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  • #846
    TracyTracy
    Participant

      Crisp fluttered to the floor as Becky drifted off to sleep. She was having an odd dream, in which she was hugging Sam. I’m so glad you don’t drink Sam, she said, emotionally, in the dream.

      Well, I do have an occasional pint down at the Duck and Firken, you know, he replied.

      You know what I mean, Sam. All those years with Sean, hoping it would all work out…her dream voice trailed off sadly….

      Hey Becky, it wasn’t a waste! Look at all the lovely children you had!

      Becky felt her dream self smile ruefully. Well, it hasn’t exactly been a picnic either, you know….

      She woke up sweating and confused. Good grief, all WHAT children! What a dreadful nightmare!

      She was wiping the beads of sweat from her forehead when Sean popped his head round the door.

      I’m popping out for a beer, Becky, won’t be long.

      Holy Moly, Becky whispered under her breath.

      #789
      TracyTracy
      Participant

        Becky sneezed again, and shivering, reached for the box of tissues. She was choosing to align with those old fashioned ‘catching a cold’ beliefs because, frankly, she wanted to spend a few days wrapped up in her dressing gown idly flicking through magazines and taking naps and not doing anything much.

        Sean appeared with a tray.

        I’ve made you a nice pot of Earl Grey, and buttered some scones for you, dear. How are you feeling? I’ve done the laundry but I think the nun outfit has shrunk.

        Becky blushed. Oh well never mind that, eh.

        I’ll get you another one, Sean said hopefully.

        Maybe a trench coat and some thigh boots instead, suggested Becky, recalling her drenching in the park in the tarty nun outfit. More practical.

        Sean grinned and sloped off to do some dusting. Call me if you want anything, he called over his shoulder.

        Becky picked up another magazine from the pile next to her. Crisp, it was called, and had a photograph of Sue Flay and the Ova Tones on the front cover.

        #1916
        F LoveF Love
        Participant

          T: I kind of feel attracted to a sort of PG Wodehouse kind of agatha christie era

          #1918
          F LoveF Love
          Participant

            T: if I can get the eggletons into the story I’ll be all set
            F: well the oogletons are in the story
            F: in the ooh dimension
            T: I need a new characters who are doing the eggletons story, thats what I need
            T: yes
            F: oh well cool
            F: and i will mock them in the oogleton thread then
            F: that will be fun
            T: yes, that will slide me easily back in
            T: to the story
            F: yes
            T: and the eggletons can then relate to various other threads
            T: which was the key point
            F: :yahoo_rofl:
            T: about new threads
            T: :yahoo_rofl:
            F: yes, do what you love and fuck the rest
            T: hahahahah
            F: basically was the key point
            T: yes1
            T: that it exactly
            T: attention to self
            F: oh yes
            F: much nicer
            T: if its not fun dont do it
            T: it matters not

            #1917
            F LoveF Love
            Participant

              T: and it was so much more relaxing not to emention amusing, because I wasnt aiming anywhere in particular
              T: wasnt looking for anything
              T: so didnt get frustrating
              F: yeah
              T: maybe thats why I often have more fun introducing a new character to the story, than trying to work out a seqyence
              T: and looking for ways to make the thread fit together
              T: I can make a new thread fit into the old threads, but cant seem to make an old thread carry on
              F: to me, that is because of expectations
              T: hhmm that sounds marvellously profound but the meaning escapes me
              T: yes
              F: i start to become concerned it is right, fits in with what other people are expecting to happen
              T: yes!
              T: thats so true
              F: whereas, if i was free from that, i could make anything happen
              T: yes
              T: that is pround
              F: and i think that is my next challenge
              T: I bet its a KEY
              F: ahahhaahha
              F: yes
              F: a key
              T: it is
              T: well we should remeber that
              F: yes
              F: it will be much easier then
              T: write it up F in a nice post
              F: ahahhah
              T: or remind me to try
              F: shall we just post a snippet of our conversation
              F: so that it is recorded
              T: yes, would you do that?
              F: okay
              T: yes, I agree it needs to be recorded
              T: I am incklined to think, from my POV anyway, that if I could remeber that key point, and apply it to all areas, not jutst the story, then the entire story will have been worth it just fr that one key point
              F: oh yes
              T: (I have already forgotten what it was)
              F: :yahoo_rofl:
              T: :yahoo_rofl:
              T: scrolling back….
              T: oh yes
              T: :yahoo_rofl:
              F: :yahoo_rofl:
              T: well I hink I have just given myself permission to start a new thread

