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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    • #832

      As Georges entered the cave, Malvina was aware of numerous smells around his body. Some of which were not of this world. These smells were reassuring and making her feel comfortable and secure. She could have stayed like that forever. She smiled.
      — Welcome my friend. From what I can sense of your energy you have something urgent to tell me.
      — I can not conceal anything from you old friend, as we can not conceal ourselves from the outer world. There are people around here and they are moving closer to our cave. We are at the outskirts of the Marshes of Doom as you are aware, and this era is a trouble one… Some warring Lords are expanding their kingdoms and I fear there is a unit of the army of one of them approaching dangerously. I do not fear for myself :) but if we stay too long they would find us.

      Malvina sighed silently.

      — Something has to happen before we leave. It is soon accomplished but we can’t move before that or we will loose Irtak and the twins. That is one of the reason why we came here first. We are moving again soon but not now.


        The low vibration of his didjeridoo was filling up the room. His apartment in NYC was wide open, and a fresh breeze was caressing his naked arms. Sam had learn how to circular breathe in order to play the didjeridoo while he was in Australia. He loved the sound of it, the vibration passing from the hollow trunk through his arms, his mouth, his whole body.
        His didjeridoo was undecorated as he was more interested by the sound than by its appearance. A clear E flat.

        Sam was playing around with the sounds he could do with this instrument, a blending of harmonics and of seeming animal cries. He was also introducing sounds that he connected to various friends of his. His open windows had let some bees in the apartment. The rhythm of his music and the rhythm of the fly of the insects were creating a kind of pattern that was hypnotic, and he soon felt his body expand as he was keeping on playing and breathing.

        He was letting more of his awareness of other energies and he could see that among his friends were various people from the aboriginal tribes he had met during his trip, and also the Nanaconda.


        Five months.
        If he recalled well, it was barely five months (five months and five days perhaps) he’d had that dreamYurick was thinking distractedly, while munching on his toast of vegemoth, crumbs falling in his cup of lotus flavoured tuo-cha.
        Only five months! It had felt like ages had passed, lifetimes even…
        Energy realisations went really fast these days, once the prime idea was here. And for sure it had been floating around for quite some time, but truly it had been a quick birthing, and rather painless too.

        He was suddenly brought to his sense —and a certain idea of reality— when he saw Dory’s chat window flicker. He almost spluttered his tea on the screen as he saw the egg pictures she had just posted on her new social playground. A dark website of kinky appearance, where her new friends would probably guess eggs where her fetish and fifty-seven an exotic tantric position they’d be blissfully whipped with a wisp of fresh nettles to get taught.
        Well energy could take many shapes and forms, and for sure, five months ago, he wouldn’t have guessed one of these forms would be vegemoth and oval-shaped sex-toys.

        Speaking of vegemoth, he smiled as he saw the level of the dark brown salty paste noticeably diminishing in the small jar. Since he and Yann had been initiated by Dory to that strange Australian shamanic drug, and the unknown pleasures and twisted dream and trance induction it provides, they had been surprised to find it legally displayed for sell on their usual store at the exotic-mysterious-and-potentially-lethal-Eastern-products shelf. Along with an even stronger version of it, they’d been told… MARMOTH that Yann had consented they would get after the vegemoth would be eaten.

        Ahahaha… At that rate, that would happen before they know it!


        Some sort of bug may have landed on his nose, provoking one of the most astounding sneezing the twins had ever heard.
        Irtak was busy scratching his nostrils while Heckle and Jeckle were trying to find out where they could possibly be, what was that reality again? It felt familiar but different.
        Well, the sky was quite cloudy, and they remembered that they were in the Marshes of Doom, in a different time period than their hatch time.
        Heckle stretched his long neck and sniffed the loaded damp smells.
        Jeckle bent his neck, he had found something odd… could that be a dragon egg? That was quite fitting with the brown soil. It was looking like a normal stone. It wasn’t ready to hatch soon. He felt Irtak was intrigued by his discovery, though his twin was already distracted by a huge dragonfly, a blue one with golden shades.

