Word of the Day Writings-Week of October 28th, 2016

My first batch from late October.

Passel of Power

Magic Word: Passel

I’ve lost everything. My wife left me, my kingdom gone, my fortunes vanished like smoke…

The Passel of Power could solve it all… maybe give more? It’s buried in the jungles, but why did the original owners leave it there? What a waste, it’s mine now!

After years of research and hearsay, I was able to find the ruins where the Passel lay. The lush greenery and the intricate curvature of the murals invited me to find the secret of this lost culture. I descended down the steps, which grew darker with every step. When pitch black had fallen on me, I lit my torch, revealing murals depicting angry spirits leaving the humans. “It’s not like we needed gods anyway, we’re still here, perfectly fine!” I wandered from room to room, careful to avoid destroying anything, as it could be the Passel. Eventually, I arrived at a second staircase, and the air grew colder. I hesitated, as it was only recently warm until the top of the stairs. I thought about my wife, and my heart became a little colder as I braved the stairs. The bottom led into a small room with murals similar to the one I encountered before. At the opposite end of the room was an ornate chest made from the same grey stone as the walls of the building, overlaid with beautiful gold and emeralds. I immediately grabbed the heavy lid and heaved it aside, only to stare into emptiness, a sheer void of black. Then everything became colder, as I stared in confusion, only to be brought back to reality by the sound of a thud at my feet. I looked down, and I saw myself crumpled on the floor of the ruins. The reality soon blanketed me; I was dead, but a peace overcame me when I realized that none of my goals that led me here mattered.

Sass and Bourbon

Magic Word: Sassy (or variations)

The murder of John Foster was going nowhere... we knew that the culprit was a drunk, but that could be anyone in town.  A match box near the scene led us to the Drowned Judgement saloon south of town. Amidst the swarms of drunks and pool players, I was greeted by a buxom brunette on the other side of the bar. I asked her about anyone who might know John Foster, but her sassiness clearly told me she was hiding something. I knew I had a job to do, but I like a girl with a bit of bite to her. She offered me another round of bourbon as her eyes glistened underneath the locks of hair flowing down her face. I asked her about her life, if she knew anything about Foster. She told me that for a short time, they dated and she kept pictures and his letters in her apartment. Later that night, I followed her there to confirm her story. I entered the mildly dilapidated living room, and she reached around my neck and as I felt the warmth of a lustful embrace blanket me, I noticed the other arm reaching for her waist. I mustered my best judgment and shoved her off. She quickly recovered, but a quick jab knocked her unconscious. I called for backup, and she was taken into custody. Maryanne Black loved to seduce her men before killing them.  I don’t understand women sometimes… but we did learn that her last lover was John Foster. I suppose sometimes you have to double-check your luck.

Prairie Dog Purgatory (R-Rated)

Magic Word: Tarnal

I'd like to explain this one, since it's a little weird.. I enjoy a good angry rant that comes off as comical, so I attempted to do one myself. This is the tale of a man who's tired of a certain mammal who ruin his life one hole at a time...

Those tarnal prairie dogs are the bane of my existence! The filthy varmints ruin my lawn and burrow back to hell where they should stay! They don’t do anything but spread their filth and breed to make more “I GUESS ONE GOOD TURN DESERVES ANOTHER, YOU SLEEK FURRED PIECE OF S**T! Get off my yard!” They keep looking at me with those beady, black, mocking eyes which dare me to drop a grenade into their digging hole… Maybe flying 20 feet in the air will give them something fresh to do instead of TEARING MY YARD A NEW HOLE.

Rain and Raiment

Magic Word: Raiment

The rain didn’t stop that day. King John I had summoned us to arms for war against France that morning, and I hung my raiment to dry, pondering if I may wear it again before I die. I shook the thought, as I’m a Knight of God and the King, and I have no need for worldly possession. Was I living the way I want? Why were these thoughts occurring now? I wouldn’t have a head to consider this if the King learned of these thoughts. I wanted to take my frustrations out through sword practice… one missed session could mean life or death with the life I’ve chosen. However, using your sword in the rain will cause it to rust and break. The smell of tender cooked veal filled the cabin, and I ate vigorously. I ate and prepared for my nightly rest, as my God and King needed me as much as I needed them.