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 - 1,121 through 1,140 (of 1,160 total)
    • Author
    • #1251

      Siobahn had a few more cages to rattle before she she made her way to the meeting. The Freakus management had invited a spokesman from the S.E.C.R.E.T. department (otherwise known as Special Exploration Corps of Really Entertaining Trivia) to give a speech on the art of C.R.A.P.S. (also known as the Coordinated Redistribution of Ambiguously Protected Secrets). All staff were expected to attend the meeting, which unfortunately meant that Siobhan had to refuse an invitation to the F.U.N. picnic (otherwise known as Foundation of Unimportant Nonsense to Those In The Show, which, dear reader, you will recall are also known as T.I.T.S.)

      Siobhan rattled the last few cages on her list, and made her way back to her caravan. She had an hour to relax before the meeting so she turned the portable channelvision on and settled herself comfortably on the sofa to surf through the channels. The first channel she landed on was twitching and shouting, ‘The present is not a result of the past, orlright? Orlright, orlright’; the next channel was chuckling and saying with a sly grin, ‘…that would be your choice…”. Flicking through a few more channels, hearing the words ascended higher density love and light and light and love and all is one stuff, Siobahn kept surfing. Sheesh, they are all just saying the same thing, over and over again, she thought to herself, same old same old, blah blah blah… what she wouldn’t have given for some new channel to say something completely different.

      Pfft. Siobahn turned off the channelvision and stood up. She made up her mind in the moment to go to the F.U.N. picnic anyway, and bugger the meeting. Maybe she would even start channeling something completely different, just for some bloody variety. Cage Rattling was in her blood, after all, she was a born Cage Rattler and it seemed to her that the whole channelvision empire was getting altogether too samey.


      Jobson Batt and Ernie Young were taking a vacation in between so called natural disasters, as the financial disaster claimed the populations attention. They knew that the result of the energy being pushed from pillar to post as everyone fretted and worried about the monetary system would manifest in some natural disasters, and they knew they would have their work cut out as highly skilled members of the DDT team (otherwise known as Disaster Damage Team) in due course. Meanwhile, they had the foresight to take a well earned break while the attention of the population was otherwise engaged.

      Unable to settle on just one destination, they opted for a World Cruise.


      Evangeline Spiggot slammed the telephone down. Another call from someone wanting that other DDT company, Dead Dick Tracy Productions. Business was slow at Disaster Damage Team, with Jobson and Ernie on holiday, but Evangeline was left holding the fort, just in case a major disaster came in, in which case she would inform Jobson and Ernie on their cruise ship. It was boring sitting there alone in the office though, and Evangeline decided that the next wrong number she answered, she would pretend to be Dead Dick Tracy, just for a laugh.


        Godfrey, I seem to have rather alot of Felicity’s. I had no idea there were so many,” Elizabeth said to her friend and publisher, Godfrey Pig Littleton. “I don’t know which Felicity is which now.”

        “Well, which Felicity did you have in mind, dear? Felicity the downstairs maid? Or Felicity the DDT celebrity channeler?” asked Godfrey with a smirk. “Oh, was it perhaps Felicity the bridal goddess?”

        “Oh stop! Now I’m thoroughly confused again.”

        “Well, give me a clue old bean, what is the year in question? That should narrow it down.” Godfrey suggested.

        “Are you mad?” screeched Elizabeth. “Are you mad? The last thing I’m likely to remember is what year it was, you know I always get the time lines all wrong. Well, you of all people should know that, Godfrey”.

        “Well since you mention it, Liz, there is the question of the unlikelihood of portable channelvisions in travelling circus caravans in the year 1856, and I can’t help wondering how you’re going to rectify ….”

        “Don’t you keep trying to rectify me, you old bounder! I have a plan for that, don’t you worry.”


          The F.U.N. picnic was rather conveniently located within the Elsespace Arrangement , which in practical terms meant that individuals from any time or space could meet within the parameters of Elsespace without having to worry about continuity or time lines. Elsespace arrangements were located anywhere and everywhere, so to speak ~ being hard, by definition, to define. The Elsespace was gaining in popularity, which was hardly surprising. If anything was surprising, it was that it hadn’t caught on sooner. The result of the surge in favour was that almost all social events were now* held in The Elsespace Arrangement.

