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Tina could not help but wish the wedding was over, what with Becky’s strange illnesses and then all the indecision and fuss over the wedding dress. In the end, after quite some deliberation with Felicity, the Bridal Goddess, they had decided upon a Russian themed wedding. Tina could not believe that now, after all that planning, Becky seemed to be in denial that the wedding was even taking place!

Is it today! she had screeched in a panic, when Tina called her first thing that morning.

I can’t get married today Tina! I consulted with the Snoot yesterday.

Tina sighed. She seemed to do an awful lot of sighing when talking to Becky.

Calm down Becky, what exactly did the Snoot say? said Tina gently

Well most of it I didn’t understand, something about I have created the splotches to be more allowing of my cleaning aspects, and to not be cleaning so much and to wash my hands more … and then he recommended some special green clay to improve my skin, to help those awful splotches I have been getting on my face … oh and he said no more mushrooms or red fruit. Well I don’t want to get married with my face looking like this Tina! Becky wailed despairingly. And the Snoot said it could take some time … but if I could let go of my crottes I would feel my inner vibration more freely … it was all a bit confusing to be honest Tina … and what are crottes anyway?

Phew, thank Flove for that, I’m not dead. Illi had just surprised herself rather unsettlingly, but no sooner had her hand fluttered to her chest in a dramatic little gesture, she remembered hearing somewhere that’s how you could tell if you were dead or alive: no surprises when you’re dead. She waved her hand airily, and laughed. At least I’m alive.

There was a tantalizing scent of wildflowers and meadowgrass in the still cool air of the cave, and as Sanso rounded a bend in tunnel a gentle breeze ruffled the folds of his robes. He quickened his pace, gladdened by the welcome promise of an adventure outside of the endless labyrinth. The air felt cool and warm at the same time, and deliciously fresh and clean as it wafted towards him, and with a feeling of immense joy, he heard a snatch of birdsong.

It seemed like many long years that he’d been trudging around in the gloom and the stale air of the caves, although he suspected it wasn’t as long as that. Time played tricks on him, he knew that, while he was wandering around in the darkness. He’d missed Arona, and that strange baby, when he’d first set off alone again, but not for long. He knew when it was time to move on, and so he’d left them. From time to time he wondered if he’d encounter them again, and knew he would.

A shaft of sunlight spilled into the tunnel and Sanso stepped out into the light. The breeze was fluttering the birch leaves high above him, as he squinted up at the pale blue sky. Grinning happily, Sanso took his time adjusting to the light. He sat cross legged on the soft green grass, feeling it springy beneath his hands. Hundreds and thousands of red and yellow spotted toadstools stretched out as far as he could see, carpeting the forrest floor with polkadots of colour.

Sanso looked down at his hands. The creases of his skin and under his nails were engrained with reddish dust, and he wanted water more than anything, gurgling bubbling fresh clean water. He stood up, and shook his robes a bit, and set off into the woods.

Intuition told him which way to go to find water. He marvelled at tiny flowers, and scampering insects along the way, squashing fungi beneath his bare feet which oozed up through his toes with little squeaky noises.

A rabbit ran accross his path and stopped momentarily to stare at him and Sanso laughed out loud.

Oh! Who’s there?

A girl in bright flowered skirts was sitting on the grass in a clearing just ahead, rubbing her eyes.

Whoa, I must be dreaming, she said, and rubbed her eyes again. She peered at the apparition in indigo robes, with skin the colour of tobacco and wild matted hair. Am I dreaming? she asked Sanso.

Perhaps, perhaps not, replied Sanso, who wasn’t really sure. I may be dreaming myself. My name is Sanso, anyway, what’s yours?

Zhana, the girl replied, Well, Uncle Grishenka calls me Zhanochka, but I…but I….I hate him, and I’m not going back! And much to her surprise, she burst into tears.

Sanso was momentarily non-plussed, and wondered what to do next.

Well, dear, if you don’t want to go back, why, then don’t go back! He wasn’t quite sure what the problem was; after all, he’d been wandering for so many years on impulse and whim he hardly knew any other way to go about it.

I don’t know where to go instead though, Zhana said tearfully. The long dark cold will be here again soon, and I must have shelter somewhere…..who will have me, besides Uncle Grishenka?

