Word: Circadian

circadian

[ sur-key-dee-uhn, -kad-ee-, sur-kuh-dee-uhn ]

adjective

noting or pertaining to rhythmic biological cycles recurring at approximately 24-hour intervals.

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             Chris lay in bed, wide awake. He had no idea why. It was dark, his girlfriend was fast asleep, and he could hear crickets outside the window. Everything told him he should be sleeping. He rolled over to see the dim glow of his clock. 1:34 am. Just another reminder that he should be asleep. But for some reason, he could not do it. He closed his eyes, tried counting sheep, and just lay there.

               It had been happening to him a lot recently. His body’s daily rhythms were all out of sync with the rest of the world, and they never held to any pattern. One day he could be functioning normally, and the next his body swore it was midnight at eight in the morning. Right now, his body was convinced it was the middle of the day, even though everything else said otherwise.

               He slowly crawled out of bed, careful not to wake the sleeping woman next to him. She was as frustrated with his body’s uncooperative nature as he was, so the less he could disturb her the better. He crept through their apartment, doing his best not to make any noise in the pitch-black space. All the while, he thought about why this could be happening.

               It had been a recent development, he knew that. It had only started a week ago. What had changed at that time? The only thing he could think of was that he had gotten sick and been put on a new medication. The doctor had told him there could be a few unexpected side effects, but Chris had assumed they would be things like headache or stomach pain. Not a complete rewiring of his body’s sense of time.

               He retrieved his phone and used it as a flashlight, making his way to the kitchen, where the suspect pills were stored. The pills themselves looked fairly normal, just small, circular pills. He shined the light on the bottle, but it had nothing about side effects. He had thrown that list away soon after getting the medication, as he did with all others.

               The next place to look was the internet. A quick search showed him the list of side effects. A complete disruption of a person’s sleep cycle was not listed among them. So, it was probably not the pills, unless the manufacturers were hiding a few side effects. He supposed that could be possible, but how would the clinical trials not see it? He set the bottle back in its place and headed back to bed.

               He would make sure to call the doctor about his problem in the morning. If it was due to an unknown side effect of the medication, he wanted to know. This was something that was altering his life. He needed to know the cause. And if his doctor was not able to help him, he would find someone who could. His social circle, sanity, and maybe even his life, depended on it.

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Not much to say today. Maybe the start of something bigger? Probably not, but maybe.

Word: Crapulous

 

crapulous

[ krap-yuh-luhs ]

adjective

1. given to or characterized by gross excess in drinking or eating.

2. suffering from or due to such excess.

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               Ben carried the tray through the brightly lit hall. He had been going over the events of the last few hours in his head, and still had not come to a satisfactory conclusion as to why he was here. Oh he knew where he was. He was in the Tower of Plenty, a place everyone dreamed of reaching. The outside was a hellscape of famine and loss, but in the Tower, there was everyone one could ever want.

               But only a select few could ever get into the Tower. Nobody knew why someone was chosen, but every so often a person was brought there. Ben did not know what he had done to deserve to get in, but here he was. When he had entered, the only thing he had been told was to eat and enjoy life. His tray was laden with more food than he had ever seen at once, and he was walking passed people who were eating heartily.

               He sat down next to a man who was busy eating. The man was an older fellow, maybe in his middle years, and had apparently spent a great many of the in the Tower. Ben glanced at his new table companion, who seemed oddly transfixed by his meal. There was something off about the man though. Something that Ben could not quite place.

               “Hey.” Ben said quietly. “I’m Ben, nice to meet you.”

               The large man huffed, paused just long enough to swallow, then resumed eating. Ben stomached the rudeness. Maybe just talking to people out of the blue like that was considered rude here? Well, he had no way of knowing, so he decided to continue.

               “It’s my first day here. Haven’t even touched anything yet, but man it all looks good. Got any advise for a newbie?” Still no answer. “Right, well, you’re clearly enjoying your meal, so I’ll let you get back to it.”

               Ben picked up a piece of bread and raised it to his mouth. Something bumped into him. The large man’s elbow had come out as he gnawed on a bone. The limb returned to the table, and Ben shrugged. He went to take a bit of his food, when the man’s elbow hit him again.

               Ben turned to look at the man sharply. “Hey, now, watch the elbow.”

               The man’s eyes swiveled to look at Ben for a brief moment. In that short time, Ben saw something. His eyes were red and swollen. Tear tracks ran down his hefty face, easily seen due to the amount of residue clinging to his mottled skin.

