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In reply to: Rafaela’s Random Ramblings
In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud
A cloud-assisted demented rewrite, just for fun…
PERPLEXED BY THAT PARTICULAR case, THE sheriff HAD HIS glassES floatING BEFORE HIS eyeS.
SOME mean rather weird beings… THE brotherHOOD OF magic NEEDED TO SEND Elikozoe INTO A space Craft TO CARE FOR THE boy WHO felt six motherSHIPS COMING IN HIS dreams.
DURING THESE moments easily FORGOTTEN, SOME others young legends WERE sent Aside TO answer AND bounce WITH alone aspects THAT wondered HOW TO keep focused.
THE trees WERE laughing “yeah!” THEY SAID, AS Anita FELT cold AMONG THE roseS randomLY SCATTERED.
SOME told HER ABOUT love, AS SHE asked WHETHER dragons REALLY seemed LIKE nothing ELSE SHE HAD SEEN BEFORE.Chris turned wondering ABOUT nature THESE days WHEN everyone, Elizabeth INCLUDED, KEPT thinking WHAT THEIR hair looked LIKE FROM behind.
DEEP inside, SOME help began slightly TO COME TO THE lady AS SOON AS THE dark cloud HAD taken HER TO sleep. THE truth IN particular WAS LIKE A friend WITH purple COLOURS AND A skull IN HIS HAND, WHO sat WAITING FOR HER.
“let HOPE COME, despite whatever FATE bringS TO THE door! YOU must wait SOMETIMES, AS factS follow!”Nice Tina WAS caught floating ON THE STREAM, AND moving ALONG IN A green jogGING GEAR WAS Joe, BOTH full OF IDEAS THAT gave THEIR friends AN experience NEWLY created. BUT THEY needed magpieS AND tried FOR THESE creatureS INSERTION TO work.
FOR Arona, ALL WAS happening ON Earth LIKE SOME important dream. IT WAS LIKE dancing IN A real play, WITH THE sea NEARBY.
A series OF dog-EARED BOOKS WERE NEARLY outside, AND deep INSIDE, SHE KNEW THE novelS WERE close TO surface OUR dimension, WITH HER head looking BEYOND, AS perhaps Yurick WOULD AGREE.
HIS heart often sounds interesting, BUT OF ALL THE ones SHE liked, IT SHOULD BE herself.
THE Duane SHALL BE rememberED, SHE thought, IN DUE times…WITH THE goat, Anna suddenly giveS THE blue busy spiders SOME NEW reality, AND Kay IS getting hot. SHE HAD forgotten THAT handS COULD BE making names, AND SHOUTING HER CreEd, THE voice OF THE girl SAID IT matterED THAT THE story became shouted IN THE sky.
Eric WAS ENduring Sanso WHO loved THE sandY BEACHES.STAYING clear THIS NEW year DEMANDS SOME self AWARENESS, ESPECIALLY ON THE yellow CHAKRA points, TO ALLEVIATE UNNECESSARY physical pain.
CLAD IN teal, SHE WAS waiting FOR HIS parents’ words TO HAVE moved AND TO BE connected. Franiel HAD FELT within HIMSELF four OLD fatherS’ ADVICES, AND HAD AGREED TO TALK TO Salome’S face AND ANSWER HER call THAT HAD APPEARED quickly UPON THE wall AND HAD BEEN wandering OVER HIS bed.
HE careD FOR THE past, AND THAT VISION WAS telling. IN THE morning, HE SAW IT AS A gift, SHINING IN SOME DISTANT island, LIKE A moviNG presence.Yann VowED TO FIND HIS WAY IN THE soup OF linkS, AND FIND THE OLD godS’ energy THAT kept THE planetS MOVING.
HE heard SOMETHING, A FUGACIOUS moment following HIS ADMIRING OF THE beautiful weather, UNDER THE Glistening sun. A SINGLE dragon’S hands COULD nurse POTENT writing abIlITIeS, AND soon WOULD open GREAT awareNESS OF joy AND moveMENTS AND music WHICH WOULD MAKE HIM laugh OF ALL THAT HE WAS creating WITHIN THIS focus.Tracy FEELS away OF THE action. IT seems QUITE human… NOTHING IS white DURING twilight, SHE noticed, AND FELT given TO understand.
