-
AuthorSearch Results
-
June 3, 2008 at 9:32 am #923
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Mr Arak had just got another complaint.
Someone was again stealing people’s soondwiches during the morning break. Except that this time, the perpetratoor had placed some poost-it saying “Thanks for the snoock! Floove, Finnley”
How cheeky! he thought, smiling to himself… As funny as he thought it was, especially when the teafed one was that annoying woonabe-star of Elizabeth, he might have to take appropriate measures. Especially when the teafed one was that Elizabeth T.Now, tell me, Yurick asked Finn anxiously (while she apparently only got the breathing icons and no longer the messages accompanying it), “any idea what’s the message in that bizarre dream?”
June 1, 2008 at 6:25 pm #921In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
It had been a week now. Georges had fully taken his role as Shu-Lom, the eleventh Gate in the Council of the Guardians. His mergence with the actual focus of Blöhmul was fading out ; the transition had been smooth, unnoticed by most of the Guardians, even his closest friends. Georges was careful not to display any unusual change in Shu-Lom’s attitude, though some of them were showing signs of suspicion, especially… his own focus, Sinadron who was the most susceptible to be aware of the difference. Georges had been avoiding him since his arrival, but he would eventually have to face him for one of the rituals soon to begin.
Of the eleventh other Guardians, only 2 were considering him as a friend, Doh’Maar and Vogel. Most of the others were ignoring him during the sessions and Sinadron were despising him. Well, technically he was despising Shu-Lom and the change would not make things go easier between the 2 of them as the energy of their 2 focuses were sort of repulsing each other.
Following Shu-Lom’s habits, he was heading to the public baths, but contrary to him, he was going during daylight. He needed some answers. He had been feeling strong tensions between the Gates, and there were also underlying feeling of discontentment and anger among the other Guardians. For the first time in their history, unknown groups of their kind were attacking the other races and provoking them and generating feelings of fear, even amongst the Guardians.
The man he was following would give him some of the answers. He would have to befriend him first though. Noraam had a smooth energy, and he would be easy to approach, especially in the dampness of the baths.Noraam was wearing an grey cape, attached on his shoulders with carved fibulae. His robe was short, above his knees, and rather dark. He was quite young by the standards of the Guardians and still fiery. Shu-Lom was young too, about the same age as Noraam, but he was quite pessimistic and self-effacing, and especially he wanted to leave, that he did, and Georges took his place.
Georges suddenly felt a familiar energy, one that he would recognize anywhere, anytime. Salome… rather another focus of her essence. Hahaha, that was a surprise, and he almost lost track of what he was doing. Noraam was already taking the stairs up to the baths. Something about the energy of that focus was attractive, he still didn’t know who it was or what he/she(?) was doing here. Maybe just a projection. He didn’t have time to investigate. Heading to the stairs where Noraam was already being dematerialized and rematerialized to the first level, he heard a child’s voice.Can you help me?.. I know you can.
What again, another distraction… he would be late to the baths and maybe loose the occasion to speak with the other Gate.
Looking down at the origin of the voice, he was surprised to see a little girl, red hair and amber eyes. As he could see, she was blind, but as he could feel, she was quite capable of seeing things.
Do I know you, little one? He had not been aware of this child in Shu-Lom’s memories, and he was wondering if he had missed something during his encounters with the original.
You dreamt of me the other night, but you weren’t here yet.
Her last words triggered a memory, of him carrying a naked little girl in his arms, protecting her in a way, and he was following a man in his dream, trying to keep track… in his dream, he was rushing and almost lost the child, following also Salome who had already taken the stairs… yes he was here in his dreams, the place and the stairs were the same… as was the child.
What is your name little one? In my dream you were followed by an owl…
You can call me Ar’Meel.Sam thought he could write it somewhat differently. With his understanding of Georges’ abilities, he could well have split in two and followed Salome and stayed with the girl simultaneously and maybe even Noraam.
A smile.
He was feeling wobbly and wavy. A ripple effect?
