This week I’m writing a continuous story, check out my previous posts to enjoy the whole tale! (or scroll to the very bottom of this post)
“Rapacious: The practice of rapine is historically associated with outlaws such as pirates, and means stealing through force and violence. Rapacious derives from the Latin word rapere, meaning to seize, but is often related to the desires or needs that drive actions. Someone with a rapacious appetite is essentially just plain greedy. He had a rapacious appetite for fried food.”
“Redivivus: An adjective that describes a state of renewal or rebirth. Vivus is the Latin word for living, so with the addition of the prefix re (in Latin, meaning return) the word becomes reliving. Hebrew is a successful example of a redivivus language.”
“Redolent: A melancholy word often used to describe nostalgic memories. Redolent, in the strictest sense, relates to smells and fragrances. The human sense of smell evokes memories, and redolent is often used to describe scents that bring forth recollections. The smell of freshly baked bread was always redolent of his grandmother’s kitchen.“
(from “1000 Words to Expand Your Vocabulary” by Joseph Piercy)
My Summertime Goddess | Part 3
And in a way it had, as it had on all the men that fell down her well of love. Even now the scent of summer flowers is redolent of her floral locks, somehow her spirit is redivivus in petals. But looking back I can also tell you of her rapacious desire for people, and the power they gave her. She was a socialite made of sherbet and fairy dust. Until you dared step beyond the boundary she gave you. Until you couldn’t contain your own desires. Once you made a move on the golden girl, you no longer came around, no longer welcome in any ring of her circle. We all assumed it was by choice, who would want to hang around rejected? But I would find out otherwise, as I was to be her next victim.
The Story So Far
Petit flowers, nimble in nature, swam through the waves of her light gold hair. She was the epitome of beauty and many wrote her paeans, hoping to win her favour. I was one of these fools, who approached her at an early summer festival. The day was covered in bright blue hope, and I had no knowledge of how my heart would be lost to perdition. I usually found contentment lurking in the penumbra of her entourage, the very outer circle, not close enough to learn her flaws, but the perfect proximity for falling recklessly in love. But today was the day I would break my own rules.
My daydreams that I were soon to act upon were, to be frank, quixotic. She was the quintessence of summer; warm, lovely, encouraging. Her skin was golden even in winter and her voice bathed us in fresh garden streams. I, on the other hand, had quiddities of a different nature. I was known as short and quiet but all round jovial. I did not belong in her collection of groupies, even in this outer orbit, and yet somehow I persisted. I knew that I would never have a chance with my summertime goddess, and yet every moon brought poetic dreams of her, and everyday excuses to socialise where I didn’t fit. It was as if a spell had been cast upon me…