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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    • #1191

      When the two strangers were gone, the silents observers were left with many new questions.

      “This was important for you to see,” finally conveyed N’meôrl to them. “Now,” he continued “let me bring you back to your own timeline, on that same location, many many years after these events; this will make it easier for you to rejoin your home. You will travel safely into my own awareness.”

      And as they had understood what was to happen, they all felt stretched around, and the scenery started to flow away like a purple sand dune moving under strong winds.
      Moments later, they were still on the Kandulim, though the scenery felt distinctly more focused than before.

      Leormn was back, at the place where the giant bird-like creature once was.


        “It’s the Interjection Intersection, TOOT TOOT coming through!” Baked Bean called gaily, holding her wine glass aloft as she squeezed through the crowd of revellers.

        “Gotta get some more of those Kwon Tum Fizz Sticks, TOOT TOOT! Coming through!”

        Baked Bean Barb was more than a little tipsy, but so was everyone else at Bea and Leonora’s Day of the Dead gathering. The Boulder Moving Party had had to be cancelled, due to the rain, but many of the guests had arrived anyway and the cottage was packed.

        Bea was still cackling madly and having a hoot with the guests into the wee hours, but Leonora was beginning to fade in and out. Sitting next to the woodstove, she closed her eyes, random snippets of conversations wafting through her mind interspersed with snatches of dreams.

        “…it’s the blanket prediction festival today…”

        “…they all say the same sling…”

        “…its The Absolute Sling!”

        “…not that there is some portals, or there isn’t any portals, not that it’s any predictions or any non-prediction, but you see, the watermelons are better than orange in the new energy…”

        “…cakes are great Bea, what are they called?”

        Yuki Buns they are, and that’s an Araili Tart…French recipe actually…the Armelle Caramel isn’t French though, dunno where….”

        Someone snorted with laughter and said “I had Ogean Porridge for breakfast this morning…”

        “…bloody porridge, man, you’re in Spain now, you should be eating Paella Patel…”

        “Fran Fritters and Baruch Kebabs for me, mate, I like Obarbecued best…”

        “…Kai Jon Prawns and Creole Opancakes…”

        Hoots of laughter: “…oh a mergence…”

        “…Frags Legs…”

        “Take one aspect of Araili and one eye of Oba….
        One pinch of Snoot…”

        “…a tablesnoot…”

        “…and a cup of glukenitch droppings…”

        “Not that much!!”

        “Here, have some banoonanawananas and badulnuts” Bea said, passing round a bowl of, well, banoonanawananas and badulnuts. “Anyone for Oonatchos?”

        All this talk of food was making Leonora hungry. She rubbed her eyes and made her way into the kitchen.



          Georges and Salome’s journal

          From Salome’s account of her introduction to the Turmak People (Part 3)

          Cil and I have stayed on the Murtuane longer than was required for the report on the events occurring here. Though it was not required, it proved invaluable for me to gather much information on both the planet itself, but more important, on the interconnections with the other planets and the Guardians themselves.

          A pivotal point in this exploratory mission was the impressive encounter with one of the few still focused Nirguals of this dimension. N’meôrl, as he introduced himself to us, out of concern for the current events came to contact Cil despite his looking askance at the Guardians on the whole.
          As it appears to be, due to their acute awareness of how energy can be manipulated to create one’s own reality, some of the Guardians became to view themselves as superior in knowledge and skills as to the other conscious creatures roaming on this dimension —most of whom already having far more understanding of things deemed “magical” in my own earthly dimension of origin. However, viewing themselves as such (though by no means the standards in the Guardians societies) had them manipulate some of these others; mostly to entertain themselves or to experiment, without concern as to the others’ reactions.

          Frown upon by many Guardians, this practice was tolerated notwithstanding, and had created a few pockets of what the Guardians called “slaves”. Inquiring to Cil as to how people with such thin veils between their subjective creative source and the objective realizations could become “slaves” to others, she had struggled a bit to explain to me at first. Allowing her to reach into my awareness for associations or analogies with similar energetic displays, she surprised me —surprised is even a mild word for my initial reaction— by telling me it was the same as our religions. Struggling initially to understand her point, I find myself, if not entirely agreeing with it, at least being able to explain what she meant by that. To her, people were ultimately free unless they themselves were tricked into bondage. But bondage could be of various nature, and she continued to explain, physical bondage was the less efficient of all. “Guidance”, on the opposite, with the proper construction of suggestions and beliefs, could yield very efficient results.
          So, those “rogue” Guardians were nothing else but priests? The difference between this association and Cil’s distaste for them seemed too strong. Perhaps I would have to reassess my own beliefs.