               Ben raised the bread to his mouth while watching his neighbor. As soon as he did, the man took notice and shoved his elbow out, interrupting the younger man’s meal. The older man’s eyes darted around the room. Ben looked and saw things he had not seen before. The many people in the Tower were eating like their lives depended on it. But there was something else. They looked afraid, or sad, or even in pain. Nobody looked happy to be there.

               His neighbor fiddled with his plate and fork for a moment as the food ran out. He moved the used dish aside and stood. His large body lumbered away, towards the head table where food was piled high. Ben looked at the leftovers. There was a message there.

               Dont eat. If you do youll never stop. Get out.

               A person across from him, a large woman, shoved a mostly empty plate towards him. Like before, there was a short message there.

               Too late for us olders. Get the youngers out. Please.

               Ben stood, leaving his plate untouched. He was hungry, of course, but there was something going on in the Tower. Something he needed to do before he could have his meal. He just had to figure out what that something was.

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

Remember, too much of a good thing is just as bad as not enough. Moderation is key in a great many things. 

Word: Maringouin

 

maringouin

[ mar-uhn-gwan; French ma-ran-gwan ]

---

noun, plural mar·in·gouins [mar-uhn-gwanz; French ma-ran-gwan]. Louisiana.

a mosquito, especially a large swamp mosquito.

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Pete’s boots squelched through the mud. He would have been glad that it was not deep enough to get in, but he was occupied by other annoyances. Namely, the constant, high pitched whining that filled the air.

“Damn these bugs!” He roared, swinging his arms wildly to drive off the countless mosquitoes.

“Oh stop complaining.” Dr. Bennett said. She looked completely unphased by the swarm. “You agreed to come here, even after I told you where we would be going. I told you there would be mosquitoes. I warned you about all of this.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it, doc.”

One of the offending insects landed on his hand, and was immediately met with the palm of his other hand. Dr. Bennett looked over at his sharply. She moved towards him as quickly as the mud allowed.

“What did you just do?”

“I’m not going to be stand being a meal for these things.” Pete said. She looked at the back of his hand, and the remained of the insect on it.

“You’re lucky this wasn’t what I’m looking for.” She said coldly. “Don’t swat anymore.”

“Oh, come on! They’ll eat me alive.”

“That’s what bug spray is for, Peter.”

The large man shouldered his gun, passing it over his shoulder to get at the supply pack. In it was a can of high-quality bug spray. He loathed that it was not the type that killed the damn things, merely drove them off for a little while. He still applied a good amount to every bit of exposed skin he had. His employer, meanwhile, simply went back to examining the mosquitoes.

“Why do you even need a bodyguard anyway? We haven’t seen anything bigger than a muskrat.”

“Just a precaution.” She said dismissively. “Now be quiet and let me work.”

He huffed and went back to waving off the blood suckers. She went back to looking for something. All he had been told was that they were looking for a new species of insect. He had not needed any further details, since the money had been decent. Not his highest paying job by any means, but certainly one of his easiest. Now he was regretting it. Especially since it seemed like all she was doing was looking at bugs in a swamp.

“Don’t move.” She said suddenly.

Pete remained as still as he could. His bodyguard instincts kicked in and he prepared his weapon. He looked around for any possible danger, but found none. Dr. Bennet slowly reached into her backpack and took out a small glass vial and a matching lid. She held them out and crept forward before extending the vial. She held it there for a moment, then snapped it shut. Her face lit up and she leet out a cheer.

“Got it!” She shouted happily. “I finally got it! I knew I would find one eventually.”

“What is it?” Pete asked.

She proudly held up the vial, which now contained a mosquito. As far as he could tell, the only difference between that one and those trying to eat him was that it was a little bigger.

“A brand-new species of mosquito. Newly discovered, and now confirmed.” She looked like she had just walked on the moon. “

“That’s it? We came all this way for that? We had to trek through miles of mud and bugs for a new, slightly different bug?”

“Discovering and cataloguing new species is important work, Peter. Now, take a close look at it and help me find a few more. One is not a sufficient sample, and we’ll need at least one male as well. Oh, I can’t wait to get this back to the lab and start studying them.”

The entomologist immediately went back to looking at mosquitoes. Pete groaned and bemoaned the lack of dry ground to sit on. This was shaping up to be the worst job he had ever taken.

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You know what one of the best parts about fall and winter are? No mosquitoes. Those little guys suck. (eh, eh, get it? Mosquitoes? Suck? Hahaha, funny joke.)