Word: First-Foot

first-foot

[furst-foot] / ˈfɜrstˈfʊt /

noun

1. the first person to cross the threshold of a house on New Year's Day.

2. the first person met after starting out on the day of an important occasion.

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                Becky stood, shivering in the cold. She should be in the car or the house, but Will insisted they wait. She would be mad, but he was right there with her. That was something, at least.

                “So, why can’t we go inside?” She asked. Again. She had asked that same question at least three times and had not received a satisfying answer.

                “Because some things are just better when done at the right time.” He replied.

                He was looking at his phone, checking the time. Becky could tell he was probably waiting for midnight to roll around. New Years and all that. But this area did not have fireworks. Or any other method of celebration. At least, not publicly.

                “Seriously, Will. We bought this house to stay inside. You know, inside, where it’s warm. Not freezing our butts off in the middle of the night.”

                Sure, the place was a mess. Or at least, she assumed it was. She had not been in there since the movers arrived. Since they had picked up the keys from the realtor’s office. She knew it would be nothing but boxes and maybe a mattress for tonight. But that was no reason to not go in.

                “We’ll go inside at the appropriate time.”

                Becky huffed. “And when is the appropriate time?”

                Will checked his phone again. The glow lit up an almost manic grin. “About ten more minutes.”

                She blinked a few times in surprise. She had not been expecting a concrete answer. She quickly checked the time. It showed 11:50 pm. She groaned.

                “Really? Are we seriously doing this?”

                “It’s important, Becky! We have a once in a lifetime opportunity here. It’d be dumb to waste it.”

                “Why didn’t you just tell me this is what you wanted to do?”

                “Because if I had, you would’ve said no.”

                She opened her mouth to say something, but he was right. She would have said no to this whole thing. If he had told her, they would be inside right now, probably watching the ball drop on one of their phones.

                “Okay, fine. But which of us actually goes through at midnight?”

                “Both of us. The door is just big enough if we squeeze. I checked.”

                “You’re kidding, right?”

                “It’ll be a tight fit, and we’ll have to go back-to-back, but we can do it.”

                Becky looked at the door. It seemed fairly normal to her. But then again, neither of them was particularly big. It might be possible if they did it right. Maybe. The benefits of being on the shorter and slimmer side of things, she supposed.

                “Oh, it’s almost time, let’s get ready!” Will said, clearly getting excited. “Should we record this? I feel like we should record this. You know what? I’m doing it.”

                He strode up to the door without opening it. He messed around with his camera, setting it up for a video. Becky sighed and joined him at the threshold of their new home. Will put his hand on the knob, ready to turn it the moment the clock changed dates.

                “Here we go.” He said, “New year, new home, new life. Come on, let’s get ready.”

                He turned towards her, moving as close to the edge of the door as he could while still being able to enter. Becky felt her lips twitch upwards at his enthusiasm. She knew it was stupid, but it was infectious. She pressed herself as close as she could, showing that he had been correct. They could just barely fit.

                “Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven.” He counted. At five, he turned the knob and opened the door. “Four. Three. Two. One.”

                Both of them stepped into the newly bought home at the same time, right as the clock hit midnight.

                “Happy New Year!”

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

Happy New Year indeed. 

Word: Farrago

farrago

American  

[fuh-rah-goh, -rey-] / fəˈrɑ goʊ, -ˈreɪ- /

noun

plural

farragoes

1. a confused mixture; hodgepodge; medley.

   a farrago of doubts, fears, hopes, and wishes.

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                Frederick followed his host through the winding halls. The place was confusing. The halls turned seemingly at random. Passages emerged that went nowhere, and the walls occasionally seemed to shift and change. Plus, it was so big that there was no way it could all fit in the building. At least his guide seemed to know the way around.

                The person who was leading him appeared to be a tall, slender woman. She was the very picture of beauty and wore a fine dress to show her impressive figure. If anything, she was too good. Too perfect, too alluring. It was uncanny, really. And Frederick knew better that to assume it was a woman. For all he knew, what he was looking at was a mere projection that the being used to communicate with him.

                “You did well in the first challenge.” The host said. Frederick had been given a name, but he dare not say it. Or even think it. “I hope you are ready for the second.”

                “I’ll do what I can.” He replied.

The first challenge had been simple enough. It was little more than a child’s memory game. He only hoped the rest were so simple. He did not think they would.

“I am sure. The second challenge is simple.”

They rounded a corner and came to a simple wooden door. The host opened it to show the room beyond. The room itself was a simple one. Just a box for people to inhabit. But what was inside was a horrid mess of junk, trinkets and knickknacks. It was a confusing mix of things that made no sense and with no semblance of order in any of them.

“You must clean this room.”

“Clean it how?” Frederick asked.

                “Hm, perhaps organize would be a better word. Yes, organize. Sort every item in here. Put them wherever you like. Arrange them in any way you want. Just bring order to the chaos within.”

                He looked around again. There were thousands of items, and none of them fit together. There was no connecting thread between any of them. How was he, how was anyone, supposed to make sense of so many things?

                “I..” He began, but was interrupted.

                “Oh, but that is hardly a challenge now is it? After all, with enough time, any mess can be cleaned. You have three days to accomplish your goal. After that, I will come and judge your methods. But you need not fear. I am a generous host. I shall only count the time when you are awake. I know you humans require sleep to function properly, and so you may rest whenever you require it. Sustenance will also be provided, naturally. But time will still count down while you fill your belly, so be careful about when you eat and drink. The challenge will begin when you enter the room.”

                Frederick looked inside. There had to be some trick to it. Three days sounded generous, but there was so much, and it was all so confusing that his task was effectively impossible. Which meant there was a trick to it. Well, he was not going to find that trick just standing around looking. He needed to get in there and get to work.