It seemed that there had been a strange recognition between his character and himself. It was like Georges was aware of Sam wanting to change what had happened… or was it a suggestion of Georges?June 1, 2008 at 12:55 am #919In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
It only took a few seconds for Armelle to deflate though she donned off with a hint of reluctance the delightfully filling feeling of power she had acquired notwithstanding the slight overweight (a few grams at best, given her immaterial nature of pristine white hallowy owly essence, but you could not reasonably expect to be really ascended with even no more than a few grams of physicality left, could you?)…
So, it only took a few seconds, which in essence’s inner time was tantamount to a mere eon (a merry myriad of seconds).
But then, all was so clear.
She was seeing the trail that was left unwatched by the spiders, and that her friends would take to the wort-hole.— Claude, my dear, would you be so kind as to oblige me for a few minutes? she regally asked her host of the branches, taking great care not to be too self-conscious, which would irremediably make her roll her eyes and lose all composure.
— Well… err… I s’pose yes…
— Indeed. Then, take good care of the wort-hole, and wait for us to come back, and then lead us back to the place from whence you came.
— Wouldn’t do that, if I were you… It’s full of magpies there…
— Oh bugger now. Armelle sighed so profusely that it made the hair raise on Claude’s head. The Snoot told me the way would be clear, so… have a little faith in me she said in a cocker’s voice.And there, in a majestic elan, she went back to the spot where her friends were now gently getting together.
When she arrived, Akayli the were-lynx had just been deposing his precious package of the two silk-wrapped parents at the feet of little Anita. The first minutes of doubt passed, her hesitant face started to show a smile, knowing that her parents would be fine.
Yuki was for himself all very impressed by the transformergence of his friends, and was finding that a very good idea to get more focused.
However, he could hear the yet unvoiced protests of Armelle at his yet unphrased suggestion of a mergence
— Now way I get my white feathers mixed in that bloody smelly goat’s fur!
And of course, he could hear too the yet unvoiced slew of outraged protests
— Smelly goat? Who you bloddy call a smelly goat, you persnickity saucer-eyed shuttlecock?Yet… Yuki, gazing for a few seconds of essence in the stream of possibilities, weighted again the enticing result that a mergence of the three of them would produce…
Which would be… a… grabbiffon.
A magnificent winged horned cotton-tailed… sort of… gryffun… or grumpfoon.
Well… perhaps Armelle was right in the not-yet-voiced first place.That would just be plain ridiculous.
…
So… what are we waiting for?! Let’s do it now!! all three of them laughed in unison
May 20, 2008 at 12:12 pm #906In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Armelle was aware that everybody would be there in any minute now…
The one who had come from the wortex wouldn’t hold long in the middle of these huge creatures. He had managed to injure or even kill a few of them, but though he showed no trace of fatigue yet, his body was bruised.Ah, she sighed, feeling herself on the brink of doing something stupid. Taking a few deep breaths, she hold them until one could see the beautiful snowy owl starting to inflate like a rubber balloon, her size became twice, or thrice bigger than usual.
In a few minutes, she was as big as the mythical thunderbirds of the Native myths.
Taking a look at her waist, she sighed again. Hope I won’t get any stretch marks…
She then pounced on the heap of fighting bodies, and came back in the airs holding Claude in her talons.
May 20, 2008 at 11:46 am #904In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
The portal has opened, we must hurry said Araili
Araili had felt something more, that he didn’t want to share yet with Akita and his spirit dog Kay. He had felt that something, or someone was trying to make its way from the wortex. However, the whole area was tightly held in a sort of quarantine by the giant spiders. Their genetic ancestral memory was aware of previous huge bleedthroughs like this one, and they had what humans would call “prophecies” amongst their kin, of such occurrences being heralds of tremendous upheavals.
Araili, who was extending far beyond this guise of a lynx that he had taken now, smiled when he thought of how some of his earthly medieval focuses would have been similarly frightened by natural events like eclipses.It did not take long to them to find Anita’s parents. They were right at the spot that the big arachnid had just left, wrapped in silky spider bandages with little skin left to breathe.
— They seem alive. checked Akita. Heavily sedated, but alive… Now, we’ll have to get them out of here quick.
— I think I have an idea smiled Araili.Claude had finally came out of what he thought was just a strange tree, but then, his preternatural senses where telling him something was wrong. This place looked different. No, this place felt different.
And smelt different too.There were soft sounds, crawlings he could hear, very near his place. They were coming from him, but he would fight.
He jumped on a tree, and in a few vigorous movements, was perched on top of it.
