones in addition to the blood trickling down his leg and back.

                Jill rushed over and tucked his shoulder around hers and hoisted him to standing.  She dragged him as well as she could away from the mouth, adrenaline moving her limbs more than anything else.

                “Thanks.”  Kyle muttered as he placed as much of his weight as he could on his own feet.

                “Uh huh.  Thank me when we’re away from that thing.”

                “Uh, I think we are.”  Kyle said, glancing behind them.

                Jill stopped and looked.  The beast was not pursuing them.  It stayed in the cave, growling and baring its fine, bullet like teeth at them for a minute before turning back. 

                “Huh. Guess it doesn’t like it in here?”  Jill said.  She set Kyle down on the wall of the tunnel before collapsing herself. 

                “Good thing to.”  He said, touching the tender skin around the tooth buried in his calf.

                “You’re not going to pull that out?”

                “Not until we get something to wrap it with.  Don’t you know?  Pulling something like this out only makes it worse, since there’ll be nothing to plug the wound anymore.”

                “Oh.”  She said.  Silence filled the cavern for a moment.  “Um, should we go?”

                “You go.  I’m not sure how well I can walk right now.  You should get moving, and I’ll catch up as soon as I can.”

                “You sure?”

                “Yeah.  It looks like those things won’t come in here, and someone needs to be there for the rescue team.”

                “Alright, if you say so.”  Jill said reluctantly.  She stood, took one more look at Kyle as he did his best to tend to his wounds, and headed off into the darkness.  

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

It's been awhile since I've written for these two, hasn't it.  Hopefully I remembered how they act and such alright.  And you know, did a good job of writing the story in the first place and such.  

Oh and hey, if my calculations are correct, this story here marks the second anniversary of this little blog here.  Yay!  Maybe I should try getting someone to actually read it now.  Hmmmmm....

Word: bedash

 

bedash

\ bih-DASH \  , verb;

1. to dash or spatter (something) all over: to bedash a salad with pepper .

2. to dash or strike against: windows bedashed with rain .

3. to demolish or ruin; obliterate: His dreams of glory were quickly bedashed .

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

                Charles closed his eyes and stretched his neck from side to side.  He bounced lightly on the balls of his feet and curled his wrists.  In each hand, he held three medium sized paintbrushes, each one gripped between two fingers. 

                “Ok, I’m ready.  Start the music.”  He said. 

                Melissa stood far away from Charles, near a small stereo system.  On his command, she hit the play button for the CD player.  A loud, quick aerobic workout dance number started playing.  As soon as it began, Charles went to work.  He quickly bounded around the room and dipped each paintbrush into a different paint can, which he had positioned before Melissa had even arrived. 

                Once each brush had a color, he jumped to the large, wall sized canvas he had set up.  In time with the music, he threw his arms around, splattering the paint n the canvas in a haphazard manner.  Sometimes the brushes even touched the material, leaving multicolored streaks of paint that fluidly shifted from the color of one brush to another as he turned his hands. 

                He repeatedly dipped the brushes, not bothering to clean them between rewetting them.  The net effect was a messy, noisy color arrangement that quickly lost any coherence that Charles may have planned.  Most to the paint was splattered around the large canvases in small drops and globs, although there were quite a few streaks of color as well.

                Then the beat changed.  As soon as it did, Charles let the brushes fall and immediately rushed to grab a new instrument of paint dispersal.  This time was a bunch of rags.  He tucked a few into the waistband of his white sweatpants and held to at the ready.  Still keeping in time with the beat, he dipped the ends into waiting paint buckets and slung the colored rags around like small whips.  The paint flew around the room, most of it somehow managing to hit the canvas, but also staining almost everything else around the room as Charles danced around.  

                Once the first rags were too saturated with different colors of paint to be used, he threw them at the canvas, letting them either flop off immediately, leaving a large splotch, or run down the material, leaving a thick, globby line of color.  He then grabbed another set of rags.  This pair he gathered up and held like a pair of slings. 

                He dipped the cloth into cans of paint and whirled them around in time to the music.  Drops of paint flew everywhere, even traveling far enough to hit Melissa, who now knew why she had been told to wear old clothes.  He soon released the loads of color at his target.  Each large glob of paint hit the canvas with a wet thud that the music didn’t quite drown out.  Wet, thick rivulets of paint ran slowly down the canvas from the main splatter, mixing with the still wet paint Charles had deposited before. 

                Several more of these large splotches soon appeared as Charles repeated his paint sling trick.  Thos soon became too full of paint as well, and were discarded.  The third pair of rags came out, and were quickly wrapped around his hands like boxer’s tape.  He dunked his hands into cans of pigment and proceeded to attack the canvas with his cloth and paint covered hands.  As always keeping in time with the rapid beat of the music, he punched, slapped, palmed, and poked the canvas, never seeming the have any reason for doing any of it.

                When the beat finally changed, Charles had timed it perfectly so that the rags covering his hands had become too saturated to be of use.  He discarded them and went for another tool.  This one was once two old brooms that Charles had turned into one, with bristles on each side of the handle.  He spun it around like a bo staff, twirling and spinning it around his body with the beat.  The bristles eventually met paint, which soon met canvas. 

                The thin bristles of the boom left a multitude of thin, short, scratchy lines of paint, even as tiny droplets scattered around from the rotation.  Each side of the broom hit the material at a different angle each time, creating a criss-cross pattern that moved across the wide canvas along with Charles.  And with each dip of the broom, the colors shifted and changed in a chaotic assortment. 

