107 Ashan, 724
.
There was a man sitting in a dark room. The only light source was of an ominous red glow. It came from the flame of a singular candle that wavered ever so slightly amidst a stagnant room. The only current of air flowing throughout the room was due to the man’s constant, slow and determined breathing. He was concentrating and he was concentrating extremely hard. He had been of little inspiration for longer than he cared to be, so now that he had but an inkling of motivation, he grasped hold of it with greedy fingers.
Kotton had gone over his notes from the writing course he had taken during last season. There, he reviewed several forms of poetry including the haiku. In his journal he there was also the opportunity for him to reflect on his use of grammar, sentence structure and the importance of punctuation marks. But either it had been a long enough time for him to forget, or he had simply done away with the knowledge as to how to tell stories, his mind was that much out of the loop. Interlocked between the thin lines on the page was a detail he kicked himself for not remembering. And in the case of being highly unmotivated, it meant more than it should have. That being said, the kick he made against himself was substantial. And boy, would it have hurt if it weren't but a hypothetical.
He had written in his notepad the concept of ‘prompts’ and how they could be useful for someone who was suffering from mild to severe bouts of writer’s block. In the specific case of what he had written, there was such a thing as ‘one-word prompts’ where you had to use the prompted word to create a one-sentence story to build an entire story upon. Kotton liked this idea and resisted the urge to kick himself again for having not found it until just now.
By gods he even had some examples! There, under the definition he had scribbled were three unusual words, words he hadn’t heard nor said in as long as he had been breathing. Fortunately, his father had entrusted him with a Common dictionary. He hoped these words could be found within it or else he was at a loss as to where he these words had occurred. Perhaps his professor had suggested them in passing. Perhaps he had learned them from someone, but he wasn’t sure. Nevertheless, he was about to find out.
Pulling his dictionary from the bookcase that was directly adjacent to the fireplace, the young man flipped to the index. He was proud that he had the knowledge of what the index was and how to use it. Because of this, it took him no time at all to find the appropriate page that contained the word he wished to look up.
It was on page 645 and it was found at the very top. The word was ‘taciturn’ and it was defined as an adjective: “(of a person) reserved or uncommunicative in speech; saying little”. How would he use this to create a one-sentence story? Several minutes passed before a thought appeared inside his head. He immediately made a connection with the definition, as he was a person who often said very little. Maybe he could work with this to create a sentence that supplied him with enough ‘prompt’ to go off of.
He drew his journal near and flipped to a fresh page. Before he got too carried away, the pencil in his hand trembling with the energetic need to write, write, write!- Kotton referred back to his notes so as to make clear what an adjective meant. Apparently an adjective was a “a class of words that primarily describes a particular quality of another word (usually a noun)”. It took him a while to process this information, but once he had he felt confident in what an adjective was. He quickly started to spew out examples such as ‘orange’ and ‘hairy’ and ‘annoying’. He wrote down these examples for future use because he never knew when he would need to be reminded about something he didn't already have concretely set within his brain.
Now that he had revisited the basics, he wasted no time in scrawling, ‘after hours of talking to people, it was understandable that an introvert would be taciturn and exhausted.’ He hoped he had used the term correctly. He double checked his use of the word against the definition he had found within the dictionary. It seemed like he had gone about using it correctly so that was a plus!
So on to the next word he went. And that word was idolatrous. The aspiring writer had a bit of a difficult even saying the word. “Eye-doe-lah-truss?” he announced, a sprinkling of confusion coating his words as he said them. He flipped through the pages of his journal before finally locating additional notes. There, he found after panning toward the near front of his notes, was this thing called ‘phonetics’. 'Phonetics' described how words were meant to be announced and ultimately stated. There was an entire two to three pages of information he had apparently jotted down. Most of it was hardly legible, but he was able to get the gist of it since it was his penmanship he was trying to decipher. He was able to make out some examples of arbitrary words that had been arbitrarily chosen to be disassembled. There was ‘uniform’ to which he deconstructed to say ‘YOU-NEE-FORM’. There was also whiskey, a fan favourite of his that was further explained to be said as ‘WISS-KEY’. There was also the word zero which was dissected into two syllables: ‘ZEE-ROW’. This made sense to the man who spent no hesitation before priding himself on his intelligence and ability to adapt well.
Attributing his knowledge of phonetics, he intended to speak aloud the words once more. “EYE-DOLL-A-TWISS”. He didn’t know if that sounded better than what he had initially said, but it matched up with the notes he had taken, so he didn’t question it.
'Idolatrous', he read, was defined as yet another adjective that meant ‘worshipping idols’ or ‘relating to the religious practice of praying to someone or something’. That was easy enough to understand and Kotton was already filled with many ideas as to how to use the word. They lined up at his front door, ready to be used like a beggar in need a few spare copper coins. He turned back to the last page he had been working on and wrote, “There were many idolatrous people who found comfort in the fact that immortals existed”. He was a little less pleased with how he had used the word, but he could build off this sentence with a small story or two. He was already moved on to the next word anyway, excitement bubbling up behind his ribcage.
