Word: Wayfarer

wayfarer

\ WEY-fair-er \  , noun;

1. a traveler, especially on foot.

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The man walked through the park aimlessly, drawing attention from everyone near him.  His clothes were ragged and dirty, as was everything else about him.  His hair was unkempt, and he sported a bushy, formless beard.  He hefted a small backpack that looked like it was about to burst from having a few items too many in it.  Quite understandably, most people moved around him, wanting to avoid contact as much as possible.  It was probably the smell that did it more than anything, as he clearly hadn’t showered in quite some time.  Alex, on the other hand, saw some possibilities in the guy.

               Alex followed the man around the park, keeping a discreet distance and jotting various notes in the small notepad he always carried around.  At first, Alex was very eager to do so, thinking that someone that looked like that must do something interesting.  After awhile though, it became clear that he wasn’t going to get much of anything just by following the man.  The guy wasn’t doing much of anything.  He was simply walking around ad looking at things.  Occasionally he would pick some random, small object off the ground and look at that.  Some he just dropped again, but others he put into his backpack.  Other than that, there wasn’t much to go off of.  Alex sighed.  He would have to actually talk with the man if he wanted anything of substance.

               Alex hurried to approach the man, doing his best to stay downwind to avoid the smell.  Once he caught up a bit more, he called out, trying to get the man’s attention.  It took a few tries, but eventually, the man stopped and turned.  He looked at Alex with an almost unreadable expression.

               “Something I can do for you?”  He asked.

               “Uh yeah, I’m a student in a creative writing program.  One of our ongoing assignments is to pick out an interesting person and write a story based on him or her.  I think you’d be good.  If you don’t mind, I’d like to ask you a few things.” Alex said.  The man cocked his head a bit and remained silent for a few seconds.

               “Sure, why not?  I’m not too sure I’d make a good story, but what the hell.”

               Alex thanked the man profusely and led him to a nearby bench.  The man removed his pack and sat down, stretching out his legs.  Alex too the spot next to him and got ready to take notes.

               “So, first things first.  Basic info.  What’s your name and where do you come from?” Alex started.

               “Well, my name’s Fred Summers, and I’m from Chicago.  At least, that’s where I’ve been most of my life.”

               “That’s pretty far away.  How long did it take you to get here?” 

               “About a year and a half, I think.  It gets hard to keep track sometimes.”

                “I bet.  So what exactly are you doing?”

               “Walking.”

               “Walking?  That’s it?”

               “Pretty much.  I walk around, seeing the sights.  That’s pretty much it.”

               “I see.  Can I ask why?”

               “Because I can.”

               “Oh?”

               “Yeah.”  Frank closed his eyes and nodded his head.  Alex waited for him to elaborate, but it was quickly obvious that it wasn’t coming.

               “So what’s the reason behind that?  I mean, you must have one.”

               “Not really.  Well, I guess maybe a bit.  See, I used to work at a small time desk job.  Real dull work, but it paid the bills.  Mostly anyway.  One day after work I found that my legs got real stiff from sitting all day.  So I made up my mind to start walking.  I got a few things I’d need, and just started moving.  I’ve been walking around ever since.”

               “Ah.  So you’re like Forest Gump then?”  Alex asked jokingly.  Frank thought for a moment.

               “I guess I kind of am.  Except he was running, and I’m just walking.  I’m also not really going in a straight line, and I don’t think I’m gonna get a big crowd following me any time soon.”

               “If you’re not going in a straight line, then how do you choose where to go?”

               “I don’t.  I just kind of wander around in whatever direction I feel like at the time.  Sometimes I go the direction of the wind.  Other times I’ll follow an animal around.  Others I just pick a direction and go that way.”

               “You’re not aiming for landmarks or interesting sights or anything?”

               “Everything’s an interesting sight or a landmark.  It’s not just those big attractions like Mt. Rushmore or the Statue of Liberty or stuff like that.  I mean, I’ve seen a few of those big things, but that’s just because I happened to be there.  I learned a few weeks in that if you really look at things, just about everything is interesting.”

               “What do you mean?”

               “Well, have you ever really looked at people or things?  I bet not.  Let’s see.  Ah, you see those trees over there?”  He said, pointing to a small group of thin trees across the path.

               “Yeah?  They’re trees.  What about them?”

               “See, that’s what I mean.  You just see a group of small trees.  I see young life that’s struggling to exist.  I see all the things that have been done to them in the few years’ they’ve been where they are.  I can even see what will happen to them in the future.  Well, that last part’s just speculation, but even so.  When you really look at things, you can see so much more than what a thing is.  Ever person, plant, animal, and even object shows everything that’s ever happened to them.  It’s not easy to see, especially with people, but it’s there once you know how to see it.”

               “Huh.  So you know everything that’s ever happened to me then?”