He almost gapped when he saw the black circle of huge spiderly creatures around his tree.They were staying at a distance from the wortex. But for how long… He couldn’t wait for his death.
From the top of the tree, Claude jumped unscathed. Taking a look around, he found exactly what he needed.
Breaking a few sharp bamboos poles, he started his move to the black circle in a prodigious and accelerated run.From atop a nearby tree, Armelle was considering the whole scene. The wortex would probably last a few hours, perhaps a bit more. Anita, Rafaela and Yuki were about to be here soon, she had warned them of the spider circle, so that they would hide until she has found them a way to get through.
She had not expected someone to come out of it. That may be her way…
Phurt was coming closer and closer now. She could feel the surge of power, and the trepidation raising all the hair on her legs. She couldn’t possibly confront all of the sisters. Not yet.
She had to find a way to get past.As if Arachneiax, Goddess of her kind had heard and answered her plea, a dying cry, confusion, and call for help came to her senses from a border of their circle. A perfect diversion…
May 18, 2008 at 9:19 pm #898In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
She was feeling blank. It was as if she had no memories of what had happened before. At least she had still the notion that she was a she… wasn’t she? It wasn’t really clear, as she had mixed up feelings. There weren’t any physical sensation in the place she was. Indeed, she was having difficulties finding herself. She began to wonder what was this feeling of her she was aware of. To what was it connected? And thus, she realized she was too focused on the question itself to get any answer.
The letting go released a dam of sensations and informations. She was overwhelmed by all that she was and all that seemed to be thrust upon her senses. But the resistance was what could create pain, she knew that from another time where she was living the same thing. Resisting the communication was like wanting to resist a herd of fleeing raghlors.
She was feeling a presence in all this mess, something familiar
Was that herself looking at herself looking at herself looking at herself looking…
Her memory of what she was trying to do came as lightning. The sudden realization of her numerous tentatives at this exercise made her cry… would she fail again?
She had to find these other aspects of her, put them into a common direction… but there were so many of hers! which ones should she call to follow her? Which ones would follow her, if any? She felt sudden despair coming from everywhen. Despairs that she was aware did not belong to her, but they were powerful, almost annihilating her will. Images of massacres of people she knew, of people that her other selves knew, massacre that she had perpetrated herself or that she was perpetrating… any sensation of time could fit.Despair was imprisoning her and she knew she already had failed because of that. It was shadowing her motivation, giving her that hollow sense of herself, shielding her from…
Asiir, is that you? The energy was familiar and the name was a translation in her mind. It was an anchor point in all these mess of hers.
Asiir, help me!The feeling was faint, so far away. But as she was focusing more on it, she noticed her different selves were intrigued and gathering around it. And there they were together. A feeling of ecstasy filled her up… and out of her body herself was huge. The presence was gaining in intensity and it was as if it was her who was allowing Asiir’s energy to be expressed toward herself.
HAHAHAHAHA a thunderous laugh.
Startled for a moment she almost lost contact with Asiir. But their bond was stronger this time. She was filled with joy and self-assurance.At last, you are beginning to understand, Lola. We can go on and take the next step now.
She was truly riding her dragon, , it was wondrous.
Well, technically you are lying on the floor of the marshes of doooom, but…
All of a sudden, everything was gone, she was back to her body, Asiir looking at her and nudging her left arm with her snout.
WOW, what a crippled body! How many times did she tried? Would he kill her with that, bloody bastard… a feeling of anger was infuriating her, and filling her body up, heating it up. How could he possibly be so inhuman?May I recall you I’m a dead guy? and furthermore, my focus wasn’t human… I just appear human to your eyes because you want me to appear like that. You have no representation of how my species could look like, but I may show you…
… soon.May 18, 2008 at 12:27 am #895In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
The woman’s voice raised softly in the dark, like a velvet caress, or the sound of a purring cat.
Life was long before I met Georges. Not unbearable, but so long and lifeless. Days would pass, and nothing new would happen but the same matter the previous days were made of.