                Then, the music stopped.  As soon as the room became quiet, Charles dropped his broom staff and looked at his work.  After admiring it for a moment, he went to Melissa.  His breathing was heavy, and his formerly white clothes was covered in sweat from his artistic workout.  Melissa took a step back from him to distance the smell of sweat and paint that radiated from him.

                “So, what do you think?”  He asked.

                “I think you’re crazy.”  She said, looking from him to the ‘painting’.

                “Aw, come on, really?  It’s brilliant though.  I get my workout in and make some money by selling the painting I make to some gallery or museum or something.”

                “People will actually buy that?”  She asked, pointing to the wild splatters and streaks of the painting.

                “Oh yeah.  All I have to do is make up some intellectual sounding mumbo jumbo and the art snobs eat it up.  I bet I can get a few grand for this thing easy.”  Melissa looked at the monstrosity of art again, wondering at the taste of some people.

                “Why not just laminate the room and sell that?  I bet somebody out there would love that.”  She said, looking at the paint splattered room.

                “I’ve tried that once.  It didn’t work out too well, actually.”

                “Too bad.  You’d be a millionaire by now if you could.”

                “Yeah, really.”

                “So, what do you do now?”

                “Now?  Now I just wait for it to dry, take a few pics and wait for a buyer.”

                “Ah.”

                “Want to see some of my other stuff while we wait?”  He asked hopefully.  Melissa thought about it for a moment before answering.

                “Oh, why not?  Can’t be any worse than that thing.”

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

I can see this kind of art in a modern art museum, can't you?  Just like, random splotches and blobs of paint with a fancy description that makes no sense if you think about it long enough.  Yeah, those places are full of that kind of thing.  It's kind of funny to try and think up the descriptions though.

Word: Fussbudget

 

fussbudget

\ FUHS-buhj-it \  , noun;

1. a fussy or needlessly fault-finding person.

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

Eva furiously scrambled around the room, looking at every single minute detail on every single table.  She eyed the decor with an eye that combined a military drill sergeant and a ferret scrambling around a room. 

               “Would you calm down already?  Everything’s fine.”  Peter said as he watched he fiance check the room yet again.

               “No no, everything’s not fine.  I can feel it.”  Eva said.  Her panic colored her words as she examined the placement of another center piece, making sure it was in the exact center of the large, round table.

               “Yes, it is.  How many times have you been through the room?  Five?  Ten?  Trust me, if you haven’t found anything wrong yet, you’re probably not going to this time either.”

               “There’s something I missed.  I know it, I can feel it and…What’s this?”  She said, going over to another table.  She examined the centerpiece like a detective pouring over an obscure piece of evidence.  “Ah ah, see?  See, I knew it.  I just knew there was something wrong.”

               Peter rolled his eyes and joined Eva at the table.  He looked at the elaborate bouquet with a somewhat less critical eye than she was.  He found nothing wanting with it.

               “It’s exactly like every other one here.”

               “No no, no it’s not.  There’s one flower missing.”  She said.  She furiously pointed to a cluster of small, white flowers on the side of the arrangement.  Peter looked alternately at Eva and the flowers, then let out a sigh.

               “So what if there is?  It’s not like anyone else will notice.”

               “I’ll notice.”  She said, looking at Peter with a worried expression.

               “No, you won’t.  Trust me.  Once things get underway, you’ll forget all about the flower.  Besides, how do you even know there’s one missing?  It’s not like you’ve counted every single flower in every single centerpiece.  I bet they all have different numbers anyway.  Maybe if it was a rose or a lily or something big, but not one of the little ones.”  He placed a hand reassuringly on her shoulder and gently guided her away from the tables. 

               “No, no, I’m sure someone will notice.  I don’t know who, but someone will.”

               “Honey, honey, calm down a bit.  You’re turning into one of those women on TV.”

               “What?”  She asked.  Her expression changed instantly from one of worry to one of confusion.

               “It’s a show some of the ladies at the office watch.  It’s called, um, well I don’t remember what it’s called.  But it’s about these women who go crazy about their weddings.  I sometimes see a few minutes of it in the break room and usually get a good laugh out of it. But now you’re one of them.”

               “No I’m not.”  She said defensively. 

               “I could call up the TV station right now, and you’d fit right in.  I bet if we recreated some of the planning process you could even get on it.  Well, I mean, we’d have to fake a lot more shouting and stuff, but still.”

               Eva paused for a moment before responding.  Peter could practically hear her thought process as she went through not just the day’s events, but everything else involved as well.

               “Oh.  Oh wow.  You’re right.  You are absolutely right.”  She said.  Eva slumped down in the nearest chair.  “I don’t believe it, but I’ve gone crazy over this.  I mean seriously, what was I thinking?  I’m over here fussing over a missing flower.”

               “Hey, it could’ve been worse.”  Peter said as he sat down next to her.

               “How?”

               “You could’ve gotten out a measuring tape.  That would’ve been bad.”  He said.  Eva tried to suppress a chuckle, but didn’t quite succeed.  “Maybe you could’ve also gotten out one of those light measuring things from the photographers and made sure all the lighting was exact.” 

               “Ok, ok I get it.”  She said.  “Still, you can’t blame me for wanting everything to be perfect, can you?”

               “No, I suppose not.  It is something that only happens once, right?”

               “Yeah.”  She said wistfully.  “We hope.”

               Peter’s head darted over to look at Eva.  Those two words suddenly sent him into panic mode.  That is, until he saw the wry grin on her face.  He smiled and sat back in the chair.

               “We hope.”

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

Not sure what to say about this one really.  Wait, I think...oh, nope, I lost it, sorry.  Oh well, maybe next time.