Circle of Eights, Stories

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  • #78


      Back from the depths of his sleep, the dragon Naasir exhaled in a puff of smoke. He’d just woven a wonderful dream —for all dragons and creatures do dream of course, even if most humans doubt it.

      Yawning, Naasir stretched out his long slithery body. Fully stretched, his body was an impressive sight to behold. He was quite old by human standards, while in fact, he was still in his youth, and could very well stay as rambunctiously lively for many other long centuries.

      He had given the final touch to a new world he had been creating in his dream time for many nights now, and was rather proud of it —even if dragons knew no such thing as pride, his feeling at this very moment was very akin to being proud.

      He had filled this world with many wonders, dragons of course, and other creatures yet to be named. And magic was all pervasive in that world, and so slightly cloaked, that it could be used by many.
      It would be a great playground he thought, for he was not a possessive and dictatorial dragon. In fact, he could feel some others were about to step in, and tell and live the story of that world.

      Sighing in delight, like a sleepy cat of majestic dimensions, he cuddled again, about to sink deeply into the harp music playing in his mind, ready to dream and let that story be told again…

      Another Never Ending Story

      Malvina. That name had been thrown into a conversation Yann and Quintin had had together, during which Quintin had felt images come into his awareness. He had instantly liked that name.
      He was feeling the aura of a woman, long hair of a pale rosy color, with a noble bearing. That name had been around, and they had played with it to find more impressions.
      And they had felt it linked to breeding of dragons, in a sort of rookery.

      They’ve both felt her connected to Malika, an online friend of them, whose gentle touch and kindly influence, as well as her passion for dragons seemed to fit in quite interestingly.

      Then on an impulse, Quintin had begun to paint an image around it, letting his feeling guide his movements. He’d loved the peaceful environment he’d drawn, and even if he was not wont to share “unfinished” drawings, he immediately shared the initial sketches with Yann and Fiona.

      They both loved it, and Fiona even considered for a moment adopting one of the cute baby dragons to be born.
      “Buckberry” : that was the name Quintin felt for the baby dragon… But he did not see any character in that picture for Fiona. She would have to decide to step in, to get that baby dragon. What character would she be? A young impetuous rude adventuress, or an o(w)ld wizened witch? Perhaps a bit of both?

      These thoughts were now coming back to him.
      Ever since he had seen Yann’s pictures, those taken when he’d been in Old Albion, he had felt that something strange was manifesting.
      One of these intriguing coincidences: the picture of a cave that Yann has been visiting looked so strikingly similar to Malvina’s Rookery… And that playful kid in the cave was probably linked to Yann.

      So, now that the painting was finished, perhaps he could have people join in the fun. All that was required was imagination…

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    • #392

      — The legend of Mævel — (Part IV)

      Mævel’s mind was made up, she was leaving tonight. She took a few of her belongings in a little bundle, and all very silently, moved to the door, the bundle in one hand, and the key in the other.

      But when she tried to put the key into the lock, she noticed something was wrong. The key was way too big for the small lock. What was the purpose of materializing a big key unfit to the locks that were in front of us? she wondered.
      Perhaps the key will have another use, she said to herself, and she put it into her bundle, and wondered whether she could find another way to get out of the bedroom.

      « Use your magic,… you don’t need to play by the rules » a tiny voice whispered in her ear.
      « What does that mean? » she asked, befuddled, as perhaps her parents where right after all, she was becoming nuts… Well, that might attract squirrels and have them gnaw a hole in that wall, she said giggling to herself.
      « You don’t need draw squirrels,… you can draw a door directly »

      What a strange idea, Mævel thought, drawing a door… It sounded so funny at the moment, that she could feel her heart lift and her spirits as well. What could she use to draw that door… Her gaze ran quickly through the bedroom, looking for a bit of chalk, or charcoal, or whatever else. What a terrible thing that she was so obsessed by dusting, as there wasn’t even a single dust bunny left to draw that door.

      « Now, will you pay attention? »
      « I beg your pardon? »
      « What did I told you? »
      « Mmmm, let me think… Oh! I don’t have to play by the rules… »

      So, in a bout of genius, Mævel ran her finger on the wall, starting from the floor, straight upwards, then to the right, and straight down again, until… well, nothing happened.

