Circle of Eights, Stories

Forums Yurara Fameliki’s Stories Circle of Eights, Stories

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      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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    • #971

        The rugrats have names you know Tina, she said, more to herself than to the benefit of anyone else.
        And hell if I remember what they are now…

        Oh thank Flove for that! Bless him, he may be a sandwich short of a picnic lately but at least he keeps track of the names, exclaimed Becky gratefully, as she checked the latest additions to the Reality Play. Al had conveniently added a link to the triplets names.

        Illana, Lean, and Oliver…Illana, Lean and Oliver….Becky repeated their names like a mantra, trying to etch them into her memory.

        Question is though, which is which? They all look the bloody same!



          The world at large seemed to be going out of whack, and yet, all things seemed more and more perfect to Yurick when he was observing how these sudden surges of unsettling energies where only skin-deep —unless of course people wanted to make them out of proportion, and have their fair share of drama.

          It was after all, only a matter of vibration. It could be as easy as noticing the least tension in his body, and releasing it as soon as noticed. It didn’t have to be big; small improvements were actual improvements, and really, all that ever mattered.

          So, on the whole everything was fine, and he was surprised at how much, despite the sometimes dreadful incidences that had reared their ugly heads the past few weeks, people he knew had been able to cope with them, and no less than embracing these usually deemed “ugly” extensions of people’s own vibrations.

          Noticing a slight tension in his solar plexus as Yann was telling him some little flowers where appearing on the cherry tomato plant, he released it with a grateful sigh…


            It’s been now a few months Malvina had relocated the cave to a new place and she’d been starting to reunite with her sisters in unexpected ways.

            But now, she was longing for something more. She wanted to find someone with whom to share more. To reflect the outpurring love.
            Leormn was smiling as he reached for her inner dialogue. Ever since Georges and Salome had brought them to this new place, the dynamic had changed, and there were new adventures showing up.


              Malvina is outpouring love, sighed Leormn happily to Arona, with a little smile on his face.

              Arona rolled her eyes. Hmmph, well that is all very nice, but meanwhile I can’t get into the damn cave, which, quite frankly Dragon, would not worry me other than I am anxious to locate my friends.

              And then she burst into loud sobs.

              I have had a gutsful of you and Malvina and your shifting of things, she managed to gulp out eventually. Shifting this, shifting that! and nothing looks any better after all the damn shifting. I mean what on earth is the point of it?



                Well, now you mention it, sweetie, it’s quite funny because I was about to tell you the exact same comment… That may be a hint that at least our telempathic skills are slightly better when they are shifted, Leormn said with a draggle (that’s a dragon giggle)

                Arona could feel a warm blanket of his energy trying to reach her between her toes, but she felt so very ticklish, that she resisted a bit.

                Just keep it still, you snuggly dragon she managed to say between short laughs

                You’ll find your friends back, you know; that’s just that you now need to beat your drums for a while,… just as Malvina needed to. I meant to tell you, she can get pretty hot-tempered, and usually it’s not a pretty sight, so she prefers to put everyone out of the way; and frankly, even for me it can be hard to reach her through all these dark clouds grumbling in her head.

                I thought the others were in that darn cave too? said Arona in disbelief (for she knew dragon’s talks weren’t really to be trusted)

                Well, can’t you tell for yourself? You’re more than capable to tune your vibration to your friends if you want to. You are as far from your friends physically as you are from them in your vibrational offering to the Universe

                You look different dragon, looks like you’re not speaking like the Leormn I knew Arona shook her head to try to see between the mist of teal-smoke enveloping and twirling around her.

                All things change Arona, and you know that better than anyone. Simply trust your feelings, and reach for the new version of those things you thought lost. They may appear different, but you’ll know without a doubt that you’re where you want to, when your anguish has left place to that warm feeling of being in the place you want that you long for.


                  Yes well, muttered Arona, with a few loud sniffs for good measure, be that as it may Dragon, but I still maintain that this random shifting is just a waste of time and energy. I mean it is so DARK in there, and a bit smelly too from all those glukenitch droppings if the truth be told.

