“Senocular” or “Sleep Is For The Weak(er Than Lute)”

It’s Save-a-Word Saturday! For any who need a reminder of/never knew what that means, here’s how it goes:

Save-a-Word Saturday

1) Create a post linking back to the hosts, The Feather and the Rose.

2) Pick an old word you want to save from extinction to feature in the post. (If you find yourself in want of options, Feather ‘n’ Rose recommended a site that may have some word-lovers drooling. Luciferous Logolepsy. Even its name is old and delicious!)

3) Provide a definition of your word, and use it in a sentence/short paragraph/mini story vaguely related to the particular week’s chosen theme.

4) Sign up properly on the host post’s linky list so participants can easily find each other and share their logophilistic joy.

5) Be a hero by sharing these retro words with the world!

I’ve been participating in the weekly fun via my Ballad of Allyn-a-Dale” Facebook page, giving myself the extra challenge/fun of relating every word I pick to my re-imagining of the Robin Hood legend (a.k.a. the magnum opus to be self-published after the completion of “The Wilderhark Tales”). But I figure, hey, since I’ve gotten in the habit of having my vignettes all pre-written and ready to go, no reason I can’t pop over here real quick and post it for the blog-inclined to see, too!

So, without further delay, here’s my word-saving civic duty of the day.

The theme: Exhaustion.

The word: “Senocular”, an adjective meaning “having six eyes”.

The Example: When Gant-o’-the-Lute turned to peer at him, Allyn fought harder to stand steady on his feet.

“Are you all right, lad?”

“Yes,” said Allyn, blinking hard. For a moment, his fuzzy vision read his father’s face as senocular, all six eyes narrowing at him in displeasure.

“We’ve discussed this, Allyn,” Lute said crisply. “If you’re falling ill, you should say so before you vomit in the middle of a ballad, not after.”

Allyn flushed at the remembrance of that mortifying childhood episode. “I am not so unwell, Father. But as you ask… might we stop somewhere to sleep, soon?”

“Sleep?” Lute repeated, head tipped in puzzlement. “But we stopped to sleep last night.”

Though Allyn’s body was well aware that it had been two nights ago, not one, he said only, “I am sorry, Father. I fear I’ve tired myself too quickly.”

Lute tutted. “Adolescents. Nothing but energy-sapping hormones. Ah, well, as you look liable to drop off into unconsciousness whether I give you leave or no, we’d best make camp somewhere. May as well feed you, too, while I’m thinking of it.” He sighed. “Try to remind me more regularly that you’re not me, will you, Allyn?”

Allyn’s assent was lost in a yawn.

2 thoughts on ““Senocular” or “Sleep Is For The Weak(er Than Lute)”

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