          *Note: Any now


            “We need something new, Felicity, something completely different.” Annabel Ingman had invited Felicity Albright, the star of DDT, into her office. “We’ve got 56 channelers on our books now, and they are all saying the same thing! It’s ridiculous!”

            “Well I just say what pops into my head, Annabel, that is my job description…” Felicity was feeling defensive.

            “What I’m saying, dear” replied Annabel, “Is that we don’t need another 55 all saying the same thing as you. If you are all saying the same thing, then where is the drama? Where is the conflict? For heavens sake, girl, where are the sales?”

            “Well I tell you what Annabel, I’m going to the F.U.N. picnic in the Elsespace Arrangement later, I’ll ask around, ok?”


              — We’re running out of coffee!
              — Bloody ran out of cigarettes for days now!
              — There’s a more serious thing here… We’re running out of steam!
              — Are we landing yet?!
              — Where’s my suntan lotion!?
              — Brace yourself, it’s gonna be a crash landing!
              — eeEEEK!


                “Don’t bother me with that now, Godfrey! Can’t you see I’m swamped with ideas? I’ve got so many things to write I simply don’t know where to start. Which is why I’m starting right here and now, with the issue of the writer being overloaded with potential story lines.”

                Elizabeth ran her hands through her hair distractedly, and impatiently pushed the miniature giraffe off her lap.

                “Relax, Liz”. Singularly unruffled, Godfrey picked up the giraffe and stroked his neck. “Tranquilo, Lizzie, tranquilo!”

                “What? Oh, well done Godfrey, that’s taken care of one thing off my list then! One of my theme words had to be a foreign word.” Elizabeth started to relax. “And what finer word is there than tranquilo, eh, what a marvellous word.”

                “Indeed” replied Godfey “But is that the correct usage of the creative writing theme words? I mean, really, you could just write ‘Liz had a list of theme words and they were a foreign word, dual~duel, marmalade sunrise, appreciate and adore, summer rain, beyond the horizon’ and leave it at that, couldn’t you?”

                Godfrey, you are clever!” Elizabeth congratulated herself. “But what about all the other ideas?”

                “Well, why not start by making a list? Jot down a few clues. Or just start writing, and see what happens. I’ll put the kettle on while you make a start, fancy a cuppa?”

                “Oooh yes please! Finnley bought some new teabags this week, quite spicy they are as well.”

                Godfrey sniggered as he disappeared into the kitchen, calling over his shoulder “Have you got any of those gingerbread men left?”


                “Well, what a coincidence!” exclaimed Bea, as her freind Baked Bean Barb described the book she had just started reading. It was all about ancient inscriptions in Antartica, which was what Bea had been reading about online just before Barb arrived.

                “Some of it’s fact” Barb was saying “But the rest of it’s made up; interesting though!”

                “Oh, I can’t wait til they find remains of the civilization under the ice there!” Bea said, to which Barb replied “There’s no civilization there. Nope. There’s nothing ever been found, nothing at all scientifically proven about that. The book’s fiction.”

                “Well, they haven’t found it yet, Barb ~ if the scientists had proof, it would be found already. Until things are found they don’t exist?”

                “There’s nothing there, there’s no proof!” Barb said firmly, shaking her head.

                “What about all the new things we keep finding out about, before we knew about them, they didn’t exist, is that what you mean?” Bea persisted, trying to get her point accross. Then she wondered why she was trying to get her point accross in the first place. She knew what her point was.

                Well, at least I think I do, she said to herself.

                “Fancy a cuppa, Barb? Leo bought some nice nettle teabags, how’s that sound?”

                Ooh yes please! Got anymore of those gingerbread men?”

                Sometimes the actual point wasn’t at all the same thing as the point you thought you were making. Bea gave herself points for noticing this, although she wasn’t at all sure what the point of the whole thing was, objectively anyway. Distraction tactics always worked, but once summoned, the distractions were indiscriminate and chaotic. On the way to the kitchen to put the kettle on, Bea glanced out of the window and noticed a shaft of light illuminating the rocks and casting deep shadows into the crevices, the resulting effect looking for all the world like mysterious ancient inscriptions. She reached out for her camera, which was always conveniently handy, as she strode out of the door, single minded in pursuit of the capture of a moment of light as if drawn by a magnet, or reeled in like a fish.

