Word: semiquincentennial

semiquincentennial

[sem-ee-kwin-sen-ten-ee-uhl, sem-ahy-] / ˌsɛm iˌkwɪn sɛnˈtɛn i əl, ˌsɛm aɪ- /

noun

1. a 250th anniversary or its celebration.

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                Two hundred and fifty years. It was a lifetime to be in transit. Several lifetimes, really. And yet, that was how long it had been. He looked out the window, seeing the stars drift past. Always a different view out of the front viewport. And yet, after so long, they all seemed to meld into each other.

                He used to wonder at them all. What kinds of planets might be around each one. Now he could care less. After nothing but empty space for over two centuries, the stars had lost much of their majesty. He turned away from the external view and focused on the internals of the ship.

                It was an old vessel, obviously. But he kept it running well enough. Even so, there were fewer lights on the console. Less computer readouts. Even outside of the bridge, there were less lights. And naturally the flashlights had burned out decades ago. At least he had developed decent eyesight in the dark. Plus, he had gone through the corridors so much that he could navigate them even without a hint of light.

                Not for the first time, he thought about how he had gotten there. It was so long ago that he no longer remembered. He no longer remembered his own name; let alone why he was in the ship. He knew it was something very important though. A great purpose that he had been proud to take on.

                He and the others. Yes, he knew there were others. Many of them, really. A full crew, of which he was only one. Now he was alone. How long had he been alone? At least a century. He had wondered why he was still alive, of course. But now, at 250 years, it was a useless thing to think about. He was still alive. The ship was still running. Maybe he would find his answers one day. Until then, he would keep the ship running.

                He would get somewhere eventually; he was sure of that. He did not even much care what that place was. Maybe it would be his original destination, maybe it would not. He could not remember what the destination was, anyway. Besides, any destination would be good at this point.

                After 250 years in the emptiness of space, even an inhospitable planet would be good. Maybe it would finally let him join the rest of the crew in whatever afterlife they were in. Maybe they would remember his name. Until then, he would keep the ship operable. He would keep it moving forward as well as he was able to with the means he had at his disposal.

                He slid into a chair and closed his eyes. The ship would keep going as it was. He was currently not needed. And so, he would spend his time in his own thoughts. Trying his best to remember those things that he had once considered important. His goal, his friends and family. His name.  Maybe someday he would remember them.  

Word: Languid

 

languid

[lang-gwid] / ˈlæŋ gwɪd /

adjective

1. lacking in vigor or vitality; slack or slow.

   a languid manner.

2. lacking in spirit or interest; listless; indifferent.

3. drooping or flagging from weakness or fatigue; faint. 

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                    There was something wrong with the town. Mike saw it immediately when he entered the place, and it became even more obvious when he stopped at a small diner for lunch. He got out of his car and paused, taking in the oddities of the place. There was something wrong with the people.

                   As he watched, he could see that nobody was moving in any kind of hurry. Even the drivers were moving well below the speed limit. That was what had drawn his attention to the small town to begin with. Everyone moving well below the speed limit with no way to pass? It was ridiculous.

                   Mike entered the diner and saw plenty of places to sit, and it seemed like the kind of laid-back place that would not care if he just sat himself. So, he slid into a booth and waited. And waited. And waited some more. Clearly the wait staff were in no hurry to do anything. He saw several people in uniform, just taking their time and chatting with other customers. They knew he was there. Several of them locked eyes with him, but they made no move to even give him a menu.

                   After almost twenty minutes, one of the wait staff, an older woman who seemed pleasant enough, got him all set up. By that time, Mike was starting to get frustrated. He was not on a time limit, but he still had somewhere to be. A quick glance over the menu told him that the place served the standard diner fare. Nothing revolutionary, so ordering was easy.

                   There was something off though. The waitress was still there. She had not moved and was looking at him with a small smile. Occasionally, she would chime in and try and make small talk.

                   “You’re new in town, aren’t you?” She asked after he had placed his order.

                   “Uh, yeah. I’m just passing through.”

                   “Oh, that’s too bad.”

    Mike was starting to get the feeling he was becoming the center of attention. The people in the diner were speaking softer, like they were trying to listen to something while not acting like they were.

   “Why’s that?”

   “Well, everyone who’s just ‘passing though’ always seems like they’re in such a rush. That’s no way to live life, you man. You should slow down a bit. Stay in town for a bit.”

   “I’m sorry, but I have placed to be. I’ll just be eating my lunch and then heading out.”

   “You sure? There’s something to be said for slowing down sometimes, you know. You move too fast, you’ll tire yourself out.”

   Mike was definitely noticing more and more people glancing in his direction now. He felt his heart rate speed up. Maybe he should just leave. The waitress had not gone and placed his order yet, so he could. He would just get something from a gas station or fast-food joint. He pulled out his phone and checked the time.

   “Uh, listen, I hate to do this, but I think I’m on a bit more of a time crunch than I thought. You can forget about my order. I’m sure it’s very good, but I’m just—”

   “No need to be in a hurry.” The waitress said. She made no move to get out of the way, even when Mike tried to stand up. “Going too fast is no good. Sit, stay awhile.”

   Her hand came up in a slow, almost lazy way and settled on his shoulder. For some reason, Mike felt like all the energy was draining away. Not his physical energy though. It was more like all the interest and willpower to do anything other than sit back down had left him. A cold dread filled his mind, but he could not muster up the energy to do anything about it.

   “I promise you won’t regret it.”

