This entry is Mandatory.
Grading: Each entry will receive a) credit for blog entries and b) a ‘quiz’ grade based on the quality of word usage and the overall story development.
Length: 3+ paragraphs; 5+ sentences in each paragraph.
Words (from the May 4th list):
- abscond
- complaisant
- converge
- dirge
- indict
- insular
- prodigal
- recalcitrant
- truculence
- verbose
Images: Pick one of the ones that follows:
rabbits and cheshire cats 
This chain used to behold the great lock that secured the prison gates of Alcatraz. As you can see this chain is rusted and broken. An intelegent prisoner named Shane took the ardous task of being the first and only ever to escape. His complaisant–trying to please attitude made it possible for him to befriend one of the guards. He would converge–to meet with this guard about once a week. Shane explained to him how he misses the little things in life such as bubble gum and chapstick. The friendly guard said that he would have no problem sneaking some of these items into him in trade for his golden necklace. Shane knew that he had no use of the necklace due to his life sentence. He handed the guard his necklace and retreated back to his bunk.
During Shane’s weekly visit to the guard he would obtain cigarettes, playing cards, ect. This made his prison life more enjoyable. As time rolled by Shane’s natural recalcitrant–determined to resist authority instinct made his brilliant mind start to ponder the chances of escaping. He asked the guard if it would be possible for him to get a hammer and chisle. He said the task would be very difficult to get an item of that level of restriction into the prison. A few weeks later Shane and the guard planned to abscond– to secretly hide during the hour of their lunch. Shane took the gifts and hid them under his mattress. Shane’s insular–narrow minded mind became focused on his escape. The truculence–agressiveness spread throughout his body in the thought of being free from the false indict–to formally charge an accussed person of the judge. Shane was not a prodigal–recklass with money person, infact he saved every penny he earned. He planned on using this money to buy a cottage in the mountains of Alaska.
It was a dark cloudy night when the guard snuck Shane out of his cell. The went to the corner gate where the chain and lock sealing the gate had been rusted by the salt water surrounding Alcatraz. Within a few minutes Shane easily broke the rusted chain. He and the guard rushed to the boat that transports the guards back to shore. Once they were on the California’s beach the two friends said their good-byes, and Shane rushed into the trees feeling a great rush of freedom. He then caught the next train to Alaska. When he arrived he found the spitting image of a cottage that he had seen in his dreams while in prison. The verbose–wordy offered him a reasonable cost for the cottage, Shane then proceded to buy it in the full payment of cash. Once inside his new home he fell to the floor in dirge–mourn with music feeling the joy of freedom that he had not felt in the past 20 years.
As I waited to converge (meet) (v) with the guard who was going to give me the palace security password, I stared at some interesting ducks. I was right outside the castle that my team and I were going to rob that night. As the guard walked up to me I reminded myself not to be complaisant (overly polite) (adv) or the guard might not believe that I was the strictest police inspector around. The guard was unusually verbose (wordy) (adj), but it worked, he gave me the password, he fell for it. This was my part in a huge plan to steal some jewels from a rich English nobleman. We were a team of professional thieves that rich people hire to steal from museums, governments, or just other rich people. This nobleman is a very wealthy, older man, with blood relations to the royal family of England, and he lives in palace in England.
Apparently, he is quite prodigal (wasteful with money) (adj) and he lost to our client in a high stakes card game. Usually he would have paid his debt in the blink of an eye, but he is very insular (narrow minded) (adj), and our client just happened to be an Indian gentleman. Considering England’s history with India, the nobleman refused.
Due to this issue of race, the noble was very recalcitrant (stubborn) (adj) about his money. He wouldn’t pay up. When our client heard that the noble’s brother had died and left him some very valuable inherited jewels, it was too much of an opportunity to pass up. He immediately hired us to find a way into the palace during the funeral, steal the jewels during the funeral dirge (a lament with music) (n), and abscond (to depart secretly and hide) (v) with them to a predetermined hiding place where our client would pick them up. This way our client could get his money and deal a very personal blow to this bigot.
Unfortunately for him we charge so much. Needless to say we are specialists. We have each been committing big time heists for at least five years and none of us have been indicted(formally charged as an accused person)(v) yet. He probably wouldn’t have needed specialists like us except for the fact that this noble employs rough guards who behave very truculently (aggressively) (adv) towards thieves they catch. They usually don’t deal with them in a law-abiding manner, so most amateurs were afraid to take the job. However the hardest part, my part, was already completed. This was to trick a guard into thinking that I was a police inspector being paid as security head in order to get the palace security password. With this password we will easily be able to gain access to the palace in order to gain access to the palace for the heist.
A dirge(n)(a funeral song/tune) could be heard.
I was walking to the lake of water. It had been a few years before, when I had come here to this insular(adj)(relating to islands) land. It was surrounded by swamp and water except for one bridge, which allowed anyone to come into the town. This town had the strangest customs and practices: the dwellers had adopted many new holidays and mixed many pratices of many religions.
A few weeks before, I had joined a town meeting. I had always never gone, believing it was a waste of time. I was forced to go becausae it was an important meeting. The person that held dominant power over this town had always called these meetings. This leader had no name; his appearance made all others silent. He had embodied the spirit of truculence(n)(cruelty); he really had no other emotions in my opinion. His appearance had made everyone complaisant(adj)(compliant) to him; they all believed in what he did. No one dared revolt. That meeting that day had involved a middle-aged man and what his punishment should be. He apparently committed crimes against the leader. From word around, I had gathered that most criminals had done something against the leader and the leader was the one to indict(v)(to bring an accusation against). In the end, after a discussion took place, we all converged(v)(to tend to a common result) on how the convict should die: burned alive. None of the execution methods invented were painless. EVER.
I had done a mistake the weekend before. I had invited a friend over and we began dicussing about the meeting and the leader. I had suggested many radical ideas, such as overthrowing the cruel leader. The next morning, the crime fighters of the town broke into my house with the leader. The leader charged me with being recalcitrant(adj)(not ob edient) and then I ended up on the stage where the people decided my punishment. The sudden realization that my friend turned me in had left me speechless; I was shocked and anxious. Finally the moment had come: I was to drown.
My prodigal(adj)(lavish) life had made me feel secure and safe from the leader the entire time. Now, it was done. I was walking to the huge areas of water/ swamp surrounding the town with the boulder in my hands, no, CHAINED to my hands. A group of people had joined the walk. Finally right to the edge of the water, a priest began the prayers. I didn’t listen to any of it; it was verbose(adj)(wordy) and had no meaning to it. Finally that moment came; I received a light push, indicating me to go forward. I walked slowly towards the lake. I could not abscond(v)(to depart secretly) nor free myself from the chain. As the water got deeper and deeper, I finally was taken in by the immense weight of the boulder….
She always hated the view from her window. It offered a simple landscape view, something she saw everyday. The only time she held some appreciation for the view was when the ducks came back after the winter. She felt insular (adj; isolated) in this huge house in the countryside, but when those ducks came back home it allowed her thoughts to wander. If these birds could travel across the world because they didn’t like the weather, why couldn’t she escape this house without feeling the need to abscond (v; to depart secretly and hide) to gain freedom?
Her uncle was the prodigal (adj; reckless with money) son, so to prevent further damage, her father gave him a monthly allowance. This seemed rather strange to her, but when her father when on a business trip, she understood why her uncle was on such a short leash. He spent thousands on useless items, yet he couldn’t pay his rent. Her uncle, once a recalcitrant (adj; determined to resist authority) young man, now gradually accepted the power her father held over him as long as he received the money he could never earn. Her uncle was completely dependent upon her father. This was a fate she refused to accept.
Her father’s colleagues converged (v; to come together) at their house parties where she was forced to become a complaisant (adj; overly polite), quiet girl who nodded cheerily without voicing any opinion. These men talked excitedly about their recent triumphs in court where they indicted (v; to formally charge and accused person). However, they felt no truculence (n; ferocity) about the little things in their children’s lives. They had become men insatiable with real life. They only gained gratification though their work, and died a little every time they came home. She held massive pity for these men in suits that cost as much as some people’s cars. At their funerals, their families would dirge for them (v; to mourn with music) to an ornate orchestra in an incredibly expensive venue, yet they would have little to remember these men by. They would simply have the memories of the awkward dinners, always cut short by a business call. The verbose (adj; wordy) obituary would be read, and they would cry, but the elaborate service would not bring the time wasted or these men back. These men worked so hard and ignored their families for their families. They wanted the best for their families and didn’t know another way to provide it for them. She hoped these men would realize a simple day at the park with the traveled ducks would give their families more they could ever buy.
It had been twenty-five long years since I had seen the sky without the restrictions of bars and barbed wire. Twenty-five seemingly endless years of captivity, and now the chains had finally been broken. I had been released from prison after the worst years of my life have ended. The chains that had held me back were now gone, and I could do whatever I liked until I die. The chains had always seemed fake to me anyways, I had been indicted(v) on a false charge. I was completely innocent, but somehow, my peers had not deemed it that way, and now I was finally free.
It all happened twenty-six years ago and I remember it like it was yesterday. Sitting at home, I get a call, one simple phone call, and I am asked to converge(v) with Detective insert any name here. It does not matter who that person was, the story would still be the same. Not sure as to the purpose of our meeting, I go into it complaisant(adj), I don’t want to be rude to the police, heaven forbid. The Detective asks me a few simple questions about nothing at first, just chatter. Then, the real meat of the conversation begins when the Detective asks me about my neighbor. Neighbor insert any name here, once again, who it was and who it could have been don’t matter, was a very insular(adj) person. I had not known him well at all; in fact, I had barely talked to the man. I did know that he was recalcitrant(adj) and stubborn. He never obeyed the Home Owner’s Laws for our neighborhood. I did know that his dog displayed and extreme truculence(adj), which was displayed whenever I took my dog outside. I did know that I didn’t know my neighbor, and I told the Detective that. After a few more questions, the Detective told me that my neighbor hadn’t been seen for a while, and was assumed to be dead, murdered in fact. Responding casually, knowing I had nothing to worry about, I asked why the Detective could ever think that. For some reason, this question caused the Detective to furrow his eyebrows at me, and then he left me to go get a cup of coffee. After a few hours passed, I became increasingly confused. I had been polite and fully cooperative with the Detective, so why would they still need me here? My question was answered a few moments later when I found myself with cold iron at my hands and a voice reciting my rights into my ears.
At the trial, I was still confused. Apparently, my neighbor’s body had been found and the murder was confirmed. How it was, I will never know. I had managed to scrape some meager funds together to hire a lawyer, and was going into bankruptcy for the suit I had to buy. I wasn’t a prodigal(adj) person, but I was by no means exorbitantly wealthy. The prosecuting attorney gave a verbose(adj) address to the ‘ladies and gentlemen of the jury’, and soon after, I found myself at the witness stand. I was asked where I had been on a certain day and time, and answered to the best of my abilities. Then, my comment to the Detective was brought up, and was used to accuse me. With the room evolving ahead of my thoughts, I couldn’t keep up with the logic of the prosecuting attorney, nor could I even begin to understand how anyone could think that I had done such an awful act. Soon after, I found myself standing and I heard the verdict. Twenty-five years in prison. I could almost hear my mind playing a soft dirge(n) in my head and I could also make out the clinking of chains in the background. There was no way for my mind to abscond(v) the dreadful realization from my brain and the reality of the moment pushed itself into the forefront of my thoughts and I was rendered immobile. How did the happen to me? Why did it happen to me?
Those questions were to never be answered for me, but I put those thoughts out of my mind as I strode into freedom. The chains had cracked and broken, and now I was able to be free from their constricting metal. Maybe my life would turn for the better, maybe for the worse. I don’t know, but the one thing I do know now is that I am in control. I know that chains will never hold me back again.
It was a grey day in Winchester Castle. The sky was cloudy, but it wasn’t even raining. 2 insular (adj., narrow-minded; isolated) geese were floating peacefully in the lake near Winchester castle. They were not disturbed and it looked like they were thinking of nothing. Until one of them, named Craig, said to the other, named Larry, “Hey Larry do you ever wonder why we are here?”
Larry said, “Its one of life’s greatest mysteries. I mean why are we here. Is it because of coincidence or does god have a plan? It freaks me out.”
“Thats not what I ment. I mean why are we here in this lake next to this castle. We’ve been living our whole lives here.”
“Oh that too. I really don’t know. I’ve always to go see the castle and maybe part of London.”
“Yeah but the humans are scary. I heard they use a lot of truculence (n. aggressiveness; ferocity) to animals. I think we should stay here.”
“Come on,” responded Larry, “Lets go have fun.”
So the next day the 2 geese absconded (v. to depart secretly and hide) away from the lake to the castle. It was tourist day at the castle. The 2 geese walked around the courtyard. It was filled with people. Many people stared at them.
“Hey Larry, I’m scared,” said Craig.
“Don’t worry we will be fine,” responded Larry.
They walked around, and had a great time in the courtyard. They tried flying up to the walls, but the walls were too high. They tried getting inside the castle but then the gaurds shoowed them away. Later they got hungry, and so they converged (v. to come together) onto a person sitting on the bench. They were being complaisant (adj. overly polite, trying to please) the guy. It didn’t work, so they charged him. They took his food, and flew away. Gaurds were chasing them, and the geese ran for their lives. They hid in a bush, and were able to escape the gaurds for now.
“This is all your fault Larry,” said Craig, “I told you we should’ve stayed at the lake.”
“Oh come on,” said Larry, “That was fun. Now lets go explore the castle some more.”
So they were able to find a doorway leading into the halls of the castle. They explored the fine dining room, the artwork, and the furniture. They got up to the wall and they could see everything.
“Thats a nice view,” said Craig.
“I like it, see I told you this would be awesome,” said Larry.
They enjoyed the view until suddenly some gaurds snatched them. They tried to be recalcitrant (adj. stubborn; determined to resist authority) but they failed.
The gaurds didn’t want to be prodigal (adj. reckless with their money) for food costed a lot in London, and it was really hard to even find good food. So they took the geese into the castle, and used the castle’s kitchen. The 2 geese died and they were eaten. Before they got cooked, Craig thought about where he would go, and what would happen next. He even thought he heard somebody was dirging (v. to lament or mourn with music) him, but it turned out to be the radio that the gaurds had on. Craig and Larry went to GEESE HEAVEN. Before they entered the gates, Craig said, “Your being indicted (v. to formally charge an accused person) for my death.”
“You know what I really don’t care because we’re both dead anyway,” said Larry, “And you should stop being so verbose (adj. wordy). You talk too much and you worry too much. This was going to happen anyway. Now lets see whats behind this gate.” When they entered they saw this beautiful lake better than their old one. There were many more geese, and it seemed like a dream. It was heaven.
“This is way better than that castle,” said Craig.
“Lets go party!!!” said Larry.
My life has been a lot like that chain over there. It has been pulled and pushed in many directions. Sometimes I feel like I am going to break. But I know that I can always be put back together, sometimes I might be broken, but I can still be fixed. My ends won’t always converge (meet, verb) because things aren’t always perfect. Still I know that in the end, I mean when I die, I will just be replaced with a new shiny person. I can be replaced that easily. A lot of times I wonder if I will even make a difference. So I try every day to make an impact on someone’s life. I don’t try to be complaisant (overly polite, adj) just try to brighten their day a little. If I don’t who will remember me? I guess I could be remembered for the things I do wrong, for being recalcitrant (stubborn, adj) or for thinking poorly of others. I could be considered a prodigal (reckless, adj) being with no restraint. However I don’t want to be remembered like that. I want to be remembered for something that I do that will change the world. Or at least change it for one person. Slacking off is easy. Anyone can sit around doing nothing for the good of themselves or of others. However it is the people who try to make the world a better place who are well loved by those around them. I think the people who do nothing will have a dirge (lamented by music, noun) surrounded by people who won’t really pass on that person’s spirit. However the proactive people will have a celebration of life when they are gone. The people that attend will be happy to celebrate that person’s accomplishments. That is what I want. I think the best way to judge a person’s life however, is their friends. If someone’s friend thinks about the person and smiles, I think that that person has helped make the world a little better. The person didn’t have to exert truculence (aggressiveness, noun) to change the world, just be a good friend. I guess the chain is also like the people you surround yourself with. If you choose to surround yourself with insular (narrow minded, adj) people who aren’t the greatest influence, you are going to be in a rusty chain that is about to break. However if you choose positive people, you will be like a shiny new chain. I don’t mean to indict (formally charge an accused person, verb) those who may not be the most intent on changing the world around them, but I think it is important for everyone to try and help out a little. I guess this whole thing is just a verbose (wordy, adj) way to say, make a difference. I know some people probably want to abscond (to depart secretly and hide, verb) from this task, but if they would just take the challenge, they might find that it really makes their lives better.
Picture number 3
The young couple trying to abscond (to depart in a sudden and secret manner) from the terrible serial killer. They are imprison in the insular (of or pertaining to an island or islands) like land. John and Sally are the sufferers. They are not his first prey, but they are the first alive from him. The serial killer as like as Jack the Ripper, very truculence (fierce; cruel) and crazy, so polices and newspapers all called him “The Jack”. The bad memory in the childhood caused Jack go crazy and become a serial killer. His story in childhood is a very verbose (characterized by the use of many or too many words).