                  She thought for a moment. She didn’t want to be rude, but these things had been on her mind for some time. Well .. she said kindly, realising that the Dragon may not have much idea of the finer points of interior decorating, instead of randomly shifting walls, why not install some good overhead lighting? .. and you could put some nice wallpaper on the walls…

                  She began to warm to her task. Yes! Big flower wallpaper! or it doesn’t have to be flowers, anything you like .. but something nice and cheery. Oh! and some comfy furniture too, Dragon. Wouldn’t that be nice?

                  Leormn looked admiring at Arona. Why hadn’t he thought of that? he wondered.


                    Well, shall we scratch all the glukenitches droppings first?, asked Leormn in winking dismay. You know, before we put the new wallpaper?

                    A few seconds passed in silence. Naaah, just kidding. Have some paint please.

                    And * pof * a few buckets of shiny flower-scented paintings pots appeared in front of Arona, with some nice brushes dipped in them.


                      hmmm thought Arona, should she point out to the Dragon that she had not actually offered to DO the work … ?

                      Then she realised …. this could be a way back into the cave to find her friends!

                      Thank you Dragon, she said politely, wiping the last vestige of tears from her face. If you would just be so kind as to show me the way in I will begin.


                        Why not take that daffodil paint here, to paint a door, sweetie? Leormn said with the most charming toothy smile that Arona could hardly resist kissing the scaly face.


                          Tina, Tina? Does the tally non-rule on posts apply to the Reality play too? Becky asked, waking Tina in the middle of the night with some anxiety lingering in her voice.

                          Oh I see, your babies won’t really let you sleep poor Becky Pooh Tina answered with commiseration.


                            Anybody here?

                            It’s so dark and echoey here… grumbled the voice, soon turning into copious swearing after a bam followed by umpteenth glides on fresh glukenitches poohs.


                              Am I suffering personality split now? wondered the voice again.

                              I could have sworn this wasn’t my voice just now… How quaint…


                                Madame Chesterhope went to the garage, to get one of her preferred modes of transportation.
                                She had dressed for the occasion in black leather, shouting a spell in a hurry to the mirror which had been flippantly reflecting back at her some awfully podgy image. Voodoo mirrors weren’t the quality they used to be these days. Bloody buggers of Goblinkeas manufactors… She would have a word with them soon.

                                There it was. A shiny Farley Travinston motorbike.
                                With some magical modifications, of course, but it had retained overall form and purpose closely similar to the original design. How she loved those machines! She had started to gather them for centuries (in Earth way of counting time), and she could still remember her very first one, the wreck it was compared to this one
                                Of course, she had no use for them, but wasn’t that the point of decadent treasure piling up?

                                All geared up, she hopped on the seat, and started the trans-dimensional engine. Where was it already? Pacific island… That could sound like vacations she smiled to herself…


                                  no network?!
                                  but what kind of cave it is? grumbled the voice again.
                                  Can’t possibly write such a funny (and long) comment on a cellphone anyway…


                                    The door of the garage opened with a creaking sound, and Madame Chesterhope sped up into the gritty alley.
                                    In that dimension where she had hidden her command base, people were a bit sloppy about roads and tarmac, so she had designed a little modification on her machines to be able to levitate in some of the less practical areas; but she had to admit,… she loved the vibrations and bumps that the motorbike created with the friction of the ground surface.
                                    She started to giggle, all enthusiastic about the speed and the wind in her hair, that she ignored the road sign indicating that the road was flooded some miles ahead. The rain had been pouring cabbages all past hexades, so much so that her leather suit was in all honesty the best thing she could have worn, not to mention the fact of course, that it was making her totally sexy.
                                    Two peasants were coming her way, looking at her with wild eyes like they had just seen something otherworldly. Ahahah she laughed, the fools would soon have forgotten everything about it (another handy and sly magical modification she nodded to herself). Looking in her rear mirror, she could still see them wiggle their hands in a frenzy… What the fl…!


                                    On the road, the two peasants wondered what in the name of Shaint Lejus was that rider… But worse, it was heading straight to the pool that the swollen river had made recently, outpouring on fields and little sniggly and thorny paths, like this one. Making desperate signs to be seen and warn it, they watched in horror the black podgy thing with flabby flapping schpurniatz arms sink straight to the bottom of the pool.