      « That wall hasn’t budged any! »
      « Are you sure?… Look closer »

      And Mævel saw that the wall had become like a shiny surface of water, right inside where she had drawn the limits of that imaginary door. And when she pressed her finger, it was simply going through it, as though the surface had just been an illusion.

      With a thank for the helpful voice in her head, she was about to cross the surface, but was stopped in her track by a moment of hesitation. Could she change the destination behind the wall as well?
      Why not, after all, she didn’t have to play by the rules.

      « To the forest! » Mævel ordered intently to the wall before jumping in.

      The voice smiled to her fondly.

      F LoveF Love


        Dreamily Arona wandered away from the cave, gently holding the sleeping Yikesy close to her heart. Mandrake the cat followed, elegantly attempting to convey the impression he was there by mere chance, and by some stroke of fortune happened to be heading in the same direction.

        Arona had no clear idea where she was going, or what her intentions were even. Still this was nothing new for Arona, who was a bit of an aimless wanderer really herself at heart. She pretended she was looking for magic, but really, she wasn’t so sure anymore what she was looking for.


        Arona was momentarily rendered speechless by a vison up ahead. The most beautiful creature she had ever seen sat no more than 5 dragon-lengths up ahead.
        Mandrake, she eventually whispered when she had regained her composure, What is this miracle ahead? Is this some maiden’s dream? A heavenly creature come to earth perhaps?

        A miracle sent by God to save you? suggested Mandrake

        His near naked body a masterpiece of bronzed skin pulled taut over rippling muscles.

        Steady on Arona, said Mandrake

        But you know I am no hapless fool Mandrake, to swoon over a handsome stranger.

        No, indeed. And might I enquire why for art we art speaking so oddly? asked Mandrake

        Buggered if I know, answered Arona

        Despite the bravado she managed to display at times, Arona was very shy, and would never have had the confidence to approach such a godlike creature. However at that moment Yikesy started to cry loudly. The god looked up from his silent reverie and smiled.

        Oh a baby, he said in a deep melodic voice. I love babies. He came bounding athletically over and gazed down at Yikesy. My, that is an endearingly ugly baby.

        This is Arona, stuttered Arona, I mean I am Arona, and this is Yikesy, and this is .. Arona looked blankly at Mandrake

        Mandrake looked unhelpfully back at her, with a rather sarcastic little smile on his face.

        I am delighted to meet you. Vincentius at your service. May I hold Arona for a few moments?

        Oh I am sure that could be arranged, snorted Mandrake.

        Arona glared at Mandrake and decided the time had come to pull herself together. I am so sorry for the misunderstanding, she said charmingly to Vincentius. The baby’s name is Yikesy. And certainly you may hold him for a moment.

        Vincentius held Yikesy in his strong arms as though he had been cradling little babies all his life.

        Look this is probably a silly question but you aren’t after a nanny by any chance? Oh no of course you aren’t, said Vincentius, apologetically, seeing the amazed expression on Arona’s face. I am so sorry, just wishful thinking on my part. Please forget I said anything and forgive me for my impudence.

        Well actually, said Arona, frantically attempting to remain calm, I really have no idea how to look after this baby and I did have a bit of an idea a nanny might be quite useful.

        Well this is a fortuitous meeting indeed then!

        But I can’t afford to pay you, she said sadly, unconsciously fiddling with her hair and fluttering her long thick eyelashes.

        Oh don’t worry about that small detail. I am sure we can come to some sort of mutually beneficial arrangement, and Vincentius winked at her.

        Arona drew herself up to her full height, firmly took Yikesy back and said; I will have you know if you are going to wink at me this can’t possibly work. I have no idea what a wink means. You will have to speak clearly if you have something to say to me.

        OH bugger bugger bugger! thought Arona. What is it with me and winking. Now I have blown it. BUGGER.

        But Vincentius just laughed good naturedly, and musically too of course. Perhaps we will just play it by ear then shall we? I am delighted to be your new Nanny :yahoo_big_hug:.


          Becky had to admit she was impressed with Tina’s latest addition to the Reality Drama Play. Inserting a ripplingly virile and handsome nanny was a stroke of genius, and was a concept that she, Becky, would bear in mind, should she ever decide to have children herself.

