Second Campaigner Challenge

It's time for Rachael Harrie's Second Campaigner Challenge! You gotta love her sense of humor - wait until you see the words she gave us that must appear in this post. I looked every one of them up on Wikipedia. This is a clear lesson in vocabulary - or little-used words, I'm not sure. You can read and vote for your favorite entry here. I'm number 34.

The Challenge is:

Write a blog post in 200 words or less, excluding the title. It can be in any format, whether flash fiction, non-fiction, humorous blog musings, poem, etc. The blog post should:

• include the word "imago" in the title

• include the following 4 random words: "miasma," "lacuna," "oscitate," "synchronicity,"

If you want to give yourself an added challenge (optional and included in the word count), make reference to a mirror in your post.

For those who want an even greater challenge (optional), make your post 200 words EXACTLY!

I MET THE CHALLENGE AND THE EXTRA OPTIONS!

AND SO YOU DON'T HAVE TO LEAVE THIS POST IN ORDER TO GO LOOK UP THE WORDS, I POSTED THE MEANINGS BELOW:

Imago: Insect in its sexually mature adult stage after metamorphosis.
Miasma: Noxious atmosphere.
Lacuna: A gap or space.
Oscitate: Gape or Yawn.
Synchronicity: Events that happen together by chance.

AND HERE IS MY POST.

Imago of a Lost World

AirShip America Log, September 22, 2075.
24:00 hours.

Reached Mariposa. Declared international martial law upon discovering mixed human/alien race in apparent distress. Subsisting mostly in an area called Lacuna, below ground, the unsustainable miasma being above ground. They are barely surviving. The race is surely facing extinction. Entire planet is beginning to oscitate in large areas and increasing daily.

I tapped the pen against my lips. I hadn’t quite figured out what to do with an entire race from a defunct planet.

“What are you planning?” asked First Lieutenant Carmenski. Clearly uneasy, she wanted to begin doing something. Anything.

“They must be evacuated, obviously,” I said, annoyed. I don’t like being rushed into any decision, especially one as important as this.

“But how?” she pushed. Our ship will only carry five hundred more.”

She sat next to me, commanding my attention. “Don’t you think it strange the AASA sent us here? I don’t believe in synchronicity. I think it’s all smoke and mirrors. They knew what they were sending us into.”

“Perhaps,” I said. But I secretly agreed. We landed on a dying planet. The American Aeronautical Space Administration surely knew about it. And sent us all to certain death.