AS MRS Bellamy, SHE WOULD HAVE stopPED LONG ago, HAD NOT come THAT powerful mummy.
WITH Georges startING TO APPEAR, worry BECOMES quietNESS FOR Jib, AND crystal-CLEARNESS FOR Sam.
MANY years AHEAD IN A GALAXY far-AWAY, ANOTHER Dory IS named AND readS ABOUT DR Bronklehampton’s WORKS.
HAVING TAKING leaveS, AND BEING gone FOR ALL, OLD Hrih DELVES INTO THE skulls AND HIS eyes SEE A next hope IN A book.
MovementS HAPPEN FOR Claudio already… THE world woke UP IN surprise.
A known sense OF TIME–SPACE-travel APPEARS IN THE commentS, AS seen THROUGH light.Akita’S body AND mind started TO ACT LIKE A saint AND FEEL strange under THE change.
“TO danGER, bugger!” WAS HIS decision NO longer… HE FELT warm… Towards THE worlds treeS, askING HIMSELF IF IT WAS A game, HE SAW TWO male children PLAYING against EACH OTHER.
THEY managed TO show HIM THAT THE Murtuane WAS familiar.
THE whole air WAS speaking. IT sort OF opened ITSELF SO THAT HE knew later OF THAT SPECIAL room OF TIME AND SPACE, AND HAD THE WIND AGAIN BRUSH HIS skin similar TO WHEN HE WAS seeing home IN HIS HEAD.Felicity IN THE BEDlam SAW half-formS, COUNTING three OF THEM, INCLUDING Gustav IN THE saloon, AND Becky WHO WAS THINKING SHE WAS AGAIN IN THE wrong PLACE: A monastery!
SHE’D RATHER HAVE yourself BE A star, AND HERSELF BE HERE TO MAKE THE FUN postS AND playing lost.Eight powers smiled: true saying!
THE sisters focuses IN THEIR caveS HAD SOME fine land TO PLAY WITH.
Apparently sound WAS key once, BUT THE VOICES IN THE night speak UNCEASINGLY, AND TO write SOME great stories, SPEAK strongLY. THEY seem TO BE feeling yesterday SOME perfect movements…THE marmoset HAD FOUND A family, AND funny wordS TO process. IT laughed short GIGGLES…
AS FOR myself, SAID THE cat TO Floyd, I’D create A party-LIKE life, WHERE I DO AS I please, AND LET paper WORK AND feelINGS AND desireS AND tryING AND tellING TO monkey.
THAT shapeD SOME fun, AND syncHRONICITIES AGAIN happened SHORTLY.IN THE FLOWING water, “aum” SOUNDS RIPPLED IN A huge dear dance beginning TO REFLECT himself IN images. HE sighed AS HIS attention GOT INVOLVED IN THE trip AND HE remembered…
ON THE beach, obviously AWARE OF THE synchRONICITIES, THE creatures wanted TO CLAP THUNDEROUS applauseS.
LIVING THE dead GUYS’ ideaS…In reply to: Synchronicity
Bubbles, skull, 3d software and other miscellaneous type synchs …
When I left for my walk yesterday, Eric said to me “happy bubbling”, as I left cafe I picked up newspaper off the rack and there was a big photo of a little girl blowing bubbles on the front page. It was a lovely photo, one which had won a photo competition, the child looked very happy. I was wondering what bubbles meant to me, did not think of the 8 thing, but that is a good point.
Yesterday I had a hair appointment. As I left the house my atttention was caught by a picture which came up on my computer of a skull Dusky Moana (children’s story about a photographer, treasure etc) Later I saw that Eric had started writing about the crystal skull again in the story. Eric’s comment
As I leafed through a magazine at the hairdressers I was interested in a story about an artist who does his work using 3d software, (I don’t know much about it computer 3d stuff, so was interested to see Jib had been playing with 3d software yesterday. ahahah also George and I are obsessed with flies at the moment, is this a synch? I would love to see the image you did Jib!). It caught my attention because of another image of a girl blowing bubbles. Also because the artist started off saying:
I was born in London, England on October 26 1958, the youngest of four and much to my parent’s surprise, I was born a dog.
which I found very funny really, in fact I found his whole Bio very amusing. (ahaha also very amusing none of our numbers in his birthdate, that makes an intriguing change )In the interview it talked about how he worked as a photographer in a children’s ward for a number of years, and this greatly influenced his work, endowing his subjects with surreal otherwordly qualities to help them cope with life. Quite a few of them have sort of insect type appendages.
also, just on the off chance anyone interested Ray Caesar’s Bio
The other image which caught my eye in the magazine was this one of the world’s most valuable skull, made of diamonds: The Diamond Skull (Interesting I was getting the skull imagery I thought, because I have not really been able to quite follow the whereabouts of this skull in the story, it has perplexed and bemused me a bit.)
