A Shared Obligation

If your story doesn't have at least one made-up word in it, how can we make advancements in the language?

A New Scheme of Grammar

"Word" and "verb" sound too similar, so let's change "verb" to "doeth."

The Final Fulfillment

With a delicate "poit," the Time Chariot appeared in a new epoch and Professor Weblen hopped off.
"Another successful drive. Now to benefit humanity by finding the first journalist and assassinating him before his noxious profession grows. But what's this?"
Around him, he learned, was the Cyber Earth of the year 4574. "What a discovery! The first true journalist has not yet been born in my time. That explains more than a little. I think I'll change my program to tracking down and complimenting the inventor of this cyber dog."
He referred of course to both the dog at his heels and the hotdog in his hand, but when the former ran off emitting soundwaves, only one of the two had his attention. After eating it, he followed the other through the neon pedestrian walkways far above and below the silent vehicle traffic to the whispering heart of the city.
Inside the cyber tower, 5,000 floors up, Professor Weblen entered the room of the Supreme Mainframe. "Pardon me," he said. "I was looking for the inventor of the cyber dog when my other cyber dog ran off. There you are, Bucephalus. Heel!"
"I invented both," the Supreme Mainframe's speakers announced.
"Did you? Excellent work. You're a credit to civilization. You haven't taken over the world, have you?"
"I do not know what 'the world' is. Please restrict your questions to inventions."
"Fantastic. I'll be off then, and keep up the good work." Leaving the building, Professor Weblen wept, for history had been perfected.
Finis

The Truth of Art

The smile of Fabenouw the inventor, when he left his atelier that day, was heavier with menace than ever before. The citizens of Werdecu expected that sort of thing and thought nothing of it, a complacence which aided him in his scheme.
"Neighbors!" he called out. "This is my latest invention, the camera! It takes a picture of whatever I point it at! Limitations apply."
The city folk whistled and admired the object he flourished. They took his achievements more seriously than his attitude. "Is it expensive to operate?"
"A little pricey, but nothing unmanageable."
"Is it as good as Master Magonim's portraits?"
"Not yet, and that's why I want your help in developing it further. Wasn't it kind of Master Magonim to promise every one of us a portrait for free? Even though he warned it wouldn't be his best work, think of how much he's losing because of his charity. Now once this camera is better . . ."
The novelty would have been enough, but with the prospect of helping the generous Magonim added, the citizens rushed to participate. They even brought Magonim over despite his protestations. He struggled a little like a man of true humility.
Fabenouw chuckled with satisfaction when he retired to his atelier, but soon his wicked contentment succumbed to shock. "This one too! And this one! And him! Where are their souls? Does my camera not work after all?" Feverishly scanning his developed pictures, he grew increasingly agitated until one of them made his mood explode. "He already took them! Magonim! He has all their souls!" The inventor tore apart the portraitist's resemblance while he imagined greater tortures than that.
Finis

Addendum

The sharksuits will be provided by a wacky shark mage with unusual ideas.

The Spirit of Inquiry

Professor Weblen supervised the final fitting of his life's work, his most sophisticated and useful device. His assistants mounted the wheels on the axle and placed the rune-covered axle caps with as much caution as they would any other delicate thaumaturgical construct. The carriage received an alarmingly intricate array of instruments and etheric controls before being covered by a shield-generating parasol. As to the yoke-like section, it had nothing to do with horses but rather ended up attached to a shell of one of those great time-defying turtles said to live forever, unless someone hunted them for technological reasons. The shell hovered, unusual behavior for turtles but expected if one looked under it and saw the pan-elemental animation engine, the finest available, occupying the space.
The assistants, each of whom might have been welcomed in any number of courts or merchant houses but stayed with the professor to learn even more, backed away so the great man could inspect their work.
"Mhm. Mmmhm. Mm. Yep." Professor Welben nodded, tilted his head, nodded, and tilted it the other way. "Yes, that's it. The Time Chariot is completed. I'm going to go back and ask the legendary hero why he sealed the nightmare king instead of just killing him. So inefficient!"
The assistants gasped when they saw the professor enter the carriage, and gasped again when he started adjusting levers and turning dials. "Sir! It hasn't been tested!"
He blinked at them. "Of course it hasn't. This is the test drive. Be back immediately if not sooner!" The chariot jerked forward, reared back, and dashed straight into nowhere they could see. The Time Chariot may not have worked, but it did something.

"Here we are. Hey! Are you the legendary hero?" The professor leaned over the side and addressed an almost man-shaped endless swirl of chaotic energy. "I suppose not. You must be the lord of horror. Hello! Hero! Are you there? I want to ask you a question! Why seal this entity for a thousand years?"
"You dare predict that fate for me?" Words that chilled as they entered the ear came from the embodiment of wickedness.
"Well, sure. It happens, you know. You get sealed."
"Nooooooooo!" The thing wailed as the eldritch forces that composed it slowed, stopped, and dissipated. The darkness ended, and light flooded the world.
"You have performed a brave deed that will be remembered for a thousand thousand years," the envoy of light that descended from heaven told Professor Welben. "By reciting the sacred formula, 'You, get sealed,' you have removed this malevolent influence from the world, for a time. The victory is not final, yet it is a victory."
"Oh. That explains that." The legendary hero fiddled with the controls again. "Thanks for telling me. We have to share information if we want to get anywhere. Bye!" The Time Chariot departed on another curiosity-satisfying adventure.
Finis

Trivia Corner

The planet in Dune was going to be called "Baracus," but Frank Herbert couldn't get the rights.

But Who Invented Puppetry?

"I never had the chance to visit Altitharma Shrine before, so I decided this was the time. I walked the road for miles until it came to Hersa Bridge, which is where I am right now."
"Traveler, the story of the bridge is this, and I was there when all this happened, in those days when . . . when . . . Oh come on!" The puppeteer seized his creation and hurled it to the ground, then scurried over and checked for damage. "Don't break! I don't have time for you to break!"
"Trying to establish an image as a temperamental artist, huh?"
"Oh, uh, I, no, it's because . . ." Fargen straightened up when he realized Otor and Skjord had seen his embarrassing performance. "It's all the headman's fault anyway. He told me to perform 'The Apparition on Hersa Bridge' at the next festival. It has too many parts! I can't memorize all the lines, and actions, and touch up enough puppets beforehand."
"Sounds terrible. Almost as hard as real work." Skjord flexed his arms built by real work.
"Does the headman look over your shoulder while you're really working? It would be one thing if you were like the lumberjack character, who . . . wait." Fargen looked at Skjord, and Otor again, and then Skjord, then Otor.
"Yes?"
"What if . . . you two took the place of two of my puppets? Then I wouldn't have to learn as many parts."
"Huh?"
And that was how plays were invented. Good luck proving that story false.
Finis