                Barb eventually found her, some 57 minutes later, pruning the oleander down by the stream.


                Australia, Uluru, Dec. 2035

                Sam wasn’t very fond of the Ooh dimension adventures; he didn’t yet have inserted a focus (or foocoos) here for that matter. And he was too engrossed in the City creation planning to design a few parks there anyway.

                He just had his first night under the stars, on the freshly built wooden floor on top of a jujubaobab tree in the middle of the park where he could see the patterns he wanted to insert on the gardens. It looked a bit like the French gardens in the Versailles gardens most of his focuses liked so much in the past. He was aware of Yann, his shifting focus, who was precisely visiting the gardens at that same simultaneous time, with friends and family.
                He laughed when he projected to him, and overheard a discussion where Yurick was pointing to a typo he made about the Jeff Kuuntz expo that was there. Decidedly, Yann had the same dislike of the Ooh dimension, preferring the Uuh’s.

                When he started to go to sleep, the feelings started to blur in a strange mixture of imageries…


                Jeff had strange dreams that night. He was singing Tumuuld to a certain Elizabeth who was speaking all funny, and playing djudjuriduu on the treetops, surrunded by inflated magunta colured balluuns…
                Sometimes it tuuk his breathe away how life was strunge, but cuul.


                Bea was looking at the book Barb had brought.

                “Gosh it’s big…”
                “Yeah, wish they’ll make the next one lighter”
                “Sure, they could stop like at the 1444th…”
                “Oh, great idea Bea! That would be lovely, that’s the number of the angels”
                “What you’re sayin’ again Leo?”
                “4-4-4: that’s the number of the angels! Everybody knows that!”
                “Mmm Circle of Fours… well, doesn’t have the same ring though…”
                “Like you know anything about rings just because you’ve been a professional wrestler Bea, tsk…” Leo rolled her eyes


                “Hey Leo, I had a blinding revelation last night, after Barb left.”

                “Well, do tell, Bea, I’m all ears” said Leonora with an encouraging smile, pouring herself a cup of tea.

                “Well the moment was far clearer than I can explain it but it went something like this” Bea continued. “Bearing in mind that the FOCUS DIRECTS so the question of ‘directing’ essence is another choice of puzzle piece of the individual puzzle game at any moment…”

                “Ye-es” replied Leonora, making an effort to concentrate.

                “To connect to an individual focus is but a baby step towards being able to comprehend the interconnectedness of everything that you create, and that it is all in fact you.” Bea went on, adding “Like a beginner stage as it were, to keep it manageable.”

                “Keeping it manageable sounds like a good idea” interjected Leo, pointedly glancing around at the disorder in the kitchen.

                Unperturbed, Bea continued “You draw to yourself parts or, if you like, focus points or other focuses of All That Is —of the whole that are at that moment useful.”

                “Sounds reasonable, Bea, do continue. Pass the gingerbread men, would you?”

                “All of the characters in the stories I write, for example, are my focuses in a manner of speaking, as are all the characters in anything I bring into my world my focuses if I choose to SEE THEM FOR A MOMENT FROM THEIR FOCUS VIEWPOINT.”

                “Ok, ok, no need to shout!”

                “I’m not shouting, Leo, let me finish and stop interrupting! Adding another focus is an analogy in a way for adding another focus or point of view to mine.
                Dividing the actions of adding focus viewpoints into sections is useful in order to comprehend the scope of possible actions, but only initially, and as more actions are experienced objectively, the sections and labels become limiting and confining.” Bea paused for a sip of coffee and a long draw on her cigarette. “But they do keep it manageable to some degree, it must be said” she added.

                “Yes, keep it manageable, by all means, couldn’t agree more”

                “Everyone’s puzzle game is their own,” Bea was on a roll. “And the same puzzle piece, or other focus in this case, for one, would fit equally well into a completely different puzzle game of someone else’s because all of the surrounding puzzle pieces of each individuals puzzle game are created in each moment and are chosen for their relevance to that moment.”

                “Good point, dear.”

                “Likewise an individuals puzzle game is a new one in each moment and the puzzle pieces are interchangeable within the same puzzle game, depending on their relevance to the moment and the chosen surrounding puzzle pieces.”

