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  • #1055

    As she was sinking to the bottom of the raging sea, Madame Chesterhope first felt like a boiling rage inside her, at all the thwarted attempts, all the unfulfilled promises.
    Not a solid thing on which to carve a few runes or symbols to get herself out, not a single living being to use at her profit, she was alone, at the mercy of gravity.
    Not unexpectedly, flashes of her life, of her many lives, flickered like incoherent pieces of an unfinished mosaic in her mind.

    When did it went wrong? she thought… When did she lose touch with her magic.
    Not the mundane magic, not the one she used for these parlor tricks devoid of meaning, like that beautiful flying motorbike which was drowning even faster than her… She was speaking of her inner magic, her sense of connection with the elements, with herself, Phoebe.

    What had become of the frail grey-haired lady the apparency of whom she was so fond of taking years ago?
    She was tempted to blame many things; the twenty-first century of her own dimension, for one, which had made her rough and tough, out of need perhaps, and perhaps a bit out of laziness. It was out of tiredness mostly, tiredness to have to constantly justify her appearance to others, that she had chosen a more convenient one; that of the crone with more rotund forms, of whom one would only expect austerity and strength.
    You can see where it had led you. she was thinking.

    A few more miles further down, and perhaps she would meet the mermaids, like the guy said in that Big Blue motion picture
    Maybe there was some purity left in her heart, that would make the inhabitants of the depths greet her wretched soul. Or perhaps they all died before her, from the pollution of this strange world mutating in pangs and spasms of a painful childbirth.

    And what would you do now, if you have the choice? that sweet voice, like that of a thin grey-haired mermaid, was it her own, testing herself?
    The quest for magical artifacts seemed so far away at this moment. It had begun a long time ago, led her to discover new other-dimensional places… new tricks, all of them for what? To gain control over the elements, the others, everything that could threaten her, force her to change. How ironic. That the fear of change made her change so drastically.
    She wanted to make peace with all of that. The mermaids weren’t coming, but her own voice was still there for her. Perhaps she could muster the strength. To continue…

    Mustering all her force, she forcibly expressed the most propelling “prout” she’d ever made. Of course, she’d been learning a few tricks from the legendary Fartiste back in her youth when she went to Paris to perform at the Moulin Rouge… Sweetest time of her life, she had to admit…

    :fleuron:

    On the surface of the waters, bubbles started to form.

    #928

    Passing through the security cordon of the giant spiders had been relatively easy, thanks to the indications telepathically passed down to them by the Snoot .
    With Anita on her back, Yurmaela the gruffoon had come back to the borgulm tree where Claude had been left to watch. After a moment of surprise at the unexpected apparition, he didn’t take long to decide whether he wanted to stay or not and had jumped on the broad back with the little smiling girl who was grabbing on the coarse hair of the beast.

    Keep you energies and your attention close to us, said Yurmaela Just like Akayli is doing with your parents, Anu. Though they have plenty of eyes, the giant spiders mostly rely on their energy perception, and they won’t see you if you stay within our energy field.

    A few minutes later, they were all standing in front of the growirling wortex, partially masked by the bark of the huge babul tree, which was standing out with its massive appearance. Flames of what seemed to be dark floating matter were pulsating very slowly, enhancing the thumping sound of their hearts.

    Ready to come back home sweet Anu? Akayli said fondly to the little girl?
    Yes, it was so much fun you all came to play with me… I’d want you to stay with me.
    What do you say? asked Claude They ain’t coming?
    This reality had a special design which allowed us to project very easily here said Yurmaela very softly in that reality of you, and Anita and Akita; as for now, the barrier in that reality is thicker than it is here.
    But we are always present around Anu, you know that said Akayli kneeling down to wrap his spotted furry arms around the little girl
    Yes I know she was smiling And I miss my parents too
    So let’s go, the wortex will close any moment now

    #840

    You have summoned us, Master Tfark
    Yes, young Piawan

    The magpie known as Robert X was standing in front of a glowing bluish light emitted by a glass ball full of sand nearly as big as the gnome standing before it.
    Inside the ball, one could distinguish a century-old-looking figure, so fat it was almost indiscernible from the pile of cushions on which he was seated in a lotus-like posture. On the forehead of the Master, a third eye was visible, its gaze piercing you through your flesh.

