Yes, it's that time again. No, it's not my birthday. Or yours, but if it is, do say so and we'll sing to you.

Word Challenge time! I should say Words, with the 's' but it doesn't sound as good. So. For you newbies, you might want to read this first so you'll know what I'm talking about. Really, it's just a fun game to exercise our writerly noggins.

For previous attempts, click here.

The words are:

Pilothouse: (noun) An enclosed compartment from which a vessel can be navigated.

Dropsy: (noun) Swelling from excessive accumulation of watery fluid in cells, tissues, or serous cavities. Syn. edema

Cavalierly: (adverb) In a proud and domineering manner.

Memsahib: (noun) A woman sahib.

Alb: (noun) A white linen liturgical vestment with sleeves; worn by priests

Gloxinia: (noun) Any of several plants of the genera Gloxinia or Sinningia (greenhouse gloxinias) having showy bell-shaped flowers.

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The Captain left the pilothouse to seek the aid of the ship's quartermaster, who knew a thing or two about medicinal remedies. He'd been suffering from dropsy, the swelling primarily located between his neck and shoulders. Even now as he turned to survey his crew, a sharp twinge resulted from the slightest movement of his head. The Captain was not a man easily worn down by such triviality as pain, but it was nevertheless cumbersome and hindered his navigational abilities. Therefore, it had to be eliminated as soon as possible.

The passengers loitered about with somber faces. They were pilgrims come from distant lands to seek their fortunes elsewhere. The Captain huffed at the sight of their pitiful plights, unused as they were to being at sea for a good fortnight now. He puffed up his chest in a cavalierly manner, and earned another shooting pain from his neck to the top of his skull.

He spied the memsahib standing tall by the bow. She was clutching a bouquet of flowers, her golden head tilted to one side as if she meant to take a whiff of the wilted gloxinias. Was it only two nights ago when she came aboard with her servants? The Captain's expedition to India brought him lucrative rewards, and, now as he gazed at the woman's pale beauty, a chance for a romantic enterprise. After all, he was a man, wasn't he? Too long he'd been at sea with only scruffy bearded men for company.

With a sudden cry, the woman threw the flowers away. The Captain hurried to her side and took her alabaster hand, her fingers thin and frail in his callused palms.

"Madame, what is the matter?"

She shook her head in reply. Tears glistened on the corner of her eyes--silver orbs framed by long, dark lashes. So beautiful. The captain had only time to glance at the quartermaster running toward him, holding a torn and blood-stained alb, when the memsahib pulled his face down for a kiss.

"My good Captain," she whispered, "I can remedy your pain, and you, mine." Her face elongated as fangs appeared in her wide-opened mouth. She clamped her lips over his afflicted neck, draining him bit by bit of the cursed dropsy, and more.

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Haha! Sometimes I surprise myself with what my brain comes up with. Okay, now it's your turn. Have fun with it!