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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  • #1011

    A Pacific island then… she thought

    Let’s move there…
    She could feel her ghost body hover, like a feather sucked into a whirlwind.
    She had to be confident she’ll snap back right at her lying body when she’ll be over with the trip.
    Trust that everything will be okay. As it always were. Will always be.

    She could see the Earth from above… The Pacific Ocean, its huge vastness, delimited by coasts of lights.

    Oh, of course, she had not thought of that, but it was night there. She could see towns, concentrations of which were twinkling like shiny stars on a dark sky; but she didn’t want towns. Far too crowded, lots of energies that were maybe intoxicating at first, but she could feel she would be worn out in a second.
    For, as she traveled in spirit, she had access to so much more information than people usually get with their physical senses alone,… it was hard to explain.

    There… in that dark patch, when she moves closer, she can feel the immensity of the ocean surrounding everywhere. She moves closer to that long island that must be New Zealand, because she doesn’t want to be far from any sort of indication of her location. Keeping an eye on this, she spots something which isn’t a city light. It’s dancing, like a fire.
    How can she spot a fire at that distance is beyond her understanding, but she has learned not to question, and act upon her impulses.

    She wills herself at the fire.

    Waves, the peaceful sound of the waves.

    Around the fire, she can see a dog, crouched near a thoughtful man; there’s a young girl too, with a little white rabbit in her lap. The girl’s parents are resting in a hug, and a man with a strange energy configuration, the like of which she hasn’t seen, is closing the circle.

    What a bunch of interesting people…


    Elizabeth just had a brilliant idea actually.
    Why not just print her rumbled heap of scattered notes… just as it is. In four volumes if needed.

    What Lemone was saying in his Words of Comfort for the Descended already?

    It’s not the writer’s job to piece the stuff life is made of together, it’s the job of the reader.

    “Bloody good point,” she’d be keoon saying.
    Trust the reader to take what they want, read on impulse… Whatever or not… She had a feeling that in the future when people are reading her stuff, that it will make more sense to them than to current day average readers.
    She was so leading-edge.

    Of course, her editor would make a fuss, but he would have no other choice than recognize her genioos.

    How exciting it all was.


    Ahaha, don’t you think our dear Finn will die of exhaustion after 400+ pages of pooh-reading? Yurick said mischievously to Dory.
    Well, she isn’t the one who’ll have to make the cross-referencing system Dory answered.

    “Good point” Yurick was thinking…
    “Let’s just not forget it would be for the fun of the adventure. Nothing else, no other constraint…”
    “And in any case, nothing will happen before the Circle of Eights is crossed: 888 th comment on the 8 th of August 2008”


    “Oh just leave the reader to do the proof reading, Yurick! If ‘there are no accidents’ then a few misspellings or a bit of mangled grammar might contain a clue for someone somewhere, somewhen….
    it might be best to leave them in. You never know, you know… and anyway, I have this funny feeling that the pages aren’t quite as officially fixed as we might be inclined to think. Not quite cast in stone, as it were….Don’t ask me what I mean, Yurick,” Dory said with a laugh, “Because I can’t explain it.”

    Yurick knew better than to ask Dory to explain anything, and remained silent, with one eyebrow raised quizzically as Dory rambled on.

    “It’s like the branches of a tree,” Dory continued, with a faraway look in her eyes. “The branches on a tree look like such a tangle, but they are all connected to the trunk ~ the roots might look like a hopeless tangle too, if we could see them, but they do know what they’re doing ~ feeding the trunk or the core which sprouts out all over the place. There’s a bird in the tree, hopping from branch to branch. Does he care if he hops from one branch to another? No! Imagine if the bird was so rigid that he had to hop all along one branch from start to finish before changing to another branch.”

    “Hahahah,” Yurick laughed, “A Sumafi bird?”

    “You might say the little bird is the present moment, free to hop onto any branch at any time, or even fly to another tree…” continued Dory, who hadn’t heard Yurick.

    “Another tree?” asked Yurick with a mock pained expression. “I have enough trees on my plate already.”

    “And the thing is with trees, there isn’t really a place to start hopping or a place to stop hopping, from the birds perspective.”

    Dory turned to Yurick with a grin. “It’s a book that you can read from any starting point. No beginning, and no end… maybe we can have all the pages loose with no numbers on, sort of a do-it-yourself assembly…”

    Yurick laughed, a trifle nervously, and asked Dory if she would like a cup a coffee.


