, , , , , , , , , , ,

 (A friend emailed a list of words that he was sure I didn’t know. He was right. I decided to use them here.)

She held the promise of a petrichor in his barren life.

However, to start anew Thierry had to rid himself of the tattoo on his purlicue. He took out a vial no larger than an aglet, and braced himself, felt his stomach wamble.

The acid burned through his skin and he let out a muffled vagitus. [Naughty, naughty – what are you thinking of?] Thierry closed his eyes tight, triggering phosphenes, and choked on the taste of chanking. [Not a Chinese dish, I assure you] Succumbing to the pain, he feverishly washed the blister with spirit and applied a dab of nurdle. [Yes, sounds gross]

Catching his breath, he fingered the lemniscate that covered the rasceta of his left hand and decided, perhaps another time.

Reciting vocables to distract from the pain, he stepped into the crepuscular rays of the brisk morning.

Love and life, beckoned.

************ Copyright @ Eric Alagan, 2014 ************

Succinct words perhaps, but I wonder whether these merely make the

story telling pompous, stunted and help alienate the readers.

What do you reckon?