November 6, 2011

Words used: onery, diverticulitis, superfulous, uvula, qui vive, pretentious, harbinger, garble, inebriated, sycophant, untranslatability, rhinotillexomania

And the story:

It was still dark in the village of Mesa. Heath always rose before the sun to begin his work day. He slipped some stale bread into his pocket and was off to the castle.

Heath was grateful to have work, but found no joy serving the nobility that impoverished so many families.

As he made his way down the muddy road he came by a vagrant. He was a bit inebriated and a tad onery. The drunk yelled "Pitty! Pitty me and lend me some food sir!" So loud that you could actually see his uvula flapping in the back of his throat.

Heath, being a kind soul, took the stale bread from his pocket and laid in upon the mans lap.

"Good day" Heath said in a garble.

"Bless you sir" said the man as he continued his disturbing bought of rhinotillexomania.

Heath arrived to the castle with dawn barely touching the morning sky. He pulled on his uniform and set about his rounds as one of the castles servants. A cold breeze blew through the grounds and Heath thought it a harbinger of the autumn ahead.

The tower guards were on the qui vive since last nightfall, prepared for the combat. Times in these lands were unstable. Food was scarce and all were on edge.

A visiting Duchess passed Heath and smiled. Heath had always prided himself on never being a sycophant, so he lower his head and continued on, barely giving her a glance. The untranslatability between the social status was impossible for him to forget.

Heath noticed many visiting royalty roaming about the castle grounds and asked Jeanette, a fellow servant, what was going on.

"A grand freast and a ball!" Jeanette cooed, looking whistfully off into the sky. "I hear many nobles will be in attendance. It should be a busy day indeed."

Unimpressed Heath carried on with his daily duties into the late aftenoon.

As Heath was making his way into the kitchen with yet another bushel of potatoes he saw the duchess again. Without even thinking he stopped and for the first time noticed her beauty.

She had a slender form but did not appear frail. Her eyes shone like blue flashes on a rippling pond. Her champange hair flowed over her shoulder and drapped down past her ample bosom. All at once Heath shook his head and looked up. He hadn't noticed that she had made her way to him and was now standing a mear arms length away.

"Good day" The duchess said. Batting her eyes in a way that made Heath's knees go weak.

"Gggggood Dday your highness" Heath stammered back, hardly able to catch his breath.

"My name is Duchess Stacey of San Diego. What is your name?" she purred.

"Heath, my name is Heath your highness. And I am at your service" Heath bowed slighly.

"Well Heath, may we meet again" And made her way past him toward the far end of the castle.

Heath was smitten! He walked around in a daze for hours clumsily attending to the remainder of his days duties.

As Heath left dark enveloped the castle. He slowed his stride to watch the carriages arrived one after another. They brought dignataries and noblemen from across the lands.

He turned and continued home. His mind filled not of sleep and food but of Stacey, the duchess that in a fleeting pass had stolen his heart.