Sorry to mess up the order of your next comment Eric. I often whisper my comments to myself when I don’t finish writing them in one go, and I was not expecting anyone else to be up writing. But I think that is a tremendous synch, particularly in relation to Tracy’s comment about the 888th comment and a huggy is a nice one for it to be. Tracy’s comment mentioning the 888th comment (Is this a synch or did Tracy already know about the 888th mark having been hit? oh who cares, lovely synch, that was evil twin popped in for a minute)
I had a Sam synch, well this is getting long. But anyway I was thinking about spiders as I left the supermarket (long story as to why I was thinking about spiders), Anyway Jib and I had talked about spiders in the story earlier, and as I looked up I saw the car plate coming towards me was X SAM X ….. (what does this mean? is it sam surrounded by X’s? or kisses from Sam ? hahah well I think I will go with that one )
In reply to: Synchronicity
She made her way downstairs to the kitchen, and the headlines in the Reality Times newspaper on the table caught her eye:
‘Mysterious Carved Rock Faces Appear in Yorkshire Villages.’
SYNC! Todays random quote, and I just this minute mentioned to Jan how things keep appearing IN the book before we hear about them OUTSIDE of the book, and I mentioned the Yorkshire stonecarver. We had been discussing previously the ELIZABETH sync. Some of Franci’s descriptions of Elizabeth fit exactly Jan’s impressions of Elizabeth in the movie she just watched.
The botanist, the woman in mans clothes, and the island all cropped up OUTSIDE the book yesterday……
In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud
loved strong :heart:dear dimension
town eyes
weird images
cave surface
writing focuses
swing dear:bounce:
often speaking:yahoo_not_listening:
night dream bugger
strange writing
rather taken
friend matter
change
love woke
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
The buzzing of the telepooh woke up Elizabeth with a flinch, her heart pounding in fast tremolos.
She grumbled restlessly, her throat dry and itchy and her limbs still limp from slumber; she was in a dream, and already, she was feeling the unusual distinct clarity of the dream scenario gently fade as her attention was focusing upon the unwelcome sound which had a distorting quality of her yet poorly focused perception of her surroundings.
The buzzing ceased abruptly. She opened an eye to see the ID of the caller, but it was not displayed. Bugger the caller
Still feeling groggy, she was hanging to the last images of her dreams. It was telling her a story, a legend… Something full of grandeur, like a galactic opera filled with awe, drama and excitement… A renewed fount of inspiration…The voice of the lady who had been telling her that story was still inside her head, all she had to do was to slightly let herself drift into the numb and warm state of mind in which she was some minutes ago…
You are tapping into a mass event. You are translating but a minute portion of it, though it seems colossal already. It is in fact so wide that it reflects in many other worlds which all live in your imagination. Bound together, they represent more books that you could write in a lifetime, more books that you and any army of ghost-writers could write in a thousand lifetimes…
The voice was delightfully soothing, and Elizabeth was seeing herself drifting again in the blissful sleep bereft of irate publishers’ diktats. Beaming at her, Elizabeth could envision a light feminine figure with flowing dark hair illuminated by green-blue shimmers. How could she ever remember all that was said… She was plagued with such bad memory…
Elizabeth had her dictaphoo under her pillow, ready for such sudden strokes of genius, but her mouth dried up from nicobeck wasn’t ready to spew out words that early in the morning.
What the lady with the teal eyes had shown her was an old book of prophecies, which she had named the Last Gospel, unknown yet but which would be remembered as the mass event would be enacted again.
