Circle of Eights, Stories

Forums Yurara Fameliki’s Stories Circle of Eights, Stories

  • Creator
  • #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…

Viewing 20 replies - 1,001 through 1,020 (of 1,160 total)
  • Author
  • #1131

    Sam told himself that at least he could have the 1001th… and that anyway he would go on for a long time :)


    Dory finished the puzzle, yawned and glanced at her watch. There was no sign of the flight to Long Pong leaving any time soon, so she made her flightbag into a pillow and settled herself along the plastic seating for a nap.

    She dreamed first of her grandparents in their old house in Slurbridge. The house was the same, but her grandparents, Florence and Samuel, were much younger than she had ever known them during her lifetime. They were preparing for guests, and Florence was rearranging the bedding in the upstairs bedrooms. Apparently one more guest was expected than previously arranged, and she had squeezed in a single camp bed next to a double bed. Dory had an idea the camp bed was for Dan’s niece, Aurelia. Funny that, as Florence and Samuel had never known Aurelia ~ or Dan for that matter.

    The dream landscape changed then to an island. The “Others” were coming and she and her friends had to hide. “Let’s hide in the pyramid” one of them had said, but Dory replied “No, we must hide somewhere less obvious, until we know what the “Others” are like.” They weren’t afraid, but they were taking precautions. Someone had been looking after the dogs and cats, but when Dory went to check on them, they had been ‘kept safe’ in a freezer. As Dory opened the door, a half frozen black cat emerged and ran off. “I reckon she’s better off taking her chances out there than in the freezer!” said Dory. At the bottom of the freezer were some frozen parts of Tom, Captain Bone. There was no sign of the others, but strangely, Dory wasn’t worried.

    Next to the freezer was a cupboard, and Dory grabbed a handful of magnetic fridge letters, thinking that they would come in handy as clues while they were hiding from the “Others”.

    “Yukailli Airlines direct flight leaving for Tikfijikoo Island at Gate 57 and three quarters” the bag lady prodded Dory, amidst a shower of electric blue sparks. “Wake up!”


    After her publisher sent her back the manuscript of her last noovel with a few annotations, Elizabeth Tattler started to question whether she was blinking into the Eirth dimension.

    “Look at that!” she said, watching at all the circled sentences… “good greif, my freinds…” then a few paragraphs later “the cheif of the oodlings”… “her neice…” Something was wroong with her.

    Was she ODding or what?

    Bah, if her publisher wasn’t happy, there still remained Barash who was never afraid to publish a few “od-oddities” (other-dimensional oddities)…

    “Free rein on the reindoors!” She shouted in her office.


    Georges and Salome’s journal

    From Salome’s account of her introduction to the Turmak People (Part 1)

    Georges being involved more and more within the Quorum of Jokans, it has enabled me, if only by proxy, to get more acquainted with the personality of each of them.
    The Guardians are an ancient and very distinctive race which is, in many aspects, surprisingly similar to our Dream Walkers. One of these points of similarity is their aptitude at morphing their environment, and altering much of the physical properties of it within their dimension of operation.
    I suspect that, similarly to our Dream Walkers being responsible for the creation of physical focus as we currently experiment it in our Earth dimension, they are also for a great part responsible for the creation of many a species in the neighbouring noospheres —note that I shall occasionally use “Noosphere” as a word more apt to convey certain notions rather than the word “planet” which is loaded with certain beliefs.

    I will not enter into the social details of the race of the Guardians in this note, as it would be too long for this place, and Georges will probably explain it in more details later.
    However, I shall use this as an opportunity to introduce a character who soon became a close ally in our explorations of this universe.
    As a matter of fact, I came as a surprise to both of us when she started to pierce through Georges disguise, flawless as it may have been. We found out that they shared a connection which probably was the cause for their allowance of connection through the veils of their disguises in time and space.
    A rather elegant member of the Quorum of Twelve, Cil —as she is named, pronounced See’l — intuitively found out that we were not really who we claimed to be, especially that we were not from her known universe at all. But what could have been a difficult situation turned out for the best, as she was equally eager to discover about us, as we were about her people and universe.