          Seeing Sean again, if truth be told, had made her slightly broody. Yes, he was often slurring his words, but he had such an endearing twinkle in his eye, and he was so charmingly affectionate that she found him hard to resist. Becky recalled their passionate affair in the Middle East and the Sahara :weather-clear:…there hadn’t been any drinking in those days…well, Becky corrected herself, other than the occasional pot of herbal tea of questionable ingredients. :yahoo_coffee: Oh, those passionate nights inside the steamy tent, with the desert winds howling around them! Clandestine meetings, when Sean’s wife Margaret was too absorbed in her botanical experiments :yahoo_good_luck: to notice his absence…..

          Well, Margaret’s dead now, :yahoo_skull: Becky reminded herself, and there was no-one standing between her and Sean now…..:yahoo_heehee:


          Sanso breathed a sigh of relief to find himself once again on his own. He’d found the flighty and changable Arona hard work, if truth be told, and was rather offended that she’d marched off with the baby Yikesy without even so much as a backwards glance at him. Sanso was a bit sad to see Yikesey leaving, (or Zacquer as he chose to think of him) but he knew he’d meet him again…somewhere, someplace, sometime…..

          He had to admit he was glad to see the back of that horrid cat, at any rate.

          Sanso didn’t really have a plan at that point, so he just started walking, walking along the cave tunnels, trusting that he would find another portal/cave entrance soon to another adventure.

          Such was his trust and superb state of allowing,that no sooner had he thought of finding a portal and a new adventure, as he rounded the very next corner, a blaze of sunshine streamed into the cave and a gust of hot desert wind.


            …… as for himself, Al was not displeased that he had followed the good-hearted advice of sweet Tina about his hair loss………

            As Becky reviewed the script of the Reality Drama Play she was reminded with a slight pang of guilt that she had meant to apologize to ‘sweet Tina’ (Becky spluttered her coffee a bit) for being perhaps a bit rude to her about her offer of a hair replacement aid. At the time, Becky had been astonished that Tina hadn’t realized that the baldness was deliberate… deliberate, and very attractive and stylish. The bald patch that Tina had noticed was simply Becky’s incomplete experiments with manifesting the baldness ‘mentally’ as opposed to physically with a razor.

            Becky had completed the Bald Experiment via the physical means of a razor so that she would be looking her best when Sean arrived.


              Sanso emerged from the dark cave, squinting in the bright sunlight. He could hear a bit of a commotion going on, and while his eyes adjusted to the light, he heard a voice in his head reciting as if from a book:

              « Lord Gustard Willoughby Fergusson helped his wife Floribunda onto the camel, and clamboured onto his own. Cranky and Illi were mounted on donkeys, as were Tibn Zig and Tanlil Ubt, their local guides. Three hot dusty days, and two bitterly cold nights away lay their destination: Tsnit n’Agger and the home of the legendary giant of the…… »

              Sanso found himself looking into the eyes of a curious child, and presumed correctly that the child was Illi. Illi stared at the apparition in indigo blue robes, without mentioning him to the other members of her group. After some moments of wordless communication and understanding, they winked at each other.

              Sanso, Illi now knew, would lead them to the giant bones.


              George, it’s been such a pleasure to meet you, Dory said sincerely, But I think it’s time for me to go home now. My step-daughter Becky will be expecting me, and boy do I ever miss Dan.

              George laughed pleasantly and said, But of course, I understand! Just be remembering, he added with a twinkle, That I am always available. And I have the ‘whole book’ in my carpet bag.

              Haha! Dory laughed a trifle rudely. The forgetting chapter… why, she had already forgotten about that! Her mind was already on other things… Dan for instance……


              Young Becky shouted to Dan, Dory’s coming back! She sent an email saying she arrives in Malaga tomorrow night!

              In actuality, Becky had already known that Dory would be coming back soon. Despite being only a child, she was what would later be known as a Shiftikid, and her telepathic prowess was already well-developed. Well, in point of fact, all children had been born with telepathic skills, all throughout the ages, but the customs of the times had eradicated these gifts usually before the children reached puberty.

              The young Becky had been in communication with ‘the dead guys’ as they were currently affectionately known, since before her birth. Thanks to all the links on Dory’s computer, Becky had quickly assessed that she herself was Sumari belonging, and Ilda aligned; of an intermediate orientation, and a political focus. She recalled from before her actual physical birth that she had chosen ‘Exploring Connections’ as her intent for this physical focus.

