Word: Lily-livered

lily-livered

 [lil-ee-liv-erd] / ˈlɪl iˈlɪv ərd /

adjective

1. weak or lacking in courage; cowardly; pusillanimous.

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                “I don’t want to go in there.” Henry said.

                Loura turned to look at him with a quizzical look on her face. Then she turned to look at the haunted house. A stream of kids and teens entered and exited, along with a  few potentially drunk college students. They were the only adults in the line for entry.

                “Why not? Is there something wrong?” She asked. “Worried that someone we know will see us? Judge us for still liking Halloween? Come on, look around. Nobody cares.”

                “That…that’s not it.” Henry rubbed his arm. It had nothing to do with the late October chill. “I just don’t want to go in.”

                Loura looked at him. He studiously avoided the gaze. A wide smile crossed her face.

                “Oh my god. Henry, are you scared?”

                “N-no.” He replied weakly.

                “You are! You’re scared.”

                “I…I just…I don’t like ghosts and stuff.”

                Loura looked around them. Other people had joined the line after them, so she guided him out of the line. She could tell this was best done a little farther away from the crowd.

                “Scared of ghosts? Really?”

                “What? Lots of people are scared of ghosts.”

                “Yeah, but we’re not going to be seeing any. Look, this is a high school haunted house. The scariest thing we’re going to see in there is the kid’s acting skills.”

                Henry looked away from her. He also looked away from the building.

                “I know.” He said quietly. “But still. I can’t help it. I just see that kind of thing and I freeze up.”

                Loura’s face softened. She stepped closer to him and reached up to place her hands on his shoulders.

                “Look, I promise you have nothing to be scared of. The worst thing you have to be worried about is maybe getting some fake cobwebs in your hair.”

                “Uh…cobwebs? You…you think there’s going to be spiders in there?”
                “Only the kind that are made of plastic or rubber.”

                “I…I don’t think I can handle that.”

                “Henry, what’s really going on? There’s no reason to be scared. There are kids going in there and coming out laughing like crazy. You are 29 years old. You have literally no reason to be scared.”

                Henry did not answer right away. He did not want to admit this to her.

                “There’s nothing going on.” Henry said. “I’m just a big coward. I get scared easy. About all kinds of things. You just haven’t seen any of that yet. There’s no big, deep reason. I didn’t get lost in one of these places as a kid. I didn’t get traumatized by anything. I’m just scared, okay. I hate it and can’t handle even little things like this.”

                Loura looked at him. She knew he was a bit sensitive about a lot of things. She knew he wasn’t the kind of person to take a bullet for another. She was fine with that. She had dated way too many overly macho men in her day, so a gentler man was exactly what she was looking for. But to be scared of teenagers in bad masks? That was a bit much. She would just have to help him.

                “Well, I’m going in.” She said firmly. “You can stay out here, all alone, in the dark. Or you can come with me. We’ll go through, you’ll find that you’ve got nothing to be scared of, and we’ll get a few pieces of candy at the end. So, what’s it going to be?”

                Henry’s face went through a range of expressions. He looked around. The outside of the building had been lightly decorated. A few plastic gravestones with decorative skeletons. A few rubber bats in the trees. Nothing special. Henry looked like every single one of them was alive and about to jump him. He let out a light whimper, then moved to cling to Loura’s arm. She could only imagine what it must have looked like to others, but neither cared. They simply got back on line and waited, with Loura giving occasional words of comfort and encouragement the entire time.  

               

Word: Algid

algid

[al-jid] / ˈæl dʒɪd /

adjective

1. cold; chilly.

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                Jack hated going into the freezer. The cold sank into his bones in a weird way, and the thing was laid out in the worst way possible. It was like a maze. Why couldn’t the manager just get the shelves organized like any other place? He knew it needed to be big, but that was no excuse for a lack of organization.

                Other hotels he worked for knew the value of proper freezer layout. A few shelves in neat rows, clearly labeled and with everything in a well thought out place. At least, the good ones did that. This one though? If there was an organization system in place, Jack did not know it.

                One shelf had vegetables in one corner, and frozen drinks in another. A different shelf was covered with what looked like preserve jars, and was positioned perpendicular to two others, blocking the isle completely. And he did not even want to think about the shelves that were leaning on others. Any OSHA inspectors that came by would have a heart attack seeing those.

                Nobody should need a map to navigate a walk-in freezer. Jack was very firm in that belief. What really got to him was that none of the other employees thought it was weird. In fact, none of them seemed to have a problem going into the damn place at all, nor did they have difficulty finding anything. They treated Jack like he was the odd one for not wanting to navigate a freezing cold maze with no labeling.

                A particularly cold burst of air hit him. Where in the world were those coming from? There were no vents in the ceiling. And yet, he occasionally got hit by a burst of air that was even colder than normal. He looked around and so nothing but the shelves in their usual state of disorganization.

                He turned as another area of cold hit him from the side. This one lingered. Like a bubble of cold air. Jack looked around to see the source, but could not find anything. He just kept going. He grumbled about the faulty cooling system. He grumbled about the poorly arranged shelves. He grumbled about the lack of labels.

                Luckily, he was able to find what he was looking for. He was glad it wasn’t anything too heavy, and he was soon on his way back to the kitchen with an armful of frozen meat. The air in the kitchen was blessedly warm, and he felt the cold slowly seep out of his fingers.