Though I no longer align to these limitations, I was once human, born to Earth, as Georges was, in a not so distant past. Like most of my people, I was not feeling special. But my will was strong and my desire to survive too. I survived poverty, lust and violence. In the crucible of these emotions I’ve melted my fears, and it was there I found Georges too.A curtain raises in the dark. A palace in an exotic tropical place. Brunei? Al doesn’t know this place…
A young dark haired woman in a small room, around sixteen, perhaps a bit less, disheveled. She looks wildly around her, her rags stained with dust and dirt.Enters a tall woman. She doesn’t seem local. British perhaps. She’s elegantly dressed, thin mouth, high cheekbones, apparently in charge. A maid follows her. She can speak the girl’s language.
— Where is my mother? Let me out of here! she starts to cry
— I’m afraid this is not possible, Salome. For your safety,…
— What do you care about my safety!
— For your safety, Salome, hear me, try to behave. The Sultan is not a man without a heart. He loves beautiful women, and that is what probably saved your neck, considering what all what your mother did wrong to him refusing to pay taxes and her obstinate and bare-faced smuggling. Listen Salome, this might save you, and might save your mother as well.The curtain falls on the scene, where Salome hopes to have found a friend of captivity with this woman.
A few years later, still in the golden cage of the harem, occasionally asked to service the lustful and violent Sultan, I start to go explore the depths of my misery. My inner world was a safe sanctuary, a haven from the pit of hell where I was now living, after my childhood years of hard work in the forest. There, where no one was given the key to enter, I became aware of him. I first thought he was an imaginary friend, a messenger from the other world, greeting me to a sure death. But he was real. He started to talk to me. About what I could do, like him, be a Traveler, if I wanted to.
The curtain raises again. Young Salome is lying on her straw mat, in a seeming delirium. She moans, whispers, weeps, laughs. No one in the harem seem to care any longer. She is probably possessed, but the Sultan still find her suitable, she can’t be touched.
A roar can be heard in the palace. The big black-bearded Sultan Ojylam the Second, ogre look on his face, summons his guard.
— Don’t worry Salome, the voice of Georges whispers in the dark. The Sultan is mad at Madame Chesterhope. She has just fled with his precious crystal skull, but he won’t find her. She’s a skilled Traveler too, as soon you will be dear Salome, once you have learnt my last tricks, and we soon will be united.
— Why that stupid crystal skull?
— Don’t worry about it… This one is the Birds Skull. It carries lots of information and magic in relation to the Birds Realm, but it should be the least of your concerns. We’ll find Madame Chesterhope even if she’s clever at hiding between dimensions. Only concern for you must be to get out of here.
— The Sultan will know I told her about it… I should have known, he was so proud of this object, and so protective too… And she was so curious…
— That’s why we must hurry now.And so we were united for the first time. Lots of other lives have occurred afterwards, different paths at times, but always we have found each other again. Eternally bound, in a most sacred bound…
May 17, 2008 at 11:36 pm #894In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
— Master Tfark , I am pleased to hear that this mission will soon bring me what I requested.
— We are here to serve, Madam, answered obsequiously the chief of the magpies gang. As long as, of course, the promised payment is ready.
— Wasn’t the first part of the payment satisfactory? snapped the woman with an aggressiveness so subtle that no one could have said that there was even a single trace of rudeness in her voice.
— Yes Madam, the device you provided worked perfectly. We are eager to continue our little arrangements.
— Very well. Bring the Arachnid Skull quickly now.May 17, 2008 at 11:14 pm #893In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
The day had been long. Actually, from an outside perspective he had been apparently sleeping almost all of it, so it was not appearing as if it could be a really exhausting day at all.
But Al had been extending his body researches in the subjective. He’d started to play again with his various dream bodies he had known the existence of for quite a while now, though he hadn’t yet found the time to experiment with them fully enough. An idea he owed to Sam, who he had been pleased to hear about his unusual experiences in the Australian bush, or more accurately, in the Dreamtime.Playing with these various “bodies”, or qualities of attention and perception, he was aware that his thoughts on the recent events occurring in their story was still unfolding in the backstage of his attention. A rehearsal perhaps…
Nevertheless, he was delaying the actual representation, for he felt he was not yet ready for it.
