Story Challenge (12-6-20)

 What kinda of short story will you write? It must include these words:

A. Animacule: a small, minute animal
B. Bastinado: punishment beating the feet with a stick or the stick used
C. Crepitate: make a crackling sound
D. Divigate: wander about; stray from the subject
E. Elfocks: tangled mess of hair
F. Foozlel: to bungle; to make or do something awkwardly
G. Gamp: a large umbrella especially one that is bulky or awkwardly wrapped 
H. Harn: a coarse linen
I. Ignopotent: having power over fire
J. Jesserant: lightweight coat of mail
K. Kopje or koppie: small hill especially on the African veld
L. Lepid: pleasant; charming, amusing 
M. Myriacanthos: many prickled

An African Tale

By: Carrie Keiser

Chapter One-- Leaving home

In the shadow of a Kopje, the wild dogs, cape buffalo, cheetah, and kudu roam, Also present are the animalcule creatures in the nearby river. In the distance, a young couple, Arno and Annika, prepare for their trip into the karoo. Annika helps Arno to fasten his Jesserant and strap on his array of weapons. They have to be prepared for anything out on the open country. Arno hands his wife the large basket filled with their food for the journey and picks up their sleeping mats. Grabbing their water skins, they wave to the family and set off. They cannot divagate from their path, they must succeed in reaching Samara and seeking the wisdom of Amahle (a-mah-she), the famed Sangoma (Sang-go-ma). 
Annika and Arno are very worried about their people as a great sickness has been sweeping across the veld. Dust puffs up from their sandaled feet as they trek away from all they have ever known. Annika’s hand drifts down to rest on her tummy. Her thoughts settle on the tiny life growing there. “Who will you be, little one?”, she thinks. While her mind is focused on the new life, all the ways she could foozle in this role of motherhood, flit through her thoughts. Arno, sensing her distress, reached out and took her hand. With a sweet reassuring smile, told her not to worry they would be successful and she will be an excellent mother.
As they travelled throughout the day, they passed the time chatting and counting the herds of various unique animals of the savanna: there were red hartebeest, blue wildebeest, impala, gemsboks, even a troop of baboons were heard off in the distance. They felt blessed to live in an area with such beautiful animals. 
The couple were becoming tired as evening fell, they found a copse of trees that would provide a bit of shelter. Arno spread out their sleeping mats while Annika prepared a meal from the basket. The lid crepitated when she picked it up from the ground to replace it. In the near silence, the sound caused both of them to jump. Perhaps they were a little on edge being out away from their village and imagining all manner of animals that might find them in their sleep. Remembering, that as humans they are ignopotent, Arno prepared an area with stones and lit a fire. It would serve not only as light to keep the animals at bay but also as a means to heat their food. 
With full bellies, the couple snuggle up for the night on their sleeping mats. Arno’s smooth rhythmic breathing told Annika that he had already fallen asleep. She, on the other hand, was having a terrible time calming her mind and drifting off to dreamland. She knew if she didn’t settle in and stop tossing and turning, she would wake up with elflocks. Annika sent up a heartfelt prayer to the gods asking for peace and safety on their journey. She also prayed that Amahle would be given the knowledge to provide them with a cure for the sickness plaguing the land. She feared the bastinado if they failed to return with a remedy. More than that, she worried for the growing life within her womb. Annika prayed for his or her growth and development and that she and Arno would be able to raise the child together. She prayed herself to sleep.
They awoke refreshed and rested ready to tackle another day of hiking across the terrain toward the mountain home of the sangoma. After a hearty breakfast of dried meat and myricanthous plants that were plentiful just outside their sleeping area, they began again. Annika and Arno walked and talked the hours away, learning so much more about one another’s hopes and dreams. For theirs had been an arranged marriage and they were still getting acquainted. She found her husband to be great company and his lepid personality endearing. Their strength was waning and not far off was a tree that resembled a gamp. They figured it would provide shade and respite from the heat of the day. A nice place to enjoy their lunch and maybe a quick nap before returning to the task at hand. Annika set down the basket and began pulling foodstuffs out. She set the cheese wrapped in harn out with the guava, marula (mar-la), and monkey oranges. They enjoyed the food and discussed what they might name their child. Annika suggested Kaya for a girl and Luan (lu-han) for a boy while Arno was partial to Thabisa (tha-bee-sa) and Chidike (chi-dee-keh ). They laughed and agreed that they had many moons before they needed to decide on the name of the baby. Soon the couple was enjoying a much needed lie-down.

Tune in next week when we find out what happens to our adventurers.

By:Aaron Leavitt

John leaned out the door. Perched on his shoulder was his latest creation. A little bot he was trying to train to be an assistant of sorts. It was the first trip outside, first real move away from his workbench, really, trying to widen experiences. And maybe fix the weird vocabulary glitch that was driving him crazy. AI training with a dictionary had seemed like a good idea. 

"Animacule! Cute," pipped up Blot (no John wasn't good at names). 

"Um, that's a bug. Cute might be a stretch," he said.

Blot hummed happily, which was another odd habit. John stepped out the door, and began the measured tread of his daily walk.

A stranger strode passed the other way, head down in apparent concentration.

"Lepid harn! Most styles!" volunteered Blot.

John flipped through his phone's dictionary, as Blot blipped happily. "Those were just jeans, I'm pretty sure. At least you're enthusiastic, I guess."