        Should we bring it back with us, asked Irtak.

        The puzzled look of his friend was enough… He wouldn’t be able to tell if it was there before they arrived. He wouldn’t be able to tell since when they were at this place… all his memories were blurred since they left the cave. There was no feeling or urge though, no feeling of being late. His attention gradually drifted away from the egg and they eventually decided to come back to Malvina and the travelers.


        Anita was playing with her new friend.
        The Snoot, it had told her was its name. The Snoot was very ancient, very curious tooo.
        The Snoot was asking loads of question, though they weren’t formulated with words, because the Snoot wasn’t speaking. It was too slow for the Snoot.

        Nonetheless she was giggling, distracted from the preoccupations of Akita and the others.


        As Claude was entering deeper into the giant babul tree, the obscurity was resounding with joyful peals of laughters and whispered words that seemed to mossify into his mind, like they weren’t really words, but bubbles pops and boobles.

        He was resolute to find out whatever was going on in this place…


          West Cork, Ireland, Summer of 2051

          As she walked along the rocky trail bordering the coast where occasionally whales could be seen at a distance, she was humming deep sounds and harmonies in the damp air filled with the echoes of the cool wind.

          She was aware of distant focuses of herself, living around that place. Past focuses, in that land of the druidesses and druids, and another one, closer to her, in some probable future. Like this other focus, she loved the whales too, and she was able to communicate with her. Catherine Wrick would have loved to be able to live in such a crystalline place she could envision with her eyes closed.

          Her woolen black coat would let the wind insinuate itself through the layers of clothes, and she was starting to feel a little cold now. Temperatures were colder than they used to be in the past, and even now in summer, they would rarely go higher than 15°C. It was time to get back home. She whistled Merlu, her golden labrador, back, and still nestled into her dream-like attention, slowly walked towards her house.


          In the comfort of her dome house, she started to leaf through the messages and reminders that she had in a pile on the bed table. Nothing much of interest, except that in a few months time, it would be the first birthday of the twins

          Her step-mother Dorean had sent her two books, when she had learned of the birth of the twins. They were to return to them, when they would be seven, she’d say.
          Why seven?, she’d asked… Dorean had answered that seven was the perfect age for them to get them back —their intuitive abilities would still had much potential, and they would be mature enough to understand and use the books. It was no use for herself to keep the books any longer.

          As she was going to sit in her antique rocking chair for a smoke, Catherine noticed a faint cracking sound. Perhaps Merlu was playing with those hard-boiled eggs she’d been painting recently, without much success, to try to reproduce the perfect glowing green colour of her grandfa… Another crack. She stopped and listened again.
          It couldn’t be Merlu: the dog was now barking.

          She started to wonder Could it be?… After all those years of keeping them…

          The sound was definitely coming from the reading room where the big eggs were put on display…


          Veranassessee stared anxiously out the window of the compound kitchen. The sky was grey and threatening. The weather forecast was predicting strong winds and high tides asTropical Cyclone Ycart headed towards the coast.

          She could hear an annoying high pitched chattering in the distance, Sha and Glor were clearly delighted to be reunited with their old friend. The other two new arrivals had declined all offers of hospitality and had slunk quietly to their room.

          In her hand was the little jar of black stuff Mahiliki had sent her in his latest parcel. “This is full of Vitamin B. It will do you good” the note attached had read. She rolled her eyes. Ever the romantic, she muttered to herself. She put her knife in the jar and tentatively licked the gooey concoction.


          She spat the disgusting stuff out and looked around for something to try and rid her mouth of the dreadful taste. To her suprise she found a plate of honeycomb in the fridge. Although there were bee hives on the island, Dr Bronkelhampton had always insisted upon tending them himself, becoming quite agitated if anyone else went near them,. Lately his mental state had not predisposed him to doing much more than shutting himself away in his office.

          I wouldn’t touch that if I were you, Agent V, came a familiar voice behind her.


