Word: Wynd

wynd

[ wahynd ]

---

noun Chiefly Scot.

a narrow street or alley.

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               Sam could hardly breathe, but he had to keep going. He ducked and darted through the maze of narrow alleys, streets, and passages. He clutched the leather bag like his life depended on it. Which was odd, because right now, it seemed like the bag was going to get him killed.

               He had no idea why though. He had just been walking through the nice European town when some guy crashed into him, shoving the bag into his arms. Now he was being chased by very large men with very large guns. They definitely wanted that bag. Sam was now only running because he suspected that to do otherwise would earn him a few new holes.

               He had ducked into the many narrow streets of the old town, which made it harder for them to shoot him. But it also made it harder for him to escape them, since there were so few places to really hide. So now he was running through streets only slightly wider than his shoulders, running from men who would kill him without a second glance.

               He risked a glance down at the bag. A low growl escaped his lips. All because of that damned thing! He was just an American tourist. This kind of things was not supposed to happen on his vacation. He considered throwing it away. Maybe they’d let him live once they realized he did not have it. He quickly thought better of that. Instead, he did something he probably should have done right away.

               He continued to run as he looked into the bag. Inside were three objects. All of them looked like cheap sci-fi toys. One was a headband covered in some kind of circuitry, with a large inactive light on the front. Next was the handle of something. Maybe some kind of weapon, but he could not tell, since it was just the handle. It did have a few buttons near the top, and the butt looked like it could be twisted, but other than that there was no indication of what it was. And last was a glove. A cloth glove with the same circuitry as the headband.

               He turned another corner and looked back into the bag. That could not be all there was. A hidden compartment. A secret message. Something that would tell him something useful. But no, there was just those three objects. He was about to get killed because of some toys. And not even very good ones.

               Out of frustration, he picked up the headband, and was about to smash it into the side of one of the buildings. If he was going to die, he might as well take his pursuer’s prizes away. When he did, he felt a slight tingle. A tiny pulse of energy flowing through it. What was that? An exposed wire? Maybe those circuits were for whatever batteries it ran on? For some reason, he felt a sudden urge to put it on. He had no idea why, but something told him to wear it. So, he did.

               He felt a small pinprick at the back of his head, and then a voice in his mind that was definitely not his thoughts.

               New user identified. Beginning calibration. Calibration complete. Identifying current status. User is highly distressed. Heart rate, respiration, and muscle activity are all abnormally high. Stress hormones are present in large amounts. Query: Is user in physical danger?

               “Uh…yes? Yes I am.” He gasped.

               Understood. Activating personal defense mode. Error. Combat modules have not been activated. Please activate combat modules.

               “Combat…what? These things?” He held up the handle and glove.

               Affirmative. Please activate combat modules.

               Not knowing what else to do, Sam slipped the glove on and held the handle. He pressed the buttons to no effect. Then he twisted the section on the butt. A dim glow formed at the top of it.

               Combat modules activated. Please select defense mode. Currently available modes: pistol, blade, shield, staff. Please select one of these.

               “Uh…pistol? That sounds good.”

               Understood.

               The handle reacted. A light shot out of it, stopping only a few inches away. The light bent and twisted, forming a holographic gun. The glove twitched, and his finger hovered over the trigger. It felt solid, like it was a real object. Then it jerked behind him, throwing off his balance and causing him to skid into a wall. One of the men chasing him came around the corner and stopped dead when he saw the supposed weapon pointed at him.

               The man shouted something in a language Sam could not even begin to identify. Then the glove made his hand pull the trigger. A beam of light shot out of the barrel, piercing the armed man. It packed so much power that it burrowed into the wall behind him, leaving a small but noticeable crater in the stonework. Sam blinked in shock as the man fell.

               Target one eliminated. Searching for next target.

Sam ignored the voice, and started at the deadly hologram. “Well, this could be useful.”

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Wooo! Sci-fi time! I don't do this genre nearly as much as I should. Well, provided people like this kind of stuff. Which I'm lead to believe some people do. So yay!

Word: Cavort

 

cavort

[ kuh-vawrt ]

 

verb (used without object)

1. to prance or caper about.

2. to behave in a high-spirited, festive manner; make merry.

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               This was a time of celebration and revelry. Humanity had rediscovered the airy folk, and had been working to establish a good relationship with them. They had finally succeeded. And now, both man and fae were gathered in glorious celebration.

               People danced without a care in the world. People sang songs of joy and merriment. Food plentiful and wine flowed like water. Children laughed and played meaningless games, dashing and cavorting without a care in the world. The fairies, guests of honor all, encouraged this. They seemed to love the dance, song and food as much as the humans did, and their lights filled the air.

