Word of the Day: pittance

Action & Adventure, Comedy, Fantasy, Horror, Mystery, Romance, Spiritual, Uncategorized

pittance (n.): a very small or inadequate amount of money paid to someone as an allowance or wage

Roughly twenty men are standing, waiting for me in business suits and shades at the intersection where the boardwalk and the fishing pier meets. I’m obviously underdressed for the occasion. A v-neck and blue jeans. I look over to my right and notice a flock of birds flying overhead towards me. The way they are flying, it looks more like a single file of dashes than a bunch of birds that’s etched over the sky. Like a game of hangman or something.

When I look back at the same game of hangman standing on the harbor, a white man at the middle of the group steps out. It must be Tommy.

”Beautiful Sunday isn’t it?” he says once I’m within earshot. Tommy smiles and reveals gnarly, yellow teeth. One is even chipped. Disgusting.

”Yeah. You got the shoes?” I say. Stopped the small talk before it even started. I want to make this transaction as quick as possible.

“I see you’re not playing,” he says. “You got the $24,000?” I bring attention to the duffel bag in my right hand. 24,000 even. A pittance compared to what I’m used to paying for my shoes. I’m going to be broke after this but at least I will be like a god at the office for the next week.

“Good,” Tommy says. “This way.” He gestures towards the pier and the suits suddenly part like the Red Sea. I walk ahead of Tommy onto the long pier where there are boats parked on both sides.

“The one over there on the right,” I hear Tommy say. I look back to see where he is talking about.

Of course. The largest yacht out of the bunch. I stop by the bridge leading into the boat and wait for Tommy and the men in suits.

“Not the yacht. The submarine,” Tommy says. “Master will see you there.”

Master?!

Is there something I’m missing here? Who the heck is this guy I’m buying these shoes from?

Tommy walks over to the sub and the door on top of it suddenly opens.

“After you,” he says. I swing the duffel onto my shoulder and climb into the sub. It’s dark and dank as I climb down the ladder. I reach the bottom and turn. A long corridor stretches out before me. There is a man (who is also in a suit) at the end of it. The guy who opened the sub in the first place I suppose. He beckons me.

As I walk, my breath is loud in my ears. I’m starting to worry a little bit. I’m just ready to get my shoes and get out of here.

The man opens the door behind him and leads me into a large, spacey room. Sitting in the middle of the hollowed space is an old man with his legs crossed and his hands resting peacefully in his lap.

“He is here.”

It was Tommy who had spoke. He had climbed down the ladder after me and now he is right behind me…in a bowed position?! “Bow,” Tommy whispers.

I do.

“Welcome,” says the old man. “I understand you want the last of my new editions.”

Wait a minute. You mean this man is…

”I am Natheodore,” the man says.

Oh…my…god. Natheodore’s from Natheodore himself?! This is officially a dream come true.

Word of the Day: verisimilitude

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verisimilitude (n.)- the appearance of being true or real

Just because I am a wolf-shifter, some of the humans think I have an unfair advantage in life. Truth is that I’ve really worked so fuckin’ hard to earn a place with the wolves.

And nobody knows this more than Kelsey. My personal Angel.

As a matter of fact, she is the Highest of all the Angels– healing my life in every way possible: physically, mentally, and spiritually. I don’t know what I would do without her.

She is the one healing me now.

“What were you THINKING?!” she says. I groan. I’m thinking she said that more to herself than to me because I’m too busy going in and out of consciousness to care what the hell she is saying right now. “Attacking a grown bear like that?! You’re still early in your training.” I hardly hear what’s being said because I’m laid out in the snow with my head ringing. I took a grizzly paw to the head and now there is blood running down my face and into my eyes. Pain ramifies inside of me, reaching each limb, flowing like the spilt blood that’s supposed to be circulating my body. And just when it feels like all of the muscles and bones in my body are about to give way, I feel a sudden warmth.

Energy!

It seeps through me and I find myself becoming one with it. Surrendering to it. Suddenly, nothing else matters. I just want more of that warmth.

I open my eyes. My vision is blurred but slowly it’s coming back. The bear I was mauled by is walking away now, its haunches covered in snow.

A white ghost.

I feel Kelsey’s hands on my head and ribcage. God that feels good. I look at her without moving my head because doing so would still hurt too much. It surprises me the Angels don’t have wings like the stereotypical angel I grew up knowing. They can still fly though.

Then I look around the glen as my body slowly replenishes. I am in snow heaven. There is snow everywhere. A white wonderland. Then I see the bear disappear into the forest. Good riddance. I will have to get a meal from somewhere else. My lips part.

“It messed me up good, didn’t it?”

“That’s an understatement. I don’t even know why I do this for you.” I feel the guilt then. Even in the pain. Because I know EXACTLY what she is talking about.

“I still care about you,” I say, ribs still aching. I wince. She was worth the effort though.

“Oh please. Just rest. I know you’re just going to run back to Her after this.” As I come to, her voice suddenly sounds like music to my ears. It’s as if I can suddenly hear better. Her powers must be working. The blood in my ears is gone. “That’s all you ever do,” she continues. Wait what? “And like a fool, I keep giving you chances.”

Left with no kind of comeback whatsoever, I simply succumb to feeling.

Then I see it. Is it…real? It’s gotta be.

I blink.

The verisimilitude of the wolf in the distance is confirmed when Kelsey’s scrutiny follows mine. My wolf sense responds. It’s her.

My heart and soul.

The second we meet eyes, we lose ourselves to the primitive nature inside of us.