          You have summoned us, Master Tfark
          Yes, young Piawan

          The magpie known as Robert X was standing in front of a glowing bluish light emitted by a glass ball full of sand nearly as big as the gnome standing before it.
          Inside the ball, one could distinguish a century-old-looking figure, so fat it was almost indiscernible from the pile of cushions on which he was seated in a lotus-like posture. On the forehead of the Master, a third eye was visible, its gaze piercing you through your flesh.

          How is our matter proceeding, Hex?
          Well enough, Master. All preliminary stakeout has taken place according to the plans. We are only waiting for the right conditions to strike and rob the item without being noticed.
          Very well, Hex…

          The three-eyed Master Tfark scratched his chin pensively.

          A convenient surge of atmospheric energy is coming your way, I suppose you are aware. I hope that you’ll make good use of this. Our clients are very eager to get this item back
          Yes, Master. You shall not be disappointed.

          And with that, the communication was ended.

          Robert X stood in front of the now inert communication device, visibly preoccupied.

          Sir, you didn’t mention the disappearance of our guest, did you? asked Robert K
          There is nothing yet to report. Let’s do the job and we can quickly leave this place. Next inter-dimensional window will be opened a few moments after the cyclone, that should work out perfectly.
          Sir, yes Sir. Ready to lift the energy cloak as soon as we are ready to strike.
          Perfect then… Remember, without the energy cloak, we’ll have to solely rely on our magpies shifted appearances.
          I know that Sir, this is not my first mission, Sir.
          Very well then. Is there something else?
          There is another thing, Sir.
          Some trouble with the bee-keeper I fear


          Jarvis was dozing in a dark corner of the kitchen. He was dreaming of bees, he had been assigned to the bee keeping a few weeks ago, just after the “incident”. He was one man the Dr could trust. In a previous life, he was keeping bees as a family business. But an accident with the bees led to his dismissal by his uncle. A regrettable accident, too much smoke, too much dead bees. Jarvis had been thinking of a sabotage, surely he had been framed but as he was thinking of quiting this poor paid job, it was also a perfect occasion.

          He had been engaged as a security agent… sort of. He had to pretend to be a gardener and not awake suspicion among the others. The funny thing is that he had soon been contacted by another organization, and had been offered quite a good price. All he had to do was observe and dream. Unfortunately, the man, Claude, who had approached him was disguised as a patient… and he had disappeared after the “incident”. Since then Jarvis had been having strange dreams of mummies, magpies, there was even one with 3 eyes 2 nights ago :yahoo_waiting:

          The light was turned on abruptly. Someone was arriving, still hidden by the tables and shelves.
          With the sound of the heels on the tiled floor, that was a woman… or the Doctor.
          A little twinge told him not to let him be noticed yet. He moved his head silently in a position from which he could see who it was.
          Oh! that big athletic woman, Vasse.
          Claude had told him about her. Jarvis had to be very cautious, because she was of another organization… another :cat_confused: he was calling her agent V. Well Jarvis wasn’t curious enough to ask any further detail, there were already too much to remember.

          She was doing something with a little jar of a brown substance, and brought a spoon full at her mouth. Her sudden coughing and spitting almost made him fall off his chair. But hopefully with all the noise she hadn’t noticed. Mumbling, she was heading toward the fridge. Was she possibly aware of…

          Yes! she was taking the plate with the honeycomb… he’d have to move quickly.
          As she was considering the modified honeycomb, he realized that she was about to eat it. So she didn’t know. :-? He had to warn her.

          — I wouldn’t touch that if I were you, Agent V…


            Phurt was thrilled.
            Something smokin’ big was approaching. A breach between dimensions, with potentials for her to start a new colony of her own…
            She started to hiss devilishly. :spider:


            The new colors of The Snoot were making Anita giggle a lot. Its liquid fur was iridescent and blazing rhythmically more and more intensely.
            Armelle was getting more and more irritated, with no reason at all, the owl :y_orly: was rolling her eyes furiously :yahoo_rolling_eyes:
            Yuki :bunny_head: was trying to keep track of the conversation because he thought it was going berserk and not leading anywhere, while Araili :cat_confused: seemed to be distracted by a dead :mouse: still moving its tail and Rafaela :goat: was talking limerick with a funny accent.