                  

Word: Elated

 

elated

[ih-ley-tid] / ɪˈleɪ tɪd /

adjective

1. very happy or proud; jubilant; in high spirits.

   an elated winner of a contest.

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                   Benny could feel the tears forming. He wiped them away and continued clapping. He had no idea tears of joy were real things. He had always thought it was an expression, or something that only appeared in fiction. But now he knew what it was like.

                   He had watched his baby girl up on that stage. He had watched her give her valedictorian speech. His wife sat next to him with a huge smile on her face. His son sat next to him, clearly less interested, but at least trying to pay attention to his big sister.

                   Benny had no idea he could feel such pride. That was his daughter on the stage. His little girl giving the speech. And that was his kid getting her doctorate. All from a family that had never cared much about education. Benny himself had never even considered going to college. His wife was similarly only in possession of a high school education.

                   And yet, somehow, they had made a kid smart enough to not only become an honest to goodness doctor, but to do so at the very top of her class. How that had happened was anyone’s guess, but it had.  He had always wondered about the parents who gushed about their kid’s academic achievements. Now he knew he would be doing the exact same thing.

                   How could he not. Seeing how happy she was to be up on that stage. That light in her eyes when she got her diploma. All that hard work she had put in, knowing it was all worth it. And it really had. For all of them. Just knowing it was possible for a family like theirs was eye opening in many ways.

                   Benny had always thought that education was not needed. That in many ways it was a scam. You just needed enough to know how to read and do some basic math, and anything else was just silly. But seeing his daughter up there? Seeing her happiness, and feeling his own pride at her accomplishment, made him rethink that.

                   Maybe if he went and got a proper education, maybe he could be up there as well. Probably not as a valedictorian, but still. He was not sure if that was the right path for him though. He was too set in his ways by now. No, he would make do with his kids. His baby girl was just doing so well for herself, and likely would continue to do well, that he could rest easily even if he never stepped foot on a college campus.

                   His boy was more like him though. The kid had a lot of potential, and Benny could not say he was really squandering it by ending his education at high school. Rather, Benny’s son was aiming to be quite the skilled mechanic. And that too, was worthy of pride, just in a different way.

                   Benny watched as his daughter left the stage after receiving her applause for her graduation speech. Yes, his kids were going to go far, no matter their opinions on higher education. And for Benny, that was all anyone could ask for.

                  

    

Word: Slapdash

 

slapdash

[slap-dash] / ˈslæpˌdæʃ /

adverb

1. in a hasty, haphazard manner.

   He assembled the motor slapdash.

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                   “Wow. That looks terrible.”

                   Ben’s head slammed into the car he was working on. The car shook slightly, with some parts rattling in ways that Ben did not like. He rubbed his head at the point of impact and slid out from under the vehicle.

                   When he sat up, he saw his brother, Kyle, standing near the door to the garage with a wide grin on his face. Ben let out a low growl.

                   “Seriously? You come in here and that that’s what you tell me?”

                   “Sorry man, but you gotta admit it’s a pretty damn terrible car.”

                   Ben clenched and relaxed his fists. “Well maybe if I had more than a god-damned week to build it, I could’ve made it better.

                   “Hey, nobody said you had to do it on your own.”

                   Ben stood. He was covered with dirty and grease, but he did not care at that moment. Kyle was looking way too smug. Ben was tempted to wipe some of the grease on his dear brother’s shirt, but he held off. Barely.

                   “Oh no? Remind me again who said I could build a car in a week?”

                   To his credit, Kyle did look ashamed. Briefly. “I thought you could.”

                   “I can. I just can’t build a car that’s race worthy. Which was, you know, the entire point of having a custom car built.”

                    “And…will it be race worthy?”

                   Ben looked at his brother, and then at the haphazardly built car. The fiberglass that made up the outside was warped in several places. The front wheel axels were visibly out of alignment. The rear wheel assembly was held in place by duct tape. The windshield looked like it was going to pop out at any moment.

                   “You. Tell. Me.” Ben said through clenched teeth.

                   “So that’s a no?”

                   “That’s a no, and it’s also you’re an idiot for making me even try doing this. I mean, come on, what were you thinking?”

                   “I was thinking my little brother is a mechanical genius who could work miracles?”

                   Ben was not impressed by Kyle’s attempt at flattery. He knew what lay behind those words. He stood there and crossed his arms.

                   “Okay, fine. I thought I could make some serious cash on a long shot bet. Happy now?”

                   “No. I think you’re an even bigger idiot. Remember when I told you that ‘no, I can’t build a racing car in a week?’ Remember when I very clearly said that?”

                   “I thought you were being modest. You know, sell yourself short so that when you succeed you look like a miracle worker.”

                   “In what world do I ever do something like that? When was the last time you heard me even try something like that?”

                   Kyle did not answer. He avoided eye contact completely.

                   “Maybe if you had gotten me a team of people we could’ve done it. But by myself? There was no chance I’d make it. If you just want it to work, sure. I can do that. But you asked me to do the impossible, and now you’re surprised when I’m not going to make it.”

                   “Okay, okay. You’ve made your point. So what am I supposed to do? I put a lot of money on you succeeding.”

                   “Take your loss and move on. It’s what the rest of us do when we lose a bet. Now get out of here. I might not be able to get it fully race worthy, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to leave it in this state. It’ll work by the end of the week. Not well, but it will. What you do with that is up to you. I’m washing my hands of this whole thing once I’m done.”

                   Without waiting for Kyle to say anything else, Ben turned around and slid under the car. He had a lot of work to do and very little time to do it in.