He could feel lots of information waiting for him to download them and process them. But he wanted to do it with clarity.Last try had not been very convincing… He had dreamt of a midget Tina, in a flowing mauve and lemon chiffon dress. Of course, in the dream he had taken great care of not hurting her feelings, all the more since she seemed so fond of the dress. He couldn’t really tell her that the dress was giving her an enormous butt and that she was rolling her hips comically when she was walking… Impossible…
While dream-Al was searching for words to truthfully convey his appreciation of whatever little thing that could be left to appreciate on that dress, dream-Sam had been quick to tell dream-Tina she looked like fairy Nuf. What had he said! She soon started to weep noisily. Fairy Nuf, as anyone knew, is a purple-clad plump grumpy fairy, with a pointy hat and she couldn’t possibly look that bad.
Speak about clarity…Al tried again to concentrate. Taking deep breathes.
He could feel more and more clearly the presence of the woman. Her aura was beckoning, and she seemed to want to share information with him —pieces of information he would be free to tell others or not, it didn’t matter.
What mattered was that there was this deep desire for this information which was coming from him; and equally as deep as his, her own desire to share was palpable.“ Salome ” he whispered “ I am ready to see… ”
He soon started to fall into another lucid dream…May 17, 2008 at 8:11 pm #892In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Al took another pleased look at the animated stereographic pictures of himself he had been pleased to see in a special feature of Wisp. Oddly enough, he usually didn’t care to appear in such an outlet of officially held beliefs (now that most people were indeed living those previously-considered-odd concepts described issue after issue, it wasn’t like it was unofficial experiences any longer), but considering the amount of readers, he couldn’t have just turned down such a proposition of coverage.
After putting the magazine into the drawer, Al voiced the cyputer on. An expensive acquisition this cyputer, but Tina and him had agreed that this new artificial-consciousness device would be worth more than a try, and probably would help them with putting some order in the entangled threads of their story submissions. Well, of course Tina had been slightly reluctant at first, as she had felt her taxonomy skills being rebuked, but Al had tenderly reminded her with a wink that they would be soon more equipped than sooo last-century Becky Pooh.
Tina had bit her sensual glossy crimson lips when she almost spilled the beans about Becky’s expected kid who would probably teach her a trick or two on the new technology. Little did she know that Al knew a few things about this adventure …The suave voice of the cyputer asked if he cared to read the new additions on the story.
Oh good… Al rubbed his hand with expectation, and started to carefully listen to Tina’s last additions.Al had felt quite stimulated by what he had just had the cyputer read aloud with Tina’s sampled voice, and had to refrain himself from writing another long comment just after that. Essentially for Sam’s sake who would complain about Al being a pooper of big comments…
May 17, 2008 at 6:49 pm #891In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
His teeth had been nudging him for a few days, or maybe a few weeks actually. Last Wednesday, Yurick and him had a chat with their friends Michaela and Elias, and Yann told them about his questioning.
Now, he was wondering about what was the meaning of all that in his new understanding of his reality. He was having the impression that he was in a complex video game and that at the beginning he hadn’t been told about all the fun stuffs he could do in it. Many aspects of this video game were unraveling and still he was feeling cold feet about jumping ahead.
Yann was noticing that his teeth were nudging himself mainly when he was doing certain things, like judging himself, finding himself unworthy, trying to force himself in certain directions, or to force his body. It was like his body was an amazing communication device from him to himself. It was continuously giving him information, not only about his environment like temperature, smells, lights and images, but also about what would have been hidden like weather patterns, mass excitement or balance, mass tension or release…
Elias had told him and Yurick that their energy was constantly open to each other, in a continuous merging and exchanging process. They were quite aware of that now, and at the beginning of their relation it would have been overwhelming, but now it was really fulfilling in many ways. Even when they were not in physical proximity, they would be together and feel each other. But they were also more centered upon themselves and they were not as influenced by the mood of the other as they had been they had reached a more balanced relationship and were beginning to intensify the movement.
Yann had also begun to be aware of a humming tone, inaudible, but very present. It was humming under the veil of this reality and he had been told it was one of his language of communication. This was very intriguing and it was overlapping his interest in his body and his teeth, he was wondering about the effects of this humming tone on them.May 17, 2008 at 2:19 am #889In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Wow that had been bizarre! Veranassessee stood at the bathroom basin and splashed icy cold, reviving water on her face. She knew she’d had sex with Agent Gabriele … however the experience had a slightly surreal quality, not unlike a dream, details slipping elusively away from her as she tried to grasp hold of them. She giggled nervously as she dried her face with a towel. Did she really want to remember? She had just passed Agent Gabriele in the corridor and he had winked at her, saying he couldn’t wait to try the ‘reverse cleaning maid ‘ again. A sudden image came to mind and she saw her skin darken in the mirror as a hot wave of embarrassment flooded her. Good Grief! She thought guiltily of Mahiliki. She hoped the other island had not been too badly affected by cyclone Ycart, so far it seemed Tifikijoo had come off quite lightly.