              #843

              The new colors of The Snoot were making Anita giggle a lot. Its liquid fur was iridescent and blazing rhythmically more and more intensely.
              Armelle was getting more and more irritated, with no reason at all, the owl :y_orly: was rolling her eyes furiously :yahoo_rolling_eyes:
              Yuki :bunny_head: was trying to keep track of the conversation because he thought it was going berserk and not leading anywhere, while Araili :cat_confused: seemed to be distracted by a dead :mouse: still moving its tail and Rafaela :goat: was talking limerick with a funny accent.

              Akita and Kay were arguing about some point of detail of how they had arrived here.

              The bunch of friends were not aware of what was approaching and how it was influencing them. Maybe the Snoot was, but the Snoot didn’t think it could be of use to warn them, they were far enough from the hole.

              #841

              Jarvis was dozing in a dark corner of the kitchen. He was dreaming of bees, he had been assigned to the bee keeping a few weeks ago, just after the “incident”. He was one man the Dr could trust. In a previous life, he was keeping bees as a family business. But an accident with the bees led to his dismissal by his uncle. A regrettable accident, too much smoke, too much dead bees. Jarvis had been thinking of a sabotage, surely he had been framed but as he was thinking of quiting this poor paid job, it was also a perfect occasion.

              He had been engaged as a security agent… sort of. He had to pretend to be a gardener and not awake suspicion among the others. The funny thing is that he had soon been contacted by another organization, and had been offered quite a good price. All he had to do was observe and dream. Unfortunately, the man, Claude, who had approached him was disguised as a patient… and he had disappeared after the “incident”. Since then Jarvis had been having strange dreams of mummies, magpies, there was even one with 3 eyes 2 nights ago :yahoo_waiting:

              The light was turned on abruptly. Someone was arriving, still hidden by the tables and shelves.
              With the sound of the heels on the tiled floor, that was a woman… or the Doctor.
              A little twinge told him not to let him be noticed yet. He moved his head silently in a position from which he could see who it was.
              Oh! that big athletic woman, Vasse.
              Claude had told him about her. Jarvis had to be very cautious, because she was of another organization… another :cat_confused: he was calling her agent V. Well Jarvis wasn’t curious enough to ask any further detail, there were already too much to remember.

              She was doing something with a little jar of a brown substance, and brought a spoon full at her mouth. Her sudden coughing and spitting almost made him fall off his chair. But hopefully with all the noise she hadn’t noticed. Mumbling, she was heading toward the fridge. Was she possibly aware of…

              Yes! she was taking the plate with the honeycomb… he’d have to move quickly.
              As she was considering the modified honeycomb, he realized that she was about to eat it. So she didn’t know. :-? He had to warn her.

              — I wouldn’t touch that if I were you, Agent V…

              #836

              Anita was playing with her new friend.
              The Snoot, it had told her was its name. The Snoot was very ancient, very curious tooo.
              The Snoot was asking loads of question, though they weren’t formulated with words, because the Snoot wasn’t speaking. It was too slow for the Snoot.

              Nonetheless she was giggling, distracted from the preoccupations of Akita and the others.