               “It’s a bit more complicated than that.  But I can tell you’ve lead a good life.  You haven’t had many real troubles, and have grown up with people who care about you.  Even with all that, you’re determined to do what it takes to succeed.  I even see that you’ve gotten into a few scrapes in your childhood.  It’s all there, once you know how to look for it.”

               Alex blinked a few times.  Even though it hadn’t been much, Frank had gotten everything he said about Alex correct. 

               “So you’re more like Sherlock Holmes than Forest Gump I guess.”  He said.  Frank burst out laughing at that.

               “I wouldn’t go that far.  I just see things.  I don’t put them together.  I’m not going to go out solving any crimes any time soon, that’s for sure.  I do appreciate that one though.  I always liked those books growing up.”

               “I, uh, I see.  So, moving on, what’s in the backpack?”

               “Oh that.  Well, a month or so into my wanderings, I figured I should take something with me to show where I’ve been.  You know, for when I finally decide to stop.  So, I look around and take things that really represent the places I’ve been.  Not souvenirs or anything.  I mean things that really show what a place is like.  Things that have been around a place for awhile.  Things that have a lot done to them.  Things that have gathered the essence of a place.”

               “Is that where you learned to really look at things?”

               “No.  I picked up that skill before I started collecting things.  But it’s when I really started to refine the skill.  In fact, I started picking up these little things by looking at them.  I found every object is affected by the place where it is, some more so than others.  It’s not something just anybody can tell though.”

               “I see.  So what did you pick up around here?”

               “A piece of paper with numbers on it, a bottle cap that had been crushed flat, and an old penny.  I know it doesn’t sound like much to you, but to me, each of them tells a story about this city and the people in it.  That’s the kind of thing I look for.”

               “You’re right.  It sounds like junk to me, but I guess if it makes sense to you, that’s all that really matters, right?”

               “Of course.”  Frank said with a slight grin on his face.  He paused, looking out at the trees he had pointed out.  “So, anything else?”

               “Yeah.  Quite a bit, actually.”  Alex said.  His mind was reeling with things he could ask. So many that he knew it would probably take all day to do through them.  But Frank was a wanderer without a destination.  He had all the time in the world to answer them. 

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Sounds like the subject of a song or a move or something, doesn't it?  I'm sure someone like this could have a novel written about his travels, don't you think?  I mean, I know it's been done before, but what hasn't these days, right?  Well, it would be interesting, don't you think?  

Word: Sciamachy

 

sciamachy

\ sahy-AM-uh-kee \  , noun;

1. an act or instance of fighting a shadow or an imaginary enemy.

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            “Now, my good man, what’s your name?” 

Why’s he asking that?  Didn’t he already ask, like, five minutes ago?

               “Jason.  Jason Rade.” 

               What?  No.  That’s not my name.  My name is Ted.  Why’d I say that?  Wait a sec.  What was he asking before?  Something about the TV shows I watch, wasn’t it? 

               “And what do you do Jason?”  I’m a student.  Come on, say it. 

               “I’m a cop now, but I used to be in the Special Forces.”  What the?

               What in the world am I saying?  I’m just a college student.  I don’t even want to be a cop or whatever.  Does sound like something I saw on TV pretty recently though.

               “Sounds pretty dangerous.”

               Yes.  Yes it does.  That’s why I’m not…”

               “Yeah, well.  I can take it.”

               Wait, no I can’t.  At least I don’t think I can.  I mean, I’m pretty sure I have a low pain tolerance, right?  Or do I?  I mean, it’s not like I’ve ever tried to see how well I can take a punch.

               “Well, that’s good.  You know why?  ‘Cause I think there’s some terrorists that need to be taken down.”

               What?  Where?  Oh damn, oh damn oh damn, what do I do?  Oh god there they are.  I can see them.  They’re right in front of me.  Oh god, what do I do?  Wait, no they’re not.  I don’t think I see anyone like that.  But I swear they’re standing right in front of me.

               “Well? You’d better take ‘em out, right?”

               I can do that?  Well sure I can.  I mean, I’m a badass cop, right?  Hold on, no I’m not.  I’m a business major.  Or am I?  Well, no time like the present to find out.  Take that you…you…fiend! 

               Oh holy crap, I just hit a guy.  I did just hit a guy, right?  Of course I did.  I mean, it’s not like I hit empty space.  No, that’s ridiculous.  There’s no way I’m swinging at air.  I felt the hit.  Uh oh, I don’t think I knocked him out. 

               Ow!  That hurt!  Oh wait, no it didn’t.  Did it?  I felt it, I think.  But maybe I only think I did?  Urg, I’m getting confused.  Hm, better keep fighting, just to be on the safe side.  Hey, where’d that guy who was asking me questions go? 

