Welcome to Three Word Thursday #31 . Â This week, joining the quondam obscure word-list, we have misqueme; tragematopolist; & vacivity. Â We also have a dandy bunch of perspicacious writers. If you enjoy reading my story, leave a comment then click on the names of the other players and go see how they used these bygone words. Youâ€™ll be entertained (and possibly educated) all at once.
The 12th Knight of Strawberry Fife
Sir Evaard left the alley to it’s vacivity, and made his way to the bakey. Olaf Patisserie always timed his baking so that the scent of loaves fresh from the oven greeted the morning sun.
The bakery was closed and no delicious scents wiggled through the shutters.
The door to the Confectioner’s Shop opened and the tragematopolist stepped out. “Good-morning, Sir Evaard.” The rotund man looked as though he tasted too many of his own sweets. “Twenty years I am next door to Olaf and every day his shop, he opens. Today, not so. So I sent my boy. Boy, I said, go see if all is well with Olaf. The boy comes back. All is not well.”
“And may I inquire the nature of Master Olaf’s complaint?” Sir Evaard asked.
“I mean to say,” the tragematopolist continued as though Sir Evaard had not spoken. “Olaf himself is well, but his wife and daughter fare less so. The misses was set upon by brigands late yester-eve. I understand that quite roughly they handled her. Your commrade, Sir Shovel –”
“Just so.” the fat man nodded and cleared his throat. “Sir Shovel, indeed. On the scene he arrived, and the misses, her escape she made, but the knight, he perished.”
“Perished?” Sir Evaard repeated. “Do you know where they’ve taken his body?”
The rotund tragematopolist shrugged. “Tell that, I can’t, but closed the bakery will remain for the days three of mourning as customary it is.”
Sir Evaard thanked the confusing man and turned away. Patisserie was no relative of Sir Chevall. Evaard was certain of that. So why would the baker and his family choose to observe the offical mourning? Was it simple gratitude, or something else? Evaard made his way to the Patisserie Cottage.
He stopped several yards from the house. A black wreath adorned the door and black curtains covered the windows. Disregarding such symbols of mourning would surely be a misqueme of epic porportions. Sir Evaard bit his lip and stood in the street, undecided.
to be continued
Got it? Good! In that case: Your story is due on:Â Â October 15th, 2009