Veranassessee had already checked on the guests, Jose Maria and Paquita were still in their room, Mavis was huddled under her bedding and informed her in a muffled voice that Sha and Glor had gone looking for her.
Well she’s not in her bloody room so where is she eh? Gloria and Sha were on the warpath, determined to get some answers from Veranassessee.
‘Ere, Sha! Bloody hell! Glor shook her head in disbelief.
What’s up Glor?
Bloody magpies … there are bloody magpies in ‘ere!
What! Nasty little buggers those magpies. Poke yer bloody eyes out if yer aint careful.
‘Ere what they up to eh? Bloody hopping all over that whats-a-ma-callit-doo-dacky machine.
They’ll be going for the shiny bits I reckon. They do that those magpies. ‘Ere we’d better stop them, might never get our bloody beauty treatments if they bugger that machine up.
May 16, 2008 at 2:45 am #886In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Is something bothering you Franiel? You look a bit perturbed.” Phoebe was watching him intently.
Oh sorry, yeah, I was just thinking about Aum Geog. I really should have sent him a message, you know about losing the chalice.
Phoebe looked thoughtful. Well we could send a message via one of the Fincheons if it would set your conscience at ease.
Fincheons? Those are those really beautiful silver birds aren’t they?
That’s right, they are spectacular aren’t they! I have a pair I use for sending messages on occasion.
Oh great! Franiel looked immensely relieved. I will go and write a note to him them. He won’t be happy though, I am fairly certain of that.
Although … silly me. Would you like to use the phone to call him? It would be much quicker. Honestly sometimes I think I am living in the dark ages, not 2008! chuckled Phoebe merrily.
Franiel laughed with her. Oh I know just what you mean!
Oh by the way, said Phoebe, there’s a motorbike in the garage. It hasn’t been used for years, but if you can get it going, you are most welcome to use it.
May 14, 2008 at 9:13 pm #880In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Tina flicked through an old, and obviously well read, hard-copy of Wisp magazine as she waited in the cafe for Becky. Al had just had an article submission accepted in the prestigious magazine, complete with photos of himself at different stages of his experiments. She chuckled to herself thinking of it.
Where was Becky?
May 14, 2008 at 2:29 am #877In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Oh for foocks sake, Finnley grumbled, does that woman never go home?
Elizabeth Tattler was passed out on the desk, two empty wine boottles on the floor beside her chair.
Foock you too! Foock you too! Screeched Robert X
She grinned, she quite enjoyed Robert X, or MrX as she liked to call him.
So what’s our Elizabeth been up to eh Mr X? Finnley picked up the messy pile of papers on the desk and carefully put them in order. They looked sort of interesting. Maybe it was time for a rest break. She pulled out her vegemoot sandwooches on chunks of rye bread, and, carefully dusting it first, she sat down on a big armchair in the corner of the office to read.
Twenty minoots later she threw the pages on the floor in disgust, but then, disturbed by the mess it made, picked them up again.
The character Veranassessee left her particularly disturbed. What a name! And what a Wishy Wooshy Noomby Poomby. Whats all this YES YES YES businoos! That Agent Gabriele was a selfish and dictatorial bastood as far as she could tell.
She would see about that! She was no writer but she was sure she could do better than this load of old mongoat droppings.
Well she would if she could find a pen on Ms Tattler’s shamboolic desk anyway.
Veranassessee (V) drew back from his sloppy kisses. Wait! Have you got protection? she asked, imperatively and sensibly.
Protection? … my gun is under the pillow … oh right I see what you mean, stuttered Agent Gabriele apologetically, reluctantly pulling himself from making suction noises on her breast to rummage for a condom in his suitcase.
Great, now say that stuff again. You know all that crap about how beautiful I am. I sort of liked it.