'Solipsistic' was the third and final word, and boy was it a doozy to pronounce. In fact, Kotton chose to skip its pronunciation and dive head first into its usage in a sentence. Solipsistic was an adjective defined as itself being ‘very self-centred and selfish’. This time, the aspiring writer had more hardship in trying to appropriate the word into a sentence that was both legitimate and sensible. He knew what adjectives were now, but he wasn’t certain where in the sentence he should use it. It was meant to modify a noun, so it should most likely be used in front of a noun, right? But he hesitated. How would he start the sentence so that it would lead towards the modification of a noun? He didn’t even know what noun to use. A person? A place? An object?
He went back to square one and reviewed his notes on what a noun was. He was graciously assured that a noun was indeed a word used ‘to identify any class of people, place, or thing’. But this was just the definition of a common noun- an improper one. A proper noun was something more particular to one of the aforementioned groups. So what did that mean exactly? Kotton adhered his critical thinking cap onto his head and pondered. The improper noun ‘person’ could be made proper by being more specific as to who this person was. The name Fysha came to mind. Fysha was a woman he had met during a game his group of friends had created during a span of slow and boorish trials. ‘Woman’ was a very general term, therefore ‘common' and 'improper’ whilst 'Fysha' was specific, particular', thus considered ‘proper’. Even if it took the young man a considerable amount of time to make this distinction it wasn’t without benefit to him. He used this very example to embellish his notes, though he would feel more confident having acquired a second opinion just to be sure. With that out the way, Kotton felt significantly more self-assured that he knew what a noun was and its varying sub-definitions.
So where did that leave him? His mind was a trail that left no followable footprints... Oh yes! He was trying to figure out how to use the word ‘solipsistic’ in a sentence that made sense. He raised his pencil like it was a trophy he had been awarded for being an amateur author, and rested it gently against one of the empty lines in his page. He scribbled, ‘the inept detective had a solipsistic belief that his observation was correct’. He had to erase a few mistakes as he wrote, but it was not without purpose. He found it incredibly easy to make a story based off that singular line and enthusiastically wanted to do just that... if it weren’t for the sudden paw abrading the side of his left pant-leg.
He looked down and found not just Imogen but Spirit looking up at him with the most sullen and manipulative eyes he had ever seen. He didn’t even need to ask what they wanted because it only boiled down to two things: food or attention. And he could facilely give them both.
Pencil down, notebook closed, Kotton rose from his seat on the couch and began to tend to his companions one at a time.
Kotton had gone over his notes from the writing course he had taken during last season. There, he reviewed several forms of poetry including the haiku. In his journal he there was also the opportunity for him to reflect on his use of grammar, sentence structure and the importance of punctuation marks. But either it had been a long enough time for him to forget, or he had simply done away with the knowledge as to how to tell stories, his mind was that much out of the loop. Interlocked between the thin lines on the page was a detail he kicked himself for not remembering. And in the case of being highly unmotivated, it meant more than it should have. That being said, the kick he made against himself was substantial. And boy, would it have hurt if it weren't but a hypothetical.
He had written in his notepad the concept of ‘prompts’ and how they could be useful for someone who was suffering from mild to severe bouts of writer’s block. In the specific case of what he had written, there was such a thing as ‘one-word prompts’ where you had to use the prompted word to create a one-sentence story to build an entire story upon. Kotton liked this idea and resisted the urge to kick himself again for having not found it until just now.
By gods he even had some examples! There, under the definition he had scribbled were three unusual words, words he hadn’t heard nor said in as long as he had been breathing. Fortunately, his father had entrusted him with a Common dictionary. He hoped these words could be found within it or else he was at a loss as to where he these words had occurred. Perhaps his professor had suggested them in passing. Perhaps he had learned them from someone, but he wasn’t sure. Nevertheless, he was about to find out.
Pulling his dictionary from the bookcase that was directly adjacent to the fireplace, the young man flipped to the index. He was proud that he had the knowledge of what the index was and how to use it. Because of this, it took him no time at all to find the appropriate page that contained the word he wished to look up.
It was on page 645 and it was found at the very top. The word was ‘taciturn’ and it was defined as an adjective: “(of a person) reserved or uncommunicative in speech; saying little”. How would he use this to create a one-sentence story? Several minutes passed before a thought appeared inside his head. He immediately made a connection with the definition, as he was a person who often said very little. Maybe he could work with this to create a sentence that supplied him with enough ‘prompt’ to go off of.
