Writing Greenwood Tree – and more

Save a Word Saturday 6

save  a word Saturday image

(Full rules here : The Feather & the Rose)
1. Create a lovely blog post that links back to this one.

2. Pick an old word you want to save from extinction to feature in your blog post. Luciferous Logolepsy is a great database of lovely old words.

3. Provide a definition of your word. Use your word in a sentence (or even a short paragraph) vaguely related to the theme chosen for the week.

4. Add your post to the linky list below (it’s down there somewhere). Then hop to as many other blogs as you can in search of as many wonderful words as possible!

5. Use as many of the words as you can on the people in your life.

My chosen words:

adj. – bearing branches. ramiform, adj. branch-alike.

adj. – extremely wicked; depraved; infamous

& this week’s theme is:




‘Who, indeed?’ joked Mr Gracious , a little nervously.

‘Pay no attention. There are tales of a phantom that haunts the place, but really, it is nothing more than an owl,’ said the host to his guest anxiously, as he placed a lighted candle on the table before leaving him to his bed chamber

‘Who who whohooooo…’ came the crazed voice again.

Mr Gracious tugged at his earlobe and hemmed and hawed a while.

‘Of course, nothing but a lot of old wives’ tales; still, perhaps not inadvisable to lock one’s door and windows at night – if an owl or even a bat were to make its way in, could be rather annoying.’

He peered out through the narrow window; the view that met him might have been created specifically for a Tale of Horror and Imagination or one of Le Fanu: a full moon, riding clear of some very oddly shaped clouds, framed against the bluey-black sky by the ramiferous arms of the old tree growing immediately outside.

‘Quite,’ commented Mr Gracious to himself, as if in agreement with the elements.

And so to bed.  He could not quite close the window however:  rust, or some fault in the original design caused it to stick, allowing a thin breath of cool evening air to enter. He tugged the tapestry across it and by means of his walking stick managed to pin it ingeniously in place.

A quiet read by candle light, and soon he was sleepy enough to doze off;  even the who-whooiing which continued far into the night failed to wake him, although occasionally he twitched in his sleep.


Who indeed, could be of such nefarious, such facinorous intent, as to wish harm to an itinerant traveller , a complete stranger to the semi-ruined castle?


Shadows flickered about the chamber,  assuming  strange and near human shapes – it is curious how a breath of air can make the flame flicker and dart in that extraordinary manner …  now a female figure, now a dancing, capering male figure , surely wearing a jester’s cap… and finally, the shadow of an owl, flying around the walls – how could that be? The window is not open, nor  is the door.

Night wears on into dawn – and as the walking stick falls away, the window swings open – and from the chamber, mysteriously, drifts out the owl.

Has the castle claimed yet another victim?

‘… framed against the bluey-black sky by the ramiferous arms of the old tree …’

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