What long dark cold? asked Sanso. It seemed light enough and warm enough here.

Oh, my! Zhana was astonished. You ask me what long dark cold? Where have you come from? How is it you don’t know of the long dark cold? Oh! Are you from Nishanti’s place?

Zhana stood up in some considerable excitement. Can you take me to Nishanti’s place? Oh please say yes!

Well, I, er, um…..well, I suppose so. Well, yes! Sanso didn’t want to let the girl down, although he wasn’t altogether sure he knew where Nishanti’s place was. But he was game to give it a try, and the company of the girl would be a welcome change.

Tell me about Nishanti, then, Zhana, and what her place is like. Sanso was hoping a few clues might ring a bell, perhaps.

Nishanti has been my friend for as long as I can remember, Zhana said. We dream together mostly, well, Zhana blushed, Uncle Grishenka says it’s all in my head…he say’s it’s nonsense….

Zhana squared her shoulders and carried on. Sanso had a kind look, and nodded encouragingly.

She hardly wears any clothes, and her skin is warm and brown. The sun always shines and the sky is always deep blue in her place and we play outside all year long. There’s always warm ripe fruits to eat, not turnips and noodles, colourful juicy berries and plump pink fishy things, and there are flowers all year long, and the water isn’t frozen, we can play in the water and it doesn’t turn our hands blue…..

Ah, the other side of the world…hhhmmm…..Sanso rubbed his whiskery chin thoughtfully.

Ok, I can’t promise we can find Nishanti, but I think we can find the other side of the world. But first, I’d like to find some water, and perhaps a little fresh food?

Zhana whooped with delight, and flung her arms around Sanso. Yes, yes!

The landscape had become oddly unfamiliar to Franiel. He had walked this path to the Village at the foot of the mountains maybe a half a dozen times, yet he felt certain he had never before seen these surroundings. He had never seen this patch of bright yellow flowers with their golden centers, nor this gnarled tree whose branches dropped down over the path causing Franiel to stoop in order to pass by. He stopped, hesitating, should he return the way he had come, find where he had left the path? Yet even while his mind was telling him what he was seeing should not be, he knew in his heart that he had taken no wrong turning. He touched the trunk of the old tree, and asking for wisdom, felt it’s reassuring energy calm his anxiety. The way ahead, though unexpected, felt friendly.

As fate would have it he had not journeyed much further when he spied a fellow traveler coming towards him on the path ahead, a small figure swathed in colourful robes, wild and dishevelled locks of hair protruding exuberantly from beneath his brown leather cap.

Greetings Fellow Traveler, cried out Franiel as he drew nearer, My name is Franiel. I am travelling from the Monastery of Margilonia to the Village of Chard Dam Jarfon, and foolishly I appear to have mislaid my way.

The stranger chuckled merrily. Greetings Franiel, Indeed If that is your destination then I fear perhaps you are more lost than you care to admit. He motioned towards the grassy bank at the side of the path. Perhaps we might sit awhile and talk, for I know that I for one, could do with a rest and bite to eat.

A splendid idea, replied Franiel, sensing magic in the stranger and enjoying immensely the unexpected diversion.

So my friend you are a long way from the Village of Chard Dam Jarfon.

Am I indeed? mused Franiel, How could that be, for that was where I was heading, and as far as I know I did not step from the path, and yet here I am.

The stranger chuckled again, and his laughter was so infectious that Franiel joined in, not really being able to identify the source of the amusement, yet feeling all the better for it.

And how important is it that you get to the Village of Chard Dam Jarfon?

I am on a mission from Aum Geog, the newly appointed Abbot, replied Franiel, as he pulled out the chalice from his pack, to have this cup inscribed.

The stranger reached out for the chalice, and studied it intently for a few moments. He took some of the water from his own water bottle and poured it into the chalice. Muttering a few words which Franiel did not recognise, the stranger closed his eyes and held the cup up as though offering it to the Gods. After a few moments he took a sip from the chalice. A look of delight crossed his face, As I thought! he chuckled.

Now drink, my friend, he said offering the chalice back to Franiel.

This is the sweetest Nectar you carry in your bottle ! Franiel exclaimed in surprise after taking some sips.