    The recent reports of uprisings of the Zentauras was the matter which was seriously discussed, and it was decided as a favour from Noraam to Cil to allow her to go for an investigation on the Murtuane, to find out the reasons for this matter, if not the culprits among their kin.
    Needless to say that I was very much enthusiastic at the idea of having a guide to explain me more on the relationships at play…

    (Part 2)


    — “Dory?”
    — “What, hon’?” a distracted Dory answered to young Becky
    — “You’d better remove the magnets from the iron, or you’ll ruin another one…”
    — “What are you talking about?!” Dory was perplexed, trying to find her way through the airport to Gate 57-¾, but only to find nothing but benches in between Gate 57 and 58.
    — “Oh, never mind… It’s only a dream and you probably won’t remember it anyway.”

    “There!” the suspicious bag lady of the Heathrow terminal had reappeared briefly just for Dory to spot her entering the restrooms.
    Becky was already rolling the heavy bumper-stickers patched suitcase to follow her without question.

    — “But why are you taking the suitcase to go to the bathroom, Beck’?”
    — “What are you talking about Dory!” Becky was sometimes losing patience. “Can’t you see it’s the entrance for Gate 57-¾?!”
    — “Uh?” A moment of clueless mystery on Dory’s face. “Oh…” Another mini-black hole on her face.

    “Oh. Okay then. Let’s go…”

    If there was something that her exotic life had taught Dory, it was to never question the moment. If the circumstances are here, if the impulse is there, then go for it. Explanations will follow. And in case they don’t, make them up as you roll and rock!

    Becky meanwhile was rather surprised at how people, even her own step-mother, as tuned in ghostly stuff as she was, most of the time failed to see the things for what they really are. And if these big painted letters on the door “GATE 57 ¾” weren’t obvious enough, and people preferred to interpret them as restrooms, then… what else could be done? She sighed.
    Later on, she would learn that it was a common, well documented trait in human consciousness; that people were sometimes psychologically (but not physically) blind to stuff outside of their current focus of attention, or simply blind to things too far off their beliefs; in other terms, it was a matter of energy reconfiguration. As long as it worked…

    “Oh look at that… Yukailli Airlines counter is here! What bloody stupid idea to put a closet door at the entrance…”

    After having made the departure arrangements at the counter, Dory came back to Becky who was looking outside at the planes.

    — “Ain’t them beautiful?”
    — “Yeah, and I suppose you’re seeing planes, aren’t you?”
    — “Err, yes of course, what else, silly… Though now you ask me, they seem a bit weird… foggy or something”.

    In fact, what Becky was seeing wasn’t conventional planes. It was more like “fly-boats”. Some sorts of hybrid ships made to fly with huge wings transparent and shiny like those of flies.

    — “I hope they have crunchy coleslaw for meal, I’m starving” a contented and tired Dory said, when she collapsed into the comfortable seats.


    The interior of the Fly-boat was a bit like a Tardis, in that it was very much bigger on the inside than it appeared from the outside, and quite a different shape, too. While the exterior of the fly-boat resembled a cross between a duck and a bee, the interior was circular. There was a high point in the centre of the ceiling, and richly embroidered tapestries draping down to the floor in sumptuous folds, looking for all the world like a yurt.

    Yukailli Airlines has a decidedly exotic and oriental air, Dory thought as she perused the in flight magazine, which was written in a charming but indecipherable script resembling the Voynich Papers.