City noises descended all around them, cars crept past, as their route continued. John moved to the hot dog vendor with his cart. Chuck had been roughly in that spot as long as John could remember, then a tiny voice by John's ear chirped in awe, "Ignopotent, crepitate meat tube."

John sighed, "Sure, cooking hot dogs, you're so weird, Blot."

At the cafe` it was, "Gamp," "Umbrella, yeah Blot"

When John tripped it was, "Bastinado." "Watch you're.. Oh," as he found the definition "... that was a little overstated."

They finally got back to the workshop and Blot wandered around still peering up in wonder, "Divagate" and "Foozle" seemed a little judgmental from a bot 6 inches tall and with about a day's worth of experience. 

Getting ready for bed, his night shirt was dubbed, "Jesserant". "Uh, not quite little dude." And the blankets viewed as, "Koppie". A run-in with John's hair brush ended with John having to try three different dictionaries to find "Myriacanthos". "I guess that works, but my you're dramatic."

John set Blot on his nightstand, then eventually drifted off to sleep. Morning light was beaming in the window as he stirred from sleep and lifted his head. 

"Oooh, elflocks!" pipped a tiny voice in his ear. John just sighed again.

By: Ryanne Leavitt

After weeks of being confined in this place Boris's elflocks hung in heavy clumps around his head. Any number of animacule could have take up residence, and the harn his soiled clothes were made of was itchy and causing a rash to appear. Boris's wrists were swollen and blistered from the magic sapping manacles that had his hands firmly locked behind him.

Try as he might, and he had many times during his confinement, he couldn't use his ignopotent powers. The material binding him was foreign and seemed to be made just for this purpose... to stop flames from erupting from his fingertips.and incinerating, tent and captors alike. His hands would crepitate like a fire just beginning to lick up sap, but never any fire or flame. 

This couldn't be happening he is Boris the Brave, Boris the Bold not Boris the Captive. He was the kingdom's head mage, he protected the kingdom of Sorvidia countless times. He was not a bungling apprentice who divagates easily into enemy traps. Yet here he was, chained and without the use of most of his magic.

Suddenly there was a heart rending scream coming from somewhere. He was filled with fear, but lined with courage. Boris had to know where it came from. Who had made the cry?

He foozled a bit as he tried to sit to find a meditative state to use his inner eye to see, hear and feel beyond the walls of his prison.

Boris began to balance his energies and as he did so, he could see his prison tent was made with the same harn encrusted strengthened with tar or sap, everything smelled of elephant dung and campfire. He reached further and beads of sweat began to glisten his brow. There Boris saw, the invading Ruler, stripped to his jesserant, armor piled next to him, lounging under a gamp made of the most resplendent shimmer silk. Boris knew that silk well. it was spun solely by the witches of the Mageanic Sisterhood, all the sisters had taken blood oaths to defend the kingdom. It would be embued with spells and magic. Boris filed that away and reached farther. Another howl of pain pulled his conscience to a tent across the veld, perched on top of a koppie.

There before his inner eye, Boris saw his liege, King Tarvos of Sorvidia writhing in pain as a man twice the average loomed over him. 

As sweat began to fall freely from Boris's face and his focus wavered, he beheld the giant swing a myriacanthos bastinado down. It slammed into the king's feet with such force Boris felt the bones crunch. He passed out from the devastating cries of King Tarvos, and an anything but lepid roar of baleful

The savory scent of food close by brought Boris back to conscienceness. His stomach growled in response.

Such magical exertion always made him ravenous. As Boris watched the slave girl preparing his meal, he thought she seemed familiar, smaller, more poorly kept, but there was a strength and magic that rolled over her and permeated the air.

When she finally turned to face him the hint, became shock as he realized it was his sister and the head of Mageanic Sisterhood, Braylene. His heart leaped and he wanted to shout for joy, but with a slight nod of her head and a wink, he realized she was here to save him.

Hidden Mysteries of the Veldt 

By: Myrna Flynn

In South Africa there is a vast, scrubby, open area, known as the veldt. It is dotted with small hills called Kopjes or koppies. Until recently, I thought it would be a wasteland, that had no story to tell.

Archaeologists decided to do some digging. To their surprise, they found skeletons animalcules and their jessererants.It seemed that the animalcules were divigates, who wandered around the veldt using the koppies as their homes. Following the paths from koppie to koppie, they found remnants of small towers. Evidently, these were used as watchtowers to warn the inhabitants danger was coming.

The animalcules were very well suited to do this, as they had excellent hearing, eye sight, sense of smell and were ignoptent. Also, they had myriacanthos lizards as allies. They were capable of handling the job.

The Bastinado, a dangerous, frightful looking enforcer, was the danger. He had elflocks, was humpbacked, bowlegged, smelled atrocious and was very prone to foozle. He was sent by enemy tribes. He carried a stick named after him called the bastinado. The bastinado punishment was beating feet until bloody and raw.

The inhabitants heard the crepitates and knew Bastinado was near. They were ready for him. A small contingent waited to draw him into a trap. They had formed a semicircle that would become a circle around him as he stepped unknowingly in. The circle enclosure worked perfectly. The warriors pounced, grabbed his stick and gave him the feet beating punishment. They drug him to the edge of the veldt and left him there to be found by those who sent him.

It is amazing what archaeologists draw from the events hidden under the gamp of time.