              Becky had purposefully chosen Dory as a step-mother, as her intention had been to grow up in an environment conducive to her explorations. Dory was also Ilda aligned, and her passion for anthropology, archeology and other cultures and times was naturally a great help to Becky and her favourite game of ‘Focus Hunting’.

              Becky started to make long lists of all the other focus connections she found, although she had a habit of forgetting where she had started a list, and often started a new list somewhere else. (Dan sometimes commented jokingly that it was almost as if Becky had inherited the ‘forgetful gene’ from her step-mother Dory…..Dan, like most people in those days, believed that genetic characteristics were ‘handed down’ from physical parents).

              Becky spent many happy hours playing the focus hunting game, and at times had some difficulty in separating the various other focuses from the current focus she was interacting with. This wasn’t a problem with Dory, or with some of her contemporaries, but often caused some misunderstanding with people who were unaware of their other focuses.

              Becky was delighted that Dory was coming home soon. She was looking forward to hearing about all of Dory’s adventures, and she wanted to share her own funny stories about the current ‘Perception Wave’ they were all experiencing.


              Even with the help of the buntifluën, which translated the foreign expressions between the men of the Seas and him, young Tomkin had some difficulty to explain some concepts to the men.

              When the three boats had landed on the warm shores of Golfindely, Tomkin had been a little anxious about the ominous looking men, especially the giant one, with the big ugly baby face who seemed to be in command.
              But apparently, Tomkin had found a faithful friend in the black and white myna, and the ugly baby-faced giant had been interested by his unusual talent of being able to understand and communicate with them.

              I had been two weeks now that the men had arranged a settlement for themselves on these friendly shores, and Tomkin had been quickly adopted by the whole crew.
              He soon made friend with Jahiz, Austor and even the wild man in shackles —who had told his name unwillingly in energy, that the buntifluën had helped to translate. Tomkin was finding that the wild man, Cpt. Razkÿ, had been a greatly interesting adventurer and had known many places of the lands from where the men came. In fact, he reminded him of Captain Bone.
              The most difficult to deal with was the chief cook Renouane, who was complaining about the lack of some kind of unknown vegetable to do the meals. Jahiz had comforted Tomkin saying they were all fed up with “cabbage” anyway.

              The villagers around had become slowly aware of the presence of the foreigners on their lands, but they were relatively accustomed to seeing strange people, and upon seeing that these ones were friendly with Tomkin, they returned to their Scotch bonnets harvests, without much more of an afterthought.

              Tomkin had helped them to learn basic words of their language, words of greeting (“wallahu”), of thanks (“alami”) etc.
              But the ugly baby-faced giant (who had said he was “Badul”) was interested in many other things.
              And the concept Tomkin was now struggling with, to clearly explain it to Badul, was that of the traveling portals.

              Badul had somehow intuited that the strange shift in the environment they had met in the middle of the Rift, was something due to Unseen action. And when he had heard Tomkin speak about these methods for traveling easily, he had been interested in understanding more of them.
              Until now, it was a frustrating experience, as the young boy only knew such and such, probably told to him by some others, and not having actually experienced one himself.
              But the information was good to learn.

              Bringing back this technology to his land would probably be more interesting than some decorative glowing egg, he was thinking…


              The Yellow Princess Chapter Book — Part I

              The singing birds awoke her. She was feeling numb for a few days and was wondering what was happening to her. Princess Atiara, often called the Yellow Princess was 20, a very important age among her people. She was the heir of Landgurdy, the richest of the 7 remaining Warring Kingdoms. Her father, the Yellow King Namiarad Tschãõ, had organised a birthday party for her. Inviting all the warring clans of Landgurdy and some of their allies among the other Warring Kingdoms.

              Though she couldn’t calm that waruki, or bad feeling… something was going to happen… and it was not something pleasant.


              — The legend of Mævel — (Part V)

              Mævel, opening her eyes, found herself in the middle of the forest. It was still dark and the sky was covered with a dark blue haze. Now, she had to find her friend the fox
              How could she do that, in such a wide forest, she started to whine.

              Well, why not start by asking… hooted a rowl nearby.