    How is our matter proceeding, Hex?
    Well enough, Master. All preliminary stakeout has taken place according to the plans. We are only waiting for the right conditions to strike and rob the item without being noticed.
    Very well, Hex…

    The three-eyed Master Tfark scratched his chin pensively.

    A convenient surge of atmospheric energy is coming your way, I suppose you are aware. I hope that you’ll make good use of this. Our clients are very eager to get this item back
    Yes, Master. You shall not be disappointed.

    And with that, the communication was ended.

    Robert X stood in front of the now inert communication device, visibly preoccupied.

    Sir, you didn’t mention the disappearance of our guest, did you? asked Robert K
    There is nothing yet to report. Let’s do the job and we can quickly leave this place. Next inter-dimensional window will be opened a few moments after the cyclone, that should work out perfectly.
    Sir, yes Sir. Ready to lift the energy cloak as soon as we are ready to strike.
    Perfect then… Remember, without the energy cloak, we’ll have to solely rely on our magpies shifted appearances.
    I know that Sir, this is not my first mission, Sir.
    Very well then. Is there something else?
    There is another thing, Sir.
    What?!
    Some trouble with the bee-keeper I fear

    #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!

    #833
    Jib
    Participant

      The low vibration of his didjeridoo was filling up the room. His apartment in NYC was wide open, and a fresh breeze was caressing his naked arms. Sam had learn how to circular breathe in order to play the didjeridoo while he was in Australia. He loved the sound of it, the vibration passing from the hollow trunk through his arms, his mouth, his whole body.
      His didjeridoo was undecorated as he was more interested by the sound than by its appearance. A clear E flat.

      Sam was playing around with the sounds he could do with this instrument, a blending of harmonics and of seeming animal cries. He was also introducing sounds that he connected to various friends of his. His open windows had let some bees in the apartment. The rhythm of his music and the rhythm of the fly of the insects were creating a kind of pattern that was hypnotic, and he soon felt his body expand as he was keeping on playing and breathing.

      He was letting more of his awareness of other energies and he could see that among his friends were various people from the aboriginal tribes he had met during his trip, and also the Nanaconda.

      #831
      Jib
      Participant

        After a look in her mirror, Patricia M knew she was perfect.
        Her honey blond hair was enhancing the fascinating power of her green copper gaze.
        She pouted outrageously and put some more lip gloss on. Yes, she was highly satisfied with her appearance.
        She stretched her short tightly fitting deep pink dress and admired her silhouette. A surge of excitation filling up her body.
        She was ready to do her next move.

        #829
        TracyTracy
        Participant

          Ella Marie Tindale was one of the many people reported missing after the floods. Her body was never found and her husband Arthur intuitively felt that she was still alive, although he had said little to the police. They hadn’t connected the mummy’s disappearance to his wifes disappearance, but Arthur had his suspicions.

          One night a few weeks previously, Arthur heard Ella Marie talking in her sleep. She often mumbled aloud, that was nothing out of the ordinary, but Arthur had had a nasty jolt when he read about the theft of the mummy, and recalled that Ella had been talking to a mummy in her sleep. He couldn’t imagine why Ella would steal a mummy, let alone walk out on their marriage in the middle of a flood, of all things, but then, Ella had always been strange.

          Arthur Tindale sighed. He missed his wife.