                “Hey, Jack, you got it?” The head chef, Walter, asked.

                “Yeah, I got the meat. But if you need more, send Rick in there. That place sucks.” Jack replied as he set the boxes down.

                “Hey, uh, you feeling okay?” Walter asked, giving Jack an odd look. “You didn’t see anything weird in there, did you?”

                “Walt, I see weird things in there all the time. I mean, come on, who sets up shelves like that? It’s not normal.”

                “That’s it? Just the layout?”

                “Uh, yeah? Why? Should I be looking for something else?”

                “And you’re feeling okay now? Everything normal?”

                “Yeah?” Jack asked slowly.

                Walter looked at him and sighed. “Man, Jack, you are one weird guy, you know that?”

Word: Behindhand

 

behindhand

American  

[bih-hahynd-hand] / bɪˈhaɪndˌhænd /

adverb

1. late; tardy.

2. behind in progress; backward.

   They were never behindhand in following artistic fads.

3. in debt or arrears. 

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                   Jack was late. He was late in so many ways. He just hoped she was in a merciful mood today. Otherwise, he may not be going home today. He burst into the building’s lobby and rushed through the unfortunately familiar halls. He got several glares as he ran, but he did not care. He only slowed when he arrived at the heavy wooden doors.

                   Jack took a moment to compose himself. He was already late, a few extra seconds would not hurt. He took several deep breaths, then knocked. There was no answer. Jack knew better than to knock again though. Doing so would only upset her even more. Eventually, the voice calling for him to enter came. He immediately entered the office.

                   “Ah, Jack. I was wondering if you would show up.”

                   Juliet sat behind a large wooden desk. She was, as always, immaculately dressed. A suit that showed just enough of her figure to cause most men to lose their cool, while also hiding enough that she could easily be underestimated. A face equal to most supermodels that could break men with a glance, should she want to. Jack just hoped she would not turn that kind of gaze on him.

                   “Y-yes, Ms. Conway. I’m sorry.” He did not give an excuse. Such things were pointless.

                   “I’m sure you are. Well, have a seat and we can talk business.”

                   Jack sat in a chair in front of her desk. One of several. All three here hard wood with only a thin cushion. A far cry from her chair, which was more like a throne with wheels. He swallowed a lump in his throat as she placed her arms on the desk and rested her chin on her hands. Her sleeve tightened just a tiny bit. Enough to remind Jack of one of the many reasons to fear this woman.

                   “Now Jack, I won’t ask why you were late to this meeting. Frankly, it doesn’t matter. What I will ask about is why you are so late in your debt payment.”

                   “Uh, well, Ms. Conway, I—”

                   Juliet held up her hand, stopping him. “No excuses, Jack. You know how I feel about excuses. All I want to know is why you have not paid your debt to me. I believe I’ve been more than fair in my terms, and quite lenient in the repayment schedule. And yet, your first installment is late. By a week. This is unacceptable, Jack. Now, I’m a reasonable woman,” Jack had to bite his tongue to keep his face neutral at that. “if you give me a valid reason, I’ll let you off easy. A veritable slap on the wrist. But give me an excuse, and I’m sure you know what will happen.”

                   Jack took a deep breath. “I was going to make the payment.” He started. Juliet’s face darkened. “Honestly, I was. On my way to the post office. But I was jumped by some guys. I didn’t see their faces, but—”

                   “Jack. Are you telling me that you were robbed?” She stood up.

                   “Y-yes ma’am.”

                   She put a hand on the edge of her desk. “A robbery. Are you sure that’s your reason for being late?”

                   Jack pushed the chair back a little. He knew he was telling the truth here, but that did not make him any less nervous. The truth did not matter. Her judgement of the truth did. And if she determined he was lying?

                   “Oh, Jack.” She pushed the desk to the side. The heavy wooden desk and everything on it. Moved aside like a cheap plastic toy. “I thought we had an agreement. I give you money. You pay the money back. I thought you knew this.”

                   “I…I swear, I’m not lying!” He practically shouted.

                   “How many times have I heard the old robbery excuse, I wonder.” With her path clear, Juliet slowly started walking towards him. There were a scant few steps, but she took each one with a slow but inevitable gait. “I was hoping you would come up with something better.”

                   Jack did the only thing he could think to do. He quickly stood, turned around, and lifted his shirt. He heard her steps stop.

                   “What’s this, Jack?”

                   “The…the bruises, Ms. Conway. From the robbery.” He had seen them in a mirror. They were quite extensive. He heard Juliet come closer and run a hand along them. Luckily the robbery was a few days ago, so they did not have the sting of fresh injuries.

                   “Hm. Well, for once it seems like the robbery excuse might have some merit. I will, of course, be looking into the validity of your claim. You do know that, right?”

                   “Yes, Ms. Conway, I know.”

                   “If you’re really telling the truth, I’m willing to renegotiate. To an extent. But if I find these bruises of yours were from anything else…” Her hand closed on his shoulder like a steel vice. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you what will happen.”

                   “Yes, Ms. Conway, I know.”

                   “Good. Now get out of here. Do work on getting my payment, and be more careful out there. It’s a dangerous city.”

                   When she let go, Jack immediately bolted for the door. As he left, Jack had never been so grateful that he had been robbed in broad daylight as he was in that moment.