John and Sally went to South Sea Islands to enjoyed their honey moon. But sadly they become Jack’s prey, and Jack start hunted them. In the night, the wind blows through the window. The sound as like as singing the dirge (a funeral song or tune) and the prophet of theirs death. Suddenly a weird smell through to theirs nose. They become sleepy, and finally they fall onto the ground and fall into sleep. The smell of rotten corpse wakes John up. He looks around, notice that he is not in the inn. His mind still blurred. His hands and feet are all locked up by the rusty iron chain. Sally is right next to him, and she also got locked up too. John suddenly wake up, and trying to wake Sally up. The rusty iron chain is not very strong, John brake the iron chain and trying to help Sally. He wakes Sally up and trying to leave this terrible place. When they leave the room and go to the hallway. In the hallway they saw a skinny man about thirty with an axe and eating human’s corpse (yes, which was “The Jack”). He turns around with the bloody face, and a white bone with some blood on there. John and Sally start screaming and run away. Jack picking up his axe and tracing after them. They run to an intersection, John doesn’t think run together was a good idea, because when Jack catch them, they all will be dead. But if now they separate, only a people will dead. They promise each other that they will be save till they converge (to tend to meet in a point or line) again. They both go to the different directions of the hallway. Jack tracing behind Sally, she is very scare but she never give up, because she wants to stay alive and to meet John again.
Three hours had gone; John finally went out of the old factory. He saw a guy with a sport car talking on the cell phone, looks likes very rich. An apple with one bite is next to his foot, he also was a prodigal (wastefully or recklessly extravagant) person. John go forward and complaisant (inclined or disposed to please) to ask for borrow the phone. The guy looks at him for a moment, than pass him the phone. When John gets the phone, he calls 911 quickly. Soon the police had arrived to there. Jack had catches Sally, he suppress her on the ground. Sally had some recalcitrant (resisting authority or control) plans but it doesn’t work on Jack. Jack is stronger than Sally. Jack crabs his axe and ready to smash Sally’s head, a bullet shot across Jack’s arm. Jack drops his axe and lay on Sally’s body. The police had come and suppress on Jack and lock his hands. Police take Jack to the sanatorium and lock down. John and Sally do not want to indict (to bring a formal accusation against) Jack, because that will not get anything back. The things they want now were the happy and save life in the rest of their marriage.
Someone abscond (to depart in a sudden and secret manner verb) from the factory. We all know that, but no one want to indict (to bring a formal accusation against verb) it. Bryant is the boss of the factory and he is a prodigal (wastefully adjective) person. He gets the best thing for him, but never does something good for us. He is also a verbose (characterized by the use of many or too many words adjective) boss that tell us to do everything for his own good.
We just like the link in the factory; he over uses us and never cares about us. He acts like a complaisant (disposed to please adjective) person when there is guest here. We never have a chance to go out and we don’t even have our own name. We call each other number and the truculence (cruel adjective) thing is we never know who our family is. We are all insular (detached adjective) and helpless.
All of us are going to converge (incline toward each other verb) and start to sing the dirge (A funeral song noun). We can’t change anything about him, because he is a recalcitrant (hard to deal with adjective) person. So we need to changed, we want to be back like the old time that people can spend time with their family. We are human being not the tool. We want our life back and do thing that we have the right to do it.
Everything was dark as the rented car smoothly changed lanes on a deserted highway. She looked out the tinted window and that strange feeling crept into her stomach. It wasn’t nausea or even hunger but emptiness. The sort of emptiness that makes someone want to abscond (v; to depart secretly and hide) away from reality and just sit alone to think. She was not fond of the darkness. The only light came from old hotels they passed on the freeway and the awkwardly placed moos lights on the ceiling of the car. Everyone was asleep in and any noise had the ability to disturb them. She said nothing not because she was a complaisant (adj; overly polite, trying to please) person and didn’t want to wake them up but because she had nothing to say.
The thought of how there was nothing to say helped many of her feelings converge (v; to meet to come together) into one massive feeling of frustration. This frustration was a product of her inability to understand how the statement could have been made that she wasn’t talkative. Out of all the members of the rented car she was definitely one of the most verbose (adj; wordy) individuals, she never stopped talking. It seemed that she was being an insular (adj; narrow minded; isolated) young person, as they were called, by harping on this one comment, but she couldn’t stop her mind. Her thoughts kept going back to the person who spoke those words. This is the same person who refused to explain what was going on in their mind, what they were truly thinking. She wondered, if someone is bold enough to criticize others why can they not be bold enough to explain what they are feeling?
This question seemed irrelevant in the full scheme of life, but so did all issues she faced. She couldn’t understand why she was so bothered by this speaker’s statement. It wasn’t as if she was going to indict (v; to charge an accused person) them with a true crime because the comments weren’t even rude, just hard to understand. She had always understood people’s intentions through facial expressions and voice differentiations, but none of this was present. Either she had lost her ability to understand others or this person was too difficult to figure out. If the speaker had been continuously rude, a prodigal (adj; wasteful, reckless with money) person, or if they enjoyed hurting others or anything truly negative the situation would have been easily released from her mind. If there was a great reason why she should not like this person then she could have forgotten their comments and moved on. However it was as if by stating that she was not talking they had taken away her voice. She felt as if she should mourn and dirge (v; to lament or mourn with music) the loss of her longtime companion. Obviously this was an exaggeration of the situation and probably a complete misinterpretation of the person’s intention but her mind would not take this into account.
As the street lamps became brighter and the car came closer to the final destination she tried to release the truculence (n; aggressiveness; ferocity) of her mind concerning the events of the past few hours. Her mind was a recalcitrant( adj; stubborn; determined to resist authority) power that simply refused to stop analyzing the situation no matter how many times she tried to use her will to impede it. The movement stopped and the darkness of the car seized with the opening of a door. The recently awaken person next to her muttered, “how are you?”. She was hopeful that her lost voice would be found as she whispered, “great!” And though it was her voice it was also a lie.
Though it was partially hidden from view, those who needed it knew exactly where to find it. The locals hated it because of its seedy reputation, although its exterior was neatly groomed and meticulously well maintained. It wasn’t the Hotel’s outward appearance that the natives loathed. It was who occupied the inside that they despised. They referred to it as the Motel. Technically, it was named the Coastal Villas Hotel. Tourist groups to the insular (situated on an island, adj) vacation destination were never encouraged to stay at the Villas. It was known by all of the island residents as a haven for wealthy lawbreakers; a sanctuary for those who could afford it.
For those who came to abscond (to depart suddenly especially to avoid capture, v) from legal prosecution, it was a refuge. It was a place of protection for those who converged (to come together, v) upon the tropical hideaway. The vast majority who stayed were white collar offenders, indicted (formally accused of a crime, v) for corporate greed crimes. All guests were required to pay in cash; no credit cards were accepted. The minimum stay was two weeks. Everyone who registered at the front desk must have been related, because they all had similar last names like Williams, Smith, or Jones. Identification was not necessary to check-in, just an unspoken, yet expected, generous tip for the registration clerk. The guests were graciously complaisant (compliant, adj) as they slipped extra hundred dollar bills to the clerk, in addition to the room rental. In exchange, Bob, the clerk, kept his eyes and his mouth shut. He could never be accused of being verbose (wordy, adj). Only once in ten years at the hotel could Bob remember a time in which a guest was recalcitrant (not obedient, adj) about offering an upfront gratuity. Coincidentally, that particular guest was met by a federal police officer the next day.
In order to welcome the American fugitives, a constant repetition of the same song played again and again in the registration area. Somehow, Bob was able to drown out “…and while Lenin read a book on Marx, the quartet practiced in the park, and we sang ‘Dirges (funeral songs, n) in the Dark’, the day the music died…” and go about his daily routine. Well dressed guests came and left in anonymity. They were incredibly polite and grateful. Not at all like the low-life truculent (cruel, adj) murderous thugs seen on the nightly news. For the transient inhabitants of the hotel, the hefty price of being invisible was not considered a prodigal (wastefully extravagant, adj) expense. It was a necessary cost. A stay at the Motel was priceless.
On a warm summer day, my mom called the family to converge (v) in the living room. I had two sisters, one younger and one older than me, and one younger brother. Since the death of my grandfather, my family has been gloomy and depressed because we all loved “Big Pop”. We dirge (v) almost everyday, filling our big house with a mixture of music and crying. When we were all in the living room, my mom shared with us her thoughts on what we should do to get over the death of our grandfather. She had the idea of taking a road trip to a traditional hotel she read about in a magazine. My mother was a very complaisant (adj) woman so whenever she came up with an idea to do something, we would always give her respect and cooperation. After the meeting was over, I went online to see where the hotel was. It turns out that the hotel is in the middle of the desert. The only good part about it was that there was supposed to be an oasis close to the hotel. This trip was going to be interesting.
On the morning that we were going to leave for the hotel, everyone was ready to leave except my little brother. My brother was a recalcitrant (adj) maverick and he was determined to put up a good fight before we left because he did not want to go to the hotel. After some kicking and screaming, my dad got him in his car seat and we were ready to hit the road. During the trip I fell asleep off and on. I tried to ignore the verbose (adj) chatter of my younger sister and the whining of my brother. When I was half asleep, I think I heard my dad say something about how this trip could bring us together as a family. My older sister, who was very insular (adj) to the family (I guess that’s how you become as a teenager), either listened to music or talked on the phone. After some time we finally got to the hotel.
The first thing I noticed was the odd looking sign for the hotel, but the hotel as a whole was odd too. When we got our hotel room, we unpacked and rested in our comfortable beds. My older sister absconded (v) from the room, but later my dad found here and made her spend more time with us. Then we decided to go down to the oasis. When we got down there, we saw a large pit of dirt with a fence around that had a sign. The sign said “Sorry for the inconvenience”. My mom was furious and she marched right towards the concierge of the hotel. She immediately indicted (v) the concierge and showed a truculence (adj) side to her personality, one that we haven’t seen before. She yelled at him saying she has never been prodigal (adj) with money and this hotel cost a lot. After we calmed her down a little she wanted us all to leave the hotel. Turns out this trip really didn’t help anyone.
Note: This entry received partial credit due to the length of the story. – Mr. Long
As the ducks waded in the water, no-one really sees the man absconding (leaving secretly verb) down the castle wall. He had been indicted (formally accused verb) by the king for treason. Once scaling down the wall, he was to converge( meet from different directions with a man in a paddle boat, who would give him a ride to the other shore of the lake. The man was very complaisant (willing to please adj.) and humored the escapee. He, in a verbose (using more words than needed adj.) manner, explained how the king was very prodigal (wastefully extravagant adj.) and was very insular (ignorant of other cultures). He then said that the king’s son was incredibly truculent (aggressively defiant) and recalcitrant ( uncooperative to authority). He said he would not give the little punk a dirge( a lament for the dead noun). He said goodbye as he reached the shore. Now the escapee had no clue as to where he was going to go.
Every day I look out of my dining room window, and gaze upon the beautiful lagoon. It seemed as though it became more magical each time I saw it. For only two months a year, the swans came to our family lake. I loved the swans. They were the most magnificent creatures I had ever seen. Around sunset, they would abscond (to secretly depart, v) behind the stone wall for the evening. I hated to see them go. But the next morning when I would peer out of my bedroom window, there they were. It was like the complaisant (overly polite, adj.) animals tried to please me by reappearing every year. I couldn’t wait until October when they would return to the lagoon.
I went down the grand staircase to join my family for breakfast. I was in an excellent mood because the swans would be returning soon. As I sat down my grandmother was conversing with the family. She said my father had finally won his case. He was a lawyer, and had been working nonstop for nearly a month because he had been so consumed in his work. But my father was finally able to indict (to formally charge an accused person, v) him. My father was grinning with delight, he was proud of himself. He was an insular (narrow-minded, adj.) person, I thought. My two sisters and I had never got along with him. He was always working and to make up for his absence, he bought us anything we wanted. I wouldn’t say he was prodigal (wasteful, adj.) with his money, but he used it to cover up his mistakes. We were well into breakfast when my mother announced that we would be having guests converging (to meet, v) for dinner to celebrate my father’s victory. I sighed slightly and just played with my food. My sister Amelia groaned and started arguing with her. She was always so recalcitrant (stubborn, adj.) We were always being dragged into these extravagant events that my parents held. All I wanted to do was go out to the lagoon and watch the swans. So when breakfast was over I got dressed and helped my mother prepare for the event. When it was about 7 in the evening, the guests began to arrive. Everyone was having a pleasant time. The house was not full of truculence (aggressiveness, adj.) like it usually was when we held gatherings. They were mainly my father’s colleagues, who were all aggressive and verbose (wordy, adj.) lawyers. By 11 at night everyone had left. The house was empty with the exception of my two sisters, my mother and father, my grandmother, and me. I went up the large stair case to my room. I softly moved the drapes over and peered out into the night. My swans were long gone. I turned around and lay in my bed. As I drifted off to sleep, I thought of seeing my swans once again.
It had been almost two months since the swans had come. I knew that they would be departing soon. I had enjoyed the time I had spent with them. I went out onto my balcony and sat in the breeze. I just stared for a moment. They were still swimming in the large navy lake. I went inside a little later and spent my day thinking about the past two months. Night had come upon us, and I went back up to my balcony. The wind whistled through the trees as the lagoon became cold. I watched as the swans gathered, and then suddenly flew into the distance. As I watched them disappear, I began to dirge (to lament, v) the swans. All I could do now was wait until next year for them. All I had was patience, and pure faith for my swans to return.
It’s the day after the rancher’s funeral. The DIRGE (n. funeral hymn or song) still washes over the pastures. All the way from the farthest point, where the fences CONVERGE (v. come together). ABSCONDED (adj. concealed) from view is his little ranch house. Faded yellow from the TRUCULENT (adj. brutal savage) passage of time and the grime built up by the INSULAR (adj. ignorant or uninterested in culture) winds. Inside is his wife. Mourning the loss of the late rancher. While still retaining her COMPLAISANT (adj. inclined to please) nature, she seemed lost.
The funeral was unexpectedly PRODIGAL (adj wastefully or recklessly extravagant). In life he had lived niggardly, saving every penny. The eulogy was needlessly VERBOSE (adj wordy). It seemed as though it wasn’t how he should have gone. This more than anything was what his wife INDICTED (v. accused of wrong-doing) fate of.
The rancher’s son was there. They hadn’t spoken since he RECALCITRANTLY (adv. refractory) dropped out of high school. Now he never will. The rancher always knew what was right for the ranch and his ranchers.The rancher’s passing was as swift as his decisions
I had absconded (to depart suddenly)v, to Italy that summer in the hope that I would leave my worries behind me. The sun was sweltering hot those many days i spent in Sicily, but i was content. I was rather complaisant(Inclined/disposed to please)adj, because of the fact that I had nothing to fret about. it was the most wonderful time of my life. i had found the perfect place to converge(meet at a certain point)v, in Sicily. It was the lake where my hotel was located at.
The Geese looked absolutely beutiful in the golden sun. Their bills gleamed in the sun’s rays. The warmth played off of their bodies. I felt a dirge(mournful sound)n, playind in my head every were I went. When I arrived at the lake though I found that I would almost indict(to charge with an offense)v, the Geese because they were so perfect. It was a shame I couldnt stay.
Italy was my Insular(dwelling on an Island)adj, peninsula, and I was its king. I was a prodigal(wasteful)adj, son of the Earth and at peace none the less. The recalcitrant(resisting authority or control)adj, nature of my being was excelent. It was truculent(feirce/cruel)adj, of me not to be so verbose(using many words to describe)adj, in describing my love of that time.
The cold water lapped at his feet. Larry looked up across the water of the frigid lake and knew that the time would soon come to cross it. He also knew the flock would have to abscond (v) or depart secretly and hide as to not arouse a suspicion in the humans in their stone fortress. He wondered if today could be the day that birds could finally take their rightful place above humans, finally defeat those incompetent creatures and rule the world.
He tried to envision the flock of geese gliding over the water with truculence (n) or aggressiveness towards where a seemingly innocent girl tossed bread into the water. However, this time the birds would not be complaisant (adj) or overly polite and eat the scraps she tossed to them. No, this time the birds would drag the wretch into the water and let her feel the ice cold horror unknown to the royalty in the castle. For this was there plan. The flock planned on dragging the humans into the lake so often that they would desert their home and leave the birds to rule the small plot of land.
Larry could hardly wait. His feathers twitched from excitement as he saw the small girl approach the water as usual the sunrise causing a pinkish glow on her pale skin and increasing how threatening she looked. And there was the signal. With a loud quacking the entire flock dove into the water racing towards the opposite shore where the girl stood.
Of course the human waited and tossed and bared her teeth in the horrible way humans do, with eyes squinted and cheeks turned up. The birds converged (v) or met at the other side eyeing the food while still trying to keep their recalcitrant (adj) or stubborn disposition about them and not give in to the temptation of food.
It was of no use. Though Larry was not the first, one bird gave way and nibbled at the nearest piece and before any other foul knew what was happening all thoughts of revolution were abandoned and replaced with lust after food. “Tomorrow” thought Larry between bites of crust “Tomorrow we will pull her in”. But soon even these hopeful verbose (adj) or wordy (well for a bird) thoughts were driven from every mind.