          #1759

          In reply to: Synchronicity

          F LoveF Love
          Participant

            SOME OF TODAY’S SYNCHS:

            EGGLETON
            reading a magazine in cafe, kept seeing the name Elise Eggleton … a journalist, seems to report mainly on appearance medicine type stuff .. (wonder if she knows about Dr B?) :face-kiss:

            PINK PIXIES/PIXELS AND EASY
            Jib mentioned this morning pink pixies .. pixels? Today a woman emailed with a request for an accommodation gift voucher. I have not done gift vouchers before as the whole thing felt a bit complicated to organise … however decided it would be EASY so said YES we do gift vouchers. I looked at the clock on the computer and it was 1:23 just to confirm this easiness. She emailed straight back and said she wanted to go ahead and could i send her one in electronic format? Well I felt a bit stressed by this and not very creative and under time pressure :yahoo_worried: so looked up gift voucher templates. There were quite a few, one was called PINK PIXELS. After trying all of them out I decided to use this one, and with some modifications it actually looks really good. :yahoo_kiss: thank you Jib for your help. (not so easy to post gifts :yahoo_sad: )

            PINK AND POOH AND PANDA SYNCHS:
            This afternoon i went to visit my friend Katie. This might not seem momentous but the thing is she is one of my closest friends but i have not seen her for about 2 years. She only lives 10minutes drive away. We did not have a falling out or anything, but I just stopped making contact with people and have been quite introverted. Anyway there was no sense of not having seen each other for ages or anything … just the strange thing for me was that her children seemed to have grown so much. The two youngest ones, Emily and William, both were playing with bright pink balloons :balloon: and even though it was a hot day Emily had bright pink tights on. William wanted to show me his book. There were two pictures he loved and pointed out for me .. one was of a Panda which he said was the “cutest picture in the book”. The other one he loved he said was “POOH” and he was quite delighted with this. Well yes it was a picture of pooh believe it or not. It was a design of a castle and showed a big “long drop” and a man shovelling pooh at the bottom of it.

            RAT SYNCHS :mouse:
            A short while ago I googled rats as pets, not because I wanted one, just out of interest. I found it fascinating all the anecdotes about what good pets they are and how intelligent etc etc. :agreed: I found it interesting as they are an animal which is commonly hated by many people. Anyway Katie told me that her other daughter, Ella, came rushing home from Kindy School the other day saying she really REALLY wanted a rat as a pet and is quite determined to get one. Katie was not happy about this. I was able to share all my positive rat information with her and now I think Ella will get her rat. :yahoo_nerd:

            NUMBER PLATES
            On the way home I thought how wonderful all the synchs were, and as I thought this I saw YES 57. For a short while on the way home i followed ERIC 1. I also saw BEEZ. Also HONEY8, which is another variation of the HONEYB one I saw. I do find it interesting all these bee related number plates within such a small area. Related to this, Sir Ed was on the news tonight as the Queen had a memorial service for him today at St Georges Chapel in Windsor Castle. (sir Ed was the original HONEYB synch on the day he died at the age of 88, he was a HONEY BEE keeper as well as mountain climber – this explanation is for Tracy who finds it hard to remember things)

            555’S
            still seeing lots of these, the last two evenings have logged on at 5:55pm

            MISC:
            Mr X bought me some cookies with hunks of ginger in them. Also I bought myself some passionfruit yoghurt. But I don’t think that was a synch really. I think I bought it because I had been talking about them.

            oh that’s right, the girl buying the pink pixels gift voucher was also named Emily

            F :heart:

            #809

            Adorning the enormous wooden door of Chesterhope Mansion was a heavy bronze knocker in the shape of an ornate dragon. The door stood slightly open.

            Hello! Anyone there! Franiel called out several times, each time pushing the door open wider.

            Only an echoey silence responded.

            Franiel mindfully removed his boots. With a growing sense of excitement, as well as some slight trepidation if the truth be told, he entered the massive entrance hall. A black marble statue of a tiger reminded him curiously of his dream. To the left and right were doors, but after knocking gently, he found these to be locked.

            In the distance someone began to play the piano, a slow and simple melody. Franiel followed the faint sound to the door at the end of the hallway. He entered a massive dining room, in the center of which stood a very long table with 12 highbacked chairs. The furniture was heavy and dark, but sunlight streaming in through the window mercifully lightened the atmosphere.