          So, apparently some of these Guardians had been responsible for disturbances. Cil seemed to understand that something grave was happening, but when she tried to explain to me, once again words or clusters of thoughts seemed to fail her. She found in my memory some analogy which seemed again quite besides the point, though very intriguing.
          She said it was similar to what our medicine men were doing with their needles. She probably had reached into my memories of traditional acupuncture medicine. She went on to compare the planets as a single body, with bumps and hollows in energy; usually, the body knows how to harmoniously balance both of these, and a bump can reflect into a hollow and vice-versa. Sometimes, when people create illnesses, the practitioner will move these to help. But something else was happening here: the flow was artificially changed, she said.
          “What was the point in that?” I asked. She pondered for a moment, then answered without judgment that it was probably for the sake of the experience.
          “The Nirgual is mostly warning us that this experience may not lead to an equilibrium before long. That it may profoundly modify the energy on the planets, and not for the better. The Murtuane and its Turmak people have mostly had a stabilizing impact on the very energetic events happening on the Duane. Modifying this could quickly take things out of our hands” she said worriedly.


            “Barry the White Bear is the last person having seen Arky the missing Aardvark “ Mlle Mongoose reported back to the team of worried animals.

            “And did he say anything more?” Angela Goose asked, interrupting busy-looking Mlle Mongoose in mid-sentence.

            “Well, if you’d let the Director speak, perhaps we could hear what she knows” said Freaky the Ferret.
            “Don’t be zo mean to Angelipooh” Jobby the Hippo said compassionately “You know poor Angie is zo buzzy with Baba Yolanda coming over”
            “Who?” asked Weirdy the Weasel distractedly
            “Baba Yolanda the Loon !” answered Angela with a hint of exasperation “You’re not paying attention my dear? I told you ages ago she’d be coming this week to the Zoo to spend her winter here… I figure it’s getting too difficult for her in the wild given her age.”
            “Well, I hope it’ll be better this time; last time she came, she left you in a pretty bad shape, it took us months to get you back on your feet. It should be time for her to get over that old ugly-duckling complex…”

            “Ahem”, managed to say Mlle Mongoose who was however following the discussion with great interest
            She continued “As far as Arky is concerned, perhaps you should go see him yourselves. You’ll probably get more from Barry White than I did; He’s bearing the management a grudge since we decided to raise the temperature of his room because everybody around was catching colds after colds.”

            “Oh, great… my time of hitting the spotlight has finally come, and I’m stuck with dear ol’ Baba Yolanda” sighed Angela Goose.


              “So, any of you noticed Becky Pooh at the party ?” Al asked Tina and Sam on their way back to their place, waiting patiently for a gondocab in the crowded chilly night.

              “Jeeze, with this temperature, they probably will have to get the gondoskaters earlier” Tina managed to say, blowing some air in the hands of her costume. “Well, I’m not sure, though there was some distinct feeling that she was around” she said, going back to the question.

              “I don’t know why, but I had that distinct feeling that she was a time-travelling goose” Sam said when their eyes asked about his impressions.
              “Well, sounds daft like her, if she tried to pop into that fat lady under the white goose costume with the big watch pocket at the hall” Tina said with a chuckle.

              “Don’t laugh at those pop-ins,” Sam said ruefully, “They can really be something!”

              Al chuckled with Tina as he was remembering Tina’s uncanny knack for projecting herself temporarily into unsuspicious Lewis-Writton-bags spy-ladies.

              “So a goose, eh… why not after all…”


              Sure I do ,” said Kay to a disbelieving Akita. “Did you notice the bio-hazard facility next to the psych-ward?”

              “That strange greenhouse sort of room where they seem to grow stuff?”

