Word: billet-doux

billet-doux

American  

[bil-ey-doo, bil-ee-, bee-yey-doo] / ˈbɪl eɪˈdu, ˈbɪl i-, bi yeɪˈdu /

noun

billets-doux

1. a love letter.

  **************************

                Jake trudged through the hallway. His stomach and side hurt from the fists that had been buried in them before school started. It was almost comical, really. In the modern day and age, where digital bullying was more common, he got stuck with the old school kind. The kind that loved to do their bullying with fists and aggression than with nasty comments and rumors.

                And what made it worse was that nobody cared. Everyone knew what was going on. They were not smart enough to hide their deeds. But nobody cared for one reason or another. The staff gave a token effort to deal with the problem, but nothing actually happened.

                He reached his locker and winced slightly as he opened it. Jake was about to get the books inside when he paused. There was an envelope there. It was resting on top of his things. Likely slipped through the grates in the locker door. It was likely either a prank or meant for someone else. He took it to see if there was a name on it. There was. It was his. And by running his hands along it he found that it probably had nothing but paper inside.

                Probably just some jerk writing out a bunch of insults for him. Well, he would find out when he got the chance. He did not have time right now, but maybe during lunch. He slipped it into a pocket, got his things and went to class.

                When it was finally lunch time, Jake slipped out and went to a bathroom. There was no point in actually eating in the cafeteria. He would just get his food taken by one of his bullies. Either that, or it would end up on his clothes for the same reason. He entered a stall, sat and pulled out the note.

                Inside was not a string of insults. It was a note. Practically a letter. Handwritten, too. He did not recognize the handwriting, but then again, he did not go around studying his classmate’s penmanship. He sighed and started to read.

                Dear Jake,

                I know it’s hard for you. I see what happens to you. I hear about it all the time. I wish I could do more to help. I’ve tried to do something to help you, but nobody pays attention. Not even to me. But just because some people are jerks towards you, doesn’t mean nobody likes you. I like you. I really like you. I think I may even love you. It’s hard to tell right now. I’m sure it seems weird to you, and you’re probably thinking this is some prank by a bunch of jerks. I can’t offer you any proof, not in a letter like this. But I promise it’s not a prank. I love you, Jake. At least, I’m pretty sure I do. And I’ll find a way to help you. I don’t know how yet, but I will. Somehow. But for now, just know you’re not as alone as you think you are.

                                                                                                Love,

                                                                                                L

                Jake read and reread the letter. His hands shook as he read. He was not sure if he believed the words written there. After all, who could love him? And he had no idea who it could be. It was not like a single letter signature told him much.

                He knew it had to be a joke. A prank of some kind. He had no idea what the angle was yet, but there was one. He just knew it. And yet…

                Deep down, Jake wondered. Wondered if this could be real. If there was someone out there who loved him. He knew it was probably not real. But he wanted it to be. He gripped the single sheet of paper like it would solve all his problems. It may have been a false hope, but it was more than he had.

                Jake kept reading the letter, right up until his tears started staining the paper.  

               

Word: Lateral

lateral

American  

[lat-er-uhl] / ˈlæt ər əl /

adjective

1. of or relating to the side; situated at, proceeding from, or directed to a side.

   a lateral view.

2. pertaining to or entailing a position, office, etc., that is different but equivalent or roughly equivalent in status, as distinguished from a promotion or demotion.

   a lateral move.

3. Phonetics. articulated so that the breath passes on either or both sides of the tongue, as l.

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

                The Fae had some very strange games. Walter was finding that out very well. He had played many games in his time. While he could not say he had played every game humanity had created, he had a good foundation. Which is why he could say with certainty that this game was very odd.

                The board had spaces that moved. The pieces could change based on a dozen different factors. Even the rules themselves seemed to be fluid. Or at least, Walter could not understand them. For all he knew, his opponent was simply cheating constantly by making up rules that suited him. If he was, then Walter had no chance of catching any cheats, simply because he had no idea what was cheating and what wasn’t.

                All he knew was that he was losing.

                “Come on, friend. Make your move.” Walter’s opponent said.

Walter had no idea what the Fae’s name was, which was by design. The opposite was also true. It was one of the cardinal rules of dealing with Fae to never exchange names. But that was not something Walter was worried about right now.

“Make your move.” The Fae said with a too wide grin using a mouth that was wider than any human’s. “Forward or backward. Advance or retreat. Which is your choice?”

“I’m thinking. You’ll have to forgive my slow moves. I am, as you know, new to this game.”

Walter never took his eyes off the board, even while speaking. He had four pieces left, while the Fae had seven. And all four of his pieces were under threat. Walter had to move one of them, but doing so would likely cause him to lose another. The problem was how the pieces would change. Moving one forward would strengthen that piece; while moving it backward weakened it. The problem was that the weaker piece would be able to protect move of his remaining pieces in the short term, while the opposite was true of the stronger piece. Short term loss versus long term gain. And both would likely lead to a worse board state.

“Of course, of course.” The Fae replied. “I just wish to make sure you are really thinking about that game. I can be so hard to know with you humans.”

Walter did not respond. He put his entire focus on the game. Should he move forward and put his hopes on a single strong piece, or try and use several weaker pieces? And of course, there was the board movement to consider. Whatever that was.

He huffed. There was no way of knowing what the best move was. Not with his lack of experience and knowledge. So, he would just have to move and see what happened. He reached out and touched a piece.