Agent Gabriele willingly obliged. Of course V recognised it for the lustful rubbish it was … still might as well have a bit of fun. He was damn good looking.
Perfect, she said. Now, what position do you prefer?
He was momentarily speechless, stunned, and even more aroused, if that was indeed possible, by her forthrightness.
She rolled her eyes. Yes, you know POSITION … on top … underneath ..front … back… through a hole in a blanket …? myself I like to keep things simple, don’t want to make too much mess around the place.
Anything you want Darling Agent V.
A little bit later he sighed contentedly. You are by far the best lover I have ever had.
Thanks, everyone says that. Hey! Put out that cigarette, there’s no smoking inside you know. She looked critically around the room. You know this room could do with a damn good clean, I could see dust on the headboard, you know, while we were doing it.
I’ll make sure I clean it next time, he murmered huskily, kissing her, and saying that stuff again, about how perfect she was.
Finnley giggled to herself. Much better! Well who’d have thought she would have a bit of a gift for writing. Carefully she replaced the pages under the telepooh and made her exit. With a bit of luck Ms Tattler would never notice.
May 14, 2008 at 12:08 am #876In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Oh what absoloote rubbish, giggled Elizabeth Tattler, taking another large sloorp from her 4th glass of red wine and putting large determined scribbles through the last chapter of the latest Noovel. It was the continuing saga of the Tifijikoo Island story. She really had to finish it, old whats-his-face was on the telepooh to her daily now, demanding to know when it was to be finished.
More Sex! he had shouted at her last time. More sex, we want the bloody thing to sell don’t we!
Well I have shut you up haven’t I, she snorted to herself, thinking happily of Dr Bronkelhampton passed out on the couch wearing a pink dress and mascara running down his face.
More sex eh? Hooommmm, Elizabeth did not particularly believe in putting extraneous sex in her noovels. At the same time that character Veranassessee was annoying her a bit with all her indecisiveness. And what a bloody mouthful that name was. Was it too late to change it? hooommm probably. She had modelled her roughly on the cleaner, Finnley, quite an attractive girl despite her pooty face and superior, bossy ways.
She vaguely remembered something a tutor at writing school had said to her once about writing sex scenes … what was his name? Emonel … no that was not quite right … Meenol! That was it!
Make your writing detailed, with accurate depiction of suction noises
Elizabeth broke into fits of laughter, slamming her fist on the desk gleefully and startling Robert X. (Unfortunately the fainting Mongoats had been banned from the building by that nasty Mr Arak)
You know Robbie-pooh what is wrong with this?
Robbie-Pooh, Robbie-Pooh, cackled Robert X.
IT’S BOORING, The damn characters never do anything. Right well, time to fix that. She took another few slugs of her wine.
Oh God, said Agent Gabriele. Who gives a shit about the Doctor or bloody magpies. I can’t stand this any longer. I must have you Agent V. He lunged towards her, ripping open her robe and exposing her naked body.
You are so beautiful. All I ever wanted is you. That’s why I demanded this assignment on the Island … to see you again. I have not been able to get you out of my head. You’ve been driving me crazy
NO NO, cried Veranassessee weakly, but her body said YES YES
YES!
Agent Gabriele kissed her on the mouth, making strange and passionate slurping noises, and, unable to resist any longer, she gave in to his need for her.
( Yes, Yes, YES! snorted Elizabeth, momentarily unable to write for laughing. Hooommm what about that Mahiliki? He was pathootic. Did he want the girl or not for God’s sake? )
Mahiliki stared anxiously out at the storm. He could think of nothing but his darling Veranassessee. He must know if she was alright. He must go to her. He grabbed his car keys and drove like a madman to the airport.
( Hoommm, thought Elizabeth, I really don’t know anything about small island airports and planes. Well booger that, I will research them later on the internoot )
You must fly me to Tifijikoo Island! demanded Mahiliki, holding the pilot (who had been sitting out the storm in a little airport building thingy ) at knifepoint.
Are you mad? said the pilot. There’s a freakin cyclone, or hadn’t you noticed?
Yes, I am mad, I am mad with love. Fly me there or you are a dead man.
ahahahaahah, laughed Elizabeth happily.
May 13, 2008 at 11:13 am #872In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
His door was open. He had his back to her, looking out at the storm. Veranassessee knocked lightly on the door and entered. He turned towards her.