               The children especially enjoyed their games. They would play with the fairies with glee, sometimes tripping and falling. But they always got up, ignoring the scrapes and bruises that formed on their hands and knees. They were children. Such things hardly mattered to them. A few seemed to have trouble running after a particularly bad fall, but they always got up to play. Even the few with legs that did not seem to work right anymore laughed and played just as energetically as the rest.

               Meanwhile, the dancers made lovely art with their bodies. They twisted and turned, flipped their partners and spun with joy. Their shoes, all red, barely made a sound on the dance floor. People and fae exchanged partners in the ever flowing dance, spinning and twirling with each other regardless of species. A few lost their footing every now and then, but that was fine. These were not professional dancers, so a few mistakes were expected. All it did was make the dance more enjoyable.

               The singers and musicians worked their trade to their hearts content. The music of the fair folk seemed to set the tone of the joyous song, and the humans were all too eager to keep up. Singers filled their air with their voices, beautiful and harmonious. They sometimes had to stop and get a drink of water, but they always returned. Those with instruments did not need to take breaks. They simply played. Their instruments, many as red as the dancer’s shoes, filled the air with a grand, cheerful melody that kept everyone happy. A few missed a note here or there, but such things were of no matter. Several of the fae even appreciated the occasional bit of discord.

               And the feast. Oh, what a grand feast it was. Meats, fruits, vegetables, bread, sweets. Everything was there in abundance. People laughed and ate a meal unlike any other humanity had ever known. Everything was a delight for the tongue. A work of art for all the senses. People could not help but go back and get more no matter how much they ate. Even when they thought they could have no more, the fairies always encouraged them to get another serving, and the humans were all too happy to oblige. And it never seemed to run out, so there was always more to be had.

               The sights, the sounds, the smells. All of it working together to bring forth a grand celebration of man and fae the world had never known. All were joyous. All were happy. All enjoyed themselves without end.

               For this was a time for celebration.

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Remember, if you ever find yourself running into a fairy, hope it's the modern kind. Those will generally be polite and friendly as long as you do the same. But if it's the old kind? Well, you'd better hope it's in a good mood. Old school fairies will wreck you. 

Word: Atoll

 

atoll

[ at-awl, -ol, -ohl, uh-tawl, uh-tol, uh-tohl ]

noun

a ring-shaped coral reef or a string of closely spaced small coral islands, enclosing or nearly enclosing a shallow lagoon.

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               Jack stirred. The sun was warm on his skin, and the ocean air was fresh. Warm, fine sand cushioned him gently as he started to wake up. As the seconds passed and his mind started working, his eyes darted open and he sat bolt upright. He looked around, seeing he was on a sandy beach.

               The ocean lapped at the sand in one direction. From the other, he could barely make out a small rise in the land, although he could not tell how far away it was. It looked like the land was fairly level, but started to slope downwards a few hundred feet away.

               He rushed inland and stopped, taking in his current environment. He was not on an island. The land surrounded a large pool of crystal-clear water. An atoll then. Jack looked around, seeing the beach surrounded by ocean and surrounding the lagoon. He had no idea where he was, or how he had gotten there.

               He began jogging around the ring of land, searching for any hint of where he was. All he found was sand and some small grasses. His heart pounded in his chest, and his arms began to shake. There was no hint of anything. No boat, no plane, no signs. Not even footprints in the sand other than his. And as he made the loop, he discovered something else. He was alone. Completely alone on a relatively small ring of sand and water.

               His knees gave out from under him, and he lay in the warm sand. His mind raced, thinking of what had happened. Nothing had been out of the ordinary. He had gotten up, went to work, went home. He had not gotten any phone calls, nor were there any unusual emails. Absolutely nothing to indicate how he had gotten where he was.

               He curled up and shook, suddenly feeling cold despite the warm sun. He barely kept panicked tears from coming. He lost track of time as his mind raced, running through everything that was probably going to happen. He would starve to death, or he would get sun stroke, or any number of other ways he could die. All that was certain was that he would be dying alone in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by ocean.

               At some point, something inside of his mind clicked. He clenched his fists and looked at his surroundings. He was going to die, that was certain. But how was that different from any other time? Even at home, a random drunk driver could end his life in an instant. He could not let that control him. For now, he needed to figure out what to do to survive as long as possible. If the lagoon held fresh water, he was set there. Food was next. He could go into the calm water and see if there were fish. Even some seaweeds were edible, so that was possible. Shelter would be harder. The first big storm that came through and he was done. There were no trees around, so maybe digging one out of the sand?

               He went through the many, many things he needed to do. Once he had a solid list, he stood. It was time to get to work. He would find a way to either escape the atoll or find a way to signal help. But for those to happen, he had to survive first. He took a breath of the salty air and got to work.

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If you do a search for atoll, you come up with some really nice pictures.  Really pretty environments. That has nothing to do with the story, but it's nice to know.