              “Yeah, not any stuff they grow…”

              “Try me?”

              “They grow very special watermelons there…”


              “That’s so disgusting” Gloria was complaining, as their first ‘snet’ (that’s short for ‘snot net’) was nearly completed.

              “Not to mention ‘aving to knot with bloody chicken bones! How low can you go…” Mavis echoed with a snuffle.

              “Yeah, it looks mighty indestructible that knitting, ladies” an appraising Sharon said to the other divas. “Now, the ropes!”


                Yann woke up puzzled by his dreams. He’d been walking in the street of a big odd city… an oddicity? He giggled in himself. Yurick was still sleeping and he didn’t want to wake him up.

                In that oddiCity, there were many people but as he could feel in his dream they were not necessarily interacting with each others directly, and strangely it seemed that the different individuals were not necessarily at the same time though he could clearly see them in the same place.

                He was wondering as some people were waving at him… did he know them? As far as he could tell, they weren’t triggering any memory of individuals he had met in his waking life. Some of them seemed somewhat familiar but he couldn’t put a name on their faces. When he was feeling like it he would wave back at them but most of the time he would simply ignore them. No consequences.

                At some point In his dream, he’d ended up in a big park, very calm and soothing. He could see some people smiling and laughing, and the sound of their laughs was not intrusive, it was merely part of the environment like the birds chirping.

                He remembered having seen 3 fountains… when he found the second one, he thought he took a wrong turn and was back at the first one, but a closer look let him notice a few definite differences, and it was more obvious with the third one. Though the designs were similar, the water in each of these fountains was behaving quite differently. In the first one, the water was acting just like he was expecting from water: springing from a pipe, from the bottom up and coming down according to the laws of physics. In the second one, it was as if water was magically condensing from somewhere above the surface of the pond and falling down like the rain. Quite beautiful and very hypnotic… no cloud above. The third one could seem a bit chaotic at first glance, but the movements were quite harmonious too and Yann could fathom some kind of rhythm or interactions going on. He couldn’t clearly see where the water was coming from, and he didn’t have the occasion to examine it as his attention was caught by a voices coming from a gathering of people nearby.

                He found them in a clearing; some people were sitting in front of what appeared to be puzzle pieces. The shapes were quite different from the ones he’d been accustomed to, but it didn’t seem weird at the moment. A man was standing and walking among the others, giving them information and directions on how to manipulate the different pieces.
                As Yann was approaching closer, he noticed that Yurick… no it was Quintin… it seemed he hadn’t called himself Yurick yet… well he was there too and he seemed quite puzzled and engrossed by what he had in front of him. He only had 2 pieces, but it seemed quite difficult to make them fit together.
                As Yann was about to call his friend, the man began to talk to him.

                “Hello. Do you want to try by yourself?..”

                Yann felt something was not as it should have been… it was as if the man was talking to him, and at the same time continuing with his explanations to the other people. And as he was staring at Yann, waiting for an answer, his attention was also focused on his students going on and on with some endless instructions on how it all functioned and what was the proper use of the pieces…

                “You’re new in this area, I never saw you here before, though you seem familiar…”

                That’s when he woke up, puzzled. A bit sad that he’d left the enchantment of the park, but relieved that he wouldn’t have to listen to all the babbling of the man. What was his name again? It had been lost in the huge amount of words, not clearly separated from the names of the tiles or the names of the other students.


                  Sam was packing his stuff… the City had emerged and he wanted to visit it.

                  Yes FoxSam! I’m bringing you with me…” and more to himself “and I won’t forget my copy of Tiles Of The City Bible either


                    After that strange dream, Yann had completely forgotten about the city and the puzzle reality game and the park. He’d caught a cold and a disturbing hiccup that made his thoughts hard to follow. He’d been wanting to do so many things during that week end, and it was all running away from him.

                    Yurick was preparing him some medicine made from essence drops and jasmine tea, and Yann particularly enjoyed how his friend was taking care of him… he was feeling like a child of about 8. Though he was grumpy and mumbling a lot, he was pleased that they shared this occasion to talk about everything and nothing in particular. When Yurick told him about a lightus flower and a spam about a puzzle, Yann remembered his dream and what he saw there. He was telling his friend about the different patterns he saw in that park and that’s when emerged the idea of a book.