The girl threw the bread into the water. She seemed quite prodigal (adj) or wasteful actually because the birds were slowly down and the bread clouding the water. Still, however the geese followed the loaves to the shore. They were within yards of the girl when with a laugh she pulled an oddly shaped metal object from behind her back.
With a bang the goose nearest the shore drooped slightly and was quickly picked up by the small girl. She threw the gun to the side and screamed “Daddy! Daddy! I got one!” and ran to a beaming man not far off.
The flock sat in utter shock, looking for their lost comrade. After a few minutes of searching around the lake they unanimously agreed he was gone for good. They then performed as close to a funeral as birds can get. They proceeded with a dirge (n) or lamenting music of quacking and squawking for quite some time. Later the small girl was indicted (v) or formally charged with the murder of goose Betty and sentence to be dragged into the lake the next morning.
Interestingly enough, this charge had been made numerous nights before hand and every morning, though set on revenge the geese were unable to see past the glorious breakfast awaiting them. If only birds were not so insular (adj) or narrow minded, then maybe one day they could have their shot at the top of the food chain.
These two geese have converged (v. to meet; to come together) for a swim together. They are not complaisant (adj. overly polite). They seem to be comfortable with each other and are having a peaceful swim. There is no truculence (adj. aggressiveness) between them. Maybe one is female and the other is male so in the natural world they would have no reason to fight. They are able to be together and just enjoy the company of each other.
They don’t fight as some couples do about one being prodigal (adj. wasteful with money). He is not frustrated with her about being verbose (adj. wordy) and he is trying to read the paper of watch TV while she goes on hoping he will listen. The female goose is not thinking that he is insular (adj. narrow-minded) because he doesn’t agree with everything she is saying. As they swim along, he notices a sign that says “no swimming.” He wonders what he should do. He is not normally recalcitrant (adj. determined to resist authority) but he does not want to quit swimming. Besides he would have to continue swimming to get back to land.
Both geese are distracted from the sign as they hear a dirge (n. mournful music or song). When they look they see people carrying a large box to a cemetery. The people are crying and the music is sad. They are sad for the people to. Then they see the police arrive. They put handcuffs on a man watching the sad people. They indict (v. formally charge) him with murder. While the police are talking to the other people the handcuffed man tries to abscond (v. leave secretly and hide). He is caught though by an observant
Image #3
Morning brought sunlight. It will reveal my misdeed, and the insular (adj., narrow-minded) town people will click their tongues and shake their heads at my apparent recalcitrant (adj. stubborn; determined to resist authority) behavior. I do not care. The horror they feel about me is an enormous mistake, a gross injustice. I don’t know how but I must run from here now.
The townspeople were kind to me in the beginning. I was a mere traveler, walking through the country and seeing the sights for my new book. It seemed that the townspeople had not seen a traveler in some time, and they were complaisant (adj., overly polite, trying to please). So, I agreed to stay a little longer than I normally would. They even told me they had a big show for me to see.
It turned out that the entire town population, about 200 people, converged (v., to meet; to come together) in the town square. But it was not a show I expected. It was basically an exhibition of their economical distress and the people sang what sounded like a dirge (n., a funeral hymn). I felt badly because I could not help them. I am not a prodigal (adj., wasteful; reckless with money) traveler, and I had no money to give. Out of embarrassment and guilt, I gave my hat to a little boy. That was all I had to give. I knew they were disappointed, but I did not expect this.
Suddenly, I was accused of stealing something. Instead of a formal indictment (n., formal charge of an accused person), there was vague rumors. The townspeople showed surprising truculence (n., aggressiveness) and shackled me to the post in the middle of the town with iron chain. When I tried to explain, they were silent. I realized that being verbose (adj., wordy) was just a waste of time and energy. I sat chained as the night fell.
Then I heard a noise. I turned around to see a little boy in ragged clothes. It seemed like he was the one I gave my hat to. I could see that he had something in his hand, so I trembled in fear. He came close to me and with his metal cutter, he snapped my chain. He ran back into the darkness without a word. I ran barefooted all night through the forest. I did not mean to simply abscond (v., to depart secretly and hide) from punishment, but I felt I had no choice. For now, I will run until I reach civilization.
June 26.
I haven’t kept a diary in fifteen years, since I was a verbose (adj; wordy) teenager, but Dr. Wallenstein told me I should if my stress ever got too high. Well, it has. If my stress level was one of those games at the carnival you hit with a hammer to see if the bell would reach the top, I would be in the stratosphere. Linda called me on the phone the other day to ‘see how things were’, and I could hear her manicured nails clicking two thousand miles away. My nails long ceased to be polished with OPI, now they just wear a nice coat of dirt and grime. Anyway, God it’s hard to write your innermost thoughts- especially when there are more of them than purse vendors in NYC. Linda. Right. Linda called me and asked if Tom was helpful. Yeah right- that complaisant (adj; overly polite), metrosexual husband of mine took one look at the vomit green motel before he absconded (v; to depart secretly) to Vegas. Asshole. So now it’s me and Mother and two thousand Mexicans and dirt. Dirt is like snot, it just keeps coming and once you think you got the last of it out of the yellow pillowcases, it just pops up. Spontaneous generation- those loony medieval men knew what they were talking about, not those insular (adj; narrow-minded) men in white coats and microscopes. I’ll probably be seeing some men in white coats soon anyway– some shantytown in the middle of Arizona isn’t a place for a NYC gal to be.
Right– tangent again. So, back on track- the reason I’m out here writing in some sandy book like I’m Winston Smith hiding from Big Brother (although, I would give up all my Jimmy Choos just for some constant company) is because my prodigal (adj; reckless with money) father left my mother skint broke when he died. So to ‘survive’ she had to run some beat-down Motel 6 to stay afloat. But then she got Alzheimer’s and refused point blank to leave the motel; she said there were too many ‘memories’ she didn’t want to lose. Then my recalcitrant (adj; stubborn) sister refused to move from Barcelona to be with her and I had to pack all my pencil skirts in a bag to run the Motel from Hell. My charming husband spent one night in the urine-scented sheets before he decided he didn’t love me enough to follow me to the end of the world like he’d promised in all those sappy birthday cards, and he ditched me with my loony mother. Alone.
I watched No Country For Old Men last night. It’s that creepy movie with Javier Bardem as a reincarnated Harvey Dent coin-flipping psychopath. The picture kept coming in and out, courtesy of the truculent (adj; ferocious) storm and the color was long gone, it looked like I was living in the fifties again. Who needs Blu-Ray when you can get a dinky satellite on a puke-colored room? That’s what I call back to basics. Anywhoo, never watching that movie again– I couldn’t sleep, just thinking Javier was going to come in and blow my brains out. Not like that’d be worse than where I am now. But honestly, why do they keep killing the motel owners? Those people work really hard only to have their necks broken by some weird oxygen tank. Why couldn’t Javier and Llewellyn (that’s a real hick name for you) converge (v; to meet) and have a heart-to-heart talk? That’s what Doctor Wallenstein, as well as my first grade teacher always said: sit down and discuss your problems, violence is not the answer. But I guess when you’re in the middle of nowhere, society’s rules don’t mean shit. Oh great, the transformation from chique-NYC girl to a dirty-mouthed hillbilly has begun; I’ll be indicted (v; formally charged) for killing mother tomorrow– just take me now Lord!
The disgusting thing, I mean the truly foul thing, is cleaning the rooms. Once a week, even if nobody has stayed there (which happens more often than not), I have to go and scrub all twenty-two rooms. Sometimes the doors blow open in the wind storms and the beds are covered in dust. Other times rodents get in and die in the corners- let me say the rats here are larger than my entire Coach purse, filled with my makeup! Of course, I have to deal with them; Mother’s terrified of animals- part of her ‘mental disorder’. I doubt she really has Alzheimer’s; she’s just trying to get back at me for leaving for NYC as soon as I could– now we’re catching up on all those years in a smelly, beat down motel. Fabulous, Mother.
So now I sit and wait and dirge (v; to lament) my lost life by listening to I Shot the Sheriff on the radio. Honestly, I doubt there is even a sheriff out her for me to shoot if I had the urge. My iPod ran away a long time ago- I think a rat stole it.
I should really learn Spanish- all the Mexicans who come through here take one look at me before they break out in their rapid dialogue and laughing, glancing at me occasionally. They’re probably planning my murder right in front of me– they’ll never find all my body parts; the sand will soon cover my right arm forever…
Oh look, a guest…
image #1
Fishing for Birds?
Around the summer time last year, I was fishing offshore that have some decent size fish to catch. There were these geese and seagulls sitting on the surface of that glimmering water. Their heads would follow my cast line as I threw out bait. It didn’t take long for a fish to catch scent of the wholesome snack they were about to receive. There was a kind of truculence, ( noun, ferocity) aggression towards the bait, I was using that day. The fish would go at it like crazy, as if they have been starving. They would frenzy over the piece of bait I had thrown out. The fish heads would converge (verb, to come together) into one giant mess of fish. I felt like their should have been some kind of dirge ( noun, song of grief) or some kind of song being played on the world’s smallest violin.
Every now and then I would pull a fish up while the others abscond (verb, disappear secretly) to another part of the depths of the sea. As I pulled up my energetic fish, my relatives would be verbose (adj, wordy) by repeatedly saying “Get it! C’mon get it up here! Get it! Get it!” After about 10 minutes of that, I would get tired of being recalcitrant, (adj, stubborn) or stubborn and bring the fish up. Out of nowhere one of those stupid geese came and took my fish. Needless to say I did not see it coming nor did I know what to think at the time.
For about 5 minutes, I was insular, (adj, isolated) aloof from everyone on the boat. The others were trying to be complaisant (adj, overly polite) towards the bird because it had my fishing pole in the water. For about an hour, we tried to get the geese to give me back the hook and my fishing pole, which it did in the end. We couldn’t just leave the pole because that would’ve been prodigal, (adj, wasteful) or wasteful. Would’ve been better if said goose was someone i could indict ( verb, formally charge an accused person). Wouldn’t have spent an hour of my summer fighting a bird for a fishing pole.
I added these stakes to my sign in order to keep my customers complaisant (adj)(trying to please). The idea is to keep the birds off, so that no on is bothered by them. The issue was that these creatures would converge (v)(to meet) on the sign and make it completely filthy. This always seemed unattractive to the fine folks coming through here. Many would act like they just needed to make a call or that they wanted directions to a new hotel. Then I would watch them abscond (v)(to depart secretly and hind)the parking lot.
After the new addition there are others who are against their presence, they believe that I am insular (adj)(narrow-minded) by not letting the nature that this land belongs to run freely. I feel that no matter what I do to please them the consumers find a new complaint. I have even gone as far as to make up my own dirge (v)(to lament with music) that I sing when I see the vacancy sign lit up. The song is quite verbose (adj)(wordy) but it helps to lift my spirits. I try to make peace but I am consistantly accused of truculence (adv)(ferocity) towards animals.
I haven’t yet, but I fear that somone will indict (v)(to formally charge an accused person) me and I will have to face the Better Business Bureau. Now all that plastic just seems prodigal (adj)(wasteful). It has been up there for years and nobody has gotten me to take it down, but I feel like it doesn’t matter anymore. Some people would call it recalcitrant (adj)(stubborn), but why do they care? If I take it down then people will complain about the birds again. Oh well, maybe next time I won’t buy a hotel next to an aviary.
The castle walls are so cold. No matter how many fires we light, warmth still does not come to greet us. It has been this way since he left. When he left for war the warmth and happiness left with him. It is now replaced with cold and worry.
We have been on the verge of war for years, just a single act pushing us over the edge.
The Lockhart and Morham families have had a long lasting blood feud. No one knows how it began, only that it has always been. For hundreds of years that’s all it was. Just a feud. There were the occasional attacks but even those were few and far between for neither side wanted war. As much hate as there was between the two, both knew that war would destroy them. This all changed when Lord Morham was killed. They say it was a Lockhart assassin but nothing can be proved. We are now in a full fledged war. The two most powerful families in Scotland, tearing each other apart.
That is what took my brother away. We’re twins Adair and I. We did anything and everything together. He even taught me how to sword fight, saying I needed to learn to properly protect my self and I couldn’t do so with a needle and thread.
Everyday after lessons he would secretly teach my everything he had learned. We converged (verb, to meet) late in the night and he taught me how to lead and how to rule. One night I asked him why he was teaching me and he said that if he would ever leave that I would need to rule and that he would not have me manipulated and overpowered.
I became two different people. I was the complaisant (adj, overly polite) submissive proper female that society made of me on the outside, while truly I grew into the recalcitrant (adj, stubborn) intelligent strong person that I am.
It was on our twentieth birthday when Adair took over as head of the family. Our father was a verbose (adj, wordy) prodigal (adj,wasteful; reckless with money) leader and frankly the people were happy that Adiar was taking over.
I remember that day well for that was when the war messenger arrived. The celebratory music changed as the castle began to dirge (verb, to lament or mourn with music) for our future fallen. The party was quickly put to an end as the people to refuge in the dorms within the castle walls.
My brother met with the war council that night and refused to let me attend, slamming the door in my face when I tried to enter. When he came out he told me that Lord Morham had been killed and they indicted (verb, to formally charge and accused person) the assassin, claiming them to be sent by our family. They could prove nothing but our family was accused just the same. He told me of the war with truculence (noun, aggressiveness; ferocity) in his eyes, claiming our supposed victory over the Morhams. As much as I wished to believe in him, I knew that my brother was reckless and naive, willing to believe anything that came from the more experienced council leaders . I was worried for him, for our family. I knew that with out me by his side Adiar would make rash unintelligent decisions that would endanger men unnecessarily. I asked to go with him. His response shocked me. I had expected him to let me go for I was the intelligence in our team and could hold my own in a battle, and yet he reacted as if he were insular (adj, narrow-minded) and didn’t know me at all.
I remember when he told me of his decision.
We were walking on the upper levels of the castle, staring out on the lake watching the swans glide on the waters. He turned to me, ferocity gone, sadness filling his eyes.
“I leave for war tomorrow Aila.” He said, the fear just distinguishable in his normally calm voice.
“And I shall come with you.” I responded. I would not let him go to his death with out me. For without me he would surely die.
“No! This is one place where I will not allow you to follow. I need you here to protect our castle and our people. You are not fit for this and I will not let you walk to your doom.”
“Yet you expect me to just sit here and watch you do exactly what your advising me against? You expect me to sit here and watch as you walk to your own death? It’s like you do not know me at all.”
“It is my duty Aila. Our grandfather has called and I can not ignore his summons. Please, do not fight me on this. Please just go and abscond (verb, to depart secretly and hide), flee while you still can.” Hearing the pleading tone his voice had assumed, I sighed.
“Fine, but you had better return brother or I will kill you my self, and you know I could if I wanted to.” I responded pulling Adair into a hug as tears began to slip down my face.
That’s the last I have seen of my brother. It has been three years to the day, and tonight I shall do something about it. Tonight I shall find my brother.
Image #2
Walking into the convenience store, I was greeted with the familiar dull, white glare of flickering fluorescent lights, which the owner seldom replaced. Walking up to the counter I paid for my gas and decided to make another futile attempt at winning the lottery. I already knew, as I was handing the store clerk a handful of cash to pay for the blank ticket, that it was just my recalcitrant (stubborn; determined to resist authority)(adj.) desire that maybe, just maybe out of the millions of people in the world who were also testing their luck against a game that was nearly impossible to win, that I would be the one who succeeded. Yet, this was just a trifle matter, a seemingly meaningless hope that was in some obscure corner in the back of my mind. A small thing that motivated me to repeatedly come back to this convenience store and buy another ticket. So I half-heartedly filled out the random little squares of numbers on the piece of paper and handed it back to the clerk, who printed out the ticket. The complaisant (overly polite, trying to please)(adj.) manner in which the owner gave me the ticket, told me that he too was just another person like me. Mindlessly going to their job everyday, earning just enough to stay content until the next day. Any customer that the owner received in this shop, he had to make sure that they would always come back. I pitied the man and, seeing the sheer desperation in his eyes, I told him to keep the change.
I drove back to motel, dirging (to lament or mourn with music)(verb) with the gloomy music blaring from the radio, almost as if it was mocking the inadequacy of my life. There was an elevator, but the manager never really got around to fixing it so I walked up the three flights of stairs it took to reach my floor, legs slightly shaking from exhaustion as I got up from the final step. Rummaging around in my pockets for a few minutes I eventually managed to open the door that led into my room. Pushing the creaky door shut, I fell onto the bed in a heap and fell asleep.