                As usual with blazing flashes of illumination, Bea found that they were hard to form into words, and when she did manage to get them into words, they look so screamingly obvious.

                “Does that make sense to you, Leo?” she asked.

                “Er, I think so Bea, I’m getting the gist…”

                Interrupting, Bea continued to describe her revelations to her now glassy eyed friend. “And on the subject of trusting, doubting, confusion and so on”

                “Oh, yes, confusion…”

                “We are here shiftING, not shiftED, this is what we are choosing.
                With the variety of viewpoints we have, the shifted and the unshifted and the semi-shifted, there is always something new to notice from yet another new perspective. Why not get really enthusiastic about the ride itself instead of planning how to float through it with the least fuss ~ it’s more fun on the helter skelter with its many perspectives and view points than on the mill pond for those of us who choose shiftING.”

                “I dunno, Bea, from my perspective floating on a millpond sounds rather pleasant.”

                “Well, at least now we know that what we don’t know is there to know.”

                “Yes, there’s no doubt about that!” relied Leonora, “Have you finished? That was all very interesting but don’t forget we invited everyone over for the Yule Boulder Moving party. We should get a move on with the preparations you know”



                  Following Dory’s example, Yann had subscribe to the daily Universe’s messages. The first time she’d showed him the messages it appeared to be very fun and encouraging, but since he had subscribed, the messages he was receiving were very odd and more like what a spoiled child could tell you.
                  Yann had been fed up all day long by the last message in which the Universe had apparently told him that He, The Universe was all knowing and had everything but He won’t give a bit to Yann because!

                  Wow! That was a bit rude of Him, Yann thought… better not send anything… maybe he can tell Him next time to go fuck Himself.

                  All day long the irritation triggered by that simple note was gathering other tensions… it was like each time he was receiving a phone call, the caller’s energy would be scattered and distracting… and most irritating. Yann was feeling like other people had so many expectations for him and he couldn’t order his ideas or find a distraction.

                  All of the imagery would reflect him the same thing, unexpected answers from the Universe.

                  “Don’t wait for something particular, because each time it will present itself in a different way.”

                  At the end of the day, Yann was puzzled and annoyed… and the text messages he had been receiving on his mobile phone started again.

                  Apparently a girl was waiting for some call or message from a guy called “Did”, and she was persuaded that Yann’s number was that guy’s number. At first, Yann wouldn’t answer any of the messages and play the role of /dev/null/ endpoint of the Universe… After each message though, his irritation was growing accordingly…

                  He sent a message signed by The Universe and told the girl he was not who she thought he was and that she could as well try another random number to find her “Did”. But well, engrossed as she was in her passion, she answered him by a question : Who was he and why would he use “Did”‘s phone?

                  Hopefully Yurick was present… Yann as a good soft would have matched the energy of the Bitch but instead he sent he a last message, wishing her good luck in her quest. No need to add to her distress or the polarization in sending her a message like : Apparently your guy didn’t want to see you again if he’d given you this number…

                  Well, the “truth” still hadn’t made its way to her intellect though, she had sent him another message telling him she’d knew it from the beginning, that Yann was Did’s girlfriend and that she/he was trying to keep him/Did for her/him.

                  That’s when had some kind of striking revelation… The Universe was called Pedro!
                  And when he told that to Yurick, he chuckled and told Yann that the Universe was called Michael…
                  “They’re all angels lately, so it’s the name of an angel…”

                  Why not?


                  With all of Dory’s last epiphanies in the loo, Yann and Yurick advised her to patent her invention as soon as possible.

                  She could call it “Loo-Koom”, and brand it with a catch phrase in the vein of “Loo-Koom, sit down, and Looght will Koom”…


                  Monica del Apio couldn’t understand why he kept telling her she had the wrong number. Frank Diddly-Squat had had the same phone number for years, but for the past two days, he ~ or someone using his phone ~ was refusing to admit to any knowledge of Frank.


                  “Jacques?” Increasingly perplexed, Monica called Franks friend at the laboratory. “Can I speak to Jacques Schitt please?”


                  Jacques Schitt and Frank Diddley Squat were time-travelling artemesium absinthium salesmen. Diddley Squat had not returned from his last trip, and Jacques had just been informed that Frank’s phone was being answered by an imposter. The Absinthium Pirates has been unusually active of late, and Jacques was concerned.