                    The 2 friends were quite excited about the idea of a hidden city, yet to unfold. This book would be one step toward its manifestation.

                    Yann, who was quite readily passionate about weird things was already imagining walking the ground of the park and hearing the sound of the water condensing from no cloud and falling in the even pong.

                    “And you know what? That teacher you were listening to in my dream, something in his way of speaking reminds me of Aleksane…”

                    “I have the impression of a hearty laugh, an eye and a thrilling atmosphere”, said Yurick.


                    It wasn’t very difficult for Akita to have the door opened. Having Kay roam unnoticed in the rooms and corridors next to his cell made things very easy actually, giving him enough time to do his things.
                    He’d known the art of lock-picking since he was a child, and he would have been able to open that door’s latch blindfolded, hands tied behind his back, with only his big toe and dental floss… so old this one was.

                    So in a few minutes he was out; a few minutes later, he had found a proper military outfit in the lockers, Kay had been giving him the codes of, and as everyone was gone for the lunch break, the whole area was deserted.

                    The greenhouse room was open, and a blinding light was pouring into it.

                    “You didn’t tell me what made these watermelons special” Akita turned to the phantom dog.

                    “Why don’t you have a try by yourself… Take a little one over there, and throw it on the opposite wall”

                    Akita did as instructed, then backed off quickly blown off by the explosion .

                    “Watermelbombs? are you kidding?”

                    “Not really; it’s sad, but people have done lots of researches here to produce bio-degradable weapons easily grown. I think it wasn’t a coincidence you and the others have been brought here”

                    “The others? You mean… Oh sh*t, I forgot the ladies, don’t tell me they’re still here?”

                    “Yep, they are here. And they’re quite ready to fight for their survival too, believe it or not”

                    “Oh, I don’t have any trouble seeing them as fierce warriors!”


                    “I can ‘ear someone comin’! Sha!” Mavis was pointing the door with an alarmed look on her face

                    “But it’s their lunch break, nobody’s supposed to be ‘ere”

                    “Then, that’s our chance! Prepare the ropes and the snet!”


                    The 3 ladies didn’t have the time to get prepared as the door was blown open by an explosion, the sound of which made their newly very sensitive ears suffer hell!

                    “Oh! me god I’m wounded!” Mavis shouted suddenly. “You 2 have to avenge me, I think I’m not gonna make it…”

                    “Don’t be so silly, Mavis, you’re perfectly healthy! It’s just watermelon flesh! But shush! We’re not alone…” shouted Gloria as the explosion had made her deaf too.

                    A shadow suddenly entered the room full of vaporized watermelon juice… The red mist was almost opaque and Glo couldn’t identify clearly what it was. A big round head, obviously an alien… but with their new strength and the snet they would put it down in no time.

                    She jumped on the form and shouted to her companions to throw the snet. As she tried to bite the big rounded head another jumped on her with a gnarling bark. She was projected on the opposite wall, almost knocked out. As the red mist began dissipating, she could clearly see a knocked out Akita with a watermelmet on his head…


                      “What did you do with Baba Yolanda?” the usual gang asked Angela Goose when they saw her coming alone.

                      “Oh bugger Baba the Loon, I’ve put her in an Eiders Nursing Home, she’ll be comfy there and I’ve got enough feather ruffling at home, I had to admit the Eiders Nursing Home are more equipped than I am.”

                      “Oh, zheers Angela, good zing for you” Jobby the baby pygmy hippo wanted to applause. “Now we can go see Barry the White Bear!”

                      “Hang on a minute,” Angela interrupted “Don’t you think we should enroll Baboona and Obaboon? They are quick-witted and smart like humans those two, could be helpful to worm a bit of information out of Barry…”

                      “Oh, that’s it, you don’t think we’re good enough, how rude” Weirdy the Weasel feigned being hurt

                      “Oh, stop it Weirdy, we’re all fine, you’re right; let’s go now, we’ll see what comes when it comes…”


                      Frankly, Elizabeth didn’t know what had prompted her to start this little fable about talking animools.
                      It seemed so ridiculoos, and yet, she couldn’t help continuooing.