            Crossing the room he entered the rear parlour from whence came the music. A woman sat with her back to him playing an upright piano. She had long grey hair, worn loose down her back. Franiel noticed how thin she was, and how straight she sat as her long fingers delicately caressed the keys.

            Hesitantly he knocked, not wishing to startle her. She stopped playing and turned towards him. Her face was gaunt, and such a pale colour, he found himself wondering if it had been a long time since she had seen the light of day. But her eyes were alive, bright and intense, and she did not seem awfully surprised to see him there.

            Hello she said, Who are you? I don’t think I have seen you here before.

            I am Franiel. I am sorry to arrive so unexpectedly … he began

            Oh no! you mustn’t be sorry, the woman interrupted, jumping up with a speed and agility which surprised Franiel given her otherwise frail appearance. She rushed over to him and then reached out and lightly touched his cheek. A look of wonder crossed her face and she stepped back.

            Oh my goodness! You are real! she exclaimed in astonishment. I thought you were one of the others.

            #792

            Elizabeth Tattler gazed at herself in the mirroor and sighed. Of course she was still stunningly bootiful, but since dear Eddie Foosher, her fourth husband, had decided to descend, she had lost the will to really care for herself. Day in and day out she had been focused on her writing, at first to ease the pain and loneliness, however increasingly she was finding real joy in her work. She looked lovingly towards the stoove where she was hardbooling a couple of mongoat oogs in preparation for some more Oogleton exploits.

            She turned back to the mirroor. I really do have glorioos eyes she reflected, even if still a tad bloodshot. She remembered the one occasion she had met the philosopher Lemone, many years ago now. What was that little loomerick he had written for her?

            Slowly it came back to her.

            There was a Young Lady whose eyes,
            Were unique as to coloor and size;
            When she opened them wide,
            Poople all turned aside,
            And started away in surprise.

            She smiled at the memory, how she would love to meet Lemone again! She remembered fondly how his air of kindly wisdom had far outshone his rather odd appearance and garish taste in cloothing.

            #1949
            F LoveF Love
            Participant

              Finn had a dream about the story:

              Yurick had divided the individual comments/posts from the story and sorted out all the ones which had something to do with dragons. Finn was gathering them up to read them, the comments looked like soft white cushions. They were sort of squarish in appearance. As she read them in the order Yurick had sorted them, she realised they made more sense than she had previously thought. Apparently, Yurick told her, he had taken them to a publisher who said he might be interested in publishing them but they would need some re-working. Then Finn was at some building she did not recognise. She told a lady that she needed to care for the comments. Finn was putting them into a row of terracotta pots and as she did they were changing into plants, some of them were quite large already, others barely showed above the soil, some looked a bit weedy and limp. She thought they would probably need some watering.

              #767
              ÉricÉric
              Keymaster

                State of Marshall VS Vinya Grey
                extracts of procedure 5057TP on case of unsolved time-blink that may have interfered with the timeline – Aug. 5th, 2237

                — As you are certainly most aware, Ms Grey, local authorities of the T FGF P (Timespace and Further Geodimensional Flux Police) has recently uncovered a case of unexplainable appearance of a new species within the past.
                The genetic makeup of this species bears some rather crude indication of human interference, though no official authorization has been recorded on its behalf. Our investigations have led us to believe you may have more than a little to do with this incident, which is, as you are once again quite aware, within the boundaries of decree 5533 on allowed and banned interferences and seeding into the timeline.

                — Objection, Judge! Prosecutor Arkandiusz is trying to intimidate my client. No proof has been yet produced that may confirm or infirm these allegations.

                — Mmmm… Objection rejected. Please continue Mr. Arkandiusz.