The next day I woke up to the intense light of sunshine pouring into my room from the open porch window. Slowly getting up, I groggily walked to the porch and opened the door, letting the cool breeze fill my nostrils with a sort of relaxing sensation that only the wind seemed to be able to provide. Feeling refreshed I proceeded to go to the kitchen and make myself some breakfast. Bringing a plate of warm, steaming scrambled eggs and a glass of water, I sat on the couch and turned on my television. I began flipping through the channels as I slowly ate and was bothered by the feeling of something that was in my pocket. I curiously reached into my jacket and pulled out the lottery ticket that I had bought yesterday. I looked up at the television screen to see if there was anything on that was worth watching and froze. The glass of water fell from my hand, shattering into pieces onto the tile and spilling water everywhere, but I wouldn’t have noticed anything at that moment except for the television, the screen of which my eyes were locked onto. It was the lottery drawings for that current week, and I saw that all of the numbers that they had drawn matched my ticket exactly. I repeatedly scanned my ticket again. Once, twice, and yet again for a third time to see if it was just some sick joke, but no. Never once having been a prodigal (wasteful; reckless with money)(adj.) when I saw that my ticket was the winner, I almost fell unconscious, my mind spinning with the realization that I was holding a claim to over 2oo million dollars.
A Few Months Later
I had totally absconded (to depart secretly and hide)(verb) myself from the rest of the world, from my house, my family, my life. Doing anything I could in order to free myself from the prying eyes of the press. But most of all I had to get away from the letters. Ever since that day, hundreds of thousands of letters flooded my mail. The letters were mostly people begging me to donate a small sum to them so they could buy a house, pay off their college tuition, mortgage payments, and the requests just went on and on forever, and I gave money to some of the people who asked, but it was never enough, some of the people who I had already given money too sending me more letters with more excuses. Anything that they could possibly come up with through their verbose (wordy)(adj.) minds that would make me cave in to their desires. Yet the worst thing that happened to me could never be compared with any insular (narrow-minded; isolated)(adj.) made by the majority of the people. I would sometimes receive phone calls in the middle of the night, from people demanding me that I give them my money with a truculence (aggressiveness; ferocity)(adj.) that I never knew humans could be capable of. It was almost as if they were indicting (to formally charge an accused person)(verb) me to give them the money that was “rightfully” theirs. Even going as far as threatening to kill my family, I endured these conflicts for a whole two months before I couldn’t take it anymore. I took all of my money, the clothes on my back, and went to my car and drove. Anywhere would’ve been fine as long as I could be away from those savages and yet there was nowhere I could go where I was safe. For every single person in the world knew who I was, all of the world’s greed, converging (to meet; to come together)(verb) into chains of never-ending torture that have enslaved me to this place. I raced down the highway when I noticed a gas station off in the distance. It was the very same one where I bought the winning ticket. So I slowed down and drove up to the once familiar convenience store. It hadn’t changed one bit and the same, shallow faced owner was there, minding the shop for any passersby. I morosely walked into the store and the shopkeeper looked up and stared at me for a long time. “Hey aren’t you the man who-“ “Who won the lottery? Yeah I am” I finished his sentence for him. “So how does it feel to win all of that money?” he asked. I only kept staring at him.
We walked into the inside and everything changed.
I hadn’t figured that walking into ‘The Musical Motel’ would be such a…such an explosion of NOISE. Visible and audible. Meaning, the colors inside shocked my eyeballs as much as the blast of music spun my ears. Neons and flowers and peace signs…it felt like we were glimpsing the 1960’s in full swing. It seemed the owner was fairly prodigal (adj), considering the enormous number of decorations that swung from the walls.
But the music was the real mystery of the place. It was hard to decipher one sound from another at first, because each song burst forth with truculence (noun). But we found that once we concentrated, each sound was distinguishable. Electric guitars hummed, keyboards soothed, drums exploded.
We’d come because we were recalcitrant (adj). I mean, who likes authority anyway? Certainly not us. In a sense we’re insular (adj), I suppose, in that we like our own opinions and don’t want to consider those of others. Music is something special for us, for lack of a better term. It brought us together. Music is the spell that binds us to each other. So wouldn’t this be the perfect place for us? We always want to further the spell, continue weaving the web, discovering new sounds. We came to do so.
The place wasn’t really what we expected. It looked just like the pictures from the website, true, but those had been external photographs. We had no idea of the appearance of the interior. Once we entered, we made our way to the front desk, stepping around bean bag chairs and flowery cushions. The receptionist fit in perfectly with her surroundings. A beehive hairdo sat atop her pale face, and her plastic glasses sparkled. She was chewing gum. We entered in our simple, thrift store attire. I suppose we might’ve fit in better than the average person, but we still looked pointedly out of place. The receptionist looked up as we neared her desk and instantly she grinned with the whitest teeth I’d ever seen.
“Welcome to Musical Motel! I’m Charlotte. May I interest you in a room? A free breakfast? Some refreshments? Are you hear for the pool party? Or perhaps to meet the band? They’re in 702.”
He and I looked at each other. “We’d like a room, please,” he said to Charlotte, whose verbosity (noun) frightened him, I could tell.
Her grin widened. “Here are your keys. Room’s 706. That’ll be 60 bucks per night, by the way. Lemme know if we can help you with anything. Room service, pool access, music…” she grinned slyly. “Anything at all. You just gotta call.” She was a bit too complaisant (adj) for my taste, to be honest, and I know he thought so too.
“Sounds good.” He grabbed my hand and we headed to the elevator, the music’s hold now lessened. But once inside the elevator it consumed us. I fell to my knees. It was running through my head, circling my brain and rubbing it with vigor. I picked out a tune and held onto it. It was fast, and repetitive. I stayed with it, following it, but soon enough the elevator opened and we opened our room’s door.
It looked like the rest of the motel. Bright colors blindedd us, flowers suffocated us. And the music hammered our eardrums. Yet I located the source of the music and triumphantly lowered the volume. He laughed.
We spent the next hours pouring over the enormous collection of cd’s that sat in a cupboard near one of the beds. Some of it dirged (verb). Some of it expressed joy. Some of it shone with anger. But whatever the emotion, we were transfixed. The music could’ve been talking about murder. It could’ve been indicting (verb) someone. It could’ve been discussing the merits of swiss cheese. It didn’t matter much.
Music made people converge (verb). We could hear the people in the hallway singing, stomping along, dancing, or even absconding (verb), and hiding simply to be secluded and alone with the music. It awoke in them emotions that needed to be physically released. Being in this strange motel was a chance for us to see how music affected other people. It was the thing that brought US together, but it was fascinating to see the reactions of those around us. Music touched everyone differently. I guess I just got lucky.
Once upon a time, in a far away land, there lived a verbose (adj) princess named Lily. This (chatty) girl spent her free time with the geese outside of her castle. Everyday, after her schooling, she would leave her castle to converge (verb) with her geese friends that swam in her lake. Lily wasn’t supposed to run off by herself but she was a recalcitrant (adj) child when she was going up and was (determined to resist authority). There were two geese that Lily (met) and they had lived in Lily’s lake for as long as she could remember and always cheered her up when she was sad. When Lily was old enough to talk she decided to give the geese names, she didn’t think it was fair that her friends couldn’t have names but she could have one. Lily named the first goose Ben and the second goose Jerry, even though Jerry was a girl. But the geese didn’t mind, they were just happy to have names.
Ben was a pleasant goose, possibly complaisant (adj). Sometimes he was (overly polite) with Jerry when she was being rude. But even though Ben was a push-over, he was very nice to talk to. He was constantly telling Lily how fantastic she was and if the other kids in the palace made fun of her they were just jealous. Jerry was far more outspoken about her opinions than Ben, even a bit insular (adj). But even though Jerry could be (narrow-minded), she always told the truth. Even if what she said to Lily hurt her feelings, Lily knew that she could trust Jerry.
One day, Lily ran to Ben and Jerry because there was an emergency at the castle. The royal finance minister was prodigal (adj) with the country’s finances and there wasn’t enough money to buy the decorations for Lily’s 8th birthday party! A hypothetical dirge (noun) played in the geese’s heads when they heard the awful news. The (mournful music) disappeared when Ben started talking. Ben responded by saying that the finance minister was (reckless with money) and that it was a shame that Lily wouldn’t have enough money for her decorations. Jerry responded with truculence (noun) that worse things could have happened and that Lily shouldn’t complain. Lily was taken back by Jerry’s (ferocity) but got over it quickly; she had more important things to deal with besides Jerry’s attitude.
Ben and Jerry were thinking together about what they could do about Lily’s party problem when a light bulb lit up, they could have the party outside! The natural beauty of the castle would serve as decorations. The two geese felt proud of themselves and beamed at Lily. Lily thought the idea was perfect. The kids could play (hide) and seed and abscond (verb) behind the trees. Lily would indict (verb) the finance minister later, there was no need to (formally charge) him right now. She had a party to plan!
The two business associates walked through the green and orange doors of the hotel. The hotel was insular (adj, isolated) to society, being hundreds of miles from actual civilization. The business of the two men was unknown, they had converged (verb, meet) at the hotel in two different cars. They appeared prodigal (adj, wasteful with money) was they were walking to the reception. Something was unusual about this situation, two rich business men in the middle of no where, something was being plotted.
The taller man getting his room card was recalcitrant (adj, stubborn), he demanded the room at the far end of the complex. The receptionist was very verbose (adj, wordy) in his response, not understanding why the man wanted the room so far away. Both men instantly became frustrating, forcing the receptionist to give them the room. The receptionist was complaisant (adj, overly polite), as he broke hotel policy. The two men toke the room keys with truculence (adj, ferocity), and made there way to the rooms.
As the two men had absconded (verb, departed secretly) to their rooms they came past rooms near the entrance that were dirge (verb, to lament with music) which would’ve been a major distraction for the business that needed to be done. The men got to their room and began talking about land development. What was being said was completely ridiculous, but potentially very valuable. We could indict (verb, formally charge an accused man) these men for being to secret. They were talking about turning this wasteland into the ultimate tourist attraction. They talked about a development that contained casino hotels that stretched for a huge distance. They spoke about Las Vegas
The Dirge
Darius rushed down the long stony hall, the shouting and hoofbeats audible even through the thick stone of the fortress walls around him. At length he reached the bedchamber of the princess Dara, his sister. Darius stood panting in the tall doorway, his black hair falling into his face. He saw her sitting upon her bed, playing her golden lute. His eyes moved from her serene face, to her skillfully plucking fingers, and back to her face.
“Dara, haven’t you heard?” he asked, incredulous. “How could you not have heard?”
“I have heard,” she said to him. Her voice was as serene as her face, but it was sad. Her delicate fingers continued to pluck the delicate strings of the lute.
“The murderer has absconded (verb, departed secretly and hidden) from here,” the prince Darius said. “He’s escaped! Why are you not upset, my sister? Why are you not furious? He has killed the king!”
Dara stopped playing and looked at him.
“No, Darius,” she said quietly. “He has killed our father.”
“I know this!” persisted Darius. An angry truculence (noun, ferocity) was growing in his eyes. “He has commited terrible treason! We must catch him, indict (verb, formally charge) him, and have him beheaded at once!”
“Why must we?” asked Dara. Her large brown eyes were filled with the greatest sorrow Darius had ever seen. “Why must we?” she asked again. “Can he kill him again? Do you think he will kill you? Our line is ending, Darius. The monarchy is falling. There will be no more kings. There will be none to kill. I feel no upset or anger. Must my soul convirge (verb, join) with those insular (adj, narrow-minded, isolated) who burn the fire of revenge, which burns no better than that of murder? No, my brother. All I feel is sadness for our father, who was once so great and dear to us.” She looked back down at her lute. “His life has gone, and so for him I play a song of mourning.”
Darius sat down upon the bed beside her. He spoke, calmly now, while she continued to play. “I always suspected that prodigal (adj, financially reckless) advisor,” he said. “I knew he was recalcitrant (adj, determined to resist authority). He’d worked with our father for several years now, and his complaisant (adj, overly polite, trying to please) facade was beginning to chip. But even so…I never thought…” He trailed off. Then he sighed. “I suppose you are right, my sister. We cannot bring our father back to life. Not even verbose (adj, wordy) lyrics are needed. We simply must remember him and mourn for him.”
As the comotion outside faded slowly away, and as dusk settled upon the fortress, brother and sister still sat upon the bed in the chamber of the princess, mourning in the dirge (noun, song of mourning) of their king.
Birds, for some reason seem to be a threat. If you just drive around town and look at random signs you these spikes of signs or owls in windows. Even Oakridge has these spikes on the front windows. People have this strange feeling of truculence (aggressiveness, adv) toward the birds. This makes some people seem insular (narrow-minded) and recalcitrant (stubborn, adj) when it comes to just letting the birds dirge (lament with music, verb) them. These birds are just trying to be complaisant (trying to please)
This short essay shouldn’t be indicting (formally charging a accused person) to anyone because no human is being accused of being a selfless brat, well not yet at least. Maybe it is just that this is helping you realize that many people are just prodigal (wasteful with money) so they would rather spend hundreds of dollars on anti-bird thingy or fancy cars then use their money for something that helps. NOTE: this is when the people who do this abscond (depart secretly, verb) out the back door. With all this money that is flooding mentioned people’s pockets you could probably by food for some homeless Person for a year or three. This would be a great topic for a seminar or something big that bunches of people would show up for.
Being a sore subject for many this might help a few closet dwellers to open the door and do something that they have always wanted to do, HELP OTHERS! So why don’t we converge (come together, verb) at a convention center in the middle of some big city and have this event. We will have cakes, punch, people, fun and a bunch of other random things. Most importantly we will have charities, charities from wall to wall, so many that even a computer would lose count. So come and have a ball, and help some people too. Oh, this was just a extremely verbose (wordy, adj) and pointless article just to appease the desires or Mr. Long.
Dear society members,
The society must converge (to come together, v) in the hotel in 2 weeks. That is the plan for the next meeting. We must meet because our president is going to be indicted (charged formally an accused person v) of a crime he did not commit. The meeting is going to me in that shabby motel down on Main Street. You should arrive at 2 P.M. and in the interest of not being verbose (wordy adj) I will make my explanation simple.
Our president has been accused of being prodigal (reckless with money adj) with the fundraising funds. We all must know this is not true but the insular (narrow minded, adj) politics in this community are convinced otherwise. In order to tell us all what has really happened he has asked me to convey to yall that we should abscond (to depart secretly v) on this date meaning do not let any one know where you are going or for what reasons. It is of the upmost importance that you do not let anyone follow you. If you find a non member is following you show much truculence (aggressiveness adj) to get them to stop following you, only resorting to violence if they do.
As custom once at the motel we will dirge (mourn with music v) our old president who has been stopped for a similar crime he was wrongly accused of. We will make that time short so we can get right to the point of the current president at stake. We must do all we can to save the current president as he is the best one we have had in a long time. Our current president has taught us the most important rule of being complaisant (overly polite adj) to the community people so we do not come off as fakes or the enemy. The good thing is there is hope for this president. We might be able to save him since he is very recalcitrant (stubborn adj) and knows how to get out of situations. Already I have said too much my good people. Do NOT let this get out to the common people. I expect to see you all there ASAP!
Regards,
Vice President
“Land ahead Captain” said the sailor. The sailor had been asked to converge (to meet with, V) with the captain when he saw land upon the horizon. But all of a sudden the engines had stopped, and a loud grinding noise came from the belly of the ship. The sailor noticed they were only two miles away from the home land, but instead of gliding in the captain ordered that they drop anchor.
“We shall drop the anchor here, an’ wait til’ de’ morn, to fix our problem” said the captain in and out of a pirate voice.
“But captain it is only thirteen o’clock and we are able to fix it now” said the lead sailor.
“Son, are ye fightin’ with me” said the insular (narrow minded,adj) captain.
“No sir, I was just pointing out the time”
“Drop the complaisant (overly polite, adj) front and out with the good truth my boy”
The lead sailor now trying to drop his recalcitrant (stubborn, adj) attitude and figure out a way to abscond (to depart secretly, v) himself out of the conversation. So he thought about how when he was back at the dock the marine shop said that; “you know y’all need a new anchor or somebody is going to get hurt when the anchor snaps off the chain.” He now knew what cause that amazingly loud noise from the belly of the ship!
Once he notice what had caused the ship to break down a loud siren went off it was the abandon ship siren. He ran to the bow of the ship to find out that their was not an anchor attached to the ship. He thought he would be indicted (to be formally charged, verb) for sure for this accident because he showed signs of worry.
“I was the only one who thought it wasn’t prodigal (wasteful, adj) to get a new chain, and that will make me stand out” the sailor whispered to himself.
“Come on Frank, come on let’s go she’s going down, we need to get off” he heard in the distance behind him. He looked down and noticed the the ship was already half way sunk and he ran for the safety boats.
The sailor, who is now known as Frank, was riding on the boat toward the home land listening to his friend play a song, that would be soon Frank’s dirge, the song of his funeral. While he was listening he tried to figure what the verbose (wordy, adj) lecture would be from the captain blaming someone for the ship going down and their is where the truculence (aggressiveness, noun) of the captain will be brought out.
Frank relized that he will have to run before he can be caught, he always did and will always fear his captain….
As I waited to converge (to meet v.) with my friend Matt, I started at some geese in the lake. I wished I could be insular (isolated adj.) and away from all the hustle and bustle of the big city. All geese do is sit around in the pond waiting for people to give them food. As I waited for Matt I listened to an old man dirging ( to lament or mourn with music v.) on the other bench. He had been sitting there for hours playing his guitar.
