Category: The Word

Categories
The Word

Philobiblist

[ phil-​o-​bib-​list ]

Noun

  1. A lover of books

Let’s Write…

** Either a story beginning, a story ending, a piece of flash fiction, a poem—inspired by the word, philobiblist, where does it take me? Where does it take you?

Amar walked through the massive doors for what must have been the hundredth time that summer. They were twenty feet tall, wooden, with gold inlays set in intricate patterns throughout. Amar made a mental note to arrive earlier tomorrow to see how they opened them.

 The place was crowded as always with local admirers, scholars, and foreign tourists, yet it was also serenely quiet. It was a library, after all.

 Amar walked by a small group of tourists huddled together by the entrance and overheard their guide, speaking in a low whisper. 

 “Welcome to the New Library at Alexandria…

… Although we are in Cairo, the name is a homage to that fabled library. Just as the world has nicknamed this library’s founder Alexander The Great.”

 Amar kept walking—he knew the stories already. A really wealthy man here in Egypt began collecting books twenty years ago, and then built this place to house them. They said he lived in the library somewhere, but Amar hadn’t found out where. 

 Amar followed the signs for “Fantasy,” which led him down several hallways and through other vast rooms all lined with books floor to ceiling. Amar was so immersed in wonder that he walked right into someone.

 “Oh, I’m sorry,” Amar said, looking up to the man. 

 “Not a problem, my boy,” said the man. 

 Amar couldn’t believe it. “Your him—Alexander The Great. The one who built this place.”

 The man smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “Where are you heading, son?” 

 “The Fantasy Building.” 

 “Ah, yes. Very nice.” He looked over Amar’s shoulder, and Amar followed his eyes to the sign that pointed the way. “Well, I don’t know which way it is, but I’m sure you’ll find it.”

 With that, Alexander The Great walked away, leaving Amar standing there stunned.

Notes/Thoughts/Ideas

 I wonder if the ending hit like I wanted it to? Was it clear that the man, Alexander The Great, couldn’t actually read? If not… that’s what I was going for! Lol.

 Don’t judge a book by its cover. Right? I thought that would be the perfect thread to weave into a story inspired by today’s word–philobiblist.

 A man who has gained great wealth in his life yet holds this secret that he can’t read. He’s ashamed of the lack in his education. Instead of learning to read, he simply collects books to lend to the appearance that he’s someone who reads.

 He takes it to the extreme by building this massive library, making him a legend in the literary community and the world. 

 The lengths we may go to hide our faults is a great theme to explore here. Also, a theme about idolizing “false gods.” Putting too much attention to trying to be like other people, instead of being ourselves. Lots of cool ideas to explore here! 

What do you think of Philobilist?

 Would you visit this library? No need to answer—who wouldn’t? 

Leave your thoughts, your own story beginning/ending, flash-fiction, or whatever in the comments! Where did philobiblist or my story take you?

If you liked this story, you may enjoy my short story, Nature. There’s a lot of cool details of ancient locations in it.

Today’s word is from Oxford English Dictionary.

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Categories
The Word

Obstinate

[ AHB-stuh-nut ]

Adjective

  1. Perversely adhering to an opinion, purpose, or course in spite of reason, arguments, or persuasion.
  2. Not easily subdued, remedied, or removed.

Let’s Write…

** Either a story beginning, a story ending, a piece of flash fiction, a poem–inspired by the word, obstinate, where does it take me? Where does it take you?

“Where the hell are you taking us?” Bran said, looking through his human’s eyes to where he wanted to take him, and then towards the mayhem where they were actually going. 

 “I know you said we should turn back,” said Hart, “that we should run—but it doesn’t feel right.”

 Hart looked around his controls and pulled on a large blue lever, making their human push harder and run faster. Warning signals flashed with red lights around Hart—their human was fatigued. Hart ignored them.

 “Are you getting the same readings I’m getting up here?” Bran said. “He’s exhausted. I’m not sure how long he can keep up this pace.”

 “He’s got a little more left in him,” Hart said. “Focus on his breathing, Bran.”

 “Hart, I don’t understand,” Bran said…

… “Why are you doing this? We always go where I say. It’s how all the other bodies do it too.” Bran flicked a switch of his own, putting the human’s focus on his breathing none the less. Hart was giving him little choice.

 Hart spun around in his chair and cranked the heart-rate dial up two more notches. “I know, Bran, and I’m sorry, but there’s this feeling…” Hart turned to the mysterious orb that hung in his control room. The orb released an odd energy and filled Hart with a sensation that was urging him to take their human into the danger—against Bran’s insistence. 

 “A feeling?” Bran said. “Hart, you can’t even see! You can’t hear the terrible sounds, you can’t smell the burning in the air!”

 “I know, Bran,” Hart said, “but for some reason, we were designed so that I have the action controls. You see the world, and I followed where you thought we should go.” Hart looked to the strange orb he never understood before. “Now, I understand what my role is. You can gather all the information, Bran, and we’ll need that. But it’s my job to choose. You can complain, or you can help make this work.”