                                    The landing was a bit bumpy, but she found her balance quickly. Those transdimensional puddles were a bit rough to get accustomed to, but once you knew how to manipulate it, you couldn’t forget it.
                                    Now, all she needed to got to the location she was heading to was to hop through a few more transdimensional puddles.
                                    Actually, all sorts of puddles could do the job, water puddles, even oil puddles… or run-over poodle puddles for that matter. She preferred water ones, for the quality of water was very fluid, and allowed for easier defocusing. Lately she had tried transdimensional exhaust fumes clouddles, but that was a bit disorienting more than helping.
                                    As far as she could tell, this first one had been projecting her to a dimension in between Earth and the Duane. Incorporating vibrational qualities of the two, with a little more rigidity though. The machine needed a little time to stabilize and get prepared for the next transdimensional jump.
                                    As far as she could tell, she was in a place that was not unlike her birthplace, in the countryside of England. There were occasionally some giveaways that she still wasn’t quite there yet, like an erratic flying schpurniatz, but she was close now.
                                    A few meters in front of her, she could see a lovely puddle that could do for the next jump. A bit small for her… well, motorbike, what were you thinking… but that would probably do it. She took another breath, then pushed the TDPP (Trans-Dimensional Puddle Propeller) button.


                                    Bugger, bugger…. What the bloody heck!

                                    Straw was flying all over her hair, and obfuscating her vision… Darn last puddle had to much mud in it, and her concentration went off for a split second, heading her towards a field of barley.
                                    Turning round and round for a moment in complete disorientation, she finally pushed the levitation button to take a little altitude.
                                    Oh, now,… at least she could tell she was in England, because she knew that place.
                                    How perfect! She could now just move into the dimension to the Pacific island. The GPS included in the modern expensive motorbike had been bipping as soon as it had found again the satellites, and it was now pointing the direction.
                                    Giggling again, she pushed a new button and disappeared into the sky in a supersonic puff of smoke.


                                    a few days later, Chestershire, UK

                                    AFP - 2008-07-21 - An new amazing design has been reported by eye-witnesses
                                    on a crop of barley of a local farmer along with reports of strange booming sounds
                                    and orbs of light. A sight to behold, the delicate intricacy of these interwoven
                                    patterns is believed by many to be the work of the Crop-circle Makers, some
                                    alien intelligence desiring to communicate with us. The theme of this crop-circle
                                    is thought to be a variation on planet Venus cycles, and would be highlighting
                                    the number of cycles lefts until the notorious end-date of Mayan calendar,
                                    Dec. 21st 2012. Scientists have brushed off the allegations of elderly pranksters,
                                    as this one seemed to have required levels of astronomical knowledge far beyond
                                    human intelligence.

                                      Oh well, I think I’ve just made it… Wonderful technology ;))


                                        Interesting that we are heading to the 888 th comment in the play, and it will soon be August the 8 th with a third eight in the year number…
                                        Will we make it in time though? Get around that circle of eights? the thought left him pondering.


                                          She stared at the blank screen and sighed. Her brain did not seem to be working.

                                          She knew her dream of the photos of the children was somehow important because the cloud had confirmed it:

                                          sync believe probability finally photos children meaning sat itself eye dream armelle sent images night

                                          and if the Owl had sent them then ….

                                          WHAT ????


                                            Oh, he thought, at least Tina’s coming another 8 closer (then immediately thinking he was now changing it to another start of a cycle — another convenient way of saying he’d just blown this new magic occurrence of “858”, but wasn’t it how changes were supposed to be made?).

                                            Now, what the cloud had in store for him, he wondered…

                                            elikozoe sync closer especially dear ask soon suddenly began known difficult step”

                                            OK, Al thought, now that’s interesting… this was no coincidence that “Elikozoe”, his nom de plume (he was born Albert (Al) Yokoso, from a father of Japanese descent and a mother of Cajun descent) would appear like that out of the blue…
                                            As for “dear”, who else than “Dear” Tina :agreed:


                                              Albert Yokoso, said Tina firmly, for the last time, this isn’t about getting the quota done!

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