    Elizabeth was beginning to realize that there WAS no ‘end of the road’, no grand finale, no finish line. Whenever her characters appeared to be nearing the proposed grand point of the story, she found herself following another thread in the impossibly huge tapestry. Maybe she didn’t want it to end, or perhaps it was that there was no ‘point’, no end point to aim for, that it was all just a process, a continual weaving of marvelously coloured threads. Some threads were gaily coloured silks, some were rough and coarse, some were woolly and comforting, and others were plain and functional. There were threads of the most unusual and unexpected fibres, other worldly threads tying the myriad dimensions and chapters together somehow. It really was the most fabulously intricate and absorbing construction.


    “Wow, with all that babbling, the gap is closing…”
    “How long now?”
    “Five hours till it’s 8:08 on the international date line…”

    “Just hope we won’t get blank for the last comment, after all that training…” ;))



    Looking at the disheveled Dory agitating her arms trying to explain something about birds to Yurick, Yann couldn’t help but laugh. Could he explain his friends that he had the impression of a green little :frog: jumping from one pebble to another in a big pond, and being so careful at which one she would choose… some of them are so slippery…


    He Greeted his friends and hugged them warmly as Flove was :yahoo_rolling_eyes:


    :bunny_head: :y_orly: :cat_happy: :goat:

    888 th comment
    :weather-clear: :heart: 8/8/8 @ 8:08 on the international date line :heart: :weather-clear: :world:


    1da stood on the shore. amazement splattering awe across his universe. he knew as a seeker he had to return. his journey beginning once again, he watched closely as he stepped from stone to stone along the pathless shoreline of the clear water stream. the scent of cedar and low water rocks covered in moss penetrating deeply with each breath, he smiled… his return and arrival on this planet far into the valley he always and forever would returned to because it was the center of his seeking, he found the depth of his awareness opening…

    “wait. which planet is this again? of the 19 it has to be one of my favorites.”

    “timing is everything.” the whisper of the universe

    “damp drats. missed again.” he replied to the babbling waters.

    “greetings all ye who enter upon my existence.”

    – 1da – as in the number 0ne (1) & da as in the smallest particle of nothingness. 8-07-08 …because of course 1da watches from a distance. planet geopositioning time being 4:27:42 PM in about the middle of the Pacific Pond.


    “HAHAHA! it is your first step now. Let me just remind you that you need not play MY game, the game is yours, ever.” said Georges. “The direction you follow is your choice, and where I come from is not relevant to this conversation.”

    Becky read the random daily quote and thought: What incredibly perfect timing!


    Yurick, did you see what just arrived in the mail? Imagine that, and on the 8th of the 8th 2088, as well! Look, she said, showing Yurick the Random Daily Retro Shift Elias Session quote.

    ~“In this, the eight is not actually an eight. It is a
    connecting symbol. Were you to turn the eight upon its
    side, it would become the connecting symbol.”

    “It’s the symbol of infinity.”

    “Correct, the infinite connection of the complements.”~


    Arona put down her paintbrush and sighed loudly. She did not want to paint the walls of this damn cave. She wanted to find her friends.

    She closed her eyes and listened to the silence. She listened until she felt the edges of her body disappear and begin to merge with the darkness. And still she listened.

    At last she heard the voice.

    It’s easy. Just move.

    She felt the question start to form in her mind. As she asked it the edges of herself once again began to separate from the cave.

    Shhhhhhhhhh she whispered, because she liked this feeling of being part of the All.

    And without questioning, at least for now, she began to move.


    4:21:44 PM 8-8-08 1da Geolocation Time.

    sometimes the flow climbs a mountain.

    pause. step. quick step. pause again. step. upstream another step. the stones solid, smooth, settled beneath my feet with the timeless passing of water. the path of gravity. the rising of a mountain. a rapid, considered, going on pace. sand between the stones. the moments of time. light on the rippling waters flickering. the air transparent, timeless, crisp, cool.

    knowing i’ve passed this way before, i pass again for the first time.

    it’s good to be back. returning. beginning.