“Hi, how’s it going?” I asked the old man in a complaisant (trying to please adj.) way. “I’m not to good. The police indicted (to formally charge an accused person v.) my friend for running away from them. Well thats what the police said, my friend would never recalcitrant (determined to resist authority adj.) and run away. I have a feeling that he was chasing someone and the person who he was chasing absconded (to depart secretly and hide V.) and will never be found again,” he explained to me. “Wow that’s a verbose (wordy adj) explanation you gave me there.” “Oh i’m sorry, I guess I just got carried away.
“Oh I didn’t notice you sneak up behind me,” I told Matt, “Matt is a member of the police department.” “Yes I am, how’s it going,” asked Matt. “I’m not so bad…wow that is a nice watch you got there!” I exclaimed. “Hey! That is my brothers watch!” the old man said in a truculence (aggressive n.) tone. I know because my brother is prodigal (wasteful; reckless with money adj) and spends money on nice things like watches…
The place looked descent enough. Far Away Motel is what it read.Besides the fact that she had a long drive at 4am, Alice had to get some sleep. She had been following her evil twin, Jack Cullen, since the night of her sweet sixteen. He thought he was going to ascond (v.to depart in a sudden and secret manner) her house without being noticed, WRONG. But the wierd thing is, he knew she saw him leave, like he wanted her to follow him. He knew her well.
I left my party, yes, MY OWN BIRTHDAY PARTY, just to see what little ‘ol perfect Jack was up to this time. Jack was one of those people that looked like the perfect kid, with no problems, pretty verbose (adj. wordy), but in a cool way, great grades, complaisant (ADJ. agreeable or gracious), best family, friends, always being prodigal (adj. wastefully extravagant), fast car, perfect LIFE, he was my best friend. At least on the outside, but on the inside, things went on inside him that no person could probably understand. He never told anyone about his thoughts, no one but me that is. He trusted me, and only me because I was his other half. He knew I could understand, and he needed me, he was insular (adj.standing alone; isolated). But I didnt know how, and he didnt like that. He’s been against me ever since. And now, his heart has grown totally truculence (adj. fierce;cruel). He was recalcitrant (adj. not obedient; hard to deal with) , he skipped school, ran off with hundreds of dollars and our parents’ car for days, and sometimes MINE! And to top off the dramaticness, he only listened to dirges (n. a funeral song or tune). It was irresistable for awhile, until one day, he was his old self again. It was the day before my, well our sweet sixteen (it was really mine because he agreed to let the day be all about me, since I was born first).
He took our mom shopping all morning, and our dad out to play some golf. Then went out with me and our closest friends. It was the old Jack that I knew and loved, and I missed him. I asked him later that night what had changed, and his whole face turned dark, and I knew I had asked the wrong question. He said nothing was different about him, and stormed out of the house. He didnt come back until the night of my party, and it caught me off guard, because I guess I expected him to run off like he usually did. But he came back, like the old Jack, and we had fun. He walked everywhere with me, danced with me, and helped me cut the cake. I thought he was ready to converge (v. to tend to meet in a point or line), ready to talk, until he walked out, with a troubled look. He turned to see if he was being watched, just as he was stepping out the door, looked at me, and smiled a hard smile at me. Duh, being pro-detective already, of course I followed him. I bet no-one even noticed that we were gone.
I slide in my Ferrari FXX-Evolution and drove off after him. I hoped to God that he wouldn’t do anything to get us indicted (v. to bring a formal accusation against, as a means of bringing to trial) again like he did once before. I looked at the clock, 11:45pm. He couldn’t be too far up ahead. I took a sharp left and followed his wet car tracks up the road, barely hitting 80 in 3 seconds.
A young girl absconded (to depart secretly and hide v) from her nursery. Her brown locks flew around her young face, as she took cover behind a dusty, brocade curtain. It was the dead of night, yet she did not take any chances. She had never been caught before; her instinct wouldn’t let her run for the end of the hallway though. Kayleigh stood quietly waiting. The large clock downstairs chimed midnight and so did the church tower bells outside, announcing a new day to rest of the British countryside. Kayleigh took off again; through the door, down the stairs, into the kitchen, the second door left, up the three flights of stairs, before she arrived at the entrance to the West tower. The door creaked open as the eighth year-old child struggled to pull open, the heavy oak doors. One last flight of steps. Kayleigh’s ribbon had become undone, as she stopped halfway up the staircase to reposition it into her chocolate colored hair. The autumn wind rustled against the castle walls and the poor girl shivered in her white night gown.
Exhausted, she reached the top of the landing and stood inside a small room within the tower walls. The moon’s light shone through a small window. Underneath the windowpane stood a porcelain bathtub. Kayleigh rushed over to its side. Inside, the soft sound of water paddling resounded. Kayleigh smiled as she watched the tiny gray bird paddling inside its make-shift home. The little gray creature looked up and excitedly quacked at Kayleigh’s smiling face.
“Good day, Miss Breckyn”, Kayleigh greeted her feathery friend. Miss Breckyn answered with a complaisant (overly polite, trying to please, adj) quack. Every night Kayleigh came up the tower to converge (to meet; to come together, v) with Miss Breckyn. Kayleigh brought out a handful of bread crumbs, which she had nagged out of the kitchen on her way. She placed them on the floor in front of her. Miss Breckyn swam excitedly toward the wall of the tub, waiting for Kayleigh to pick her up and place her in front of her long awaited dinner. The small creature’s legs kicked with excitement as Kayleigh picked the gray bird out of its nursery.
“Do you think your mother and father will fly in the summer?” asked Kayleigh looking out of the small window. Breckyn chomped at the crumbs with truculence (aggressiveness; ferocity, adj), yet Kayleigh was sure that if the infant swan could talk she would be very verbose (wordy, adj). Kayleigh’s parents wouldn’t leave during the cold winter. They would hold lavish parties in the castle’s ballroom and go to court hearings where they would be asked to indict (to formally charge an accused person, v) a captive. Breckyn black orbs stared into Kayleigh’s baby blue ones. Somehow, she seemed understand Kayleigh’s pain. Both dirge (dirge – to lament or mourn with music, v) the arrival of winter. Miss Breckyn’s parents’ departure until spring and Kayleigh’s dislike of her parents’ doubled duties. Only the Lord, Kayleigh’s father, knew of Miss Breckyn. Kayleigh’s insular (narrow-minded; isolated, adj) mother would not have approved of the infant swan in the tower.
Kayleigh’s mind wandered to the garden. With the large lake where nearly fifteen swans would paddle in the cooling water. They never were prodigal (wasteful; reckless with money, adj) with their donated bread crumbs. Yet somehow, Breckyn was like Kayleigh. Breckyn didn’t follow her siblings behind their mother. She was quite recalcitrant (stubborn; determined to resist authority, adj). She never scurried away at the sight of Kayleigh, trying to pet one of them. It was one of the reason’s Kayleigh decided to keep the small creature out of the autumn cold. One day Breckyn will be too big for the tub and she will be put back into the lake outside. For some reason, Kayleigh knew that no matter how many winters came; Breckyn would always be the first swan to return in the spring.
One chain. One single length could mean either his eternal destruction or his saving light. As he waited anticipating the breaking of this vital chain, he recalled how he could ever get in this position. In order for this recollection to take place, in his mind, he went back to high school.
There was a girl, a pretty girl; he couldn’t quite remember her name. Maybe it was Carrie, maybe it was Cathy, it didn’t matter. Just some “C” name, he knew it started with a “C”. He remembered his stupid decision to drop out of high school with this girl. His parents advised him against it, but he figured they were just insular (narrow-minded; Adj) and didn’t want him to be happy. He was a recalcitrant (stubborn; Adj) boy, so he did not heed his parents’ cautions. He figured he was a wealthy guy from a nice family; he could get by without a high school degree. Needless to say, his life did not work out according to plan. The “C” named girl was prodigal (wasteful with money; Adj) and spent all of his money. He brought her to court to indict (formally charge an accused person; V) her for stealing his money. She was acquitted of all charges. The ruling was they were married, the wealth is shared. After the hearing the girl absconded (departed secretly and hide; V) in the middle of the night with all the rest of his money.
For a long time all he did was dirge (lament or mourn with music; V) in his house with his bathrobe on. After that phase, he gained some truculence (aggressiveness; Adj) in trying to find a job. He had to be complaisant (overly polite; Adj) in interviews at potential jobs, but he could never fully accomplish this goal. He just wasn’t an overly nice person. One day though, after a verbose (wordy; Adj) discussion with a staffing office, he was instructed to converge (to meet; V) the head of a construction company.
He went, he met, he liked, and he took the job.
He was just getting the hang of his new job when he was instructed to begin working at a new sight, the building sight of a new fantastic bridge. Originally, he was eager to be on the squad of this new job, but now he was regretting the decision. He was holding on to that chain for dear life. He randomly caught sight of a large pack of dogs. He brushed off the thought of them. The chain began to break further.
“I don’t want to die with any regrets” he said aloud.
The pack of dogs drew closer to the edge and looked as if they were about to pounce on him dangling there. If they pounced they definitely would break the chain. He didn’t know what they were doing!
Suddenly it hit him.
“I regret putting that beef jerky in my pocket.”
These Deadly Unknown Criminal Killers codenamed duck were of a mystical breed, they were bred at the 12th hour, on the 12th day, of the 12th month, on the 12th year, on the 12th century. Their eyes are capable of perceiving even the faintest movement in the dark of the night. These ducks are guardians of the prison that is visible behind them. The ducks abscond (to depart secretly and hide) in the stillness of the dark and await any prisoners who are brave enough to attempt to escape. Every 3rd year on the 3rd month of a 3rd year these ducks converge (to meet; to come together) to worship their phoenix who serves as their god.
Legend speaks of a prisoner who was recalcitrant (stubborn; determined to resist authority) and attempted escape. The ducks supposedly sprouted legs and repeatedly kicked the prisoner until he was unconscious. This legend has caused many to be wary of the ducks’ potential truculence (aggressiveness; ferocity). However few are dumb enough to attempt to anger the ducks, most are usually complaisant (overly polite, trying to please) towards the ducks. Once the ducks were present in the court while a man was being indicted (to formally charge an accused person).
While few of them are actually capable of death, the ducks dirge (to lament or mourn with music) their dead in the stretch of first light at dawn. There once was a rebel duck, tihW who attempted a rebellion against iyeF, the head of the ducks. tihW was very insular (narrow-minded) and wanted to destroy Oklahoma. iyeF being wise and really cool and good-looking did not trust tihW due to his prodigal (wasteful) ways with money. iyeF used a verbose (wordy) speech in order to cause s’tihW head to explode and save the world.
Note: This is completely factual
This Saturday, i had to attend a special meeting. No one told me with who, or about what. All they told me was that I had to be at the “Flamingo Motel” at 2:30 pm. I had to abscond (depart secretly, v.) after lunch because I was told to tell nobody where I was going and that I had to watch out that I wasn’t being followed. Although I was recalcitrant (stubborn, adj.) at first, because it seemed very strange, my boss almost forced me to go by telling me I’d get a pay cut. So I went.
Once I arrived at the Motel, it seemed as if there was no one there. I wondered if I had the wrong date or time at which they told me to converge (to meet, v.) at this “secret” place. But I went in anyways just to check.
The lady at the counter was complaisant (overly polite, adj.) and told me that someone was waiting for me in the conference room.
I walked down the narrow corridor and began to notice that the room dirged (to lament or mourn with music). This seemed weird to me because they normally never played music at business meetings. I slowly walked towards the door. I was being insular (narrow-minded, adj.) because I only seemed to think about how abnormal this situation was.
I opened the door and noticed that the room was pitch black. I wasn’t able to see anything. I thought “This must be the wrong room”, and right after I finished this thought I was pulled into the darkness with truculence (aggressiveness, n.), and the door was slammed behind me. I was standing there for a couple of seconds, scared out of my mind.
But at that moment the lights turned on and I heard a loud “Happy Birthday!”. It was a party just for me. I looked around the room and saw everyone there. They seemed to have been almost prodigal (reckless with money, v.) in setting up the party. Everything was there. I thought to myself who should be “indict” (formally charged, v.) with setting all this up. And at that moment my mom walks up to me, very verbose (wordy, adj.), eager to explain everything to me.
Image 2
Me and my brother Mark have been runnin from the law for two weeks now. We got seperated about two days ago. We absconded (v. to depart secretly) from our home two weeks ago to kidnapp to very wealthy people that lived several miles away. We converged (v. to come together) with some friends in front of the house. This is when things started to go very wrong.
The people living in the house were very usually very prodigal (adj. wasteful with money). We knew they just lost a family member to cancer and were very insular (adj. isolated). We could hear them dirging (v. mourning to music) inside the house. Whenever we drove by it almost always seemed like there was music. One of my friends dressed as a delivery man delivering flowers to the door from a family member trying to show support to the family. We told him to be complaisant (adj. overly nice), but he just kept putting to much focus on getting inside that they got suspicious. After almost a minute of talking he lashed out with truculence (n. ferocity) I’ve never seen from him before. There was apparantly a maid in the hose who called the police. This is where we completely forgot the plan.
Me and my brother were recalcitrant (adj. dtermined to rsist authority). We sped off as the police drove up. Last I saw in the paper our two friends were indicted (to formally charge an accused person) amd put into the Ohio state penitentery. Now I’m staying at this dirt motel. We almost got caught two days ag and I was forced to sperate with my brother. The las I heard from him he sent me a very verbose (adj. wordy) letter. I don’t know how he knew where I was, but he found me and in two days he met a girl and is living with her. He doesn’t care if he ever sees me again.
While the prodigal (wasteful; reckless with money; adj) careless people rome our earth, the society begins to decay. Starting with a rusty swing set at the park. They are insular (narrow-minded; isolated; adj) selfish people, only caring for themselves and the time they spend on this planet, they do not think or care about the future. They believe the world revolves around them and we are just people to keep them company. They will wake up one day to death and distruction.
Some people are rude and insensitive but others are complaisant (overly polite, trying to please; adj). They believe that if we all converge (to meet; to come together; verb), we can save mankind while we have the chance. Blindsided by the truth, we are already doomed. Not even the most truculence (aggressiveness; ferocity; adj) in the world can save us now. These recalcitrant (stubborn; adj) people are optimistic for no reason.
We want to abscond (to depart secretly and hide; verb) in a dark hole and run from our problems, run from what we know is going to happen. We want to indict (to formally charge an accused person; verb) for the wrongness in the world, but it ws not just one person’s fault, we are all contributers. We dirge (to lament or mourn with music; noun) to sad lyrics, knowing the end is soon to come. Our verbose (wordy; adj) language has come so far, such a waste for it to be going no where. For right now, all we can do is rust while we watch our world slowly disintegrate.
The man was reclusive, with a tendancy to abscond (v.) (to depart) from uncomfortable situations. He was an overall recalcitrant(adj.)(refractory) individual. He was cold and uncaring. His life progressed with zero tendancy to converge(v.)(incline towards one another) with the life of any other. He met people, continued on and never met them again. None ever did indict(v.)(accuse) him of any crime, other than general unpleasantness. His life was in all appearance the existance of an uncaring, unfeeling malcontent.
The man was not exeptionally villainous, however. His main crime was his introversive nature. He was not prodigal(adj.)(wasteful) with his time or emotions. He would have no dirge(n.)(commemorating funeral song) glorifying an admired and successful life. Still, he was neither malicious in action nor exceptionally repulsive in manner.
The truth was the man was insular(adj.)(isolated) by nature but not by choice. He infact was determined, insofar as he was determined to do anything, to become a heroic and noble character. He put up complaisant(adj.)(compliant) front half to this end, and half to mask truculent(adj.)(fierce, cruel) impulses. These too however, may had been merely immagined by the man. The man was highly delusional, but mostly he was simply overly verbose(adj.)(characterized by the use of too may words).
No one liked Wanda. That’s the truth.
Wanda had a birthmark splat on her forehead and it was oddly shaped like a duck. Honestly, it did look awkward; that’s why everybody made fun of her. This reminded them of Harry Potter and The Ugly Duckling combined, hence the nickname ‘Wanda the Waddling Witch’, a rather verbose (adj.; wordy) nickname that became popular around her school. Whenever something happened, no matter if it was someone who set off a stink bomb or a pincushion was set on a teacher’s chair, everyone would indict (v.; to charge with a crime) Wanda for doing it. The teacher would then give Wanda a beating, putting in more and more truculence (n.; ferocity) in the hits when Wanda became recalcitrant (adj.; resisting authority). They would tell her that she is way too prodigal (adj.; wasteful) by wasting her time and money on making stink bombs and such.
Everyday, Wanda went home crying. She asked herself many times why she had to be insular (adj.; isolated) from everyone else. “It’s only a birthmark,” she said to herself. She would then walk into her garden and hear the birds sing the dirge (n.; mournful song) of sunset, and cry by herself. She would stay there until the sun goes down, and walk slowly home, wiping tears away from her face. She often woke up in the middle of the night and abscond (v.; to depart secretly and hide) in a little hiding spot in a clearing surrounded with bushes which gave her a clear view of the moon. She would stay there, gazing with a moment of happiness, until it was dawn, the signal to get back home. She would do this nearly everyday, the only part of her life worth living for.