            Akita and Kay were arguing about some point of detail of how they had arrived here.

            The bunch of friends were not aware of what was approaching and how it was influencing them. Maybe the Snoot was, but the Snoot didn’t think it could be of use to warn them, they were far enough from the hole.


            Hey, I’ve found a brownies carton wrap in the trash Yann!
            Mmm, and you really think it’ll be enough? a doubtful Yann answered to Yurick
            Oh, don’t worry, there’s also a couscous one, and an Ureu biscuit one, answered Yurick with a wide grin
            Well, if you say so then, smiled Yann, contemplatively rolling his eyes à la Finn.

            A few hours later, their patch-ckage solidly wrapped up, they had it sent to their friends.
            When, in the post-office, the big black lady with piercing eyes (drôlely resembling Rita, a friend of Dory Yann had seen in a dream who went wedding dress shopping recently) asked them if there was anything of value in the package, they almost burst out laughing.
            Yann had the mind to answer, only some stuff… as if of no consequence.


            She put down the plate of honeycomb and turned round slowly, her calm exterior belying the fear which had suddenly gripped her insides.

            He had called her Agent V!

            She had to stay calm, think quickly.

            And why is that, Jarvis?

            Jarvis, what did she know about him? He had been employed by Dr Bronkelhampton, although Veranassessee had resisted the idea vigorously. The fewer people on the island the better as far as she was concerned. But the doctor had insisted he needed someone to tend the gardens, and in the end she had decided it wasn’t worth making an issue of.

            I think I might be able to answer that question. Agent Gabriele entered the kitchen. His sudden presence had almost as disconcerting effect on Veranassessee as the revelation that Jarvis knew her identity.

            A little sideline of our beloved Doctor is to experiment with honeybee mutations. Isn’t that right, Jarvis? And in the process he has discovered a way to alter the chemical composition of the honeycomb. It looks and tastes like honey, but too much of it is deadly.

            Veranassessee turned to Jarvis. You knew this Jarvis …. but then why leave it in the fridge … and why warn me?

            Wasn’t me left it in the fridge. I saw it there earlier. I figured the Doctor left it there. Buggered if I know why. He’s an odd one that one. Getting odder by the minute too.

            A loud clattering outside and they all turned.

            Winds getting up quickly, said Agent Gabriele in clipped tones. Secure the hives Jarvis. God knows we don’t need mutated bees on the loose. V tell the guests to stay in their rooms and away from the windows, and then meet me in my room. I’ll deal with the Doctor.


            Bloody windy here aint it. Thought I was coming to a bloody tropical paradise! Mavis was looking outside anxiously.

            Oh this aint typical. The weathers been grand. We’ve been out bloody sun baking most days.

            Oh we have! The sun and airs got special beauty qualities here. That Vessie told us that. Encourages us to get out and about.

            Ere I know what will cheer you up. Lets get a snack from the kitchen. There’s some special ureu beauty biscuits in the pantry, and the chocolate brownies are bloody delicious. Who’d have thought chocolate had special beauty qualities eh. She’s a genius that Vassie. Oh I tell you what, I found some lovely honeycomb in the fridge this morning! Sharon licked her lips in anticipation.

            Oh I’m bloody drooling here, Sha! You’re a bloody genius you are


              Becky sneezed again, and shivering, reached for the box of tissues. She was choosing to align with those old fashioned ‘catching a cold’ beliefs because, frankly, she wanted to spend a few days wrapped up in her dressing gown idly flicking through magazines and taking naps and not doing anything much.

              Sean appeared with a tray.

              I’ve made you a nice pot of Earl Grey, and buttered some scones for you, dear. How are you feeling? I’ve done the laundry but I think the nun outfit has shrunk.

              Becky blushed. Oh well never mind that, eh.