    knowing my destination. the cave far above beneath the ancient pine. the boulder near the rough and gnarled trunk, slick and smooth. so hard the sense is of softness gliding with my fingers over the iridescent surface. soft to sit upon, to watch the valley far below extending forever into the distance. soft to recline upon, arcing my back. the warmth of the day in the stone, lingering far into the night to heat my bones. …knowing my destination, i take the next step into all that is new.

    sitting near the water. deep transparent pools of green/blue. the setting red sun. a shelter beneath driftwood high on the bank. a myrtle tree draping a blanket of scent over me, opening my soul. with each breath. i watch the light fading into the words echoing through my skull… life is hard… the song…

    Life is hard
    Anyway you cut it
    Life is sweet,
    Like a berry from a tree
    Life is temptation, baby,
    Every single day
    Life is hard

    Life is funny,
    I dont mean ha-ha
    It‘s not always sunny,
    When it needs to be
    Life is frightening,
    Nothing lasts forever
    Life is hard

    My time
    Is next to nothing
    My time
    Falls on you, yeah
    Is in motion
    Life is hard

    Life is precious,
    No matter how you see it
    Life is crazy,
    Like yellow fishes in the street
    Life is lonely
    When you‘re not with me
    Life is hard

    Is that you story?
    Hanging religion
    From a tree, yeah
    My time
    Is next to nothing
    Life is hard

    My time
    Is next to nothing
    My time
    Falls on you, yeah
    Is in motion
    Life is hard

    My time
    Falls on you, yeah
    Life is hard
    Life is hard

    – J. Mellencamp – while on the planet earth.

    ok. life is also beautiful. – 1da

    it’s a cruel crazy beautiful world – J. Clegg – also while on the planet earth.

    stars flickering in the fading twilight. the silence of a light breeze as pine boughs begin to whisper. the ache of tall trees swaying in the night with a moan like countless masts on the tall ships of a planet. blink. and i sleep.


    Dory was digging in her garden. Today was hot and sunny, but she was an archeologist, she could handle it!
    She had a dream last night about a little bird talking to her and telling her there was something precious buried in her garden… well it was something like that, she couldn’t really remember… maybe it was in another dream… did she watch a series last night? The boys were still sleeping soundly, so she’d ask later maybe.

    The ground of the garden was tough! no wonder she never dug it before, or even did any gardening.
    Crap! She was wondering where the treasure could be, her garden was big, and she had begun under a tree, but maybe it wasn’t there… it seemed to her the perfect location though… it was like an X showing the place. It had always seemed a bit crooked to her anyway. She could get rid of it shortly with a truck… She’ll ask the boys later for that… maybe near the portal stones?
    She left here digging under the crooked tree and started removing the stones of what she used to call the portal.


    Narsila was very close now, she was feeling more of her kind around, exchanging impressions and information about the area and the activities there. The storm was approaching and the humans were sheltering before its arrival.
    It was clear now that the storm was not of the usual kind. It was connected with a portal, and some in her group where creating a pyramidal action to facilitate its emergence. The sooner it will open, the softer the energy would be felt. If they waited too long, the portal could be more persistent, and it wasn’t desirable.


    The GPS was indicating that she was getting closer every minute. She was at less than 8 minutes as the crow flies from the island.
    She had to make a small detour to avoid the now less powerful but still dangerous cyclone Ycart, but all was under control.
    The night had fallen upon her like a bird of prey, and cloaked in the velvety shadows, she smiled, baring her teeth full of squashed mosquitoes.

    All absorbed by the blinking lights of the GPS, and her head full of the roar of the wind and the raging sea, she sadly didn’t notice the hydroplane coming from her left at full speed.
    The shock was brutal, and Madam Chesterhope got ejected from her motorbike which went with her alongside, spiraling down until crashed into the ocean.

    WHAT THE…!”


    We hit something! the distraught pilot shouted to Mahiliki.
    Drawing his knife again, thinking of how close he was now to dear sweet Vera, he shouted back “any damage? how close are we now?”
    “Seems OK, but what about the thing we hit?”
    “Bugger it! Move!”


    She was the first to notice.

    First there was a loud bang, that she perceived as a shock wave rippling all around.

    Then, she felt a strange flabby thing with bat arms fall into the ocean, while the other energy was coming their ways. “Wow,” she couldn’t help but think; “they’re having unusual nightly activities around for such a small isolated island.”

    The dog resting by the fire got alerted then, and tried to wake up the others. But apparently, they seemed oblivious to it.