One afternoon, when Wanda was strolling helplessly in her garden, a duck waddled into her path. Wanda stopped, and the duck stopped, and their eyes converged (v.; to come together). Wanda became complaisant (adj.; overly polite) to the duck, offering the duck some bread. But the duck was scared and waddled away speedily. Much to her surprise, a few moments later, the duck came back and their eyes met again. This happened everyday of the week and each time, she came closer and closer to the duck.
Finally, after many days, the duck allowed Wanda to walk right up to the duck and touch it. Their eyes met one last time, and suddenly, the world transformed around Wanda. She found herself standing in the middle of what seemed like a castle, and was immediately introduced to the people there. In the end, it wasn’t a castle, but a school that taught all sorts of things she’d never heard of before. She quickly made friends with a silly girl with orange hair and a really smart boy with brown hair.
This is when Wanda’s true adventures began.
The bridge was Anabelle’s favorite place to come. When she could, once dinner was over she would stealthily abscond (verb- to depart secretly and hide) from the house and make her way to the river. Evenings like this one were her favorite. The sky was clear, the air was clean, and she was left alone with her thoughts. It’s not that Anabelle had a bad life; she was not confronted with much truculence (adj.- aggressiveness) from her parents. She did her best to remain complaisant (adj.- overly polite, trying to please) and had no interest in pointless bickering. However, some days she just needed to get away.
As she sat on a soft shady patch of grass, a thousand different thoughts ran through her head. She laid back on her hands and took in the landscape in the light of the setting sun. There truly were few things more beautiful than the moment where day and night converge (verb- to meet; to come together). Anabelle was at peace here and in some ways it troubled her that she didn’t feel this way at home.
Home was not bad, but home was tense. Since her grandmother died, her mother had gone from being a bright and verbose (adj.-wordy) young woman, to quiet and sullen. For days she seldom came out of her room where she dirged (verb- to lament or mourn with music) until the pain subsided. She took no solace in Anabelle’s father, who rarely showed emotion and preferred to remain insular (adj.- isolated). He saw her mother’s constant depression as prodigal (adj.- wasteful) and for weeks they barely spoke. Of course Anabelle cared for her mother, but the main reason that she was never recalcitrant (adj.- stubborn; determined to resist authority) was the fear of pushing her fragile mother over the edge. Plus, in her mind it wasn’t really worth it. She could be as free as she wanted by the river. She didn’t feel bad for sneaking away and no one could indict (verb- to formally charge an accused person) her of deserting her family. After days of ‘no sirs’ and ‘yes m’ams,’ an hour of serenity was not too much to ask.
Definitions? Parts of speech? — Mr. Long
As you can tell gees seem to be a rather docile form of animal. They are not complaisant, and actually can be quite truculent creatures when it comes to food or attention. The picture is showing the castle out of focus and blurry almost to say that nature is more important than something man made. As you look into the picture the gees seem to be something that wouldn’t abscond, leaving you by yourself. It seems like an animal that would waddle around and keep you company while leaving you to your thoughts at the same time.
In the background there is an old castle that seems to be in England or Scotland. The castle is an insular; being that it is all by itself. The architecture on this building also seems to be a bit prodigal, giving it an over the top feel. The gees don’t even want to go to it because it is more peaceful across the lake where they are. The building of this structure probably was a waste because it most likely wasn’t anymore advanced then any other castle, nor was it worth the expense of the peasants.
I have seen gees in many places, including at funerals. While the dirges are playing, they are perfectly content. I wonder if gees deal with loss the same way we do, I mean you don’t really see gees indicting one another after a death, like we do. Of course there isn’t a gees police force so naturally we don’t see recalcitrant gees. Gees actually seem to converge with one another, probably because they are quite social.
As you can probably tell I got a bit verbose and I hope none of it was too much for anyone to handle, until next time, I’m signing off.
Within a small, insular (adj. detached) apartment, an uninspired man wept for what could have been. Next to him an alarm clock that had been going off for ten minutes suddenly lost power and was silenced. The television sitting on the stained carpet lost its energy and dismissed its static and the apartment went disdainfully quiet. A half eaten turkey sandwich fed the hundreds of ants that crawled on the counter in the virtually empty kitchen while a stray cat absconded (adj. to depart in a secret manner) through Greg Summers’ open window and into the world. It was time for work.
As he silently anticipated a bus that would take him past the steel mill where he worked, he reflected upon the awards banquet that he had attended the previous night. He made an appearance at the banquet that was held in honor of his brother James, an exemplary police sergeant, because both their parents had passed away too long ago to remember. Greg Summers knew that if he didn’t attend, James would have no family pleasant. When Greg was asked to give a speech on behalf of his brother, he spoke clearly and every guest could see through his words. It was truculently (adj. brutally) obvious that Greg couldn’t care less that his brother had foiled his fifth robbery that month; in fact he thought the event was a prodigal (adj. wastefully extravagant) waste of money. His bitter attitude gained him a reputation of being excessively recalcitrant (adj. hard to deal with), but his grudge against his brother didn’t bud from hatred, but from extreme jealousy. James touched lives every single day; he put his life on the line every day to protect his city and he was loved for it. Greg hated that he touched no one. He hated that he lived only through a passing thought. Greg knew very well that he couldn’t indict (v. bring an accusation against) his brother for being a hero, and that made his jealousy even more bitter.
Greg floated in crowd of people through the gates of the steel mill and converged (v. to meet) with another small group of people going into the manufacturing department. Greg spotted another man that worked in the same chain division as him and drifted towards him.
“What are we working on today?” inquired Greg.
“Chains,” replied Scott with a smirk.
“Yeah I know, but for what?”
“ I dunno. Oh wait, for construction machinery! John Deere. I think they’re gonna use it to make that new baseball stadium.”
Scott wasn’t a particularly verbose (adj. wordy) individual, but Greg hardly noticed. He hated the complaisant (adj. inclined to please) types anyway. Greg could hardly concentrate on his job, which was to inspect each link and make sure it was strong and fit. As a conveyer belt lead all the chains directly into a storage box, he thought of what he could’ve done to avoid his empty existence. He wanted to affect someone; he wanted to make a difference. He let the hours pass by in a haze before the whistle blew and it was time to go back to the apartment. He lay in his bed and stared into the past, vainly attempting to rebuild his present. Three days later a dirge (n. funeral song) drifted through his open window and past his ears. A faulty chain link on a John Deere crane snapped in half, causing a three ton steel beam to crush four men working on a new baseball stadium. Each of the men had their own families, whose lives would never be the same because of Greg Summers.
Kyle, his bow and arrow slung across his shoulder, faced the spray of water that blew from the northern wind.
The boat rocked steadily along the current, the small waves lapping against its wooden side. The lake the boat floated upon stretched far in all directions, disappearing over the horizon in a rhythmic dance. Fifty more miles and the lake would narrow into a small strait; it was here that it converged (v) and came together with the Cartian Sea.
Angry, gray clouds began condensing overhead. Menacingly, thunder rocked the horizon, and as if in response the small waves began to leap higher in mild truculence (n) and ferocity. Kyle knew he had to find shelter. His boat, poorly built and designed for calm, fishing waters, was not built for lasting storms. The wind whipped against the recalcitrant (adj) and stubborn water as the waves leapt upwards, unyieldingly surging against the gust.
Kyle craned his neck, his eyes searching for a sign of land. There — he glimpsed a small island which appeared to house a large castle. It was strange to see such a change in scenery — the castle looked like it did not belong, as if it had been ripped out of the pages of a storybook and slapped into reality — but nevertheless, it was land.
Adjusting the sail, he pointed it towards the castle and let the wind catch in the fabric. Slowly, the boat progressed towards the island. Kyle made out two small, white figures floating near the castle’s gates. As he grew nearer, the slender profiles of two white geese slunk past his boat.
It was raining when he finally landed on the shore. He plunged a peg into the soft dirt, which was beginning to turn to mud, and quickly tied his boat. Adjusting the rim of his leather hat, he strode quickly to the large, metal doors of the castle. A brass knocker was attached to one of the doors; he grabbed it clanked it down on the metal.
The large door began to open, revealing a short servant boy and a hallway lavished with murals and torches. The boy’s face, contorted slightly by the light of fire, revealed a profile that was seemingly insular (adj) and narrow-minded.
“Uh. I’m seeking shelter. Is it alright if I come in?” Kyle asked.
The boy glanced at Kyle’s arrows nervously before replying, obviously attempting to be complaisant (adj) and overly polite to the dripping stranger.
“Y-yes, come in, but please hand me your weapons.”
Kyle undid the strap that held the cask of arrows to his back and handed it and his bow over to the boy.
“Follow me. The Duke will most likely wish to see you,” the boy said as he turned and strode down the hall. Kyle entered behind him, shutting the door and following the boy. Many passageways and nooks and crannies of the sort branched off of the hallway they were walking through; anyone who had in his mind to stealthily sneak about the castle could easily abscond (v) or depart secretly and hide.
They walked for a good five minutes, turning through various tunnels and passing through many different rooms. Kyle lost count of how many times they had turned left and right. All during this time, a tense silence permeated the air; the boy was obviously not of a verbose (adj) or wordy nature. Neither he nor Kyle tried to strike up a conversation.
As they neared the heart of the castle, Kyle could hear a soft, angelic sound. At first, he could not discern what it was and thought himself to be hearing things. Soon, however, he realized that it was the melody of a harp. The notes, so lamenting and mournful, floated on the air like a tune for the dead, as if someone was dirging (v) and lamenting (with music) the death of a loved one. Kyle himself felt like life was being drained out of him as he listened to this beautiful, but depressing, melody.
The hallway opened up into a large chamber. From the walls hung tapestries of crimson and gold. A fine, reddish carpet stretched out in front of them. The decoration induced a sense of prodigal (adj) and reckless (with money) wealth. From the middle of the room came the source of the harp’s melody: a young girl, her eyes closed, was running her fingers gracefully across the strings of the instrument. The servant boy crossed the threshold and tapped her on the shoulder. Her eyes fluttered open.
“We have a guest,” he said promptly. He bowed to her and, raising his eyes to the balcony, saluted a man sitting behind the railing. Kyle started in surprise; he had noticed neither the balcony nor the man behind it. The servant boy retreated back into the darkness of the hallway, shutting the wooden door behind him.
“Welcome… I am the owner of this castle,” the man said. Kyle figured he was the Duke the servant boy spoke of. “I may address you as…?”
“Kyle. Simply Kyle,” Kyle replied, taking a bow as he spoke his own name.
“Kyle, you may stay here as long as you like, though you may find during your stay our atmosphere to be quite… inhospitable.” He motioned to the girl sitting behind the harp, who had resumed her melancholy playing. Kyle noticed a tear slipping down the side of her cheek.
“What has happened, if you do not mind me asking?”
“The murder of my son,” the Duke whispered quite straightforwardly. An awful clank sounded from the harp; the girl had snapped a string, her fingers frozen in place. She quickly rose from her stool and strode out of the chamber, her slender shoulders shaking with grief.
“That is my eldest daughter,” the Duke said, fighting emotion. “The criminal has been indicted (v; formally charge an accused person). I will have my revenge yet.”
Kyle nodded in respect, bowing his head. “I am sorry for your loss. If there is anything I can do…”
“Thank you for understanding. But enough of this talk, you are a guest seeking shelter and you wish to spend the night until the storm ceases. I shall show you to the guest chamber.”
That morning, Kyle set sail again.
The night he had spent in the castle had refreshed him, yet he felt strangely empty. The wind was calm today, but strong enough to push the boat along gently. The sun was out, and all was pleasantly silent except the gentle lapping of the waves along the boat. Yet, a strange tune haunted Kyle’s mind, pushing at the fabric of his unconsciousness. It beautiful and alluring, yet full of grief. It was the melody of a harp.
Image Two:
“Road trip!!” said Amy to her friend Jennifer.
The two eighteen year olds were about to abscond (v, to depart secretely and hide) from their boyfriends who were driving them crazy. The two girls wanted to converge (v, to come together) and take a break from their bothersome boyfriends. So the two best friends left their dorm room and went on a road trip without the slightest sign of truculence (n, ferocity). Unfortunately Amy and Jennifer were two of the most prodigal (adj, reckless with money) girls that attended their college. So naturally when putting the two together, little or no money would be saved. People always tried to indict (v, to formally charge an accused person) them of wasting all of the money they got, but they did not agree with them.
Amy and Jennifer were said to be very verbose (adj, wordy) when around one another. The two had known each other since they were little girls and had always dreamed of going on a road trip and staying in a quirky fifties hotel. They also tended to be very insular (adj, isolated) from the rest of the world because they might as well be classified as one person they were so close. As the girls were driving to the fifties hotel they had found on their iPhones, they heard a song on the radio that resembled their current status with their boyfriends and decided to pretend to dirge (v, to lament or mourn with music) over the issues that they had to overcome with their boyfriends. The best friends laughed the whole way to the hotel, and like always, had a great time together.
Jennifer checked her phone to see that her boyfriend Matt had called her twice and sent her four texts in the last two and a half hours. As she told Amy about how recalcitrant (adj, stubborn) Matt could be, Amy decided to check her phone as well. She started to laugh so hard because her boyfriend Jim had called her three times and sent her six texts. The two girls laughed at how whipped they had their guys as they pulled into the hotel parking lot. Amy and Jennifer got out of the car and went into the hotel. They immediately knew that their weekend would be absolutely amazing and were overwhelmed with joy. They walked up to the front desk and were complaisant (adj, overly polite) towards the employee as they got their room key and complementary peppermints. Amy and Jennifer then went up to their room laughing, excited to have a weekend away from their lives to just enjoy each other’s company.
I used to just sit in the sun and let the birds come and go. I was very complaisant (adj. overly polite, trying to please), and never complained. I was happy, and so were the birds. Everything was ok until the new owner took over me. He was so insular (adj. narrow-minded; isolated) and saw not the beauty and peace that the birds brought, only the mess. He indicted (v. to formally charge an accused person) the birds of ruining his establishment, even though he was the one who ruined it, and decided to take action.
The day the new owner converged (v. to meet; to come together) me with those spikes was the worst day of my life. First of all, that stupid, prodigal (adj. wasteful; reckless with money) owner could’ve spent his money on something useful, like getting me a new paint job. But no, he had to cover me in those horrid things that have so much truculence (n. aggressiveness; ferocity).
The only things that ever kept me company now hate me. They abscond (v. to depart secretly and hide) and take their nests elsewhere. I have been alone ever since, sitting here with those abhorred protrusions coming from me. The only thing that ever consoles me is that once in a while I may here one of them whistling far off in the distance, and I think of it as them beginning to dirge (v. to lament or mourn with music) for me. I wish one of them could one day be recalcitrant (adj. stubborn; determined to resist authority) and come and join me, but I know it will never happen. I sit here alone, and if my verbose (adj. wordy) face could cry, it would.
Bradley Draver was a good looking and successful man. He worked as the District Attorney in his home town because he found an unsettling joy in indicting (v) people and throwing the lives of the guilty to the greedy and ruthless dogs of society. Not all DAs were like Bradley, but Bradley was the worst of the worst. His insular (adj) character is probably what formed, or at least catalyzed, his truculence (adj) in the courtroom. With his verbose (adj) insults and his merciless personality, he had been isolated by everyone around him. There is no company for the foul.
Bradley was driving to his beach house to take vacation when he noticed a sign that said, “Sperra – Next Exit.” Sperra was Bradley’s home town, and on a whim he moved into the right lane and exited into it. Upon catching sight of a dilapidated park, he made a right turn and pulled into the parking lot. He used to come there all of the time as a boy. He and his many friends would converge (v) there and play until the sun went to sleep. They were recalcitrant (adj) little kids and would run and climb until the last sparkle of the sun went away. The park wasn’t the same anymore though. Everything was rusted over and broken. He wanted to give it a funeral and dirge (v) it. There would’ve been no one to mourn with though, the park was hopelessly abandoned. Well, almost.
There was a small old woman sitting on one of the rotting benches. He walked over to her and began to ask what she was doing here but then stopped in the middle of his sentence. It was Mrs. Richards, his old neighbor who used to watch over him when his parents were away so often. He didn’t expect her to recognize him, but to his surprise he saw the recognition sparkle in her frail, watery eyes. They sat down and talked for a while, but not about memories. Bradley overtook the conversation with talk of business and impressive numbers. Eventually she stopped him and said, “I don’t know who you are, sir.”
He was disheartened, he could’ve sworn she remembered him. She had even said his name! She must have Alzheimer’s or something. “Ma’am, my name is Bradley-” “Yes. I know your name. But I don’t know YOU. You are not the boy, the young man who I helped raise. You are malicious, greedy, and prodigal (adj). And I don’t know you anymore.” He wanted to abscond (v) and never be seen again. But it wasn’t because she was so complaisant (adj) that she was saying these things, it was true. He knew it. All it took was for one person that mattered to him to say something for it to hit home. In that little park in front of that little woman, he vowed to become a better man.