              Mævel was surprised. She had thought these hot pink speaking owls where found only in legends, not in woods nearby…

              You are in a legend, sweetie retorted the rowl.
              — Oh… Surely the legend of someone else then. Who’s legend it is, I am in, dear rowl?
              — Oh, you can call me Aromelle, sweetie. It’s your legend of course.
              — No kidding? Phew, what a responsibility… I shouldn’t tell you that, but you seem like a rowl I can confide in, err… I’m no hero, I’m not even educated, and I pass winds like any impolite woman or polite green ogress would do… And having everyone know that would be kind of embarrassing… What a legend that would be…
              — Then we’ll just say to the bards to skip that part… said wise Aromelle. Now, you wanted to ask something?
              — Oh yes, I have to find the blue fox.
              — And would you mind being a little more precise about that fox. I know thousands of blue foxes sweetie. Hoohoo, perhaps that’s an exaggeration, but I know quite a few, of others’ legends… You’re not the only legendary one coming into these woods to ask for advice.
              — Oh, I’m sorry, blushed Mævel
              — No need sweetie, snapped the rowl, in fact I know exactly who you are looking for… Wouldn’t that be Gulniforgf, the hunchback one-eyed cleft-lipped ogre cursed by Nærvel, the Goddess of the Waters? she said with an encouraging wink
              — Oh, by Ghört’s sake, no!
              — Hoohooo, no need to swear. Of course it isn’t, I knew that, sweetie. That must be Mifilthion, the toothless bald thousand-year-old troll cursed by Agnima, the Goddess of the Flames, you are looking for, hum? she said slyly
              — Oh, no, no, no… Mine is Blohmrik, he said he was a god…
              — Oh, but you know, everyone is a bit of god in a way, so that’s hardly…
              — He said he was cursed by Lejüs
              SHOOSHOOO, the rowl flapped her wings visibly distraught. That can’t be him! Poor thing… Aromelle added plaintively, you know in these matters of curses, you have to deal with the cursing one, and Shaint Lejüs is a tough one to deal with…
              — Oh, for a moment I was afraid that you’d say Blohmrik was a deaf varicosed warty dwarf… I don’t fear that Lejüs, said bravely Mævel… perhaps a bit hastily, she thought to herself
              — Oh, no, he’s a nice fine man, sweetie, you both would do such a perfect couple…
              — And where do I find him then, Mævel was getting a bit impatient with the winking hooting hoot
              — Well, that’s easy, you just happen to have appeared on top of his burrow.

              What a waste of time, was thinking Mævel… She couldn’t wait for much longer, and after all, the burrow could be a nice place to rest.

              With a quick thanks to Aromelle, she entered the tunnel in front of her.


              November, 1 st 2057

              Sean took another glass of scotch to give him some courage to call.

              — It’s your twelfth now, that’s supposed to give you courage
              — Oh, Maggie, my live is such a mess…
              — It’s not, and you know it. Look at all our beautiful children, and Becky who went through so much just out of love for you…

              Sean didn’t know whether he was actually seeing the ghost of his deceased wife, or a projection of her, still alive in another part of the Universe, but she always had been a comforting presence.
              He had started to see her a few months after her disappearance.
              Yes, during that T.R.A.P. expedition, yeah, “live-changing experience” they had said… True, too true… Perhaps the electromagnetic field had messed up with his brains, but now he could see her clear as day.

              That had been a bit freaky in the beginning, and when they made love with Becky, he was a bit anxious to see her appear not invited. But Margaret had been discrete, well mostly. At times, he wondered if she had not sneaked into the bedroom and merged her energies with Becky’s, just to be closer to him… Becky’s acts did not always make sense anyway, so that was hardly a criterion to judge of that.

              All his live had been like that. A jumble of incoherent stuff. Oh, he had enjoyed it, especially at the beginning. His father Lord Wrick was obsessed with the Shift, and had found some ancient knowledge in his youth. Mostly rubbish by nowadays standards, bunches of rotten books of prophecies handed down to a few chosen ones, who were supposed to be forewarned of doom to come. Now, they knew that they were only a wake up call, but at that time, it was another thing altogether.

              Of course, the wealth accumulated over the centuries by the Wrick family had been helpful to access these precious archaeological documents. A few of them had played a key role.
              For instance, the in-extenso Life and Deeds of Lord Gustard Willoughby Fergusson, a rare version of the diary of Lord Fergusson, annotated by his daughter, Illi, was telling an account of history much different than the one romanced after his death by his wife Floribunda von Grott.
              Thanks to it, Lord Wrick had been able to acquire some inkling as to ancient treasures. Old fool…
              It had killed his wife, Artemisia, devastated by the madness of her husband, and it had alienated the other part of the family too.
              But all that counted was to make the discoveries, and perhaps enlight the masses.