    “This is your captain speaking” a disembodied voice boomed. “Welcome aboard! My name is Ignoratio Elenchi, and I trust that you will have a most enjoyable flight with Yukailli AirBoats. There will be no obligation to fasten your seatbelts and you may smoke all through the flight. Our cabin crew will be preparing Vedic Stew over an open fire in the central area of the craft at 11:11. For your in-flight entertainment, up on the open air flight deck there will be a continuous light show by Aurora Borealis. If you want us to stop the flyboat at any point to take snapshots” continued Ignoratio, “Please don’t hesitate to ask.”


    “And now there’s that cycle of energy that goes into the other realms and comes full circle, cascading down like watermelons crashing down from a fountain back into this reality, and then it cycles back up into the other dimensions, and then back down, creating an endless loop – an endless loop of watermelons , consciousness and expansion, New Energy, creativity, letting go of the obstacles and the watermelons , truly being in life.”

    Becky was reading aloud from House of The Watermelon, by Toby St.Germaine .

    “The next step, as we enter this House of The Watermelon, the next step is to take a drink of watermelon juice. There’s plenty of watermelons. You don’t even need a glass up here. Just drink of the watermelons….”

    Becky, why is that book called The House of The Watermelon?” Dory asked. “I haven’t heard a single mention of watermelons all the way through it.”


    Phlynn the gamekeeper while seducing Lady Theresa Eagleston was secretly using the Potting Shed to made secret experiments on watermelons.
    So far, he had managed to create a very promising hybrid variety crossed with carnivorous plants brought by Hector from his exotic trips.
    The productivity of the plants was far better, and he was making a damn fine liquor from the sweet nectar, but he had to hunt more game to feed the little beast…

    He hoped T’eggy wouldn’t be too curious about the strange jolts and jerks behind the door. Or he would have to roger that… err, to remedy this delicate situation.


    “Blimey, Leo, that reminds me about The Door” remarked Bea, who had got to the part about the door in the potting shed in T’Eggy Gets A Good Rogering.

    “I don’t know how you can read that trash, Bea, really I don’t” said Leonora, with a sniff.

    “Never mind that, what about The Door? WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO ABOUT THE DOOR?”


    “Well, what ARE you going to do about the door”, Tina asked Becky.

    “Hell if I know, Tina! Have you got any ideas?”

    Tina shook her head. “Maybe Al or Sam will come up with something. Just leave the thread hanging for months, why don’t you, that’s what you usually do.”

    Becky laughed. “Al keeps reminding me about it for some reason, you know what he’s like.”

    “Well, here’s an idea: Let the characters decide for themselves what happens next. Don’t plan it, just watch it, and report back, you know what I mean?” Tina suggested.

    “Hey there’s an idea! Good thinking, Batwoman!” Becky said, hugging Tina. Then she grinned. “Isn’t that what’s been happening all along?”


    Al was greatly pleased to see that the telepathic communication between themselves was going better by the day.

    With Becky in her plane to Long Pong talking to Tina in New Venice, while he and Sam were listening on their way to the dolphins ranch of their friends Marfisa and Rogero in the Floridisles

    … what a great pleasing way it was, to spend the time of the trip!


    “I had an absolutely brilliant revelation last night” Bea was saying “about The Door. Buggered if I can remember what it was, though.”

    “Well fat lot of use that is then, Bea” replied Leonora. “Any snapshots? Can you remember anything at all?”

    “Well, there was a big pale green patch that floated down, then there was the floating part, oh and all the coloured light flashes…the French girl, the old fashioned scene…..and that weird change of focus, sort of off centre and a bit out of body, with the guy behind my right shoulder shouting HEY every time my focus started drifting back to normal. Oh, and the spiraling part, that was cool too!” Bea was starting to drift off into another world just thinking about it.

    “Yes, well, now we know all about The Door” said Leonora sarcastically. “Very helpful, Bea, well done.”

    “That’s it!” shouted Bea, leaning forward in excitement. “It’s about blocking energy!”

    Leonora rolled her eyes.

    “Holding tightly to energy, that’s what the closed door is. I can have an open door, and still be free to create who walks through it. We don’t lock the door here, do we, but we don’t get any intruders.”

