Lydia glanced outside at the snow-muffled street, and remembered her father’s word for snow: crackledust. She had never thought it was quite right. Snow crunched, not crackled.
She stood in silence, surrounded by bin liners containing his clothes. At the bottom of the banister was his cardigan. She was so used to seeing it there that she had overlooked it earlier. That had a made-up name too: swabbler. The cardigan he wore for relaxing; for swabbling. Lydia thought it was the perfect word. She wrapped it around her shoulders, tears falling softly, and stared out at the glittering snow. Crackledust.
This piece of writing is featured in PEN’s e-book, “The Dictionary of Made-Up Words”, made in partnership with the European Commission Representation in the United Kingdom. Read the whole book!