              I’ll get you another one, Sean said hopefully.

              Maybe a trench coat and some thigh boots instead, suggested Becky, recalling her drenching in the park in the tarty nun outfit. More practical.

              Sean grinned and sloped off to do some dusting. Call me if you want anything, he called over his shoulder.

              Becky picked up another magazine from the pile next to her. Crisp, it was called, and had a photograph of Sue Flay and the Ova Tones on the front cover.


                Crisp fluttered to the floor as Becky drifted off to sleep. She was having an odd dream, in which she was hugging Sam. I’m so glad you don’t drink Sam, she said, emotionally, in the dream.

                Well, I do have an occasional pint down at the Duck and Firken, you know, he replied.

                You know what I mean, Sam. All those years with Sean, hoping it would all work out…her dream voice trailed off sadly….

                Hey Becky, it wasn’t a waste! Look at all the lovely children you had!

                Becky felt her dream self smile ruefully. Well, it hasn’t exactly been a picnic either, you know….

                She woke up sweating and confused. Good grief, all WHAT children! What a dreadful nightmare!

                She was wiping the beads of sweat from her forehead when Sean popped his head round the door.

                I’m popping out for a beer, Becky, won’t be long.

                Holy Moly, Becky whispered under her breath.


                Becky’s heart was racing and her breath was coming in short rasping breaths. I need to change probabilities, and I need to do it fast! There’s not a moment to lose.

                Maybe I can change the past, she thought, change it to a probability in which I didn’t marry Sean in the first place. Oh Lordy, but how do I do that exactly? Her head was spinning.

                Maybe I should just run away, now, pack my bags and disappear before Sean gets back from the bar.

                No, that won’t do, she said, biting her lip in consternation. I want to keep the wedding presents, especially that YouDo doll.

                Becky rummaged through the pile of magazines, looking for the script of the Reality Play. Oh dear god, if I change probabilities Al and the others will kill me, it will make such a mess of the threads.

                Becky was distraught. What shall I do! she exclaimed, wringing her hands.

                BREATHE, a deeply resonant female voice said. BREATHE into YOU, that’s right, BREATHE…..

                Becky stopped wringing her hands and drew a shaky breath.

                That’s right, the voice continued, BREATHE into YOU…..

                Becky took another deep breath.


                Oh for heavens sake, Becky interrupted rather rudely, That’s enough of that blimmen breathing for now, thank you very much, now bugger off, I need to think.

                The voice in her head changed to a masculine one, that said with a chuckle, “THINKING” is absolutely FATAL, my dear, just DO what ever is easiest for YOU.

                You mean, do whatever I want, and bugger everyone else? asked Becky. Wouldn’t that be a bit inconsiderate? I mean, don’t I have a responsibility to the others?

                HAHAHAH, you are funny, said the voice. Did all that Seth and Elias stuff go in one ear and out the other?

                What Seth and Elias stuff? Haha, just kidding, of course I remember it all. Reading about it and actually DOING it, well, they are two different things……her voice trailed off, and she frowned, deep in thought.

                Thinkin’ aint doing, said the voice.


                This is a bloody odd place is you ask me, said Gloria. The weathers nice and all, but it’s all very ODD.

                Yeah I know what you mean, replied Sharon. Some odd goings on around here, I can’t keep track of it all. My head just gets fuzzier and fuzzier.

                ODD, now there’s an odd word if ever there was one. ODD, she said, savouring the sound of it. ODD. Odd…. ODD….

                The more you think about it the odder it gets, agreed Gloria. She picked up a twig that was lying next to her beach towel, and wrote ODD in the sand. It’s like a tart and two half tarts, she said.

                Sharon propped herself up on her elbows and peered at her freind. What? What tarts? Don’t tell me we’ve got competition arriving on the island.

                Not that kind of tart, Sha, pie tarts. Look, look ‘ere at this word ODD. It’s like a pie and two half pies. If the pies weren’t halved it would be OO.

                You soft ‘narna, Glor, Sharon giggled. What are you on?