                      She sighed a breathe of relief thinking of all the amount of twooddle she’d written in the past and managed to boost into best-sellers. Of course, that was probably thanks to the commercial genioos of dear ol’ Bronkel. She may have been making a dear mistake in firing him just because Piggy Sooffleston (she couldn’t even write his name prooperly) had a catchy name and a nice smooking suit.

                      “Always the troolloop you little devil”, she chuckled to herself.
                      “But now, look at this… The critics will lacerate me if I can’t make it more appealing… I can’t really resort to that old soox trick again; it will all start to look a bit oosy; ahhaah, oozy poosy, she was funny…”

                      Let’s see what Lemone had to say for tooday:

                      It’s all what the plumbing part is about actually; why it feels significant to me now: it’s the connective aspect…

                      It was in his last inspirational work “Tools for the Cooties” and it had the wooirdest drawing together with it. Something looking like a woman’s broo, or a piece of white plastooc ploombing… She would have preferred some coonnected watermeloons instead…

                      Oh this one looks better; her to a Tooh!

                      Modesty is when you know you are perfect, but you never go further than telling that.


                        Tina!” At last Tina answered the phone. “Oh Tina, I’ve been trying to reach you all day! There’s something going on with Al and SamBecky blurted without so much as a How Doo Yoo Doo.

                        “What now?” asked Tina sleepily. “You woke me up, you know, I hope this is important.”

                        “They’re making funny tea, I’m sure of it” Becky replied. “Have you seen the latest entries they’ve made to the play?”

                        “I just told you Becky, I just woke up. I seriously doubt that anything in that play would surprise me, though. And so what if they’re drinking ‘funny tea’ anyway? Look who’s blimmen talking, Becky!”

                        “Precisely, my point exactly! They’re not sharing it! I want some too, don’t you?”

                        “Not really, Becky. I would quite like to go back to sleep though” Tina replied. “Why don’t you focus on your own entries to the play?”

                        “Oof, er pffoott” spluttered Becky. “Good pooint, Poubelle. Soorry I wooke yoou!”


                          Veranassesee woke up in a cold sweat.

                          She’d just found the treatment!For the stupid trio of the island who went all hairy after the strange experiments.
                          Of course, she wasn’t privy to the Doctor’s manipulations, being only here for security reasons, but one of her best assets was a knack for observation, and spotting of details.

                          What was the difference between the last seen alive not-become-hairy patient of the Doctor and the three Graces?

                          Easy as pie! Number IV had been mummified and not the others! Of course, not exactly disemboweled and put aside for brining… of course not. But wrapped tightly into bandages made of coconut coir. The coarseness of the bandages might have acted as a hair substitute during the transformation.

                          She had to find a means to tell the divas before it’s too late!

                          “Oh, forget it,” she yawned. She was really too tired for that; and probably praying for them would be the best she could do.


                          From Georges’ account of his first encounter with Phoebe Chesterhope. Part I

                          On that bright sunny day of June, 1852 I was impersonating the heir of an American family involved in weapon industry… taking advantage of a business trip for my father, I was enjoying the night life of Paris and naturally got closer to a certain Catherine whose family’s wealth was quite substantial. The first part of the scenario was almost done… I had to make her infatuated enough to make her ask her father to lend me a big amount of money I was supposed to use it as an investment in our family business that was flourishing and quite.

                          As we were approaching a jeweller’s of the Saint-Germain district, my eyes noticed a woman coming from the opposite direction. Definitely not from Paris, something surreal in her appearance caught my attention. It was not something physical, and it was obviously something I couldn’t name at that moment. Intrigued as I was, I still kept my conversation with Catherine going on. I was quite trained to spot my next preys while I was still playing with the previous one, and with a stranger it would be even easier. She entered the shop.

                          I maneuvered quite subtly to approach the window without being noticed, and while my companion was raving about some of the finely made necklace and bracelets, I was observing the woman. The owner had made her sit on a chair near the cashier and was bringing her some tea. I couldn’t help but notice how she dismissed him harshly right away after that; apparently he wasn’t the one she wanted to meet that day. The man seemed somewhat offended but soon enough regained composure: there were other clients in the shop and he made sure his assistants wouldn’t daydream unnoticed.