                  The Time Travelling Absinthe Pirates were bright green in colour, and were often mistaken for aliens, depending on the timeframe they were visiting.


                  Yann got the phone call. It was a bit early where they were now living with Yurick, so he inferred that the call was probably coming from France. Looking at the caller ID, the familiar +33 index made him smile; it was indeed from France.


                  The clear young voice was unmistakable.

                  Hey, Chiara, comment ça va?

                  His niece was now a young pretty damsel, and still, Yann still remembered her fondly as the little baby who was dancing with great amusement at the sound of any music.
                  It has been long they had talked, and they chatted for awhile.

                  “Uncle Yann, can I ask you something?”
                  “Sure sweetie, what do you want to know?”
                  “I found stuff you wrote some time ago, about Alienor, and dragons, and these stories are fascinating… I want to know more about it; tell me…”


                  Artemesium Absinthium was a very sought-after trance inducing beverage.

                  Its secret recipe was traced back from as early as the little known Carpathian Sisterhood, and allegedly written on the prophetic toilet paper scrolls of Dildegarde von Bicken.

                  It was thought to contain a few identifiable ingredients; mainly: leek and watermelon juice, goatweed and cabbage, and possibly either mushroomic pee or toad warts.

                  (From The Early Lore of the Carpathian Sisterhood, by Henry Gin)


                    “Ok so now we have time travelling absinthe vampires, who suck the pee out of the time travelling absinthium salesmen?” Becky laughed. “Or would that be the reindeer pee salesmen? Otherwise known as Santa Clauses ahahah.” The idea was starting to sound strangely plausible. “Santa Claus is really a time travelling reindeer pee salesman from the gnome dimension ~ we were getting it so distorted because of our beliefs!”

                    Al rolled his eyes and passed her a map of the Carpathian Mountains.


                      The discussion had been going on for hours. Yann was feeling more relaxed than he had been during the afternoon, he was lying on the sofa, his legs on Yurick’s lap.
                      It was mostly Yurick who was speaking, Yann was listening and participating in some kind of soft energy exchange :) it was as if his point of view was being reflected by what Yurick was saying and all he needed was punctuate the conversation with ‘Yes’, ‘No’, ‘Ah’ and ‘mmmm’… well I exaggerate here but most of the time, Yann didn’t feel the need to expand much on any particular subject with words.

                      Feeling more comfortable and secure, Yann was letting feelings and emotions surface, old memories and associations were swirling around and none of them was particularly appealing for him to mention… except one.

                      “You know what, Yurick? When I was a kid there was that magician that I was afraid of… Romuald Borax… well he still frightens me.”

                      Saying that he felt a shiver crawling along his back. Yurick was staring at him, not knowing what to tell and Yann continued.

                      “He was always trying to demonstrate that people were fake”.

                      By People, Yann was meaning people involved in paranormal activities such as psychics, channelers, people who pretended to have telekinetic abilities… there was some animal reaction to him, Yann was feeling a deep repulsion and dislike of the man.

                      “Well, you know, it was also a good thing that he was skeptic…”

                      Yann wouldn’t listen to what Yurick was saying… that man was really willing to destroy them!!! how could Yurick not see it? These thoughts were like absolutes, thick concrete walls that couldn’t be overridden. Though Yann wouldn’t oppose anything, he was aware that his reaction to the man was triggered by some unclear associations. He couldn’t just evaluate them at the moment.

                      The day after, Yann didn’t pay attention when Dory mentionned a movie she had been watching called The Illusionist, his attention wasn’t on that aspect then… but another day after, he made the connection.

                      He realized that he had always been feeling as if he was in danger himself because he wanted to explore these areas. It was as if there was a pending threat upon his life because of his very interests and that if he made them known he would be made fun of and maybe worst, he could be locked up. The realization that Yann wasn’t directly threatened by that individual was enough to let him relax his energy about the man. He could see that he was safe in his exploration and that he had nothing to prove to the world or anybody in particular.

                      Yann even smiled at the thought that this illusionist wouldn’t realize that he was basing his protocol upon the biggest illusion.

                    Viewing 20 replies - 1,121 through 1,140 (of 1,160 total)
                    • The topic ‘Circle of Eights, Stories’ is closed to new replies.