                Al had just inadvertently telepathically overheard Becky’s long monologue, and was rather amused at the situation that he decided to stay quiet and refrain from intervening.
                It was a sort of interesting experience, to see how it would develop…

                A voice was starting to make itself heard through Becky’s neuronal pathways though… A feminine voice first… Then a male…
                He could even sense a third presence too…

                Al was surprised, as he apparently didn’t really care about what kind of probability would express itself. It seemed it was all valid, and yet, there was something that wanted to make itself heard.

                Becky was quiet now. She seemed to have finally seen that nothing would happen as intensely and quickly as in her swift imagination.

                But Al was intrigued… Who were those presence, they felt lively, very humorous too. But they were concerned about Becky’s changes of mood. They were considering probabilities too, as though Becky’s choices were important to them.

                We are the first-borns of Becky answered the feminine voice who had keep still.
                Potential first sniggered the male voice.
                Oh, shut up, Oliver the third one said you know well enough we are creating our realities, so better give her some time… No need to freak her out… After all, it’s like for Dory’s nine dogs, they only came gradually, and she just accepted them…

                Dory? Al was wondering… He had heard that name recently… At the wedding party perhaps?

                Dory’s a past overlapping focus of Becky and her step-mother too… answered Léan, the quiet one.

                Al was befuddled. He had first thought these voices were only Becky’s playing games with herself.

                Oh sure it was, answered Oliver, we’ve just be using that wave of thoughts to bring us through. It’s very multi-layered.
                See, take the dogs which Illana talked about right now. You know some of these dogs Dory had (or has, or will have), they have “flecks” of people close to Dory, other essences’ energies. Some are very clearly noticeable, other are more mingled. These voices are multiplexes of voices, more or less subtle energies being expressed. Some are very deep. We were riding the surface of them.

                So, Illana, Lean and Oliver? That’s it?… Nice to meet you… Al was still thinking aloud (like in big characters printed on a silent kaleidoscopic screen)
                And that will be your focus names? Oh, yes… probable ones.
                It’s funny you know, it’s like you are becoming more real now. I can feel some associations coming that help bring you into form. Like Oliver, I associate him with a black dog of Dory. A little grumpy one with funny black eyes.

                The two female laughters mingled into one delightful chorus. Ahaha, we will give you a point for accurate connection!

                “And Léan,” Al continued, “you feel like a young blond woman, friend of Dory ready to get married… Yet, I can see you have a black complexion in this probable focus, unlike your siblings… Sounds a bit confusing…”

                Ahaha, another point!

                “Let me see, Illana now… I got you connected with another friend of Dory… An paleontologist or geologist, living in the US, blond lively woman with painted nails, and… the image is just gone now…”

                — Hehehe, that’s close enough, said Illana’s voice. I can see we’ll meet soon Al

                And the moment after, the wisps of light were gone.


                  Stop it, STOP IT! Becky shouted, clamping her hands over her ears, It was a futile action, as the voices were inside her head, and not likely to be halted by her pointless automatic reaction.

                  She lit a cigarette with shaking hands and picked up a magazine in an attempt to calm down. She opened the copy of Crisp at random, her eyes unfocused.

                  I’ll think about this later, she said to herself, when I’m feeling a bit better. Relaxing her tense hunched shoulders, she focused on the glossy pages. She had opened the magazine to the Essencopes page, and read the Borledim forecast for the month ahead.

                  That’s it! She said excitedly. I’ll change my alignment! I’ll change it to, um, let me think…..
                  Becky sighed, muttering to herself, How on earth does one change ones alignment?

                  You said you were going to ‘think’ about it tomorrow, said the voice.

                  Bugger off, you. Becky snapped. Good point, though.

                  She picked up Crisp again, this time noticing that the scopes were written by her old schoolfriend, Luce Mong.

                  Luce! Well, I never! exclaimed Becky with a smile. Luce Mong! Last I heard she was in Long Pong with Leah Muir. I wonder where she’s living now?

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