This duck we like to call Bill, visited us while we were on vacation in beautiful England. We had been in England for almost 2 months and regularly came to this pond where we first converged (verb, to meet) upon Bill. We were complaisant (adj, over polite) to Bill because we were visitors in his country and did not want to bother him. He was unlike any other duck, he would come to us and visit with us for a few minutes and then return to the pond. It was a bond no one else in the world could feel. We did have to be prodigal (adj, reckless with money) to see Bill all we need was our love!
We hadn’t been to the park in a few days due to very bad weather, so when we arrived at the pond we were curious as to where Bill was. He was not a recalcitrant (adj, stubborn) duck so easily could have made new best friends. As I began to dirge (verb, to mourn with music) the loss of Bill, the sad mystery music playing in my head, I began to think of what could have happened. Maybe he had been a criminal in disguise, and a police had come and indicted (verb, to formally charge an accused person) him of theft. Maybe he showed truculence (adj, aggressiveness) to the officer and absconded (verb, to depart secretly and hide). Maybe I am being insular (adj, narrow-minded)! Maybe he is sleeping somewhere and we just don’t know it.
We continued to Search for our dear friend Bill, every moment our hearts beating faster. That was until we saw a Bill waddling our way with a few baby ducks behind him. Earlier I was just being very verbose (adj, wordy), Bill’s wife had apparently given birth. Bill wasn’t a wanted criminal or any other terrible things; he was a father! We realized our trip had flown past our eyes and we were now on our last week in England. We decided we would see Bill one last time to say our goodbyes. He didn’t have the same time for us because of his responsibilities as a father. Although we were leaving Bill I think Bill and I realized we would always be apart of each others lives.
One day a little girl was out in her backyard playing on the swingset her father had built for her when she was a baby. Her name was Lucy, she was an only child and was becoming a very complaisant (adj. inclined or disposed to please;obliging) kid. Next door to her was very large pit bull. Lucy knew there was a truculence (adj. fierce; cruel; savangely brutal) dog, but she didn’t know how big it was. Lucy had no fear against any living thing, she beleive that if she was brave enough nothing would ever harm her. Somtimes that’s what 8-year-olds think at that age.
On this day that Lucy was playing outside she heard alot of barking coming from the other side of the fence. She could tell that the dog was very reacalcitrant (adj. resisting authority or control) against the chains that held the dog back from escaping. Lucy still wasn’t scared one bit. she knew the owners were smart enough to put a strong enough chain to put on their dog. Well Lucy’s indict (v. to bring a formal accusation against) was going to be put to test.
Soon enough she heard the chain break, the dog was now a prodigal (adj. wastefully or recklessly extravagant) and acting like it had rabies. Now there was only a fence standing between Lucy and the monsterous dog. She knew that if this dog was actually sick, then it would do anything to come and get her. Lucy absconded (v. to depart in a sudden and secret manner) from her backyard as soon as possible, but in favor of the dog it wasn’t soon enough. The dog had figured out how to jump over the fence and he converged (v. incline toward eachother) to Lucy and as soon as she reached the door, he got a hold of her foot. She was screaming “Help! Help!” many times, her parents wouldn’t help her they thought she was just playing another one of her games. Her mom and dad were just inside looking up new insular (adj. of or pertaining to an island or islands) vacations to take. Lucy had finally grabbed something from inside the door and wacked the dog as hard as she could, so she could get away. She shut the door with as much force as when she hit the monsterous dog. Then a dirge (n. a funeral song or tune) song started playing in her head. This loud slam woke Lucy up and she ran to tell a verbose (adj. characterized by the use of many or too many words) story to her mother and father.
I never liked geese. They have always had truculence (n; aggressiveness) especially when you feed them. They are also noisy and verbose (adj; wordy). I have been to a several ponds and lakes where one could find geese but they always behaved the same way no matter if they are pretty white geese or some other color. Being an old woman whose husband died only recently, I would still dirge (v; to lament or mourn with music) around and was very bitter. As time went on, however; I remained bitter and began to abscond (v; to depart secretly and hide) myself from society, only coming outside for my morning walks.
One day, as I was on one of my morning walks, I converged (v; to meet) upon a wounded bird. At first I was just going to leave it, but something that I can’t explain made me pick it up and bring it back to my house. Before I retired, I was a vet. Therefore I decided to treat the bird myself. During the time when I helped the bird, I would feed it from my hand. When I eventually healed the bird back to health, I let it free.
The next day, the bird came back. Not too sure what it wanted, I fed it some food and let it hop on my hand. As I sat myself down, another bird appeared at a distance, so I tossed a little piece of bread half way between me and the bird which it came hesitantly towards and ate it. I then threw another piece half way between the last one I threw and it came more hesitantly than last time. When it did reach the piece of bread, it hopped back. I tossed another which landed about two feet away from my foot. This time, the bird just sat there, waiting for me to go away so it could get its snack. While I was waiting on the bird, I continued to feed my friend who was still on my arm. To make it more tempting for the bird, I added some more pieces. After a while, the bird was finally brave enough to take the pieces of bread. Then, I let my friend off my arm, bent down and held my hand out with a big piece of bread to the bird while feeding my friend with the other hand. At first, the bird just sat there watching but after watching for about two minutes, it took the piece of bread from my hand and three more birds came. I repeated the process with the three birds and others that would suddenly come out of nowhere. Eventually, I was covered with birds which ultimately led to me being peed on.
The next day, I decided to put on an old poncho to prevent myself from being a victim of bird droppings. Today, the birds accepted me faster than the day before. Unfortunately, not everybody was too happy about it. Some people were insular (adj; narrow-minded) who would tell me that I was being prodigal (adj; wasteful). Others would try to indict (v; to formally charge an accused person) me for little or no reason at all. Despite the criticism, I was recalcitrant (adj; determined to resist authority). Decides, there were many others who were impressed and others trying to be complaisant (adj; overly polite) and it made me happy.
(To be read in an Australian or some Irish borough accent)
Hello, my name is Rex and that truculent (aggressiveness; ferocity, adj) fellow behind me is my partner Raak. He’s not the brightest and you would not describe him as “verbose” (wordy, adj). In fact he’s quite an insular (narrow-minded; isolated, adj) chap, but I’m glad he’s on my side when we get in a squeeze. You see that castle behind us; well you should have seen it a few hours ago. Raak and I here aren’t your average recalcitrant (stubborn; determined to resist authority, adj) black beaked geese. Depending on where you’re from, we are known as gangsta goons, evil emissaries, Ducks of doom. Our prodigal (wasteful; reckless with money, adj) employer separated himself from his gentleman father’s leisurely pursuits by absconding (to depart secretly and hide, v) with half the estate’s treasury and the family geese (us), to whom he refers as “ducks,” to pursue a life of raucous debauchery financed by the sale of arms to whatever hoodlum from the underbelly of society who was able to pay. Funds were running low so he contrived a plan to divest the other mob family, the O’Sullivans, of their ill gotten horde of gold.
The plan was to delude the O’Sullivans into trusting us so when we stole the gold we could evade indictment (to formally charge an accused person, v). One dark and stormy night we converged (to meet; to come together, v) on the hapless castle that served as the base for all the O’Sullivans family dealings. Me and Raak here sneaked into the courtyard as the first watch was being changed. We went into the kitchen because no one is going to question the reasons for a couple of geese in the kitchen. From there we made our way to the treasury, which was in the keep tower. From here it was an easy matter of ferrying the gold in bags to the lake where they would sink in to an underwater cave we discovered while on a surveillance mission. When all the gold was gone we placed calling card of another mob family in the middle of the spacious room. After that we glided down to the lake to observe the aftermath.
It was like nothing you could have imagined. People moaned their dirges (to lament or mourn with music, n) to the sky and the far from complaisant (overly polite, trying to please, adj) O’Sullivan himself declared war on the McCarthy family, the family we framed. This was of course one of the most anticipated outcomes of the scheme. That was about four hours ago and the retrieval team is due to be here in three hours but we can wait. We are just floating peacefully, dozing off in the pre-dawn light bobbing up and down in the waves of the lake. The gold is safely hidden beneath the surface and we are waiting for news on if we were finally the most powerful family.
During last summer’s stay in Honolulu my buddy Joel and I were just swimming along when something abruptly frightened us. We decided that we would abscond and depart secretly (v) and head to the river bank where no body would dare to see us. As we were headed there I noticed Joel was acting a bit strange and he started to flutter his wings profusely, terribly scaring me in the act. I thought this was very insular and narrow minded of him (adj) as he didn’t think about how it would affect me. So in an act to become complaisant amd overly polite (adj), Joel stopped fluttering his wings just in time to hear the approaching assailant.
As we both converged and came together (v) and turned in unison to see who this mysterious goose was Joel was attacked with truculence rather aggressive and with ferocity (adj) in an instant. Without even thinking he became verbose and very wordy (adj) and began to speak rather harsh language uncontrollably. In an attempt to control Joel I lost a wing and had to be rushed to the veterinarian quickly if I wanted to survive. However back at the river Joel and his attacker met and at this moment he realized that it was indeed Goosarella, his angry ex-girlfriend. She had been rather upset as she had thought of Joel as very prodigal and very reckless with his money and the way he spent it (adj).
At the hospital the doctors wanted to pronounce me dead as they saw the amount of blood loss and began to dirge me lamenting me with music (v). This scared me terribly as I thought I was potentially going to die. So with no hesitation they rushed me into surgery in order to save my wing. Without this drastic decision, I would have not been alive today. Meanwhile back at the river, by this time the police had already showed up and handcuffed Goosarella for her horrendous crime. She was rather recalcitrant as she fiercely resisted the police (adj) as they tried to take her into custody. A few years down the line she was in court for this crime where the prosecuting attorneys were trying to indict or foramally charge her (v) for this crime. She was found guilty and was sentenced to 5 years in the bottom of the river. And as for me and Joel we retired and still swim the same waters each and every morning.
A broken chain is like a heart, it has to be held toegther or else it comes loose. As I have grown up and learned hardships nothing hurts more than a broken heart. I am now 23 and have only been hurt once in my life but it was hard. I try to forget about it but i just cant seem to block out the hard moment in my life. I am so independent and usually dont need anyone to make me happy but somehow he did.
I just sometimes wished I could abscond (v.) from reality. I learned that being complaisant (adj.) got me no were if you cant defend yourself at the time. I felt like i was a criminal being indicted (v.) by the selffish heart of one guy.
My dad has been in consturction all his life and i grew up around grungy guys. They were all insular (adj.) and only thought for themselves. I remember watching them get there pay checks and they would be so prodigal ( adj.) with it and spend every penny on beer. I loved being around them though becuase life was so simple and there were no worries surrounding me. Then when i grew up and stepped out into the real world truculence (n.) filled my body. Everyone was gossipy and verbose (adj.). In other words no one could keep a secret of how they felt or who they didn’t like.
All my life i had hoped that one day i would find a man who could put my chain together and make me whole again. I never asked for much but to converge (v.) a wonderful person to complete me. I am very outgoing, friendly. yet can be very recalcitrant (adj.) from time to time. I wanted someone who liked me for me and could someday love me. I was tired of getting hurt and dirging (v.) because it was the easiest way out. I know that life is gonna suck but i also know one day the sun is going to shine brighter then i ever thought possible.
A chain in the universe has been broken. Two opposing forces have been ported from their respective places to fight truculently (adj) on our world here. Their ferocity has ripped our world to shreds, and has made us come face to face with destruction and desolation. However, they absconded (v) to parts unknown about 2 years ago. They have secretly hid somewhere in the world, but how long will it be until they come back to fight each other again?
Since their leaving, we have come to have a ritual annually where we dirge (v) the fallen people from the great fight. We have come to lament them with music in a festival. We have also come to indict (v) a particular order that we suspect to have brought the two opposing forces to our world in the first place. We find that the order is insular (adj), and cares for no one but for themselves. Their narrow-mindedness is what will eventual lead to their downfall.
Ever since the fight times have been hard. All of our resources go to the military, so that they can wage their wars against other countries, and, if they ever come back, to stop the forces that fled 2 years ago. We look down on the prodigal (adj), for they are wasteful and every bit helps. The governing body, the Polls, converge (v) every week to give an update on the country, on its status in the wars, on our resources, things like that. They meet and try to be complaisant (v) to us, but we are not stupid. It’s nice though to see that the Prolls are trying to please us.
There are some people who do not agree with the Prolls ideals. These are the resistance group called the Group. These people are recalcitrant (adj), and try to liberate us from the Prolls authority. Though they resist the Prolls, the Prolls don’t seem to care. The Prolls say that every man is entitled to his own oppinion. But, every time that a new Group member appears, they seem to disappear within the week. The Group is very verbose (v) and tries to convert us, but we are happy with our government and the Prolls. They may be wordy, but their ideals have no substance for us to consider. So usually their rants fall on deaf ears.
This is the world that I live in now, the world of desolation and despair. We used to be happy, but then the link in the chain was broken, and every thing blew up in our face.
This is the very chain that kept my friend Alex and I alive. A few years ago, when I was living in California, I was having problems with my parents. We would fight often and accomplish nothing during these times. I was very recalcitrant(adj. stubborn, determined to resist authority) which I can clearly see nowadays. Alex was having these issues with his mother. I was always scared of Alex because he would show a great amount of truculence(adj. aggressiveness) when he became upset. Everytime Alex and I fought, each with our own parents, we would abscond(v. to depart secretly and hide) to an old boat that Alex and I had found long ago.
When we had originally found the boat, there was a very large large chain inside of it, completely rusted on every square inch of it. Over the few months that we had found the boat, we started to decorate it little by little. We had added a small television, a radio, and had hidden a few packs of soda under the seat at the rear. Alex and I were very prodigal(adj. reckless with money) when it came to fixing up the boat. Everytime I wanted to leave the house to go to the old boat, I would often be complaisant(adj. overly polite) with my parents. I felt badly when I had done this because I was never pleasant with them at any other time.
One day, Alex and I decided to converge(v. to meet) at the boat and relax while we would talk about life and all of our issues. We would often dirge(v. to lament with music) about our lives which I see now as stupid and pointless. Alex, who had been very verbose(adj. wordy), would often talk about his father who was indicted(v. to formally charge an accused person) for things he had never committed. Alex was a person who had been very insular(adj. isolated) his entire life because of his father’s fate. We would talk and talk until we would fall asleep. That very night, the waves started to pick up and the winds started to blow very harshly. We had not known this at the time and the very next morning we had suddenly woken up because a rock had hit the bottom of the boat. I looked up and noticed that we were about fifty yards away from the beach and the only reason we had only been that far away was because of the chain. We haden’t tied it to anything and while the storm was blowing it had fallen off of the side into the ocean and snagged in between two large rocks towards the bottom. After that, I had taken the chain and kept it ever since to remember the story. If that chain had not been there, there’s no telling where we could’ve ended up.
As in any system, a broken link weakens. Where once a connection was so strong, by one falter, a chain crumples. This is how i met Andrew, the one link that tore down the monarchy. He spent his days skulking through the palace, recalcitrant(adj, determined to resist authority). He plotted and spied, among other things, looking for the simple weakness that would bring down the oppressive government under which he was forced to work. No one suspected the message-boy to be treacherous, always complaisant(adj, overly polite, trying to please), not suspect of anything other than an ill-informed message, which he never was.
After days and weeks and months of listening at secret doors, reading and relaying messages, and waiting ever-patiently for a plan, insular(adj, narrow-minded) in his task to collapse the monarchy, he found a chink. One single lapse in judgement, a particularly verbose(adj, wordy) message. It told of the embezzlement and debt that consumed the country, this prodigal(adj, reckless with money) royal family, using money as fuel for the fire that burned in hearts of furious citizens. Now all Andrew had to do was indict(v, to formally charge an accused person) the criminal royalty. How to do so was the issue however. After careful consideration, he decided to intercept the message from Necker to the king, revealing the economic issues to the public, and none were the wiser of his deceipt.
Blood boiled and pitchforks were lifted, as Andrew’s actions took effect among the peasants. He absconded(v, to depart secretly and hide) from the palace, fleeing in the night to escape discovery of his actions. It was in the dark of this night that we met, converging(v, to come together) in the forest, he away from the palace, I from the fierce revolts taking place towards the palace. We stood wordlessly together, watching the truculence(n, ferocity) of the march, meeting the palace as a great typhoon meets land, attacking and sweeping over everyone and everything that felt unjust. Throught the dense foliage we saw the fire in the hearts of the peasants consume the palace, burning with the same anger and despair that had been trapped among them for ages.
As the sun rose, the fury quieted. Morning light flooded over the bloody, torn scene. It was as though a dirge(n, a funeral song or tune) was being played by the earth for the end of the corruption, mourning and remorseful. The end of an age was upon us, but no one knew what lay beyond the blood-red sun.
There names were Lacy and Clide. These two individuals absconded(to departe secretly,v) during the night to converge(to meet, to come together,v)with another family. The reasons for this secret departure was the simple facts behind a calling for adventure. This “vacation” would be almost a short of road trip for the two couples traveling together. There was no boundaries, no deadlines, no destinations. This was a road trip unlike any other, this get-away was headed in the direction that the fate of the finger across the artificial terrain landed upon.