    “Maybe that’s because we’ve got nine dogs” said Leo. “And anyway, define intruder, in a ‘you create your own reality’ context. What’s the difference between an intruder, and a wonderful surprise?”

    Bea was stumped for a moment. “That’s a good question, Leo, we’ll come back to that in a bit, but let me finish telling you this before I forget again.
    I used to mentally open a big double door every time I did a meditation or went to sleep” Bea continued “and I havent opened that door in months. Well, sometimes it’s open, obviously, but I dont seem to throw the doors open wide anymore, you know, to other energies objectively, if you see what I mean.”

    Bea was starting to ramble. “I used to invite any Tom, Dick and Harry to my meditations as long as they weren’t aliens.”

    “What about the dogs in raincoats dimension?” asked Leo “What were they if they weren’t aliens?”

    “Oh, they were alright, I liked them. Oh you know what I’m like about that other dimensional stuff, don’t get me started on that now. I think occasionally things happen and I get rattled, and shut the door for a bit.”

    “Right, so let see if I’ve got this straight” said Leonora “There’s more than one layer to this Door thing because what you’ve just told me is what’s going on in your reality. The question is, what’s going on in mine?”

    “Buggered if I know, LeoBea replied. “Fancy a cuppa?”


    Al and Sam were waiting silently at the Yukaili airline terminal… the departure of their flight was in an hour and they decided to play with Tina and Becky 2 who were making egg sculptures in a white room.

    They were sending them energy suggestions to move their hands and the tools in certain ways in order to influence the result.
    Tina and Becky being very focused on their tasks were not necessarily aware of the meddling of their friends and at times were swearing like … I prefer not to tell.

    The end result was an watermegglon on Becky’s side and an a vegemegg from Tina’s side.

    Both were contemplating their creation with awe and wonder… sparkles in their eyes.



    Chuckling to herself about Sam’s latest entry (which was another splendid synchronicity with the daily random quote: “Just as Becky was retorting crossly to Al to please knock before remote viewing her…”) Becky Tooh went outside into the sunshine to hang out the laundry. Blinking in the strong sunlight she reached up to peg a towel on the line and noticed two huge eagles circling above her. I swear they are looking right at me, she said. She watched them circling until her eyes could stand the glare of the sun no longer, then turned back to the laundry basket.

    Oh will you look at that! she said crossly. Bird pooh all over the washing!


    “Listen to this, BeaLeonora said.

    Bea looked up from her book “What’s that then Leo? I’m just getting to the juicy part where T’eggy gets….”

    “Listen to this” Leo interrupted, and read from the book she was reading, “As a writer I feel free to do anything I please, investigating anything, saying anything… a writer I feel free to be psychic as a bird, do what I please and use my abilities psychically quite freely. When I think of me as a psychic I get hung up because I seem to be in the company of so many nuts. Writers may be as nuts as anyone else but it’s a nuttiness that doesn’t bug me ~ there’s no dogma attached…..”

    “What on earth are you reading, Leo?”

    “The memoirs of Jane Roberts” replied Leonora. “What a coincidence this is! I was just starting to think about writing some fiction, you know? Because when you write fiction nobody really questions what you write, it’s easier, somehow.”

    “Well if it’s fiction you’re after, I can recommend T’Eggy Gets A Good Rogering, it’s brilliant.” replied Bea helpfully.

    “Bloody hell, Bea!” said Leonora in exasperation. “I want to write tasteful enlightening fiction, wonderful stories with a moral and a point and a lesson ~ I don’t want to read the trash you read!”

    “Suit yourself, you judgmental cow” replied Bea huffily. “And anyway, you haven’t even read it, so how would you know?”


    “Oh My God” exclaimed Bea. “I had a dream about the DOOR!”

    “Oh, well done! The question is, did you remember it?” asked Leonora.