               Oh there he is, talking to some other guy.  Why aren’t the terrorists going after any of them?  Meh, probably better not to ask.  I should take them out anyway.  Wait…why am I fighting again?  I don’t think there’s anyone standing in front of me.  But then, there also is?  OW!  He hit me again!  All right, that’s it!  Time to take care of business of real! 

               Oh crap, they got me!  They got me!  The bastards snuck up behind me.  Oh wait, no.  That’s the guy who pointed them out.  Where is he taking me now?  Is he on their side?  No, no can’t be.  The bad guys are staying where they are.  He must be leading me to safety.

               What’s he doing now?  I have no…idea…

               “Ok, what’s your name?”

               “Uh…Ted?”  Yeah, that sounds right. 

               “What’s your job?”

               “I’m a student here.”

               “Ok, you’re good to go.”

               “Ok?  Thanks?”

               Wait a sec… did I just think that I was a character from a TV show?  Wow.  That guy’s good.

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

Truth be told, this one is actually partially based on reality.  I was watching a hypnotism show and the hypnotist got one of the volunteers to think he was the protagonist of an action show.  He went and tried to interrogate a broom if I recall correctly.  It was fun to watch.  Of course, I've also once been on the receiving end of a different hypnotist.  I don't remember a lot of it, but remember not thinking much of anything while under though.  I guess it's something you just have to experience for yourself, huh?

              

Word: bestiary

 

bestiary

\ BES-chee-er-ee, BEES- \  , noun;

1. a collection of moralized fables, especially as written in the Middle Ages, about actual or mythical animals.

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               Martha looked from the screen to the controller.  She had been following her son’s instructions for well over an hour now and she still was having trouble getting the hang of it.  She didn’t know why, it just wasn’t sinking in for her.  She wasn’t technically illiterate.  She understood computers and smart phones just fine.  Better even than some of her coworkers.  But this was just over her head.

               “Ok, so what do I do again?”  She asked.  Charley, her son, groaned in exasperation.

               “I told you, mom, press the ‘start’ button.”

               “Oh, right.  That’s the little one here, right?”

               “Uh huh.”

               Martha pressed the button and watched the result on the screen.  A menu popped up, presenting her with information that she was only starting to understand, if one could call it that.

               “Ok, so what am I doing now?”

               “Go to your bestiary now.”

               “And that is…”  She asked.

               “There, over there on the bottom.”  Charley said, trying to point it out.

               “Oh, yes, I see it now.  Let’s see, I do this, then this, and there we go.”  She said while navigating the small, blinking cursor to the spot.  A list of names popped up.  “Oh, what’s this?”  She asked, looking over the list.

               Most of them she could recognize fairly easily.  Entries like ‘wolf’ and ‘snake’ were fairly self explanatory, but others were not.  Those such as ‘dire rat’ and ‘goblin’ were a bit harder for her to pick out.  Still, she could guess as what the names were.

               “This is your bestiary.  It’s a list of all the monsters and stuff you’ve fought.  It tells you about them.  You know, things like stats and strengths and weaknesses and stuff.  It’s so that you can fight better next time you encounter that kind of enemy.”

               “I see.  That’s a nice little feature.  So then I should be able to find the one that I just beat, right?”

               “Up.  Scroll down, and I’ll tell you when to stop.”

               Martha followed her son’s instructions until he told her to stop.  The cursor ended up on an entry titled ‘flying fish’.  It seemed like it was a good fit for the last enemy she had dealt with at the very least.  The enemy in question had indeed been a fish that didn’t seem to need water.  It had nearly destroyed her, even though it was still early in the game.  Martha called up the info on the enemy.

               “There, there you see!”  Charley shouted, pointing at the screen. 

               “There’s no need to shout, I’m sitting right here.  Now, what exactly am I looking for?”

               “The strengths and weaknesses.  I kept telling you to use lighting, since that’s what these things are weak against.  But you kept on using water, which is why you almost lost.”

               “I see.  But I thought that, since it’s a fish that was out of the water, I just needed to give it some.”  She said.  She was joking, really.  The first time she used a water spell, she had done it out of experimentation.  Every time after that she had used it just to mess with Charley a bit.  She was his mother after all, if she couldn’t annoy him like that, than what was the point?

                “That’s not how the game works.  You have to use things that’ll hurt them, or they won’t go away.”

               “Oh.  Too bad.  Well, I’m sure I’ll do better next time now that I know.  Although, I think it would be nice if that was an option.  You know, try making friends with the monsters instead of fighting them.”

               “Moomm.”  Charley said in frustration. 

               “Oh, I’m just kidding, you know that.  Now, let’s keep going.  How do I get out of this again?”  She asked, doing her best not to smile as her son rolled his eyes and explained it to her once again.

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I'm sure every mother out there knows exactly what it's like to have a child get annoyed with them.  And I'm almost positive they do it on purpose just to get that reaction.  Seriously.  It would explain so much of so many kids childhoods.