The book spoke of a triad of planets, named M’si, B’si and Earth. Just before Elizabeth woke up, she had seen that Earth was in the process of been isolated from the other parts of the cosmos, for untold reason. Suddenly, she had seen one of the planets, the one named B’si, change her quality and become a “gravitational lense” altering the perception of space from the “Earth” standpoint. The planet B’si became transparent and expanded, as though it was an exploding super-nova, but nothing radiated from the planet. Only the quality of the space was modified.Elizabeth had the idea of a novel based upon this mass event which could be her next perfect best-seller. She reached out for her typewrooter.
When the World was young, the Powers were roaming in a void full of possibilities.
Initially, Three Syzygies there were. By two came the Six Powers. Three Syzygies, or couples of Light Beings, each Syzygy blessed with unlimited creative powers.Elizabeth pondered for a moment… She wanted to say many things at the same time, and couldn’t write them fast enough. She started to write notes haphazardly as they came to her mind.
— Two planets for themselves to play; a planet for themselves to dwell. The planets gravitate around a sun on the same orbit. Each of the Powers possess a symbolic
scepterpower artifact, and each couple generates a crystal or a kind of light seed which allows them to create new sentient beings… When parted, that crystal kind of light is deactivated.
— One planet is home of dragons, created by one of the syzygies, another is home of giant eagles; they all are lesser Powers… The third one have giant-like Light beings…— What made the planet B’si change its quality? What became of the Powers? (I can sense them desiring to become part of their creations, willing to forget about themselves and their powers… Punishment? Mere playfulness? Perhaps there was a coup organized by the Lesser Powers?)
Phew… Elizabeth yawned. All she could think of now was that she wanted to go back to sleep…
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Instantly Elizabeth regretted her spikey, voodish behaviour and scrambled to retrieve the telepooh. Her mother was Vood by nature, a particularly dysfunctional personality type, and Elizabeth had struggled all her life to avoid similar behavioural patterns. Her friends, and certainly her ex-husbands, would say perhaps with only partial success.
Apologies Bronkel, I was engrossed in my writing. How can I help you?
Bronkel appeared to be covered in bandages from what she could see of his upper torso, giving him the appearance of a rather odd mummy like creature. He was constantly searching for new beauty treatments to extend his youthful goodlooks, however at 167 years more and more desperate measures were being called for.
Elizabeth! Thank God, Where in Flork’s name have you been? he shouted at her. His pudgy, prouty little face was scrunched in peevish vexation. I can’t talk for long, I am on the Island for a month and the connection is flork. Where in the name of Fock is the story you promised me?
She could not find the words to reply to Bronkel. I wonder if I am mindblown? she mused. She had read of this horrible phenomenon, and seen the sad pictures of those thus afflicted. Poor wandering creatures, strange erratic behaviour, always travelling, always seeking. But for what? Hell on Dearth indeed. She shuddered.
It is getting urgent you know, spluttered Bronkel. Every day I am reading of new treatment centers opening for those undergoing crisis due to the prolonged absence of the Fickle Four in their lives.
She sighed, Pull yourself together Elizabeth, her bloodshot and tired eyes were drawn to the planetary horrorscope on the monthly calendar. Todays “Words of Comfort for the Descending” quotation was from the famous philosopher Lemone. She particularly loved Lemone’s ideas. Many considered him a nutter, a few thought he was a genius ahead of his time. For herself, she did not really know, only that his profoundly beautiful words offered a kind of solace or balm to her tortured soul at times such as this :
Sometimes it takes a single sniggly thorny path to go through to reach Elysian avenues much more efficiently ~ Lemone
Absolutely fantastic Bronkel, I think this is going to be the best novel yet! My God what an effort it took to say that, but for some reason Bronkel appeared to believe her and began to calm. Thank you Lemone, I could kiss you! she breathed an inward sigh of relief.
Poke its eyes out! screeched Robert X exuberantly.
A sniggly thorny path indeed, she thought, hanging up on Bronkel. She had fun using him and his island getaway for inspiration in her last novel. Fun, what happened to the fun? Is this what descended beings do, sit around in a dank, dusty office writing trashy novels?
She began nervously smoothing out pieces of paper and tried to decipher the scribbled notes; …big soup party …..pointy teeth like cannibals…..tribal wedding ….
Elizabeth put her head in her hands and groaned in abject despair. Twelve of the twenty mongoats fainted at the fearful sound.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Elizabeth Tattler stared morosely at her screen. Her long hair, formerly her crowning glory was wild and matted, small bald patches had formed where she had begun to habitually pull at it. Her beautiful violet eyes for which she was famous were bloodshot from weariness.