              #835

              Some sort of bug may have landed on his nose, provoking one of the most astounding sneezing the twins had ever heard.
              Irtak was busy scratching his nostrils while Heckle and Jeckle were trying to find out where they could possibly be, what was that reality again? It felt familiar but different.
              Well, the sky was quite cloudy, and they remembered that they were in the Marshes of Doom, in a different time period than their hatch time.
              Heckle stretched his long neck and sniffed the loaded damp smells.
              Jeckle bent his neck, he had found something odd… could that be a dragon egg? That was quite fitting with the brown soil. It was looking like a normal stone. It wasn’t ready to hatch soon. He felt Irtak was intrigued by his discovery, though his twin was already distracted by a huge dragonfly, a blue one with golden shades.

              Should we bring it back with us, asked Irtak.

              The puzzled look of his friend was enough… He wouldn’t be able to tell if it was there before they arrived. He wouldn’t be able to tell since when they were at this place… all his memories were blurred since they left the cave. There was no feeling or urge though, no feeling of being late. His attention gradually drifted away from the egg and they eventually decided to come back to Malvina and the travelers.

              #834

              Five months.
              If he recalled well, it was barely five months (five months and five days perhaps) he’d had that dreamYurick was thinking distractedly, while munching on his toast of vegemoth, crumbs falling in his cup of lotus flavoured tuo-cha.
              Only five months! It had felt like ages had passed, lifetimes even…
              Energy realisations went really fast these days, once the prime idea was here. And for sure it had been floating around for quite some time, but truly it had been a quick birthing, and rather painless too.

              He was suddenly brought to his sense —and a certain idea of reality— when he saw Dory’s chat window flicker. He almost spluttered his tea on the screen as he saw the egg pictures she had just posted on her new social playground. A dark website of kinky appearance, where her new friends would probably guess eggs where her fetish and fifty-seven an exotic tantric position they’d be blissfully whipped with a wisp of fresh nettles to get taught.
              Well energy could take many shapes and forms, and for sure, five months ago, he wouldn’t have guessed one of these forms would be vegemoth and oval-shaped sex-toys.

              Speaking of vegemoth, he smiled as he saw the level of the dark brown salty paste noticeably diminishing in the small jar. Since he and Yann had been initiated by Dory to that strange Australian shamanic drug, and the unknown pleasures and twisted dream and trance induction it provides, they had been surprised to find it legally displayed for sell on their usual store at the exotic-mysterious-and-potentially-lethal-Eastern-products shelf. Along with an even stronger version of it, they’d been told… MARMOTH that Yann had consented they would get after the vegemoth would be eaten.

              Ahahaha… At that rate, that would happen before they know it!

              #828

              What really was Salitre’s mound? For most people around this valley, who had forgotten about the old times, it was nothing more than a rocky and steep piece of earth, barely good enough for Barbary sheep and piglets.
              In fact, when you were coming from the new macadamized roads encircling the mountains, it could almost slip unnoticed. But when, like Granny Mosca, you knew the paths for having worn countless shoes walking on them, you could no longer ignore the towering presence of this place.
              For her, it was a magical realm, a doorstep truly.

              Granny Mosca was the official owner of this place, though she preferred to think of it as being the gatekeeper.
              She kept a few animals up there, and went everyday here to feed them, pacing up and down the treacherous paths despite her old age.

              Something you couldn’t really realize until you first reached the top of the mound was that the mound was at the center of the valley, giving an impressive view miles and miles around. In that land of mountains, it could be just another peak among others, but when you were here, you knew it wasn’t.
              Granny Mosca had felt it many times, this surge of energy, almost as if there were streams flowing down the surrounding slopes, up to the top of Salitre’s mound. At special times of the year, it was like you could feel the dwellers of the past moving around… At this very spot were almond trees were now growing.

