More words for the wise

Since at least one person is nearing the end of that first list, I've decided to post another. Have fun, and happy writing!

sausage
exam
skylight

swimming pool
fork
nurse

sparrow
bell
ridge

uniform
nun
lentil

clippers
shark
worry

kiosk
lipstick
lighter

sardine
elastic
tomb

witch
scarf
lamp

concert
wardrobe
definition

certificate
binder
scissors

valley
hardware
bullet

lemonade
press
blonde

mound
gondola
orchestra

bench
bribe
cellar

trolley
scorpion
varnish

mulberry
spire
manners

brooch
cult
plaster

railway
China
trousers

vinegar
ladybird
fog

scream
ring
cemetery

A couple more...

A couple more snippets for your reading pleasure...
 

Champagne ( province)

brass

president

The galloping of the horse's hooves echoed in her ears as she urged it onward, eschewing well-worn trails for the sloping green hills she had seen in her dreams; as the sun rose higher in the cloudless sky, she paused near an outcropping of trees to rest, sliding off the saddle and nearly tripping over her skirts. Cursing under her breath at the impractical garments and the stupidity of the side-saddle as she rustled in a saddlebag for a flask of water and a crudely-drawn map, Charity took a deep draught before unfurling the document and puzzling over its cryptic directions. With a sigh, she patted the horse's flank gently before leading it into the shady copse of trees, listening for the sound of the creek indicated on the map, the soft trickle of the water growing louder as she approached. Trying the horse to a tree near the water, she sat down on a nearby rock, using the moss from the trees to determine her bearings before unrolling the map again.

She was already well within Champagne, according to the chart's markings, but some 20 kilometers from her goal, a secluded chateau in the heart of the wine country. A snort from the horse made her look up, automatically reaching for the brass-barreled pistol hidden within her skirts; all was silent, however, save for the splashing of the water, and she slowly returned to her perusal of the map, weapon still within her grip. The president of the organization had given her this mission himself...and she would not fail.

roses

hobby

arch

The vines climb higher up the wall, embedding themselves deeper into the cracks of the stone, a verdant web superimposed upon the columns. Tangled within them are the roses, in vivid shades of reds and pinks, the blooms carried to greater heights by the net of ivy that supports them. Walking among them, the queen bends to sniff at a delicate bud, holding it between slender fingers, their bloodlessness accentuated by the brightness of flower and vine. She plucks the bud, tucking it into her bodice before moving on, occasionally picking wilted flowers or dead leaves as she indulges in her favourite hobby. The brilliant riot of roses mask the entrance to the castle's wall...but not the faint scent of decay caused by vicious thorns still embedded in rotting flesh, nor the subtle glimpse of bleached bone that lies at the arch's foot.