You’re wet Agent V, he said, his eyes running slowly up and down her body.
His gaze came back to her face and their eyes locked. She felt her knees go weak. God does that really happen?
Why had nothing changed? She had not seen him for so long, had almost forgotten about him. She loved Mahiliki… didn’t she? She had managed to convince herself that Agent Gabriele was in the past. That was where he belonged. He was a fantasy.
She was not a child anymore.
God, but he was gorgeous though. Dark, sexy, he gave off an aura of untamed passion just barely suppressed below the surface. His face was more mature, more closed off than before, but still almost unbelievably handsome. At one time she had known every line of his face, memorized it, retraced it over and over in her imagination. She thought she had known him.
He smiled. Better get you out of those wet clothes, you’re dripping on the carpet.
Still holding his gaze, almost defiantly she pulled her dress off and let it drop in a soggy heap on the ground.
She wanted this didn’t she? She turned and closed the door behind them.
May 12, 2008 at 11:48 pm #871In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
— Who are you? said Alana. And how did you get here?
The man who was standing before her was smiling mysteriously. She was staring at him, hoping he wouldn’t notice the hint of fear on her face. What was puzzling her most was that she didn’t know who he was working for, was he an agent of the Baron? It was quite unlikely. The French man Langlade had always been working alone since his misadventure with Harry, and the Baron wouldn’t double his agent if unnecessary.
— My name is Andrimiñ. And as of how I got here… let’s say I know how to get through What matters is that I’m here to offer you my assistance…
His smile was quite hypnotic, and she almost lost track of what was happening (very unusual of her) when a few knocks on the door and Mr Isashi’s voice reminded her of her guest.
Are you all right, Aunt?
The man was staring at her with his blue eyes, she had a strange feeling and she knew she had to move quickly.
Aunt? Is there someone with you? I heard a man…
— I can show you how to activate the skull, Atiara. And help you with this man.
Suddenly she knew she could trust him. Something in his last words… there was much unsaid, and the name he gave her… she was having the weirdest feelings about it. As if it was perfectly fitting. She smiled to him, her tensions released. He was now looking at the door.
— Bring our guest in, Mr Isashi.
The face she turned to the door was full of a new strength, mixed with a strange feeling of familiarity.
May 12, 2008 at 10:57 pm #870In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Keeping in mind the cluster of probabilities they were exploring with Salome, and blending it with Malvina’s and Irtak’s energy, Georges was building a subjective pathway to their destination. They were all sending their energy toward that time and place.
Innerly connected with Irtak, they were both resonating with the twins who were already there in a way and helping them to create the connection.
It was some kind of cyclone creating process, when the sky and the sea are joining together in a big swirl.
The vibration was accelerating as Malvina was increasing the rhythm of her melody, matching the inner drone Georges was creating.
Salome was blurring as she was going through a passage of her own, maybe she would pay a visit to another place and join them later, but her energy was helping them nonetheless.
It was a moment of letting go of their focus, a moment of letting themselves reconfigure.May 12, 2008 at 2:54 pm #866In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
When Sam explained gently to Becky about the essences waiting for an entry point into this dimension, the ones that had chosen her, Becky, she was at a loss as to know what to think.
Well I don’t want to let them down, Sam, she said mournfully.
Sam laughed and said, You won’t be letting them down, silly. They’ll find another entry point. There’s no shortage of pregnant women in this dimension, you know.
But I feel like they’re mine already, Sam, I feel responsible for them now.
Laughing loudly, Sam reminded her that resposibility was her own core truth, and not an absolute one. Other essences are not your responsibility, you daft goose!
I know that, but I feel somehow connected to them now. I’ll always wonder about them, worry that they made a bad choice and chose a horrid entry point…her voice trailed off, and then she giggled. I’m talking absolute rubbish aren’t I?
Frankly, yes, dear, winked Sam. Anyway, aren’t you confusing two separate issues here, Becky? In the future probability that you viewed, Sean was a drunkard, and you had many children. They are not necessarily connected, you know. Sam winked again, and Becky blushed and whacked him over the head with the cushion she’d been clutching.
Oh stop! I haven’t even been on my honeymoon yet!
-
AuthorSearch Results