              Those tourists who came a few days ago where funny. Especially the blond woman, with the high-pitched laugh who had come a few times here already.
              For sure Granny Mosca didn’t fear that they discover anything, as the place had knew how to shroud itself without her for ages, even before she was born. In fact, it was the contrary. She was willing to share some of the secrets to people daring enough and open-minded enough to crack some of these nuts of wisdom.
              The land would tell them…

              That is… unless they left the bag of almonds to the dogs…

              #825

              When he first witnessed how the traveling portals worked, Badul had been greatly impressed. No such magic existed on Asgurdy, and even though is was supposed to be a small portal, it was greater magic than anything his imagination could have devised.
              He and his crew were so much impressed that Badul had required his small crew to settle down so that they can study further the thing. Tomkin had frowned a bit, as he was eager to continue and above all to leave this uncharted district ruled by a fierce warlord (or “governor”, as it was required to address him) in a moistly forest miles away from any living creature, but then again, Badul’s orders were not to be discussed.

              The portal was constituted of a wide circle of heavy limestones, with two crossing arched vaults made of limestones too, with smaller blue stones incrustations of various shapes tucked into round holes regularly scattered along the vaults. These smaller stones could apparently be rearranged, and Tomkin and Badul quickly figured out they were used to determine the coordinates of the various places they would be traveling to. This portal, they’ve been explained had a set of other stones, ocher and dark red ones which were not part of the traditional set of the main network on the continent. Their design was not overly displayed as the others which were left on the portal at all times. They were carried on the spot by one of the generals of the local governor, and used under strict guidelines, for fear that the parallel network would be uncovered.

              It took Badul a dozen of hexades to relinquish his fear of the unknown magic that made people disappear and reappear in thin air. He was a brave man, and that which he could see with his own eyes was no longer deemed irrational. It was very real, and he could use it. And there was no point in delaying the experience of it, as it was the only way for him to conquer his turmoil.

              So, on that fine morning of the falling season, he decided to move. Genflik Thran, the local governor, had come to appreciate the help Badul and his men had provided him in loading and unloading the cargoes of goods which were banned on various parts of the Warring Kingdoms nonetheless traded on the black market with great benefits, and occasionally escorting them to some of the nearest villages. But the deal had been made clear from the start: he would allow Badul and his men to use the network in exchange of two hexades of service. In fact, they had repaid the debt largely already.
              So he agreed to let them go on their journey and provided him and and his crew enough supply to continue their trip for quite some days. And as a token of appreciation, he allowed Badul to choose his destination, a privilege that was rarely granted, as usually people where glad to take whatever ship was about to depart.

              Badul turned to Tomkin, wondering where they could go next.
              “There are a few villages I heard of” Tomkin said after having pondered, “in the valleys down Mount Elok’ram. I heard this place is the tallest of the World, and is full of ancient powerful magic. Perhaps we can go to one of these villages, as I don’t think there is any portal on the top of the mountains.”
              “Ahaha, yes, you’re right” had smiled Genflik Thran “I’ve been heard there is a monastery on top of this mountain, but no portal unless you go in the valleys. Not that they couldn’t have built one, but they thought it would soon become too crowded and… how did they said? Yeah, unholy… with the ease of a portal access. Now, perhaps that with the new Abbott, it will change… who knows. We already have approached him, and he seems a man with a nice sense of compromise, for the good of all, ahahaha!”
              “What’s this village called?”, asked Badul
              Chard Dut Jep “ answered Genflik Thran “I have a local contact there, a witchy woman, with some sense for business too, when you’re there, ask for her, people call her Madame Chesterhope. Just don’t forget to mention you are coming on my advise, or else the bitch might reserve you a trick or two of her own, ahahaha!”.
              To Chard Dut Jep then!” cheered Badul, and his crew echoed with him.

              #824

              Midora was perplexed. These books were like an open-ended uncharted territory. That territory was so vast and fractal-like in nature that each attempt at following a single thread seemed daunting. There were always details growing like a reckless plant from the entry points where she started her investigations. Badul seemed lost in this jungled maze.
              Last time she’d tried to connect, she ended up with another focus of his, a child, vaguely related to the crystal skulls hunt.