Ms Tattler was known planet wide for her series of children’s books “The Fickle Four”. The exploits of Almad, Tinigrump, Samnuf and Bekipo were beloved by children of all ages and planetary connections, although perhaps most endearing to those of the Fumari dimension who had a natural disposition for exploits of such fickleness. The catchprase “Bit rude Tinigrump”, and “Madder than Almad” had become part of the national vocabulary in recent years.
Formerly Ms Tattler had written, with limited success, novels of a more adult nature, drawing on her numerous marriages for creative inspiration. However her publisher had asked her to create a series about four friends who were on a mission to create other worlds, the focus being on “providing positive and fun role models” for children growing up in these difficult times of planetary upheaval. The works were in the science freakshow genre of writing and the popularity of the original novel had been unprecedented, taking Elizabeth and her publisher by surprise and leading for the demand for many more.
Ah, she sighed, and then spluttered as she inhaled the dusty, smoky air, but what a noose this has created. Her yellow nicobeck stained fingers touched her neck and then ran agitatedly through her hair. For at some point, when did it start? the story had begun to take a life of its own. She no longer felt in control as plots became more and more bizarre. She felt unable to follow anything through, creating endless threads which seemed to lead nowhere. She looked around her small office, everywhere was the evidence of stories started and discarded, screwed up pieces of paper covered in frenetic doodles littering the floor.
The telepooh began to buzz. She knew it was Bronkel her publisher before his face came up on the screen.
I know you are there Elizabeth. Will you pick up please!
In a fit of rage Elizabeth picked up the telepooh and threw it across the room, where it narrowly missed Lana, one of her 20 fainting Mongoats she kept as pets. Lana fainted for a few seconds in fear and Robert X, her pet Magpie, hopped around delightedly, Bugger the telepooh, Bugger the telepooh! he screeched. Poke its eyes out! Poke its eyes out.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
The Story Vincentius told to Arona
I was seven when my father died. He leapt into a swollen river to help a neighbor who was drowning. He saved the neighbor but could not save himself. Everyone called him a hero but my mother called him a stupid fool. She was filled with sadness for her loss, and anger that he would leave her in such a way. I remember she got a pair of big scissors from the sewing box and cut off her long hair. For weeks after that I would see her move her hand to brush her long hair away and suddenly realise it was no longer there and I would see her go still. Then her body would slump and she would stand there looking lost and not knowing what to do. One day her heart just stopped beating. They said she died of grief but I think it was that life had become an empty hole that just got deeper and darker. I don’t think that is the same as grief, but maybe it is. My three older sisters and I cried and cried when my father died, but I never once saw her cry.
When my mother died we had to cry in secret, because my Grandmother Naja moved in to take care of us. She didn’t believe in crying. There were many things she didn’t believe in. Grandmother Naja ate like a bird, looked like a piece of old leather and moved like a skittery rabbit.
Vincentius she would say to me, peering at me shortsightedly, you need to get bigger. Your parents are dead and you are now the man of the house. Every day she would poke me in the ribs and say “Vincentius, you need to get bigger”. Every time she poked me I remembered all over again that I was not good enough and that my parents were dead.
One day she sent Taffy, the second oldest sister out to the garden to get a cabbage. But there were no cabbages left the garden. Well! said Grandmother Naja, I can’t cook cabbage broth without any cabbage. So she gave Taffy a coin and sent my sisters into the Village to buy a cabbage from the market.
I begged to go too.
You are too small and you are too slow! said my sisters
Eventually though they gave in to my pleading.
I have often wondered if I knew the events that day would bring, if I would have begged so hard to go, mused Vincentius
to be continued …
In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud
Pain interesting ….
dark quickly, game change, lost obviously, bring bandages,weird weather.
Whatever …
Franiel wondering … yellow color …. raft named random truth? Try move nothing. Perhaps heart speak sometimes quiet. Thinking energy….remember herself moments, process inside light, past help outside …. wait, familiar wall happening … floating mind sea movement.
Yurick noticed …. told mummy story, attention Bronkelhampton.
Joe tell sheriff spiders answer, bugger party!