    “As a matter of fact, Leo, I did!” replied Bea with a happy smile. “As a matter of fact, although I’m not too sure how factual matter really is, but anyway, I did remember the dream, and I wrote it all down.”

    “Gosh, up early this morning, weren’t you?” asked Leo, who was sipping coffee at the kitchen table and watching the sun come up over the mountains through the open door.

    “Oh I didn’t write it down this morning, silly! I wrote it all down last week.”

    Leo placed her cup on the table and rubbed her eyes, frowning. “Wait a minute, let me get this straight…..”

    Bea laughed ~ she was in rather a jolly mood, despite the early hour. “I had the dream last week, Leo, but I only just realized this morning that the dream was about THE DOOR

    “So what did you learn about the door, then?”

    Bea frowned. “Well I’m not really sure. But it seemed so significant because it was that scary door, you know, the dreams I’ve been having for years about that door in that bedroom that’s too scary to get near, never mind go through….would you like to read it? Maybe you can interpret it for me.”

    “If I must” sighed Leonora “You better pour me another cup of coffee then and pass me those cigarettes.”

    Leonora read from Bea’s Dream Journal:

    I was sorting winter clothes out on an upstairs landing of a cottagey gabled house,
    and decided to use the upstairs bedroom instead of the downstairs one.
    The bedroom was a recurring dream one, gabled attic with dormer windows kind of room.
    Then I saw the door and remembered this was the door I was always too terrified
    in dreams to open; it was so scary that I always wanted to use this bedroom
    but never could because of that terrifying door and whatever lay beyond it.

    “Didn’t you do a waking dream and go through that door?” Leonora asked. “Oh, yes here is is…”

    Remembering that I had done a waking dream and gone beyond the door once,
    I marched up to the door, flung it open and strode through.
    Suddenly an almost overpowering fear and dread stopped me in my tracks
    but I carried on anyway.

    “Oh, bloody well done, Bea! Good for you, girl!” Leonora could be a bit waspish at times, but she was a kind old soul underneath.

     It was a bit like a old slightly shabby but once grand hotel foyer, high ceilings
    (not the same as when I went through in the waking dream, which was then rows
    of closed doors on either side).  The foyer opened out on the left into a large old
    fashioned restaurant dining room, with one person over on the far side sitting at
    a table.  I carried on straight ahead through opaque etched glass double doors
    onto an upstairs outdoor terrace.  There was a city scene below.  On the left
    was a shallow ornately shaped ornamental pool.

    “Reminds me a bit of our trip to Barcelona, this does, eh” Leo commented.

    “Yeah, I’m sure that had something to do with the gargoyle imagery” replied Bea.

    A woman squeezed past me holding a small thick book and I knew she was
    going to jump off the terrace which was several storeys up.  She collapsed into
    the pool, writhing backwards, baring a flat white breast and dropping the book.

    “Flat breast, hahah Bea, that weren’t you then, obviously, was it!”

    Bea chuckled. “Not bloody likely! I reckon that bit slipped in the dream because I can’t find a comfortable bra lately”

    “You and me both” replied Leo. She continued reading from the journal.

    I picked up the book, and somehow ended up with two books, which seemed like guide books. I couldn’t hold onto the two books with the creature in my hand, which was weird, like a very heavy small furry grey reptile, or gargoyle.

    “Maybe it was a baby dragon?”

    “Don’t say that!” retorted Bea, who had a horror of dragons. “The thought did cross my mind too, though” she admitted.

    I was holding it with one hand round its middle and the fat grey belly of it
    was bulging out under my fingers.  It was unbelievably heavy for such a small creature
    and I didn't want to hold it, so I passed it to a boy. (Twice I was holding the creature,
    and twice I passed it to the boy, but I can't recall the other time)
    Back inside the building, I followed the boy down a big wide staircase that
    curved round to the right at a landing below.  I started to fall down the stairs and
    knew it was because of the book that I was holding that the woman had been holding
    when she collapsed into the pool, so I threw the book down the stairs to save myself,
    and felt the tumbling down from the books perspective, although I stayed in
    the same place, clutching the banister.