    Then, something stranger happened. The small white rabbit started to talk, as if it had been aware all along.
    “It’ll take a while for him to see you again Kay, just don’t yap like a silly dog… Besides, you’ll disturb our guests”
    “Guests?” the dog answered back.

    The moment after, the rabbit had disappeared from the girl’s lap, and was standing between her and the dog.
    “Welcome, Balbina”, he told her.

    “How do you know my name?” she was aghast, unable to say if it was for the talking rabbit, or for the fact it knew her name.
    Unperturbed, it continued “It’s a busy night. There are lots of things happening, and we hope you’ll stick around. It may be helpful for our friends here.”
    “Er… why not… I mean, yes, sure. And you are?”
    Yuki, at your service. I’m not really a rabbit of course, but that form is convenient”
    “And cute too…” she said tentatively
    “Thank you”

    Balbina had never thought a rabbit could blush, but she would have bet it was the closest thing to a blushing rabbit she had just witnessed.

    “Sorry to interrupt you,” Kay said, but who are the other guests?

    a shrilling voice came as an answer OOOOooohh a campfire! How cuty pooh! Wait till Sha and Glo see that, we could have some roasted marshmallows and pork chops! I’m feeling soooo hungry…”

    “Great… So much for our little secret expedition,” Claude sighed as he woke up.


    12:54:07 AM 8-10-08 1da Geolocation Time.

    wait. an entire day disappears. no matter the stars and crickets go on just the same. no waiting. on this journey there are places, wind and the night. stepping through the darkness I move slowly into the moonless night.

    the driftwood shelter far away. thirst becoming noticeable. the clear water is enough for now.

    rain begins to slash down. large drops that soak to the skin in a few moments. a hard driving rain at the front of the storm. leaves thrash about as if to escape from the earth bound trees.

    Stumbling into the brush, i press close to the trunk of a tall redwood and sink down. the dust of the day remains here. even the crickets seek shelter. The shivering slows. i begin to relax, slipping into a dream.

    an island. far away. the last moments of sun warm on my skin. a rabbit the shade of pink clouds against the fading light. the cave far away from my dream as i drift deeper into sleep.


    Elizabeth frowned as she hung up the telephoone. Finnley’s news was rather disturbing.

    Al has gone crazy!” he’d said. “He is sending everyone to the island and killing spiders and magpies and lord knows what else; that couple with the bad skin, they’ve been stuck inside their hotel room for weeks….”

    “Whoo, whoo there, slow down a minute, WHICH couple with bad skin?” Elizabeth asked.

    “Your couple with bad skin! They were your characters!” Really, Elizabeth could be exasperating at times, Finnley thought, and not for the first time.

    “Oh, yes, them. HHHMMM.” Elizabeth had been silent for so long on the telephoone that Finnley hung up in frustration. He would communicate with Elizabeth telepathically instead.


    Images floated across the dark screen of Elizabeth’s closed eyes as she lay on the bed. She was aware of the trees rustling in the breeze outside her window, and the soft breathing of the miniature giraffes curled up by her feet. The afternoon heat was intense, heavy and soporific.

    An island, strewn with debris; fallen trees and unidentifiable mangled wreckage of a stainless steel tubuler kind; splotches of blue everywhere dried and cracked into oddly shaped human-like-alien forms, and the telltale battered paint can with the word Azure showing, unscathed.

    Darkness, damp smells, grey stones and spiders webs, slippery underfoot, bone coldness, and then a glimpse of lime green maidenhair ferns, a shaft of light and the sound of gurgling water….

    Water sounds becoming surging tides, roaring pushing sucking head spinning weighty and then silence and the tinkling of windchimes….

    A dog barks in the distance, waking the miniature giraffes. Big brown eyes atop slender necks gaze at Elizabeth as her eyes flutter open and then close again.

    Last orders gentlemen PLEASE! and a jostle of bodies in the smoke and laughter and babble of voices. A crush of humans across a long wooden barrier for large glass vessels full of foam topped amber liquids. A hush. Silence falls as a glass box perched high in a corner begins to speak. Elizabeth can see the head and shoulders and the serious face, she can see the lips moving, but the silence is total and she can’t hear the words being spoken. The Big Hush, she heard herself think.

    Hurdy Gurdy music and a merry go round…..grinning white horses up and down and round and round …..

    Elizabeth drifted off to sleep.

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