EXERCISE 5 Word Challenge #36

Discussion in 'REFINING WRITING' started by October Knight, Feb 16, 2012.

  1. 5 Word Challenge
    Brought to you by: October Knight

    This challenge is to help strengthen your vocabulary. You'll learn new words and how to use them in roleplay posts, stories, poems, etc!

    1. Aim for a minimum of 1-3 paragraphs. If you'd like to write more than that, then go for it!
    2. Make sure you use each word in your post. Be as creative as you'd like.
    3. Style the writing like you would for a story. It can be describing a setting, or written from the perspective of a character. Whatever you feel would work the best.
    4. Have fun with this, of course!

    The Words:
    Fief (n.) - A landed estate held under feudal tenure.
    Fugacious (adj.) - Fleeting. (fleeting; transitory: a sensational story with but a fugacious claim on the public's attention.)
    Gossamer (adj.) - Flimsy.
    Halcyon (adj.) - Calm.
    Inimical (adj.) - Adverse.

  2. Frozen beneath the glances of all who gazed upon her, the woman in the glass coffin could not have even been aware of the eyes that appraised her beauty or the longing in their gaze. Her porcelain skin was ice to the touch, frozen paler than it had been in life until it seemed to take on the hue of pristine snow, reflecting the frost that locked her beneath its spell. Pale blue lips were set in a serene line, appearing to be faintly smiling or perhaps merely content, their emotion uncertain. One could not look into her eyes, though many fantasized the no doubt clear and beautiful irises to be crystalline blue, as they were closed tightly shut as if to will away the chill. Her lashes, however, fanned across her cheek in gossamer lines of inky black that contrasted sharply with her pallid cheekbones.

    Despite her appearance of ghastly hypothermia, it was oddly soothing for those who made the pilgrimage just to see her laying still in the glass coffin, her body cradled in white satin. The jet black waves of hair that fell in a neat cascade across her shoulders only added to the halcyon aura that radiated from her, adorned as they were with wisps of white blossoms. Everyone who pressed their yearning fingertips to the glass would have sworn that she seemed timeless, a relic of eternity. No one knew, however, how she had come to rest in this beautiful box secluded on a mountain or who had so lovingly placed her in it, adding even the flowers to her hair. No one, that is, save the one who came once a month to sit with her and read stories from a book.

    He was old, now, bundled in wool and finding it harder to climb every time to see her. However, he had not been this way when she had known him, and that was some consolation to him. When the woman, nicknamed Snow White by those who kept her body company, had been alive, the man had been young and full of dreams. He ran a hand through his hair, now thin and gray, to sweep loose strands from his face before opening up the book that he carried with him. The first page bore an illustration painstakingly done of a lovely woman whose hair was thick and black, her eyes a glittering blue. In the portrait, she was smiling warmly enough to have melted the snow around her now. The old man traced the drawing with his fingertips, his eyes welling up with tears.

    Finally, the man began to read from the book, his voice trembling some but his eyes were closed. Every word was memorized as he recited the story once more. It began with a headstrong young man, barely more than a child himself, fresh from battle and fiercely proud of his own strength. This vassal had been granted a fief upon which to live, a reward for his fealty and service. Among those servants whom he employed to keep his land and home, there had been the young daughter of a man who cared for the fields. She'd been educated to take care of things in the small home granted to the man, but she was more clever than just housework.

    The arrogant vassal had stumbled upon her by accident and found her reading a book from his library, lent to her in secret by the cook. Instead of growing angry, he was fascinated by the glow in her eye as she read the passages aloud to a younger child, the animated way her face moved as she spoke the lines of a character. The moment where he was enchanted was fugacious, for she happened to lift her gaze and saw the vassal standing at the door which caused her to leap up at once. Her apology was swift but stumbling as she begged him not to grow angry with her. He assured her that he was not angry and bade her to read more from the book. She declined, her cheeks red, and handed him back the book. He accepted it and returned to his chambers, but he could not shake the sweet curve of her smile from his thoughts.

    He might never have spoken to her again, had fortune smiled upon her as it could have done. However, an inimical turn of events caused her father to come down with fever. She was kept away as he died slowly, along with her younger brother. She was distraught, with no dowry to her name and nothing to recommend herself for marriage, finding herself completely alone in the world without a penny. On a whim, the vassal asked her to stay on for him, aiding the cooks in the kitchen. Unlike that of the girl, the vassal's future was on the rise and his star was increasing in brightness.

    Soon, his home became a gathering for many important figures who were intent to match the vassal with their female relatives. He was presented with daughters, sisters, and cousins whose looks surpassed what had once been his wildest dreams. However, he could not see them, his eyes turned on the simple grace of the cook's assistant. He could not gaze into the face of another woman without thinking of the twinkling eyes when the girl had read from the book. No smile could compare. Before he knew what he had done, he became so overcome with feeling one day that he took her hand in his own and confessed his thoughts of her. She'd been demure, but won over by his earnestness as he told her how he felt.

    When their lips met, they had thought themselves in private, yet the prying eyes of the outside world saw this display with calculating fury. Her daughter had been scorned, her chances dashed by no more than a mere servant girl? It could not be so, that such a woman could have won the vassal's heart. Thus, she forged a letter to the man, pretending to be the king requesting him travel to the palace. She had even painstakingly attempted to mimic the royal seal. Not a day after he'd left, she sent another letter. This time, it was addressed to the girl. The letter plead her to travel across the mountain, to the village on the other side. The letter begged it of her, claiming that the vassal was barely clinging to life.

    With a courageous heart, the girl set out to the mountain, but a blizzard met her before she could complete her journey. She froze to death in the snow, her fingers clutching the note. Following her tracks and the whispers of the other servants, the man located the girl but he was not in time to save her from the embraced of death.