There journey started in the city that never sleeps, New York city. The fate of the finger was insular(narrow minded,adj)to the fact of other more glamouroius places that were awaiting traveling couples but this stop-point would be unknown, for all they knew was to travel west. Before leaving, Lacy left a letter to her family that was far from verbose(wordy,adj) but explained that they were taking a trip and didnt know when they would be back and didnt know where they were going, there would also be no ways for communication. Lacy wrote this letter because ,for once in her life, she was tired of being complaisant(trying to please, overly polite,adj) to the people she didnt respect and wanted to live her life beyond the gray walls of the cymetrical box she sat in everyday. The trip made its way west but the couples were ill prepared on planning and timing. They were prodigal(wasteful,adj) with money and their trip was slowly coming to an end even before it started. Even with this dilemna, these individuals were recalcitrant(stubborn,adj) with the sense of an unaccomplished goal. A goal that was no accended by truculence(ferocity, aggressiveness,adj) but a goal that was a simple way to find oneself and live for the moment and not for the ordinary people surrounding their every move. As the trip came to a close and they were heading back to New York city. There was almost a eery dirge(lament, mourn with music,n) in music in the background of the tires rythme against the dark gray road. The last stop they made was to a hotel with brightly colored letter on the outside spelling out ‘HOTEL’ in bright orange lettering. The reason for picking this hole in the wall hotel over a five star suite ,that they would have just enough money for, was the simple fact that the hotel was similar to what they represented. A bright character hiding behind the foundation they were set upon.
This hotel was more than just the last destination and more than just a room with two beds and a bathroom. This hotel was a place for relaxation and a place yo find oneself. It didnt indict(to formally charge an accused person,v) them to the world around them but momentarily sheltered them from the past and laid a barrier for the future. This barrier was composed of a stronger character, internal peace, and the main goal everyone is looking for. A goal that is different for everyone that in ones lifetime is the ultimate goal.
Johnny and Jenny loved each other more than any other thing in the whole world. Their relationship knew no bounds and was insular (adj. isolated) to themselves, for they hated their people. They could not stand anything about their so called friends and family or the many others who shared society with them. Nothing anyone could do could change how the two felt about each other, or how they felt about others. Some said they were recalcitrant (adj. stubborn) for never giving anyone a chance, but that wasn’t it. Johnny and Jenny gave them a chance; they just couldn’t stand ducks no matter how hard they tried.
One quiet November evening, Johnny and Jenny converged(v. to come together) under their favorite bridge to talk. They took a good look around to ensure that no one was near enough to hear them talk because Johnny said he had an important idea for how to fix their problems with the other ducks. When they were sure they were alone, Johnny turned to Jenny. As he began to speak he was struck by how the dim light played off her beautiful tail feathers, and he realized that he would do absolutely anything to make her happy. He then disclosed a plan to her for the eviction or destruction of every duck that shared their pond with them. He spoke of how great it would be alone, how they would get all the bread crusts from little kids, no more annoying quacking laughs from obnoxiously loud waterfowl. Yes, he was sure she would agree that this was the best course of action for them to live the rest of their life in peace with only each other to love. After Johnny was finished he looked upon his true love and waited for her approval. Jenny however looked at him with eyes filled with fear. She said that that was crazy, they could never do that to the others no matter how much they hated them. They should talk about their problems instead of acting so harshly. Johnny immediately sighed at Jenny’s verbose(adj wordy) attitude toward any problem while she felt a little fear in Johnny’s truculence(adj. aggressiveness). He felt she was far to complaisant(adj. overly polite or kind) toward other and he wanted action now. They parted ways that night with plans to think about everything and make decisions later. The next day though, everything changed. Jenny woke up to see her love on the news being arrested. She understandably was scared and wondered what it was he had done. Through farther research she found out that Johnny had been indicted(v formally charged) for the crime of attempting a mass genocide of every duck in the greater east swamp region. He had become zealous in his quest to rid them of others and had scattered poisoned duck food on the banks of the pond with intent to make a world for just he and Jenny. She couldn’t believe it.
The week after Johnny was sent away to stay with other fowls who had committed such heinous crimes, he was visited by Jenny. He questioned why it had taken so long for her to come see him for he was scared of what the chickens and turkeys who were apparently locked up for brutal assault of a sandhill crane would do to him if they found out why he was there. She simply told him that she was going to abscond(v. to leave and hide) forever and never visit him again. She just couldn’t handle what he tried to do to the other ducks. As she left Johnny shed a single, lonely tear, which rolled down his cheek like water off a ducks…ok too lame. For the rest of his days in the pen Johnny dirged(v mourned) the loss of his one true love. This story teaches everyone that no matter how much you love someone, never attempt a genocide of your own people to make them happy, because it’s not worth it.
#1
Geese are insular (adj.) animals simply changing priorities between sleep and food. They do not have the capacity to demonstrate prodigal (adj.) behavior as humans do and if they had any money they would actually be thrifty. Although these animals may seem very peaceful, they have another side to them. A side that can be revealed if they are provoked into truculence (n.). They become dangerous with flapping wings and nipping beaks. As was one such case with farmer John’s goose.
Farmer John’s goose was normally a very friendly goose, Close to his owner and always complaisant (adj.). Always circling around the pond that offered a certain peace of mind to the famer. In return for the beauty that the goose offers the farmer’s land they converge (v.) in the afternoon where he feeds his goose. It was about such time when the farmer went outside with a bag of feed for his pet and he was nowhere to be found. The farmer thought maybe the goose was being abnormally recalcitrant (adj.) and didn’t feel like making the journey to his pen, but was proved other wise when he heard a scream in the distance.
The farmer travelled down the hill to see what the noise where the noise was coming from and if everything was ok. He eventually saw a boy sobbing with his goose nearby, he hurried up to the boy and asked what was wrong. The boy offered a cluster of words unintelligibly as many children do when they are excited or overflowed with emotions. The farmer asked the verbose (adj.) boy to slow down and tell him what happened. The boy said that his goose had bit him on the arm. The farmer was shocked and apologized. He asked the boy to come up to his house where he had bandages, he started to walk up to his house and when he turned around the boy had absconded (v.). Farmer John thought perhaps the child had left to dirge (v.) with his own singing to take his mind off the pain. With a particular uneasiness the man made his way back to his house to sleep until the next he found a note nailed to his door. He was being indicted (v.) by the boys parent and had to appear at court that afternoon.
The drip of the shower faucet in the bathroom of the hotel, room number seventy-three, did not at all keep the Patersons awake. In fact, they slept very sound, even though they were in a dangerous position and could be caught at any moment while on their mission. They were mutants of the human species, with the same characteristics, but different motives and reason for life. They are part of a new group, a secret plot to start a revolution of the way humans act. The Patersons are two out of the 24,000 participants, or rather, beings. The way to be converted into a Alterad is to have contact with the DNA from any Alterad. Even a flake of skin from a mutant could ‘infect’ a body. They had to convert all Sicklies by the 26th of September, giving them four days to change the whole world. Four days until—
The alarm went off; having the same monotonous occurrence as the water puddling in the shower. They would converge (vb, to meet) their future allies today, and had no clue exactly who that might be. Unlike normal beings, the Patersons had nothing to do but wake up and go to their destination. Every mutant was assigned three destinations for each day. Hospitals, malls, and restaurants were the key places to spread the Alterator (the antidote). The Patersons were to go to Saints Hospital on their first mission.
‘This way,’ he thought, allowing his wife to telepathically follow his directions. ‘We will push every elevator button, go to as many rooms as we can, and touch everything that would be touched by any other person.’ She agreed and followed him down each hallway of the hospital.
The Patersons looked sickly themselves. Both had a definite face with plain, grey hair. Mrs. Patersons had a protruding bottom lip and, along with her mouth, had a negative frown to it. She had close-set, wide eyes. As she would begin her task of spreading the Alterator, her face became full of concentration. Her lips were sucked in, as if she had no teeth at all. Her eyes were jittery with a sort of truculence (n, aggressiveness; ferocity). They were now at the 14th out of 26 floors, and new that they had to either finish quick or hide until the workers shifts were over; they could not risk recognition. ‘Go to the restroom. I will talk to you through the walls. Don’t let anyone let on though. This is our life, and must become theirs, too,’ Mr. Paterson thought to his partner. ‘I know,’ and with that, they absconded (v, to depart secretly and hide) into their restrooms. ‘Are you there?’ Mr. Patersons questioned. ‘Yes.’ It was a good thing that they hid when they did because a doctor named Yerks knew–
“Are you okay?” A young lady asked. Mrs. Patersons did not want to reply and wanted to remain quiet as long as possible. This was not the best idea, considering criminals (in a sense, that is was they were) should not be recalcitrant (adj, stubborn; determined to resist authority). She remembered to speak aloud, and said, “Yes. Thank you, I am okay. I think I might have had something bad for breakfast. Thank you so very much, though. You are the only person who has been in here for maybe 20 minutes, and I could have been dead by then!” She smiled complaisantly (adv, overly politely, trying to please) at the young lady, and then quickly ran into her stall. “Okay then, I hope you get better, then,” the nice lady concluded. ‘They overuse so many words, it’s sick,’ thought Mrs. Patersons to her partner. ‘They are prodigals (n, wasteful) with the English language.’ After she was done washing her hands, she quickly adjusted her hair, and used a paper towel that she later opened the door with.
‘We can go, now,’ thought Mr. Patersons. They met outside their doors. ‘To the chapel.’ They entered into the back, again touching everything that was in reach and would be touched. The Patersons were thrown off to find a service going on, and a dirgeful (adj, lamenting or mournful music) song be surrounding the room. They waited patiently and listened to the speech of the pastor, which was too verbose (adj, wordy) for their liking. The service ended, and they greeted every single person that left the chapel. ‘Success,’ thought Mr. Patersons.
—-
They were now out eating–and contaminating. At an Italian place they ate, and ate without manors. The only habit remotely mannerly was their napkins, strewn across their laps. In four days, whether they used their forks or not would not even matter….
Mr. Patersons was the messier of the two. He was tall, and seemed to have a defect with his mouth, as well. It would spasm often and he seemed to grin every time. They were fast twitches, but could not go unnoticed.
To his left, there was a family of five. A son, daughter, parents, and a grandfather. The girl, with her phone attached to her hands seemed insular (adj, narrow-minded; isolated) and absorbed in her own conversation with her phone. The table seemed tired, but content. The older of the siblings, the son, reached for his glass, but knocked it over. ‘Perfect,’ thought Mr. Paterson. Right away he got up, and placed his napkin on the flooded table, instantly helping out-and helping out. He had contaminated the Governor’s table. The Governor was to go to a meeting at 5:00 to discuss school matters. Although he did have legal power, even if he detected the Patersons motives, he would not be able to indict (v, to formally charge an accused person) them. To be honest, he wouldn’t have even cared if they were criminals. Mr. Patersons smiled at the table, but said nothing. With every person at the table cleaning up the mess, they became Alterads and now knew what they were meant to do. Without a word, each new Alterad got up, and met in the center of Downtown, along with all of the other new mutants. No more would they care about their measly phones or the next meeting to go to. They were their to save the people of the World. To transform everyone. In four days, the World would loose its value, and the creator, Alterfather, would finally be honored.
Note: no definitions, no parts of speech
When the police arrived at the hotel they did not expect this one to be so recalcitrant. They nock on the door and one of the officers says “Police”. They wait and wait, and then the officer says “Break it down”. Jon was a member of the local S.W.A.T. team and had been for ten years. Normally things in his little town remained calm, but today the word was there was a prisoner who absconded from his prison cell. The station had received several calls that the escaped prisoner was at this motel. The man had been indicted but the trial had not occurred yet, also he was an older man. The police assumed this would suppress any truculent actions, but they were greatly mistaken.
Just before they break the door Jon feels a feeling of nervousness sweep over him. They swarm in like ants out of an ant pile every single officer with the insular thought of him watching television or laying in bed. All of a sudden out of a closed closet a shot pierces the thin wood and moves at such speed, until it converges with Jon’s temple. If this were a movie the camera would zoom out and there would be a dirge playing. BT instead as Jon lay there dying he watched his partners fall next to him.
At the funeral as the music played the people who hardly knew him were very complaisant some forcing tears. But the truth is that Jon is known as a very Prodigal and verbose person. Not many people really liked him but because he died in action the whole station attended. And this was the end of Jon, his memory would fade and he would become just another fallen officer.
John Ygolonhcet was a very insular(narrow-minded;isolated)(adj) man, he sat at a computer all day looking over documents for reasons even he didn’t know. His salary was rather high, 120,000 American dollars a year. Although his co-workers were becoming increasingly prodigal(wasteful;reckless with money)(adj) with their large paychecks, John put his money in a bank every month and never saw it again. His attitude towards life and work were to abscond(to depart secretly and hide) his inner feelings and put on a mask for all the world to see him. John knew that he had to transfer these emotions out of his system eventually, he just didn’t know how.
On an ordinary Thursday morning in the month of June John had a very inordinate morning, he slept in from work. John hadn’t slept past 6:45 since his senior year in college. He woke up thinking “When do you know when you converge(to meet;to come together)(v) with someone just like you? If you are complaisant(overly polite, trying to please)(adj) then do you lose actual intellectual contact with that person and inevitably lose anything that could turn into a meaningful relationship?” John realized that he needed to find someone, anyone, a dog, a horse, John needed a friend. He began to think of his ideal friend, a guy who wasn’t particularly verbose(wordy)(adj) with his speech and didn’t act with a truculence(aggresiveness; ferocity)(adj) attitude. John had never been so happy. He had a newly born enjoyment being recalcitrant(stubborn; determined to resist authority)(adj), he vowed not to go back to work until he found his friend.
He had no idea where to start on his quest to find a friend. After only 3 hours of searching John became depressed and went back to his apartment to rest. He played To Be Young Ryan Adams as a form of relief but it felt like a dirge(to lament or mourn with music) to John. He noticed the television in the kitchen was on and had probably been on all day. He went to turn it off but before he did he noticed a man was being indicted(to formally charge and accused person)(v) for mass theft. It was John on the television. He couldn’t understand why he was being indicted, he couldn’t remember what he had been doing that day either. John Ygolongcet was diagnosed with an uncurable brain disease called Moorkrow. Moorkrow had developed in his brain by staring at his computer screen for so many years. Technology killed John Ygolongcet.
“Jeffrey, you’ve got to kill the king.” His wife’s voice echoed in his head over and over again. She had devised a plan for him, but he could not carry it out. He was supposed to converge (v; to meet) with the king (as he thought he should have long ago, after all he was his most loyal goose) and be overly complaisant (adj; polite) with him. After gaining the king’s trust, he would try to catch him with no guards or subjects around in order to make the kill. After that, all he had to do was abscond (v; to depart secretly) back to the lake and wait for a new king to obtain the throne.
Jeffrey was always the most recalcitrant (adj; stubborn) of the geese, and he despised the current king. His truculence (n; aggressiveness) would often show when the royal family came up in conversation, and he became very verbose (adj; wordy). He felt this way because his king was extremely prodigal (adj; wasteful) and insular (adj; narrow-minded). He spent the kingdom’s budget on upgrading his palace and other personal matters, and he rarely acknowledged a new idea that did not benefit himself. Worst of all, he ordered his servants to underfeed the geese in order to keep them on edge and a little more dangerous to unwelcome visitors.
After weeks of deliberation, Jeffrey decided to follow through with the plan. He was going to kill the king, and he knew he was going to get away with it. Who would suspect a goose of the murder? After completing the first few steps of his wife’s brilliant plan, he had indeed befriended the king, who invited him to his room to show him his sword collection. Just as he picked up his favorite one, Jeffrey grabbed another and murdered the king in cold blood. He fled as quickly as he could, wondering if a goose could be indicted (v; to charge an accused person) in England’s legal system. Jeffrey hid in the lake for a few days, trying to keep a low profile. He did not come out until he could hear the sounds of people dirging (v; to mourn with music) inside the castle.
It was mid afternoon and and the rain had finally stopped. The air felt crummy and the town of England was mourning. Their kind had just died and today was the dead everyone was about to gather around his castle to mourn him. The dirge (a funeral song-n) began to play and the carriages started rolling down the hill. The kings death was recalcitrant (hard to deal with-adj.) because he was such a complaisant (gracious-adj.) man. He loved his people and cared deeply for them. Whenever he made a decision he always kept his people in mind.
He never showed a truculence (cruel-adj.) side and never even thought of indicting (to bring a formal accusation against, as a means of bringing to trial-v) someone who did wrong. The kings death was such a shock and he absconded (depart in a sudden manner-verb). This hurt the whole town very deeply and caused them to feel insular (isolated-adj). So to honor him the country decided to converge ( to tend to meet in a point or line-verb) at his castle. The funeral was beautiful except for the fact that the priest was too verbose (wordy-adj) during his long prayer. It was a little prodigal (wasteful-adj) for the time they had but other wise it was peaceful.
After the service was finished everyone parted their ways and began to head back to their normal lives. They still might have to go on with their lives but you could tell everyone would never forget that day. They will never forget their King. He was honorable and respectable and had a heart of gold. They all knew it was going to be impossible to find another king that could match up to him. He was the greatest of them all and everyone knew it. For their country to be as good as it has been for the last twenty years someone good was going to have to step up their game. A duty needed to be filled.