The stranger chortled, It was plain water from the river I passed on my travels. I gather from your surprise that you do not know the magic of this chalice?

Franiel shook his head. Well to be honest I have not really given the chalice much consideration, only to briefly wonder at my task. My mind has been more occupied with other matters. Franiel looked at the chalice in his hands, And what more can you tell me of this magic?

I can caution you to be wary my friend, I would not be so quick to show strangers you meet on your path this cup, for be assured there would be some who would be keen to possess this. He frowned for a moment. What are the words which are to be inscribed on this chalice?

Franiel pulled the sealed letter from his pack, and, feeling only a moment’s hesitation, opened it; “Bibere venenum in argento”, he read haltingly, then shrugged. I confess I don’t know what that means, I have not been taught in the old language.

It is a curse of the Ancients, it means “drink poison from a cup of silver”. Seeing the puzzled look on Franiel’s face the stranger went on to explain. The magic of the chalice is to transform. I uttered words of love and the water transformed to sweet nectar. Had I whipered words of hate and fear, had my intention been to kill, I could have changed the water to bitter poison. The power though is not in the chalice, it is in the intention of the one who holds it and who knows of it’s magic.

Franiel shook his head, bewildered, I can find no sense in this. Why would Aum Geog curse the cup in this way?

The stranger turned and looked at Franiel, his clear blue gaze piercing and direct, I don’t know this Aum Geog, neither do I know his heart …. I know that you are the bearer of the cup now Franiel. Make sure you are asking the right questions.

after writing this egg synch I went for my walk. Another egg story featured in the newspaper with a big photo of a little boy in a wheelchair holding a kiwi egg. Here is the story

Both these stories, the owl and the kiwi spoke to me of positive stories of hope and survival.

it sounds quite synchy to me Jib

the evening of my initial egg synch a few days ago, I had another egg synch :yahoo_tongue:. There was a news item about a forestry worker who had found 2 eggs in a nest, and recognised them as morepork eggs. A Morepork is NZ’s only remaining native Owl, and I think endangered, this one was the first in 20 years thought to have been reared and hatched in captivity. The Morepork, named Whisper, was on the news item, it was so cute, it had huge yellow eyes like saucers which reminded me of Tina’s comment in the story, and was sitting on top of the reporters head preening his hair throughout most of the interview.

I dreamed of 2 owls that night too.

Khris was bodyflumping in a rain forest.
She was almost flying from one tree to another tree, jumping from the mossy floor to the top of the forest, and even higher at times, some times suspended in the air, redistributing the gravity around her.
It was tremendously fun and she was flumping with Eschraiel. Usually blond guy with blue eyes and quite a fun temper. He was enjoying bodyflumping too. They were with some other friends and some were hiding like ninjas, setting booby traps, physically and energetically.

It was really a mess.

Twilight was in a reflective frame of mind. She had felt real sad saying goodbye to her brothers, and that Blue Bull Elroy had won was worrying away at her. She’d had a dream about it the other night, the bull had got loose and it was all her doing. Well she didn’t remember much more than that about the dream, but it left her with a worried feeling.

What is is honey? asked Mama Belle , who had been watching the quiet girl and had seen the shadow pass over her face.

Oh it aint nothing much, I am just being addled brained. I were thinking about my brothers.

Well honey, you just say your prayers for them at night, and leave them to the Good Lord to mind out for. One thing don’t do nobody no good ever is worrying.

Do you believe in God, Mama Belle?

Mama Belle chuckled. Sure I believe in God, even though all my life people said I must be born of the devil to get this way. Her eyes took on a faraway look. When I was little my mother said to me, “God must sure love you Belle. He knows you one of his special children to give you such a hard testing in life. He knows you can take it.” Well I took that to heart, and fact is, far as I know, we only got one shot at this life. So I might as well make the best of things I reckon. The sun still shines on Belle honey, don’t you worry.

Must be hard for the sun to get through all that hair though, thought Twilight, feeling a bit sad for what her friend had been through.

Them’s the freaks I reckon, those ones that pay just to come and have a look see.