Cold worry gone …. laughing. Dear bright cave, already connected.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Tina was puzzling over the garbled communication from Sam. Sam was very skilled with his telepathic communciation but Tina still found it a little hard to accurately interpret some of the messages. She was getting a feeling of fun energy and strange images of Sam doing a crazy dance.
She focused and tried to mentally message him in response, Sam, what are you saying? I can’t quite make it out?
Oh bugger this! It would be much easier just to call him, thought Tina, picking up the phone.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Malika jotted down some notes on the chat window, depicting the images as they whizzed into her mind like the pages of a multicoloured flip-book
“As she swam swiftly to regain the spot of her observation, she skimmed almost to the surface, and as she did, she saw lights. She surfaced and heard sounds that resembled the music that she and her sisters played.
They held in their hands objects that projected sounds…” As she swam swiftly to regain the spot of her observation, she skimmed almost to the surface, and as she did, she saw lights. She surfaced and heard sounds that resembled the music that she and her sisters played.
They held in their hands objects that projected sounds, and their echoes in the waters were projecting harmonious symphonies that were carried miles across the waters.How odd that the sounds where so similar to the ones she had always known. But they were different, rasher, suffused of a violent nature which was so alien to the world she was coming from. It all was perplexing, and almost deafening to her. Her eyes getting slowly accustomed to the light could not yet perceive that there was no longer the life she’d felt on the strange floating body, but she knew it assuredly even without seeing it.
She plunged back into the waters, to reattain the gliding peace and softness that she had been missing so much already, even though she had been out of it for barely a few moments.
Where was the life she had felt… Gone in the strange world of the surface? She knew so little of that world, that she imagined that all their creatures could swim as easily in the airs as she could do in the waters. Was there a bottom to their environment?
All of these questions were erupting and expanding in her mind, when a sudden feeling got her forthwith.She could feel him. Sinking slowly… and she could feel his pain inside, something else that was alien to her… He was so fascinating…
She swam fleetly to where he was.
She turned in small rounds around him, following closely his descent, not daring to touch him.
So alien, yet so beautiful.She could communicate with him, as he was in something close to a deep slumber, and allowing for that exchange to happen. It was a breach of the rules, she knew.
She had been told not to interfere with things from the surface, yet she was interfering already, and she’d always been doing it in a sense… At what point did that breach leapt from her imagination to reality? She couldn’t say…The light was casting a yellow radiance in the blue waters. A feeling of warmth and comfort surrounding them.
He was telling her he was dying, yet he was comfortable. Time meant nothing…
She conveyed to him that she could help him, bring him back to his floating station, where he could spring back into his world… She wanted to share so many things with him…In reply to: Rafaela’s Random Ramblings
‘The time has come,’ the Walrus said,
‘To talk of many things:
Of shoes — and ships — and sealing wax —
Of cabbages — and kings —
And why the sea is boiling hot —
And whether pigs have wings.’
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
It’s a very nice name, Arona. But you must have been dreaming. My name isn’t Floyd in this focus.
Oh bugger it! said Arona, not really listening to Floyd, or whatever he said his name was. Floyd, they look like nice people don’t you think?,… a bit weirdo perhaps but the monkey is cute … and I do love dancing. I have not danced in ages. Oh let’s just join in anyway!
Well, I am not really dressed for it, and I am not much of a dancer … answered Floyd uneasily.
We can be anyone we want to be! responded Arona, in an unusually irrepressible mood. let’s just close our eyes and imagine how we want to look, and let’s go! Don’t forget to smile will you.
Arona and Floyd join in the Disco Dance
That was fun! and you are a great dancer Floyd! laughed Arona. And thanks Guys! hope we didn’t interrupt anything, she called out to the new arrivals at the cave.
Not at all, join in anytime! answered Georges with a smile.
Actually, Arona, it’s Sanso, not Floyd, said Sanso.
Oh right! sorry … I was sure you said Floyd, silly me. I often get things mixed up, apologised Arona, graciously. Anyway, I think I had better go back and see what Yikesy is up to. I left him playing with that Salumbmatibum thingy. Goodness only knows what he will have created!
In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud
YOU’LL BE following yourself BEFORE YOU GET started, WEARING THAT wig, Rose. Come HERE! TINA pulled IT OFF moments LATER, within SIGHT OF EVERYONE. THEY ALL smiled BUT everyone WAS cool. (Maevel WASN’T surpriseD TO BE creating handsOME perfect AND weird CHARACTERS.)