                He stepped into the room and his challenge began.

Word: Vehement

 

vehement

American  

[vee-uh-muhnt] / ˈvi ə mənt /

adjective

1. zealous; ardent; impassioned.

   a vehement defense;

   vehement enthusiasm

2. characterized by rancor or anger; violent.

   vehement hostility.

3. strongly emotional; intense or passionate.

   vehement desire.

4. marked by great energy or exertion; strenuous.

   vehement clapping.

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

                    The church was filled. Not that that was a particularly grand achievement. It was a small church in a small town. The kind of place where everyone knew each other, and half of them only went because of that fact. There was only one person who was unknown to the congregation. Normally that would be the big piece of gossip among the town for weeks to come. But today nobody cared. Or at least nobody acted like they cared.

                   The stranger wore a long black coat, even inside. His eyes were covered in dark glasses. Even his hat and shoes were black. He sat in the very last pew; several seats removed from the closest person. He sat straight backed and rigid, with his eyes firmly set at the front of the church.

                   The church’s head priest slowly approached the podium, ready to give his sermon for the day. The priest was a man in his middle years, and he visibly carried all of them. His hair was thinning and turning grey. His middle was expanding while his back was starting the bend before its time. His face was in the process of developing lines and wrinkles that would one day be as deep as a canyon.

                   “Greetings, my friends.” The priest spoke. Although his body was starting to wear down, his voice betrayed none of that. “It is so good to see you all here, especially given the times we now live in. A time when we are beset by enemies on all sides. A time when simply looking out for our future and our children’s future is decried and frowned upon.”

                   The stranger tilted his head ever so slightly as he listened. The priest spoke with absolute conviction. He spoke with certainty and passion. He was intense, powerful, and charismatic. And he spoke of all the wrong things. The stranger frowned as he heard the sermon.

                   The man spoke of hatred and violence. He spoke falsehoods like they were the absolute, undeniable truth. He spoke about the enemies that should be treated as neighbors. He spoke of those who should have been shunned as if they were holy men and women. Not once did the man speak the true Word. Not once did the so-called priest give messages of love and acceptance as he should have.

                   And the congregation ate every word with the passion of true zealots. The stranger clasped his hands and forced himself to remain silent and seated. These were not the Flock. These were bearers of falsehoods. People who wore the Word like a cloak that could be shed at any moment. And they did not realize it. They thought themselves faithful. They thought themselves to be true to the Word. They worked themselves up into a frenzy of false belief and violent passion.

                   When the service was over, the stranger rose and left before anyone else. He was amazed that he had stayed for as long as he had. He knew why he needed to hear that hate-filled sermon. He needed to know what the Flock was doing. This was just one of many congregations he would visit. One of many he had already visited. Most were not like this one. But those that were left a sour taste in his mouth.

                    Something would need to be done about those churches. And once he was finished attending for the day, he would speak to those higher than him. And something would be done. And hopefully what happened would help prevent such groups from forming in the future. For the sake of all mankind, it would have to.

                  

Word: Bergschrund

bergschrund

American  

[berk-shroont] / ˈbɛrk ʃrʊnt /

noun

1. a crevasse, or series of crevasses, at the upper end of a mountain glacier.

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                The first thing Dave felt was the pain. His entire body hurt, but his legs most of all. Then came the cold, but that was to be expected, given where they were. Finally, the last thing to come was the feeling of claustrophobia that came from walls tight against both sides of his body. He allowed his eyes to flutter open. He was facing upwards, given that he could see the sky. It was distressingly far away.

                Sheer walls of glacial ice rose up on either side of him, showing Dave that he was at the bottom of a crevasse. That was not good. He had some climbing gear, but not much. Not enough to scale the walls of this place. At least he did not see any open wounds on himself. There was no blood pooling around him, and no bones were sticking out. Although he was in considerable pain, so the odds of injury were distressingly high.

                He heard a groan coming from behind him. That was good. Lisa had survived the fall as well. Had she died, he did not know what he would do. Plus, she had the satellite phone. At least, provided it had not broken.

                “Hey, you okay over there?” He asked, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible. He failed, but at least he could still talk.

                “No.” Lisa said. “Every part of me hurts, I don’t know if I can move, and I’m pretty sure some of my clothes are ripped. So yeah, all in all, definitely not okay.”

                “Well, at least you’re alive. That’s a start.”

                The torn clothes would be a problem though. In the cold they were in, even a slight rip could be a disaster. At least they were shielded from the wind.

                “Yeah, sure. Alive is good.” Lisa said. “But what do we do now? Think we have enough climbing gear to get out?”

                “Between the two of us? Maybe.” Dave said, looking up towards the surface. “How’s the sat phone?”

                “Hang on, let me check.”

                Dave heard Lisa wincing in pain. The fact that she could move enough to get to her back was a good sign though. He heard her rummaging though her gear for a few moments.

                “Good news and bad news.” She said. “The good news is the phone is in one piece and working. The bad news is that it’s not picking up anything. We must be too deep to get a clean signal.”

                Dave swore under his breath. The didn’t have a way to extending the signal either, so they were out of luck on that front. And with any injuries they might have, climbing might not be the best idea. Plus, Lisa would need to deal with her cold weather protection before they could get anywhere.

                “Okay, we have a few days worth of food and water.” Dave said. “Looks like we’re sticking put a few days to rest and recover. Maybe I can help fix your clothes too while we wait.”

                “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds like the only plan we currently have.” Lisa sighed. “I guess we technically don’t even need to get to the top here. Just high enough to get a signal and call for help.”

                Dave nodded. “Yeah. That sounds about right. Until then, we just need to survive as well as we can. And hey, look on the bright side.”

                “Bright side?”

                “Once we get out of this, we’ll have one hell of a story to tell.”