He drew his journal near and flipped to a fresh page. Before he got too carried away, the pencil in his hand trembling with the energetic need to write, write, write!- Kotton referred back to his notes so as to make clear what an adjective meant. Apparently an adjective was a “a class of words that primarily describes a particular quality of another word (usually a noun)”. It took him a while to process this information, but once he had he felt confident in what an adjective was. He quickly started to spew out examples such as ‘orange’ and ‘hairy’ and ‘annoying’. He wrote down these examples for future use because he never knew when he would need to be reminded about something he didn't already have concretely set within his brain.
Now that he had revisited the basics, he wasted no time in scrawling, ‘after hours of talking to people, it was understandable that an introvert would be taciturn and exhausted.’ He hoped he had used the term correctly. He double checked his use of the word against the definition he had found within the dictionary. It seemed like he had gone about using it correctly so that was a plus!
So on to the next word he went. And that word was idolatrous. The aspiring writer had a bit of a difficult even saying the word. “Eye-doe-lah-truss?” he announced, a sprinkling of confusion coating his words as he said them. He flipped through the pages of his journal before finally locating additional notes. There, he found after panning toward the near front of his notes, was this thing called ‘phonetics’. 'Phonetics' described how words were meant to be announced and ultimately stated. There was an entire two to three pages of information he had apparently jotted down. Most of it was hardly legible, but he was able to get the gist of it since it was his penmanship he was trying to decipher. He was able to make out some examples of arbitrary words that had been arbitrarily chosen to be disassembled. There was ‘uniform’ to which he deconstructed to say ‘YOU-NEE-FORM’. There was also whiskey, a fan favourite of his that was further explained to be said as ‘WISS-KEY’. There was also the word zero which was dissected into two syllables: ‘ZEE-ROW’. This made sense to the man who spent no hesitation before priding himself on his intelligence and ability to adapt well.
Attributing his knowledge of phonetics, he intended to speak aloud the words once more. “EYE-DOLL-A-TWISS”. He didn’t know if that sounded better than what he had initially said, but it matched up with the notes he had taken, so he didn’t question it.
'Idolatrous', he read, was defined as yet another adjective that meant ‘worshipping idols’ or ‘relating to the religious practice of praying to someone or something’. That was easy enough to understand and Kotton was already filled with many ideas as to how to use the word. They lined up at his front door, ready to be used like a beggar in need a few spare copper coins. He turned back to the last page he had been working on and wrote, “There were many idolatrous people who found comfort in the fact that immortals existed”. He was a little less pleased with how he had used the word, but he could build off this sentence with a small story or two. He was already moved on to the next word anyway, excitement bubbling up behind his ribcage.
'Solipsistic' was the third and final word, and boy was it a doozy to pronounce. In fact, Kotton chose to skip its pronunciation and dive head first into its usage in a sentence. Solipsistic was an adjective defined as itself being ‘very self-centred and selfish’. This time, the aspiring writer had more hardship in trying to appropriate the word into a sentence that was both legitimate and sensible. He knew what adjectives were now, but he wasn’t certain where in the sentence he should use it. It was meant to modify a noun, so it should most likely be used in front of a noun, right? But he hesitated. How would he start the sentence so that it would lead towards the modification of a noun? He didn’t even know what noun to use. A person? A place? An object?
He went back to square one and reviewed his notes on what a noun was. He was graciously assured that a noun was indeed a word used ‘to identify any class of people, place, or thing’. But this was just the definition of a common noun- an improper one. A proper noun was something more particular to one of the aforementioned groups. So what did that mean exactly? Kotton adhered his critical thinking cap onto his head and pondered. The improper noun ‘person’ could be made proper by being more specific as to who this person was. The name Fysha came to mind. Fysha was a woman he had met during a game his group of friends had created during a span of slow and boorish trials. ‘Woman’ was a very general term, therefore ‘common' and 'improper’ whilst 'Fysha' was specific, particular', thus considered ‘proper’. Even if it took the young man a considerable amount of time to make this distinction it wasn’t without benefit to him. He used this very example to embellish his notes, though he would feel more confident having acquired a second opinion just to be sure. With that out the way, Kotton felt significantly more self-assured that he knew what a noun was and its varying sub-definitions.
So where did that leave him? His mind was a trail that left no followable footprints... Oh yes! He was trying to figure out how to use the word ‘solipsistic’ in a sentence that made sense. He raised his pencil like it was a trophy he had been awarded for being an amateur author, and rested it gently against one of the empty lines in his page. He scribbled, ‘the inept detective had a solipsistic belief that his observation was correct’. He had to erase a few mistakes as he wrote, but it was not without purpose. He found it incredibly easy to make a story based off that singular line and enthusiastically wanted to do just that... if it weren’t for the sudden paw abrading the side of his left pant-leg.
He looked down and found not just Imogen but Spirit looking up at him with the most sullen and manipulative eyes he had ever seen. He didn’t even need to ask what they wanted because it only boiled down to two things: food or attention. And he could facilely give them both.
Pencil down, notebook closed, Kotton rose from his seat on the couch and began to tend to his companions one at a time.