IT seemed THE PERFECT synch WHEN blue joe THE action MAN, KNOWN TO bed EVERY known HUMAN skin IN TOWN ~ WITH NO particular PREFERENCE ~ WAS FOUND getting A faceLIFT TO help IMPROVE HIS laugh.
Given THAT sam’S FACE HAD weatherED ALOT TOO, tracy WAS full OF thoughtS OF GAINING fair points FOR A BIT OF magic. HER quiet friends, AS WELL AS HERself, HAD bookED THE APPOINTMENT. Nothing, NOT EVEN THE WEIRD aspects OF THE days, easily FORGOTTEN, COULD SHAKE THE focuses understandING.
Images IN THE sky APPEARED, AND THEY wondered ABOUT THE STRANGE sound…….
In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Veranassessee (V’ass) Eloha, swimming like a naiad in the waves of the sapphire sea bordering the island of Tikfijikoo, was back in a few powerful strokes on the wooden planks of the pier from which she had just fallen.
Trained in many martial arts and in the art of concealing her emotions, she effortlessly managed to maintain a perfect composure despite the fact that this unexpected moment of inattention may have cost the loss of the precious box of rare Blue Bonnet spiders —the venom of which was needed for the good success of the “treatments”.
Sharon and Gloria, still cackling unceasingly, thanked Armando, the pilot of the seaplane, who had entertained them no end with his stories of mysterious wreckages and lost aircrafts.
Now they’d just landed on this paradisaic island, and a gorgeous woman dripping in water was extending them a firm hand, greeting them. Al was wondering who had jinxed his last entry in the play, that he had to write twice, since some invisible mischievous hand had just made him lose the first in the /dev/null dimension.
Good thing the Sumafairies bent over his crib had been gifting him with a good memory… — Welcome at Tikfijikoo, where your kewlest dreams come troo.
V’ass was satisfied. Though, most of the box had been lost, she had managed to save two couples of spiders, which would be enough for the two turkeys.
As for the remaining ones, let’s just hope they’re all dead and drowned.In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud
WOW… lots of interesting ones in that cloud here:
— Once under thinking, session clear words God/Human waiting speaking word, language beginning feeling looked. Key herself aware […]
— Gaughran home looking funny random energies
— Tracy floating, magic color seemed trip
— Points side mountains, process great
— Bugger difficult! Nice interesting moment link
creating action
— Trust help face aspects seems play
— Structures changing… Dancing green heart Finn
— Badul getting synch princess
— Twilight book important
— Elikozoe stories singing magical times. Able feel sort understand images mind, read Armelle. Voice started moments sync call Maevel…In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
“Sand! I may have got the riddle, thought Sanso, but I didn’t get the POINT of the riddle being there in the first place!”
Becky had been flicking through the wads of typed pages as she lay on the sofa, sipping hot lemon and honey, and sneezing. The sneezing! Jeeze, the sneezing had been going on for days. What with all the sneezing and sleeping, she felt more blinked out than blinked in lately.
Sand, sand sand…… Hhmmm, Becky was wondering why the sand syncs were coming in again. She blew her nose, and picked up another wad of typewritten pages, opening at random.
“Illi was bored with the deserted island and the sand dragons. She wanted some action, some surprises, some…..well, some life!”
Wow, I’d forgotten all about Illi, thought Becky. She imagined the calm quiet beach, Illi’s island get-away. Well, before she’d conjured up the sand dragons it was quiet, anyway. Becky thumbed through the next pile of papers.
“Arona pulled out a well worn map from her bag. The map had been a gift from a traveling wizard who visited the village a few years ago. Arona had given him food and shelter and he repaid her kindness with the map.”
Well, I’ll bet that’s a clue, thought Becky drowsily, But I can’t be bothered to work it out now.
The trouble is, Becky muttered to herself, When I start this random reading thing I just can’t stop, it’s like an addiction. She sighed and opened again at random:
“The hydroplane was flying over the “Sarcastic Sea” in the Bermuda Triangle. Anita was not afraid, her parents had told her about the triangle and the different legends of people disappearing or reappearing there….”
I think the noise is really related to the story 