              Sean had never really forgave his father that he wanted to utilise Margaret and have her fit into his plans of grandeur. Of course, his father had willingly accepted the union, and despite all appearances (for the sake of those rapacious journalists) he had even pushed Sean to do it quickly. But all he was really interested in was her precious discoveries.

              — Oh, but I was not innocent, Sean
              — I know Maggie, you were obsessed by what we could offer to you, especially when you read about the botanical experiments in the deserts, which were related in that old book. But still…
              — We all had grown up through that, you know…
              — Yes, and what showed me that, was that I was concerned that the old vampire would suck my own children into his web, but Peregrine was too free for that, and Guinevere preferred to live her live outside of this madness too.
              Becky had a good influence. Do me a favour, be kind to her.
              — You know what?… Yes of course you’d know,… but let me tell you, so that we can laugh together… I found myself really happy and free when I stole the two magical books out of the Old Fool’s clutch. God knows how he acquired them, but one thing was sure, he was obsessed with them. I couldn’t get the mummy, but the books were a great take.
              — And a funny idea to give them to your cousin…
              — Yes, Dorean was the perfect person. I couldn’t leave them anywhere, my father would have found them again. At least he wasn’t in good terms with his brother and sister-in-law, so they were safe in their care. And at least, they were more grounded than my father, the perfect keepers for the books… I’m wondering what happened to them…
              — That will upset you, but Perry’s twins got them.
              — Oh really?
              — Yes, and they are having fun with them, as was intended.
              — That’s fine then, and we are less obsessed now than we were before, so I guess my father isn’t as much as a pain in the butt as he was…
              — You father meant good
              — Yes, like everyone, but why can’t we leave people alone at times? People can sort out their issues without the commiseration, and the good intentions… It’s poison even worse… Like I can drink and still be healthy, and nice, and…

              Sean started to sob.

              — I know, darling, but you’re as much of a sore as your father was… You focus so much on what’s not going right, and you don’t even appreciate that you can talk with your departed wife… That was nothing as easy in the old days.
              — Do you think my father talks with mum to?
              — I think he would be too proud to admit he is sorry… That may hinder the communication… But Arty wouldn’t bear grudge now. When we let go of the physical, things become so clear, we can only be accepting of everything. Perhaps you prefer to wait for your father to cross over? I can tell you something, that won’t be easier. That much I know.
              — You’re right. It’s just that I don’t know how to start…
              — Be yourself, talk about what you enjoy, where is your passion now… Perhaps that is the problem. You’re drowning your passion in your scotch.
              — You’re right… I’ll tell him Léan will have a baby.
              — Oh, he’ll love it!
              — How time flies… sighed Sean, I still remember the little sweetie as a blue-eyed laughing baby herself, with Oliver and Illana. She was the only one of the triplet to have inherited her mother’s dark complexion. She’s so beautiful…
              — Let’s call your father darling
              — Yes, let’s call him.


              Lord Wrick had not expected to received that call. Well, he had renounced it so long ago.
              He had been a bit shaken, but also relieved. He had proposed, on an impulse, to invite that whole part of the family he barely knew, Sean’s new partner, and all their children for next Christmas in the castle. Sean had told him they would probably come with Becky but that the children were now having their own lives, and it would have to be for another time.


              Lord Wrick went to see Bill, who was now painting the portraits of Peregrine and Linda in the veranda.
              He would probably have to stay longer, to paint a lot of new family portraits.

              That probably would come perfectly, as ever, as the Lord could tell India Louise loved to spend time with the painter. Perhaps she would become an artist too… :sumari:


                “It’s a boy!”


                The mummy opened her eyes.

                She had that uncomfortable feeling… hunger that’s it… she was very hungry.


                She wondered a moment how to open the sarcophagus and just imagined it open.

                She went out slowly… regaining slowly her bodily sensations.


                A voice in the dark:

                CUUUUT! It’s lousy guys. We shoot another one…
                — Oh, shit dudes! Not another one! It’s hot under these bandages!


                The mummy was having some difficulties to see through the bandages… and the dim light wasn’t helping either… the colors were weird too.. the quality of the air seemed different too… everything seemed different.

                Who was she? Was she a she? She had difficulties to remember too.

                Aspen F…?