 Silence filled Hart’s control room for a heartbeat, and then Bran’s voice sounded, “Ok, turn right thirty degrees.”

Notes/Thoughts/Ideas

 What if our bodies were controlled by other beings in our brains and in our hearts? I thought it was a fun idea to run with. 

 For a story, a bigger story, I imagined this world where all the brains (Brans) are in control of the hearts (Harts). Yet, the hearts have the actual “controls” to take the human bodies where they want. Then, there’s this one body where the heart goes against the brain’s direction.

 That’s where this flash fiction came in—at that moment. The mysterious orb that Hart sees is intuition. We feel what’s right despite all our logic telling us to go the other way. 

 Basically, this was just a fun way to think about the differences between our heads and our hearts. I hope you enjoyed it!

What do you think of Obstinate?

 Lead with the head, or with the heart? 

Leave your thoughts, your own story beginning/ending, flash-fiction, or whatever in the comments! Where did obstinate or my story take you?

If you liked this idea, you may enjoy a similar idea with my short story, The Missing Sheriff.

Today’s word is from Merriam-Webster.

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Categories
The Word

Taradiddle

[ tar-uh-did-l ]

Noun

  1. A small lie.
  2. Fib.

Let’s Write…

** Either a story beginning, a story ending, a piece of flash fiction, a poem–inspired by the word, taradiddle, where does it take me? Where does it take you?

The village was in an uproar! Bells rang in alarm, and people filled the streets, speaking angrily to one another, not trying to whisper. 

 “Have you heard?” one uttered. 

 “It can’t be true!” another responded. 

 “Oh, God, I hope not,” said the first.

 Then, there he was. The one they’d been speaking about, the causer of the uproar. Flanked by two police officers, a young man walked down the cobblestone street through the center of the village. The angry, hurt voices went silent as they watched.

 The boy was barely sixteen, and he looked to all the faces staring as if hoping for a lifeline. No words of protest came, no declarations of, “let the boy go!”

 Soon, the entire town was in the simple, wooden courthouse. 

 “Thomas,” the Judge spoke from atop his perch. “You have been brought here to answer the charges of a most heinous crime. Do you have anything to say before we begin?”

 The boy looked up, but before he could speak, the attorney sitting at the opposing table interjected. 

 “Your honor,” he said. “Might we simply hear from the witness first? Rather than allow more tomfoolery from this boy?”

 The Judge seemed to deliberate and then nodded. An old woman took a seat beside the Judge’s bench, and the Judge instructed her to tell her story.

 “Well, it was like this,” she began. “Thomas told me–in fact, I have it in a letter–that he was going to bring me a blueberry pie today. Just to be nice.” 

 “Then, what happened?” The Judge asked. 

 “He brought it over, but when I cut into the pie, it wasn’t pie! It was… a cake!” 

 The courthouse erupted into shouts of rage and cries of pain. 

 “I’ve heard enough,” the Judge said, banging his gavel. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?” 

 Thomas looked around worried, and confused. “I just thought it would be funny–a laugh.”

 A woman fainted in the back of the courthouse at his words.

 “Take him away,” the Judge said. “Let us hope he learns that some lies are simply sinful!”

Notes/Thoughts/Ideas

 Ok, two things. First, I was tired this morning, and I thought something more comedic would wake me up a bit. Second, I love pie. Cake is, eh. Pie is great. Any questions? Lol. 

 So, this is not a story that’s meant for anything more than what it is right here. But, as always, I’m sure we can make it into something. A satiric TV show where this boy Thomas keeps getting into trouble by ridiculous means.

 It could be funny… maybe? 

What do you think of Taradiddle?

 Cake or pie? Crucial question. Answer correctly : )

Leave your thoughts, your own story beginning/ending, flash-fiction, or whatever in the comments! Where did taradiddle or my story take you?

If you liked this, check out the comedy short story The Three-Legged Knight.

Today’s word is from Dictionary.com.

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Categories
The Word

Perforce

[ per-fawrs, -fohrs ]

Adverb

  1. Out of necessity.

Let’s Write…

** Either a story beginning, a story ending, a piece of flash fiction, a poem–inspired by the word, perforce, where does it take me? Where does it take you?

Nick looked over to the new kid. There was something off about him. Why does he look so…? Nick tried to find the words, but couldn’t place what was so off. He turned away and went back to work.

 Nick, along with another worker, Frell, heaved a sizeable wooden beam upon their shoulders. Then, they carried it across the lumber yard. One foot in front of the other–Nick repeated in his head. Even after years, Nick still found it helpful to think that way. 

 They got to the next stage of the building process and dropped their beam upon a large machine. It would take the rough edges and make them smooth, and splitting the wood into two boards for building. Back to the stack of beams to do it all over again.