“You see what I mean?” Kelsey says looking back at me. That’s so unfair. 

“I mean what do you want me to do? I love her. And it’s a love deeper than that superficial shit. It’s like I can’t control myself. It’s the wolf in me.”

Kelsey looks away from me.

“I know.” She sucks her teeth in frustration. Us angels are told not to fall in love with the wolf-shifters. Stupid me. That’s exactly what I did.”

Wow. She really knows how to make me feel like shit. I breathe again and my head no longer throbs. Neither does my side.

I am healed!

“Thank you,” I say rising to my feet. I meant what I said but it feels like it’s not enough. There is a emptiness I don’t know how to fill.

“The least you can do is…” She pauses and looks back at my mate at the edge of the forest. Then back to me.

“Kiss Me.”

WHAT?! How could… I can think of forty seven things I want to say when there is a sudden touch on my mind.

Gail. She is using the telepathy connection we share. We had just gotten out of a fight. That’s why she wasn’t hunting with me. Her voice sounds understanding.

“Kiss Her,” she says. What? “I can’t love you the way she can. We are wolves and Kelsey is an Angel. I am grateful you’re healed. So this is my way of saying thank you.”

I look at Kelsey.

“Ok.”

Without another word, I put my arms around her and give of my soul.

Word of the Day: Rancur

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rancur (n.): bitterness or ill will; hatred; malice

Nightlife is better with her. I have to admit. For one, I feel less of a creep when I people watch. It’s such a healthy hobby. It lets me know I’m actually the one who is still sane. A couple walks by with interlocked hands so tight, you would think the woman was delivering a baby or something. I’m talking about white-knuckle grip, tight. I mean why are they holding hands anyway? Hands are such troublesome things. I’ve decided that chronic hand holding is actually a disease. Mental of course. Neglect is like bacteria implanted by host’s parent(s) and developed over time until the host has full blown case of dependency syndrome.

The hands says a lot about a person. That’s why I take care of mine. I’m not taking care of them when they are being suffocated by some chick. In the case of hand holding, they become all sweaty, and clammy, and shit. I can’t be having that.

I look across the table.

Daniella knows not to try to hold my hand. She holds other things of mine. Things the public and other women can only dream of seeing. She looks up from her churro and smiles. Gorgeous thing she is. Her eyes are some shade of olive I’ve never seen before. The dress she is wearing says, “Fuck me now.” Damn cleavage is one of the most alluring I’ve seen in my life too. I pause.

Is it bad that I don’t feel guilty knowing she is just another one on my list? Just another body I’m going to smash. Again.

Another one of my victims.

I take a sip of my water. Not yet Neale. Not yet.

What I like about Daniella is that she is a bad girl. Or bad woman. Whatever the hell you wanna call them. Who knows what the hell women want to be called nowadays? Damn hypocrites.

The waiter stops at our table.

“Would you like anything else?” he asks.

“Check,” I say. Daniella purses her lips perfectly together like the drop dead, gorgeous siren she is, her eyelashes so long, they could probably touch her nose when she closes them. But the girl hardly ever blinks.

“Don’t you want dessert?” Daniella says to me. The waiter looks at me expectantly too, brows plunging into his hairline. This girl doesn’t know how to turn her freak off. I scratch my head.

“I left my sweet tooth back at the hotel baby,” I say light-heartedly.

“Room service then?”

Holy fuck. My blood starts moving a little bit faster.

The waiter clears his throat and walks away. Smart man.

Don’t hate the player. Hate the game.

I make a mental note to never be so cliché again.

“Only if it’s free,” I say.

“You’re so cheap,” she says.

“Don’t forget shallow,” I say raising a finger. She frowns.

“What are you trying to say?” Ah hell. She found me out.

“I’m not trying to say anything.” I search her eyes. I can already see she is looking too deep into what I just said. I’d be doing myself a disservice if I don’t put her in her place. So I tell her the truth. “I’m saying you were easy.”

There. I said it.

What am I saying? I’m really just that good. She wouldn’t have worn that ridiculous outfit if I hadn’t told her to wear it. I simply wanted to see what all I could make her do.

“Neale, you’re an ass. Did you know that?” I smile.

Is that what you told yourself last night when I was giving it to you?” There is real curiosity in my voice. As if I really didn’t know or something. Ha. Broads.

That’s when rancor filled her eyes.

“Neale, you’re really such a loser.” That’s right baby. Say whatever makes you feel better. “I don’t even know why I care.” You don’t. “Your sex was mediocre at best.”

“Now wait a minute!” That’s the last thing you say to my brand of man. The upper echelon.

“Take it back.” I’m pointing my finger at her and there is a bad taste in my mouth. As if her very words danced on my tongue. How dare she talks about my sex game in such layman terms.

Suddenly, the waiter is back and gives me the check.

“I hope you enjoyed your time with us,” he says and walks off.

I glance at the bill and look back at her.

“Don’t be such a hateful bitch all the time. Learn to appreciate good dick when you get it.” I look at the bill again. Any number seems like too much to be spending on her now. I should’ve never spent money on this bitch. I pay for the food and leave a decent tip.

“It’s time to get out of here before I do or say something I’m going to regret.” By the way I said it, she knows I mean business. I’m letting the temper get the best of me. Chillllll Neale.

A silent, mental woosah.

The ride back to the hotel was a little awkward. She gave me head the whole way back and told me I was the dumbest piece of shit she’d ever met. Another successful night in the world of dating I’d say.

Note to self: Never give a one night stand roll over minutes.