                Dory will be home in time for The day Of The Dead celebrations at the Meredwen pyramid, Dan! Becky exclaimed excitedly.

                Dan smiled and said, Yeah, I thought she might make it back in time for that.

                It was two years since Dory, the psychic archeologist, had discovered two ancient pyramids in the Andalucian mountains.

                How about we go up there today, Becky, and help with the preparations?

                Oh YES Dan! Becky replied enthusiastically. Then she sat quite still for some moments, with her eyes closed.

                Becky? Dan inquired, You ok?

                She opened her eyes and smiled up at Dan. We’ll have quite a crowd of helpers with us at Meredwen today, she said, I just sent out telepathic invitations to everyone.

                Dan chuckled and shook his head…he didn’t really understand alot of what Dory and Becky said, but it all seemed right somehow, and it was no skin off his nose to be indulgent and supportive. Their tips about ‘creating his own reality’ had certainly come in handy on the golf course and at the poker table. He started to pack a picnic lunch, still smiling at Becky’s enthusiastic response to his suggestion. That’s what he loved most about Dory and Becky, their passionate enthusiasm for just about anything.


                A voice sniggered in the dark. That must have been the 57th take on that scene.


                On Mount Elok’ram, the old abbot Hrih Chokyam Lin’potshee was gardening.

                Despite his old age, and his being at the head of the Monastery, Hrih Chokyam was always doing his hour of gardening with great application and talent, as was asked to everyone, from the youngest to the oldest monks studying here.
                The Monastery was a place of healing and teaching, dedicated to Margilonia, the Elder Goddess thought to have created the Earths. As a matter of fact, gardening was the simplest —yet most effective— way to fully appreciate the grandness and the interconnectedness of the whole of creation.

                Hrih Chokyam remembered when he was a little child in the vast fertile plateaus in the Eastern part of Dam Adbor, bordering the high mountains. He had always loved the mountains, better than the plains, or the towns where the wars and plots were fomented endlessly. So he was wandering many times in the mountains, to collect herbs and also just for the fun and exhilaration of climbing higher and higher, and seeing the world as a small thing that could be placed into his hands.
                His parents had wanted him to become a farmer, but some wealthy neighbours had thought he was showing signs of being able to do much better, and even proposed to have him pursue a career in the administration of Dam Adbor’s capital.
                Young Hrih had considered the proposition for some time, and one day, went deep into the mountains to make his decision.
                There he’d got this powerful connection with an enveloping warm manifestation of Margilonia, who prompted him to go higher than anyone had ever been on the top of the mountains, were a natural point of great potential magical energy was. Here, she had conveyed to him, he would have a monastery built, a perfectly clear channel for this yet untaped magical energy.

                Ninety nine years ago that was.
                Hrih had been higher than any human had ever been, in the search of this point, knowing he would feel it resonate with him. The mountains, he had learned were not as empty as humans had thought, and there were many other kinds of sentient beings living here, far from the wars below.
                Interestingly, assisted by these magical sentient creatures and Margilonia’s energies, building the structure had been easy. He had never thought harnessing magic would be that easy, perhaps just because the traveling magicians coming at times in the village to do some healing or just funfair exhibitions were making that very difficult, and requiring lots of training.

                The truth was, magic was everywhere, only people had become blind to it, or just lazy to use it. But old Hrih, even if his eyes were not as sharp as they used to be, could see it clear as day. Magic was in everything. Especially in one’s own very existence.
                That was the first of the things people coming to learn in the monastery had to understand. Deceptively simple, yet the most difficult lesson for many of them. He had to admit, he had struggled quite a bit with it too, during the endless wandering into the vast mountains. But there had always been a root to eat, or some fresh mushrooms or eggs apparently left here just for him… He laughed now, thinking of it.

                Hrih’s life had been so fulfilling. He knew he was weak now, and would not see the springing season, and he was thinking he had to choose someone to take care of the monastery. Few people went to stay here, for as they had learned and applied what was to learn, their own passion was coming back to them, and they would not need to stay any longer.

                But a few days ago, a young one had come, announced to old Hrih by a singing rosy finch.
                As usual, all was provided when things were ready for it.
                Hrih had no doubt that the hesitant young man would be the next one to hold the title of Lin’potshee, or “Precious Elder”.


                The mummy farted…
                Oops… how was that possible? :yahoo_praying:

                Oops, it farted again!

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