She'd been coming to this beach town for years. Everything was as familiar as home. Everything was as monotonous as home: the wind-and-sand-worn pastel houses scrubbed to bare wood around the edges, the nautical theming of every cottage garden, the sour smell of sea on the air. Every summer for two weeks, Imelda would take her deck chair, carry it ( Read more... )

I'm trying to get back into this word-a-day habit. I'm rusty. I can feel it, and I feel like the following exercise shows it. But it's a start.The smell of Dry Erase markers permeated the air, pungent and vaguely fruity. Mrs. Horvath always used berry-scented markers on the whiteboard in the front of the room. Between the white background and the ( Read more... )

This account is still active, despite appearances to the contrary. It WILL be completely revived this year.

Given the announcements about account purgings here on Live Journal, I wanted to make a post to ensure this account stays active. I have an ambition that I'll come back to writing a word a day. Perhaps I ought to get to that this week.

Notes
Personal stuff and indulgence of the resulting blues has kept me from posting my words. It's time to get back into the swing. It's been too long. I have 15 minutes before it's tomorrow and must get cracking.

Word: LinctusMeltitia stirred the linctus in the pot above the fire, its sweet, thick, berry fumes filling the room. The scent wafted ( Read more... )

The night of my mother's death, I polished the dining room table, a mahogany oval split down the middle to accommodate expansion leaves. I don't know how long I polished the wood. All I know is that by the time I stopped--mainly because I was tired, my hand cramped up, and the rag was in tatters--the wood seemed like glass, and the light shining ( Read more... )

...will come this evening. Late night last night, not a lot of sleep. Can't write, I have teh sleepies.

"Poor baby. You work so hard. I don't know how you do it," Lila said, and slammed the door behind her as she left the house. Through the window next to the door, Barnard watched her--blond ponytail bouncing behind her large, pudgy, jean-and-tee-shirt clad form--stalk down the path to her antique Volkswagon Beetle, get in and tear away, leaving ( Read more... )

The century's longest winter kept us indoors day by day. Margot stalked the house wrapped in her thick, lilac cardigan, her arms folded tightly across her chest, her slowly silvering hair pulled back into a severe and sloppy ponytail. Her path was identical, predictable each day: bedroom to bathroom, bathroom to kitchen, kitchen to living room to ( Read more... )

Since this all started with jaylake's community, and since I contributed to that community every now and then, I'm adding here links to all of those contributions in the interests of completeness.

• Uxorial
  
• Empyrean
  
• Damascene
  
• Interlining (This is now officially the ironymaiden Memorial entry, in honor of her gifts as a quilter.)
  
• Obloquy
  
• Entelechy
  
• Seismic (This ( Read more... )