    “Well I am amazed that you remembered so much, Bea! Going through the doors and finding the books reminds me of Jane’s Library you know”. Leo was starting to go into an altered state.

    “Are you going into an altered state, Leo?” asked Bea. “Are you channeling Juani Ramirez again?”

    “The creature, the gargoyle, was representing ‘a different species of awareness, of consciousness’” continued Leonora, as Bea hastily started taking notes. Leo wouldn’t remember what she’d said while she was channeling Juani, so it was essential that Bea record what was said.

    “The weight was a marker to help you recall the creature, as well as being symbolic of denseness”

    Bea couldn’t help making a snirking noise. Dense eh, she said under her breath.

    “The door” continued Leonora “Is a signpost, a marker.”

    Just then the phone rang, snapping Leonora out of the trance. Bea picked up the telephone, but there was nobody there.

    “Pffft” said Bea.

    “More coffee?”


    Norm! NORM!!” Sue Flay shouted. “We’re filming the garden scene now, where are you?”

    But Norm was nowhere to be found. He’d stumbled upon an unexpected problem while filming T’Eggy & Phlynn with Sue Flay ~ a problem too embarrassing to mention, and one he could hardly keep a secret, given the nature of the P Movie. He’d managed to excuse himself during the last scene, feigning illness, but what if it happened again today?

    “You’re focusing on what you don’t want again, Norm.” The voice made him jump. He’d thought he was alone in the treehouse, he thought no-one would find him hiding there in the leafy depths of the spinney, high up in the foliage. He looked around, wondering where the voice was coming from.

    “You haven’t generated me physical, Norm, but you can if you wish” the voice said.

    “How do I do that?” asked Norm.

    “Allow, that’s all” the voice replied.

    “Oh what rubbish!” Norm said in an agitated whisper. “What stupid advice!”

    “Ha ha ha! As you wish, my friend” replied the voice, sounding rather amused.

    “If you hadn’t just given me such stupid advice I might have felt more inclined to ask you for some advice about this awful problem” Norm whispered crossly.

    “Are you asking me for advice or not?”

    “Well if you’ve got anything USEFUL to say, then say it!”

    “If you go down to the garden today,
    You’re sure to have a surprise.
    There’s a herb growing there and you don’t have to pay,
    It’s growing in front of your eyes.
    The magic you see is everywhere
    It never runs out of stock
    Go down to the garden, if you dare….”

    “I asked you for advice, not a daft bloody poem!” Norm hissed.

    “You wish to be hard as a rock?”

    YES!” spat Norm in frustration, blushing furiously. What’s the friggen garden got to do with it?”

    “There’s a herb in the garden called Horny Goat

    “Oh PulEASE…..” Norm rolled his eyes.

    “Horny Goat Weed will do the trick.
    And straighten up your droopy…”

    ENOUGH! Good Grief, I get the message. What am I supposed to DO with it, roll in it? Eat it? Smoke it?”

    “It matters not, my friend. That’s the magic of it all. You can choose any method”

    “Are you sure about this?” asked Norm, who was willing to try anything at this point. “How do I know I can trust you?”

    “Ha ha ha! Trust youSELF, Norm!”

    “Who are you anyway?” Norm asked suspiciously.

    But the voice chuckled and faded, leaving Norm in a quandary in the treehouse.

    “Oh bugger it, I may as well give it a go. I can’t stay here forever, and anyway, I’ve run out of cigarettes.”

    Norm climbed down the tree and marched over to the the film crew.

    “Oh THERE you are Norm!” Sue came rushing up to him. “What perfect timing, we’re breaking for lunch.” She gave Norm a spontaneous hug. She really was rather nice, Norm thought, smiling at her.

    “Would you like some soup? We put lots of fresh herbs in it from the garden.”