              All it requires is a proper compass to navigate the thought suddenly appeared in her mind as clear as daylight, carrying with it a trail of concepts and clusters of associated ideas.
              One in particular…
              She’d had that book of designs she’d always loved to read when she was a child. It was full of colorful symbols which were called by the authors “tiles”. The authors associated some properties to them, and she remembered one which was about a compass…
              So she had found a compass… Now, she would have to learn how to use it. The introduction of the book said:

              The tiles presented in this book all have different functions; they can be primarily understood as focal points which enhance specific uses of energy. […] As far as we know, they can be discovered in many situations, either objective events (e.g. something that catches your gaze in the street) or in the subjective (dreams, visions, inspirations etc.). In both cases, the recognition is instantaneous, as each tile carries a distinctive energetic signature which is the essence of its “function”, so to speak.
              As such, it can be used theoretically in both situations (subjective and objective), though, as far as we have explored, subjective interaction with them seem to be the easiest and most quickly rewarding way of accessing them.

              Subjective interaction, yes that was child’s play, she would have said, though she could vaguely understand why people before the Shift completed had more trouble accessing it. Objective wasn’t so difficult, once you get to the idea that it’s all one, and you can easily switch from each of the attentions used to focus on them.

              The only thing that doesn’t seem to change, she thought, is the numbering. Even when the events shuffle through the pages and reorder themselves, or even when the very energy of the event subtly changes, their numbers were the same. She could start with that.

              She cleared her mind, envisioning the compass, then took a deep breath and asked herself a question, Where do I find Badul?
              Slowly, the compass started to shift and turn, while numbers started to roll in front of her mind’s eye, and like a lottery, at each draw a number appeared, slowly revealing a number: 1-2-3-8

              She eagerly leafed through the books to find the reference. Well… that was more perplexing than ever, that seemed like a totally unrelated story.
              But now, she was not so sure about that, as she read the entry and wondered about the fact that it seemed once again different from the first time she’d read it.

              And now, she marveled as a new entry started to write itself under that one. It was the first time she actually saw an entry write itself. Those she had spotted that were not here before, she just assumed they had appeared instantaneously. But not this one… and it started to link Franiel’s and Badul’s explorations…

              #823

              It had been more than a week now that Claude had broken loose from one captivity to fall into another.
              Not that this gang of strange shape-shifting magpie beings seemed to consider him a captive, rather an impromptu host that they felt obliged to take care of. But Claude wasn’t duped one moment.

              His precedent prison on Tikfijikoo had been relatively easy to break out from, thanks to that unasked for gift of preternatural strength he had gained from the experiments he had be subjected to. Actually, had he not almost been driven mad from pain, he would have been on the loose earlier. Thank the Magpies for his recovered sanity…
              Security on the island facility wasn’t the highest and most difficult he had been confronted to. They seemed to consider the relative isolation of the island and its deadly sharp coral reef encircling it their main asset in keeping their experiments clear from outside interferences.

              Claude snapped back from his thoughts and gazed fixedly at a tender green sprout at his feet while humming a nursery rhyme. An effective trick.
              He had to be more cautious… He knew they could read his surface thoughts…
              Apparently, he could come and go as pleased him, but as he had tried to find his way back to the island facility, he had discovered that the landscape was changing each time he felt close to it. And soon enough, he was finding himself back to the hidden settlement. He knew enough to suspect his affable alien hosts of playing tricks on his mind to keep him in check. Perhaps they were even bending space around their settlement, as far as he knew…
              Not intrusive, and yet not a very different treatment from the inhumane experiments. Except he had no mummy bandages this time…