                “Ah, you have selected? Wonderful! What shall it be? Strength or weakness? Forward or back? I cannot wait to see.” The Fae said cheerfully.

                Walter was about to move his piece forward when he paused. Something dawned on him. Why was the Fae so insistent that he only had two choices? The Fae’s words had put that idea in his head, but was it really correct? No. No, there was a third option. He could move his piece laterally. That would keep its power the same, but change the nature of that power. But what would that do?

                Walter looked at his opponent. He knew there was a trick somewhere in this move. But what was it? Was it forward? Backward? Or the one left unsaid? He took a deep breath and moved his piece.

                The Fae’s mouth twitched. The smile faded for a brief moment at the sight of Walter’s move.

                “A side move.” The Fae said. “How bold of you.”

                The board spaces began to shift and change. And suddenly, none of Walter’s pieces were under threat. In fact, several of the Fae’s pieces were now being targeted by his. It was not a complete shift, and Walter knew he was still in danger, but at least he had a turn or two to think.

                “Yes, I do try and be a bit unusual from time to time.” Walter said.

                “Let us find out if that was the right play, friend.”

                Walter nodded. He had bought himself some time. Now he just needed to make the most of it.

Word: Plangent

plangent  

British  

/ ˈplændʒənt /

adjective

1. having a loud deep sound

2. resonant and mournful in sound

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

                Looking around the small town, Henry marveled at how quiet it was. He was used to the big city, so a place like this was a novel experience. Oh, the usual sounds were there, of course. Cars still drove, people still talked with each other. But they were so much smaller here. There were pauses between the cars, and conversations could be overheard.

                And everyone seemed so nice here. Everyone seemed to get along wonderfully. They even treated him with kindness, even though he was not a local. At least, that’s what it appeared to be on the surface. Henry was left wondering if they actually felt that way, or if it was all surface level. He could not imagine any town, even one as small as this, without a few jerks and unpleasant people around.

                Well, even if everyone was faking, he could not do anything about it. The people here had their way of doing things, just as those in the city did. Besides, the veneer of friendly civility was nothing new to him.

                As he continued to meander through the streets, a sound rang out. It was deep and resonant, like a large bell. Everyone on the streets froze. Even the cars stopped moving. Another peel of the unseen bell rang out. People started moving again, but not at the sedate pace they had been. Now, they were all suddenly in a rush to get somewhere.

                As a third ring echoed through the air, Henry managed to get the attention of a young woman who was not too happy about being stopped.

                “What’s going on? Why’s everyone acting so weird?”

                “Weird? That doesn’t matter. Can’t you hear the bell? Hurry, we need to get inside!” She said.

                “What? Why?”

                “Why? Are you an idiot? Come on, we need to get inside before the fifth ring. If you still want to pretend you don’t know what’s going on, we can talk then.”

                As a fourth bell peal echoed out, the woman’s eyes went wide. Anyone still on the street started running. Henry shrugged and followed. He got inside a small convenience store. Everyone else was huddled away from a window as the door shut. A man that Henry assumed was the owner locked the door.

                Henry looked and saw the woman he had spoken to before and approached. “So, you want to tell me what’s going on now?”

                “Not really. You shouldn’t need to be told. Everyone knows what the bells are.”

                “I know what a bell is, but they usually don’t cause everyone to act like…whatever this is.”

                The woman looked at him quizzically. “What? Do the Seekers have a different method of operation where you’re from?”

                “The Seekers?”

                “Yeah, you know. The Seekers.”

                “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

                That got people’s attention. Everyone within earshot turned to look at him. Henry shuffled around, suddenly very nervous.

                “I guess they must call them something else in other towns?” The woman asked. Everyone seemed to agree with that. “The ones who come with the bells, you know. Go around, looking for something.”

                “Or someone.” An older man chimed in.

                “Right. If they catch you outside, they’ll take you away, and all that’ll be left is a dried-up husk a few days later. You know. Those guys.”

                “That doesn’t sound remotely right. I mean, that’s the kind of thing that gets made into a bad horror movie.”

                The unseen bell rang out for a fifth time. Everyone in the store shrank away from the windows, huddling together. They all watched the windows closely for something. Henry did the same, not sure what was going on.

                As he watched, something moved passed the windows. They were humanoid, but definitely not human. Their legs and arms were too long and bent at odd angles, like they had too many knees and elbows. Each arm ended with a bulbus mass that vaguely resembled a hand, with four stubby fingers. Their heads were tall and oddly cylindrical, with a ring of beady eyes, letting the Seekers see in all directions. They did not have a mouth, instead having a round hole where a mouth should be. Each Seeker had a different body shape, but all were too short for their limbs. Some were thin, others were shaped like an overfilled balloon, while had distended and engorged bellies.

                “What…the…hell?” Henry said quietly.

                “Yeah, they’re freaky, aren’t they?” The woman said. “How do you avoid them in your town?”

                “I…what? I’ve never seen those in my life. Never even heard of them.”

                “What?”
                “These…things don’t appear anywhere else in the world.”

                That really got other people’s attention. They even turned away from the monsters outside.

                “They don’t?” The woman asked.

                “No way. I think someone would’ve noticed if they did.”

                The crowd looked from Henry to each other. “We’ll call a meeting to talk about this.” The older man from before said. “They’re going to want to hear what this man has to say.”

                Henry swallowed a lump in his throat. He suddenly had a very bad feeling about his situation.