 Nick caught sight of the new kid again, and he figured what was wrong with him now. It was his mouth–curved upwards, and his eyes were wide and bright instead of dark and down. It gave him chills. 

At their lunch break, Nick approached him…

…The answers he got, though, didn’t make him feel any better.  

 “Wait, so you want to be here?” Nick said.

 “I do,” said the new guy.

 Nick didn’t know what else to say. It wasn’t right, it didn’t fit. They were all assigned their jobs and worked because they had to–because it was what the country needed. 

 The new guy shrugged his shoulders, stood up, and went back to work. Nick didn’t know how long he’d been standing there, and he didn’t realize he was shaking. It wasn’t anger for this kid, but some other emotion.

 Something wasn’t right.

Notes/Thoughts/Ideas

 A society where we all get work assignments and do our jobs for “the greater good.” What I imagined here in this little story–not sure I quite executed on it today–was that Nick has this awakening. 

 The new guy is an anomaly. Nick sees someone who is doing what they want to do and how it makes that person feel. Naturally, he’s going to want that feeling. Or, dark twist, all the workers are going to want the new guy to share in their misery.

 So, it could be the start of a revolution; or, it could be a very dystopian and dark ending where they force the new guy into a job he doesn’t like. Now, everyone’s unhappily the same. Cringe-worthy! That’s not a story I’d like to read or write, though.

 I’m a happy ending kind of guy. My wife and I watched Little Women last night, and it begins with a quote from Louisa May Alcott that sums it up:

 “I’ve had lots of troubles, so I write jolly tales.”

What do you think of Perforce?

 Do you prefer jolly tales or dark, twisty endings?

Leave your thoughts, your own story beginning/ending, flash-fiction, or whatever in the comments! Where did perforce or my story take you?

If you liked this, check out a similar idea in Nature.

Today’s word is from Wordsmith.org.

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Enjoy a One-Minute Story, Learn a New Word, and Create With Me! Delivered to you every Tuesday and Thursday morning.

Categories
The Word

Alienist

[ eyl-yuh-nist, ey-lee-uh- ]

Noun

  1. Psychiatrist

Let’s Write…

** Either a story beginning, a story ending, a piece of flash fiction, a poem–inspired by the word, alienist, where does it take me? Where does it take you?

What does it matter to them what I think? What I see or believe? I’m not preaching anything or trying to teach anything. It’s just a little confusing sometimes which reality I’m pulling memories from. 

 I’m walking down a trail in a park, Central Park in New York City. My hand is holding Sarah’s, the sun is bright, and she’s happy. What’s not to be happy about on a day like this? 

 “I love you,” she says, prompted by nothing. 

 I smile down to her, “I love you too.” 

 What a great day that was! Only when I bring up the memory to Sarah, she reminds me that we’ve never been to New York. She’s worried. It’s her dream to go to New York.

I look around Sarah’s art space, now a spare bedroom.

 “Sarah,” I call to her. “What happened to all your paintings? Did you put them in storage?” 

 She looks at me with a scolding glance. “Why would you say that? There’s no need to be mean.”

 I’m stunned. Mean? I was just curious. Then, it hits me. Sarah hadn’t picked up her paintbrush since her mom died eight years ago. Wrong life. Different Sarah. 

 A dozen mistakes like that, and I now sit surrounded by four plain white walls. People don’t like hearing about their hidden potential, apparently. Oh, well. It could be worse. Where shall I go next?

 I think I’ll go walk in Central Park again. Yes, that’s one of my favorite memories. 

Notes/Thoughts/Ideas

 There could be a really cool story here. Someone who’s able to see multiple dimensions, multiple lives of himself. Perhaps the ability extends to the lives of others as well. 

 What if the story started with this guy in a mental institution, and then we start going into all these past memories. Only towards the middle do we realize that all the memories are of different lives and worlds. That maybe he’s not crazy, but gifted. 

 The whole time we’re thinking we’re following memories that lead to his institutionalization, and in a way, it’s true. It just turns out that the reasons in “this reality” get revealed later. Like how Sarah hasn’t painted in eight years and so on. 

 We could throw in a threat or conflict of some kind where that gift of his becomes needed. Perhaps by knowing the potential lives of others, he can help solve a crime. 

 There’s an episode of Fringe like that. They use what they know about a man in one dimension to catch a killer in the other dimension. Love that show! There’s a cool twist in that episode, and I won’t spoil it : ) 

 As always… oh, the places we can go! 

What do you think of Alienist?

 Sound like a fun story to read? Is he crazy or gifted?

Leave your thoughts, your own story beginning/ending, flash-fiction, or whatever in the comments! Where did alienist or my story take you?

If you liked this, check out Ripples.

Today’s word is from Merriam-Webster.

Get THE WORD Every Day!

Enjoy a One-Minute Story, Learn a New Word, and Create With Me! Delivered to you every Tuesday and Thursday morning.