              Know thy foe so went the adage, and Claude was determined to know enough about his new captors to escape and complete his mission.
              From what he was guessing, as they had not killed him, they probably would release him (if he was lucky) as soon as their mission would be completed —a mission which was most probably the same as his own. Snatching the crystal skull he knew was there somewhere. He could sense they were after it too.
              He was wondering who had hired them to retrieve the thing. Obviously they were not from the common lot of thieves, most certainly not even from this planet, and anyone who had hired them must have been in dire need of the thing.
              He had been told by the Baron that the crystals were storing ancient vast knowledge and that accessing it had been only possible since a few decades, actually since the discovery of coherent beams of light (laser). But even accessed, the information stored remained vastly incomprehensible, and deciphering it could take another millennium without appropriate knowledge of its holographic proprieties.
              The Baron had told humanity was like a child being given a box of books on relativity… And even the mad transvestite doctor was only toying with the tip of an immense iceberg.

              Those Magpies were far more advanced, Claude could see it clearly, and he wondered how he could outdo them, if that was possible. Quite frankly he didn’t know why they had not yet retrieved it. Perhaps they were having trouble locating it too…
              That would mean he still had a head start, however short.

              :fleuron2:

              A faint barking sound seemed to echo in his head… It was apparently coming from… the gnarled trunk of an old majestic tree… Whispers seemed to come from it too, like a child talking with an adult, and whispers around them…
              The tree seemed wide enough for him to enter into the biggest crack of its bark…
              Could it be one of their secret entrances and exits? There had to be coordinate points were they could get out of this warped space… What was he risking to try?

              #822

              I’m wondering where Irtak and the twin dragons have gone… The thought just struck Leormn.

              They’d probably been exploring the outside of the cave of these past events… But they couldn’t afford staying here for too long. Not so much because of the chilling environment of the Marshes… In fact, as soon as they had all appeared here, they’d been at first mere translucent unfocused spirits, but the longer they stayed, the more they became physical and solid here.

              Georges and Salome had wished Malvina to see something here before their departure to other ventures.
              Possibly, the twins and Irtak were part of the plan too… Not to mention Arona

              If his calculations were correct, they had a little more than a hexade left before they would be completely merged into that timeline, and after that… It would be less easy to come back…
              That would require the mediation of the Guardians.
              And all things considered, Leormn was less than enthusiast about that solution.

              #1773

              In reply to: Synchronicity

              F LoveF Love
              Participant

                hmmm was adding that last comment up and thought that’s not right! … apparently as well as all their fees they also charge an additional .50 per transaction. :yahoo_rolling_eyes: Well there is the “5” again … reminding me to have fun. oh and this is comment 255

                Ella Bella got her rats – two of them, and one of them has been called Lusy. :mouse: and Katie says they are lovely and look you right in the eye when you talk to them :face-glasses:

                Table 12 again at a cafe i went today.

                :yahoo_big_hug:

                #2020

                In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

                TracyTracy
                Participant

                  Suddenly THE room WAS FULL OF beetles, WHICH meant THREE times A week lying inside THE story, moving AROUND LIKE A fish. Random living DRIVING AN OLD car ALL OVER THE earth HAVING lots OF dreams OF blue, rather SIMILAR TO comments soon officeIALLY PUBLISHED….. telling hugE NONsense factS WHILST RUBBING white talking hands ALL OVER THE RABBITS, running AND sighed AS MY foot connected WITH A ROCK already taking years TO FORM INTO matter …..

                  #1765

                  In reply to: Synchronicity

                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    Yes! Flove wins as well! Not surprising that you were touching it saying it was nice, that’s exactly what Rachel was doing all evening.

                    #817

                    How restless that dragon is, thought Arona. Always shifting this or that, always talking in his damn riddles. She thought fondly of Buckberry, and how peaceful and content he seemed by comparison.

                    She was no longer sure where she was. She had gone over it a few times in her mind, but try as she might she could not make sense of Leormn’s cryptic explanations. Or that Malvina either, although at least she is a bit more pleasant about it.

                    Anyway, wherever it is, it feels a bit grey, she decided matter-of-factedly. And I am missing the others, even that grumpy Mandrake if the truth be told.