    The whole week had been flying over his heads. Last Sunday, they had come back with Sam from their trip on the Floridisles, and though his body was a bit aching from the trip on the still young flight company of Yurailli Airlines, Al’s head was still swimming in the clear blue waters with the dolphins and sea dragons a soft music running in his head like a young unworried boy on the shore.

    The return to New Venice was such a difference in energy that it took him a shocking cold to re-adapt. Not that he couldn’t have done without the cold, but he had chosen to allow it, for many reasons. For one, it was very self-centering, and also the more he allowed it, contrary to what people would think, the quicker it healed.

    Lots of things had happened in New Venice during their little adventure in the South, and there was lots to do to keep the pace. So much difference with the peaceful silent world of the cetaceans… Not even much time to update the Reality Play which almost had gone into hibernating mode, had it not been Becky’s occasional funny entries and syncs.

    Nevertheless, Al could feel that the peace of the dolphins and sea dragons had touched him on more than just the surface level. For once, he wasn’t even worried about Tina now; he could feel her discrete but present energy was strong, even though she was going onto a difficult transitional path of her own.


    Georges and Salome’s journal

    From Salome’s account of her introduction to the Turmak People (Part 2)

    Once Cil and I arrived on the Murtuane the most obvious thing to be noticed was that the situation was of great complexity, with far-reaching potential implications.

    There was this thing about the Murtuane which was not easily seen with the eyes —but somehow with appropriate shift of one’s attention could be felt to some degree. It was that this part of the dimension (this planet in simpler words) was acting like a form of capacitor which would help regulate the outbursts of energy in various directions of the dimension, namely the Duane —which was more diverse, and more versatile in its types of experimentation.
    Usually, Cil had explained, most of the outbursts occurred on the Duane, and they were mitigated by the underlying presence of the balancing energies of the Murtuane.
    Most of the inhabitants of the Murtuane were very peaceful beings, mostly due to either their shared telepathic and empathic bond (Children of Turmak), or else to their nurturing societal structure (Zentauras and Children of the Sea).

    But here, something unprecedented had occurred on the farthest parts of the lands, near the Kandulim shores. A Daughter of the Sea, a representative of the Zentauras had explained, had broken her bond to the Sea to live with someone she had rescued. This in itself which should have been a private matter of the Race of the Sea had become also a thorn in the hoof of the Zentauras, as the couple had not only started to live on the Kandulim, but they also had come to rally more people around themselves, claiming a rightful place to live on their sacred soil.

    The disruption didn’t suggest any foul-play from outside forces, yet Cil and I quickly got that feeling that there is more at play that meets the eye…

    ( Part 3 )


    Tina leaned back on her rocking chair, and ogled with an eye of pity Al who was trimming one of the plants.

    Oh nothing, Tina sighed… are we gonna eat any fruit from those, or shall I throw them in the bin?
    Oh, there’s good hope we can soon have a cherry tomato wrapped in a leaf of coriander for our dinner sweetie.
    You and your miniature cultures… She finally rolled her eyes. During Al’s trip in the Floridisles, by a strange series of nearly miraculous coincidences, the plants had stayed intact. She hadn’t watered them for the two weeks, but apparently it had not displeased them.

    Al had told her the funny story of his grand-father watering his wife’s precious flowers during her absence with gallons of water, and literally drowning them in love.
    She had not smiled. “Maybe I’m drowning people in my love too, they tend to get soggy these days…”
    So perhaps her lack of attention had been a blessing for the tinsy artsy plantsaïs

    What did they have for dinner last time? A puny ratatouille made with courgettes the size of her fingers. First time she’d wished she had bigger fingers. Nah… Al, you got to understand, people aren’t ready for nano-biotics…

Viewing 20 replies - 1,001 through 1,020 (of 1,160 total)
  • The topic ‘Circle of Eights, Stories’ is closed to new replies.