Word a Day Writing

Last year I bought a “Word A Day” desk calendar in a charity shop, and although I’m not doing them daily, I’m using them as prompts to freewrite a short passage.  These are the ones I’ve done this month.

Day 56: Agelast (noun). Someone who never laughs.

I used to laugh. I used to be the girl who giggled at everything. I used to smile and sing. But since that day I’ve been lost in the dark.

Day 57: Venditate (vb). To advertise, display ostentatiously.

He strutted into the room. Strut is really the only word for it. His chest was puffed out, his shoulders were back. If he’d been a peacock his tail would’ve been on display.

Day 58: Esurient (adj). Very hungry or greedy.

The food helped. When she ate she didn’t think, didn’t worry, didn’t hurt. Food was consistent and safe. Food was her haven, and so she ate.

Day 59: Kakopyge (noun).  Someone with ugly buttocks.

She was beauty from head to toe.  Shining waves of deep auburn hair, gleaming blue eyes, soft smooth silky skin.  Undulating curves.  Her one blemish, her one flaw… a completely misshapen and rippled ass.

Day 60: Roiled (adj).  Disturbed, stirred up.

The beach was empty.  Far below me the wet sand was undisturbed.  The wind roared at me, coming in from the sea and trying to buffet me away from the edge.  But I stood fast, eyes locked on the roiling waves.

Day 61: Salubrious (adj).  Health-giving; respectable, wholesome.

To the world she was a stereotypical “school ma’am”.  Sweet and innocent, but strong and wholesome.  Healthy, cute.  Outside of her home at least.  Behind closed doors…

Day 62: Wingding (noun).  A noisy party.

It happened around me.  My wedding reception continued – music and cake and wine and laughter and dancing – while I sat in the corner, huddled in the torn remains of my dress.

Day 63: Tumulus (noun).  Mound over ancient grave; barrow.

The people came and they made their home among the hills.  They bred and multiplied and spread like a fungus across the land.  Their homes began small and grew and grew until even sacred land was lost.

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About Colette Horsburgh

A 30-something creator/baker/writer/doodler/crafter living with several (but not enough) scatty animals.
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