                          “Do you want to go inside, darling?” I suggested to my mate, “I’m sure the choice is more interesting if we speak to the right person.”

                          I knew I wouldn’t have any problem to bring her into that kind of place, and the look in her eyes was quite validating. It took me a brief moment and a persuasive tip to one of the shop attendant to explain that I wanted Catherine to choose what she desired. I wanted a fine piece of jewelry suiting her beauty. All I had to do was let the clerk show her different set of jewels and and just look as if it was unfair to her beauty and let her look for another one. In between, I was free to observe the other woman sideways.


                          From Georges’ account of his first encounter with Phoebe Chesterhope. Part II

                          She wasn’t paying attention to the other clients. She was like one of these statues at Madame Tussauds, still and beautiful, surrounded by mystery. Was she lost in her thoughts? Her rich clothes suggested that she was fortunate and the anxious look the jeweller was giving her every 2 minutes let me think that she was also quite influencing.

                          About ten minutes after we had entered the shop with Catherine, a man arrived. Small and bald, poorly dressed, he was carrying a parcel wrapped in a piece of rough fabric that he was holding very carefully. The owner almost jumped on him in his rush and told him something briefly before he introduced him to Madam Tussaud, her face suddenly filled up with life. Not that she was smiling or welcoming him in any manner, but her eyes were suddenly sparkling with determination. I realized that she was taking on herself not to look too obviously at the parcel.

                          “I expect you have a more private place so we can discuss our arrangement with mister…”
                          “Fessard, Madam. Roger Fessard.”
                          “Whatever…” she took her time to look openly at the other customers before she continued, staring reproachfully at the man. “I need some privacy to evaluate what he brought me.”

                          Her accent was almost perfect and her french flawless. But faking to be a stranger myself most of the time, I was sure she wasn’t from here… maybe Britain.

                          “Of course, Madam” said the owner in his conspicuous servile tone. He led Madam and Roger to a door behind the counter and they entered the room; the bald man put his packet on a table and began to unwrap it as Madam said sharply to the jeweller : “Leave us.” The damn man obeyed and closed the door before I could see anything more.


                          Having left her body, she realized that this incursion in her old dimension had exposed her body to a lot of strain. It was easier for her now that her attention wasn’t so clinched to the physical reality, it was more fluid and more comfortable. She was in a hurry, but she had to made some arrangements before or her beautiful physical expression would deteriorate too quickly. Looking at it from her current point of view, she felt compassion and sadness. Her face was so pale and covered in sweat, her hair so dishevelled. She gathered some long forgotten aspects which would knew how to take care of that situation. She had some big challenge ahead and it was important that when she came back her body would be readily available.

                          As for now, first of all she had to find that cube. It could help her localized the artifact she needed in her fight for the skulls. She vaguely remembered it was in a room to which there was an entry somewhere on this planet that she had left just before her departure to the Duane… so many years ago in her focus, and a bit mixed up with the non-linear time of that other dimension… well, she let her intuition guide her as it was the only way to find it; she felt that something in the energy outside was facilitating also, she could feel the ripples but… she had no time to find out what it could be. She already had lost so much time taking care of her body.

                          After what seemed to be eons, she eventually found the door well hidden in a cave in Venezuela. The condition of the place surprised her, the cave was quite humid and muddy, the door wood was almost completely rotten, not mentioning the frame of eroded stones. She couldn’t remember why she chose these elements when she created this entry on earth, but apparently she didn’t put enough energy in it and her attention had been away for so long that it was crumbling apart. She didn’t have time for recrimination at the moment so she moved through the door and her presence lightened up the inner room.

                          It was a place in between dimensions, an inner study from where she could gather and connect her discoveries in the different places she had visited; a good place to plan her next moves. The room was well equiped to find missing objects too. All she had to do was find that missing cube…

                          It had to be close to the center, in a manner of speaking at equal distance from the different dimensions that were connected to it. She had to be careful in the process as some parts of the study were close enough of other dimensions that she would forget all about what she was looking for. There was a potentiality for disengagement here and that wouldn’t help her at all.

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