                    She closed her eyes and began to paint colours over the grey. She was not sure what to paint at first, so she just dabbed bright blobs of colour haphazardly onto her mind’s canvas. The colours began to run into each other and form shapes and it it seemed to her they wanted to take on a life of their own. So she let them, and it was not long before she found herself in a meadow of spring flowers.

                    That’s much better, she thought, taking a deep breath and lying back in the soft green grass.

                    :fleuron:

                    As she lay there her mind drifted sleepily, butterfly thoughts every now and then resting on some bright petal in her field of flowers.

                    Just living is not enough, said the butterfly as it danced by her head, one must have sunshine, freedom and a little flower.

                    Oh! said Arona excitedly, recognising the words from a far away time, You must be the butterfly of the story! The one my grandmother used to tell me when I was a little girl in the Village.

                    Perhaps I am! danced the butterfly and it whirled and twirled and swirled in the sky.

                    Arona rolled her eyes in exasperation. Now you sound a bit like that wriggly dragon. A simple yes or no would suffice.

                    The butterfly landed on her nose. Now listen here you! Don’t go blaming me. I am YOUR imagination!

                    Oh good point Butterfly, said Arona graciously. She pondered a moment … Well in that case …

                    And next moment Mandrake, Vincentius and Yikesy were sitting in the meadow with her.

                    Oh THERE you are Missy, said Mandrake. Might have known you would be lying around in some spring meadow leaving Vincentius and myself to look after your little sprog. Tsk Tsk, he tutted.

                    hmmm, thought Arona, that’s not quite what I had in mind ..

                    I would have said it’s exactly what you had in mind, whispered the butterfly, fluttering by her ear and then off again until it disappeared into the field of colours.

                    Arona turned her attention to Vincentius and Yikesy, sitting a short distance away in the meadow. She noticed how smooth and golden Vincentius’ skin looked in the morning sunlight, and how deep and melodic his voice was as he told Yikesy one of his seemingly endless repertoire of stories. Imagining a gentle hug and a kiss on his sweet, but it had to be said incredibly ugly face, she sent Yikesy into a peaceful sleep.

                    Oh great idea, smiled Vincentius with a wink. What I had in mind all along really. Perhaps you could also imagine Mandrake chasing a field mouse or something?

                    #816

                    “Phew…” said the plump lady to her trip companions “it really felt like this trip would never end…”

                    Paquita rolled her eyes to the sky, sweating as her and Joselito were moving the heavy luggage of the lady out of the hydroplane’s trunk.
                    Apparently, the welcoming committee either had not been aware of their landing, or simply had forgotten them. Nobody was there to greet them past the wooden pontoon, only the thuds of coconuts falling on the white beach.
                    One of them rolled towards Paqui, bouncing on the little waves of sand.
                    She leaned forward to get the hairy fruit, brushing the sand off it with her hands until she spotted something that instantly congealed the blood in her veins.

                    She shrieked at the sight of a blue spider under the coconut.

                    “Well, she seems dead enough” shrugged Mavis at the sight of the splattered arachnid. “Now, what do we do… I think I have a bathsuit somewhere in that piece of luggage” she said, designing a mammothesque thing that bore more resemblance to a military trunk than to any piece of luggage.

                    “Did the pilot leave us there?” asked a pale Paqui to her cousin.
                    “As soon as we got the last piece of luggage out of his plane… Guy didn’t seem to want to stay here”
                    “I wonder why… It’s such a gorgeous place…” Mavis was saying distractedly while plunging into her trunk occasionally drawing some outrageously gaudy piece of cloth that seemed like out of a theater’s props. “Here it is!” she finally said, holding a glittering hot pink latex bikini, so tiny it wasn’t leaving much to imagination.

                    Paqui and Joselito sighed of relief when the lean figure of a black haired smart woman appeared waving at them from the path leading to the island’s center.

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