%date 131007 00:00
Mary was but six years old when she had decided upon a task to devote her life to. It was not unheard of to be confident in life at the tender age of six; it was a phase that very nearly everyone went through. Mary, however, had a certain dedication to her cause that other six year olds lacked. Her dedication was only furthered by the peculiarity of her cause, as well as her precocious nature. Mary had decided she wanted to be a logophilliac. Strange for a six year old to want to have an obsession with words, one might say, but if one met Mary one would know that there was no one better suited for the task. Occasionally, a word would confuse her or she wouldn't totally be able to grasp the meaning or implications of a word, for she was still a six year old after all. But those weren't the interesting occurrences. Her engouement with language often left engaged with stultified adults unable to comprehend where Mary gained such talents, and where they themselves could acquire this illecebrous way with words. Her words were oleaginous, not too fast, and not too slow, moving with the density of weighted goods of golden nature. The pathopoeia of others soon began to dull her findings for others didn't like to use longer words that would require a dictionary, and being tired of all the percontations that she would deal with on a daily basis, she attributed her aptitude for lovely letters stringed together to an aleatorcism.