Dear Elroy and Jo

I am having a fine time here, meeting some real nice folks. Mr Elson has got a plan to put some of my dancing in the show, in an act along with Bleep and Flop, that’s two of the little folks, Bleep is only 3 foot high, and Flop is not much more than a few inches taller. Well it will be fun and it means I will get paid more than just minding them babies.

Felix Otterworthy, or they call him “the Otter Man” on account of the fact he ain’t go no legs, is a very learned gentleman. He has said he will help me some with my writing if I would like. Well, that is probably the thing I feel most excited about. He read one of my stories, and said it showed “some potential”.

So it is all going fine. I can hear them now doing the first call of the day, so this is a short letter for now.

My friend Mama Belle says I should pray for you boys. I said, “I reckon them two are beyond help”.

Well I am only making fun, got to go now, Be sure and write me something back.

lots of love Twi

ROLL UP! ROLL UP! WELCOME TO FABULOUSLY GREAT FREAKUS CIRCUS! THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH! See extraordinary acts and amazing feats! COME AND MEET THE FREAKS! See the Man with Two Heads, yes that’s what I said, TWO HEADS. Meet the ugliest woman that ever walked the face of the earth, that’s if you can stand to look at her! ROLL UP! ROLL UP!

Another day at the circus was starting.

AH FREAKIN’ BUGGER IT! shouted Tina, waving her fist in the air and stamping her foot with as much energy as she could muster. A few people turned their heads to look at her, and she had to quickly remind herself of what Mehmot Lung, her teacher, had said: “To be a true poet one must be able to fully FEEL to the depths of one’s innermost being”. Well Tina was doing her best, using her time whilst waiting for the others to do her homework for the week.

“One must lose one’s fear of what other’s think, and not be afraid of emotion. SHOW YOUR EMOTIONS TO THE WORLD, CELEBRATE YOUR FEELINGS!” Mehmot had exhorted the class passionately.

Tina didn’t think she was afraid of emotion, but she did feel a tad silly, stomping and shouting to the heavens, especially when she saw the others pulling up in Armando’s flying car.

Oh, it is very yellow, she thought

“Poetry is a treasure-filled storehouse to which we have lost the key, make your words SING!” again she heard her teacher’s voice.

Your car is as bright shiny yellow as the piercing eyes of a snowy owl, she said haltingly to Armando a few minutes later when he asked her what she thought of his new car, and, blushing at her own words, she decided at that moment that lyric poetry wasn’t for her after all.

I wonder if ballet dancing might be more my thing, Tina wondered, noticing Sam trying not to laugh out of the corner of her eye. She mentally sent him a little kiss bugger poetry!

Fine weather in Hawaii , he thought after the plane had landed at the Honolulu International Airport. He’d been offered an Orchid lei but didn’t really pay attention to it, almost discard it. Who had given it to him. He had no idea. Though the flowers were real now, and the smell was quite pleasant.

A man was waiting for him outside of the airport. Japanese breed.

Mr Langlade? My name is Isashi Mamoru. Aunt Alana was expecting you this morning.

Robert Langlade wasn’t here to apologize. She was the reason of his presence here, well what she possessed actually. The sooner he would meet her, the sooner he could continue his quest.

He got in the red car, and waited for the man to close the door.

Harry was looking at his daughter walking on the beach with her new friend. She’d lived with her mother in Arizona since she was born and she was only visiting him on holidays… when she had time. She had a western style and he wouldn’t have changed her, it was her choice. He’d wanted to change his own when he was her age, more trouble than he had expected. But it was another life, it was another Harry. He was not from Hawaii himself though he was born here. His family was originating from Korea. His path had moved him away from them for many years. He eventually came back, but he was different now.

This evening he was feeling melancholy. 58 years old. What was the purpose of his choices?
His daughter that he called Makana, seemed happy with her friend. She’d told him she’d met him at a conference in Boston last December. But he was not very present to his perception. Though he respected her choices again.

Alana had told him about an old friend of his. She’d warned him. He was there to take something sacred. She had fear in her eyes.

Narsila was swimming swiftly, following the direction of the calling. She knew others of her kind had heard the signal and were heading toward its origin. It was one of these emerging rocks where the humans had chosen to live.

The call was not directly connected with them though. It had been activated from another dream.