                — Shall I remind Ms Grey that the voluntary or involuntary seeding of new species within other areas has most of the time been disastrous, which is the reason of the decree aforementioned. Precedents were numerous even when our ancestors were not even aware of the possibility of time interference. Rabbits in Australia, does it ring any bell?

                — Objection, Judge! We are not talking about deadly pests here, we are talking about severely handicapped goats! Jeeze, come on…

                — … Do you mean, the Fainting Goats of our annual Fair, Mr Frey?

                — Yes, Judge Cornwick.

                — Oh, that is most interesting… Well, perhaps after this long introduction you may want to introduce your first witness Mr Arkandiusz, Ms… Beryl is that?

                #746

                My God, what the fuck is that?

                Veranassessee sighed, seeing the two plump lady on top of one another, lying sprawled all fours on the ground, with the door blown out in shards.

                Untie me Gabriele, so that I can ask for the nurse’s help. she said reluctantly to her partner, seeing with a bit of dolefulness, the effect of their strange erotic games already waning off.

                — Are you alright ladies?
                — Oh, I guess so, Vessie, sorry to have interrupted, we thought…
                — Yes, yes… Veranassessee was feeling oddly detached from the women’s babbled and muddled excuses, and even more detached from her own sloppy appearance.
                All she could think at the moment was that she seemed fated to marry Mahiliki, and get loads of children on Fukitupi, a doom that hovered on her head like a rapacious magpie over a precious gemstone…
                Good thing she was so gorgeous she would look great even wearing a potatoes sack. Sure Gabriele had noticed that already…

                Arch-Agent Gabriele came back, telling her he had called nurse Bellamy on the intercom, and she would be here in a minute.
                I’ll go to my room dear, we’ll talk later about Barbella. he said casually, a convenient code for “plan B” between them two.
                Professional as he was, he had also, V’ass noticed, as the women were untangling themselves, made the box and the silky rope very stealthily disappear.

                Sure, they would have more time in the evening. But now, she noticed she’d been a bit too lax on the security around the new guests. Fine that Dr Bronkelhampton’s recommendations were to have the patients free for the first months of their treatments (after all, the more drastic transformations never occurred before the thirteenth week), but she had to be more careful about them.
                She could not have them compromise “plan B”.

                B as Barbella… or rather…
                B as Bee-hive.

                :fleuron:

                — Did you hear like me, Glo?
                — I think so, Sha
                — What’s that Barbiella, Glo?
                — Barbella, Sha, barbella, like barbell… Could be a woman’s name…
                — Poor Vessie seemed so annoyed by the incident…
                — Yes Sha, we have to help her somewhat, if we want her to forgive us
                — Sure, we’ll find something to do, Glo.
                — Yes… I don’t like that Barbella. Perhaps it’s the man’s…
                Gabriele
                — Yes, Sha, Gabriele —does sound Italian, doesn’t it?
                — I was about to tell you Glo
                — Perhaps that’s Gabriele’s wife…
                — Or some kinky sadomasochistic practice we never heard of…
                — Rhooo, Sha, chuckled Gloria, who was thinking of Veranassessee’s dress and wrists tying games…

                #693

                He was climbing the steep path to the spring. His attention moving swiftly from one location to another, generating his human flesh body consciousness at each moment. At times he was not generating such a continuous movement and could appear in another place without having physically generated the objective appearance of the movement.

                He had no name, he had no necessity for it himself. One of his other focuses was aware of him as John, the Straw Man. That would be the intersection of their focuses. He smiled back at him as he was aware of their connection in that moment. Continuing his exploration of the surrounding, before generating the physical spring, he was also communicating with other focuses or other aspects of consciousness. He was also exploring the shift of attention in different mergences with different qualities of essences. Being dispersed he was part of these other essences also, though it is a rough translation of it.

                The movement of the path under his feet was smooth. The quality incorporated in the ground was facilitating his progression to the spring. It was not yet in his main focuses of attention, though it was close, some of his alternate aspects were already there and enjoying the premises and the non physical aspects of its reality. He added some mushrooms aspects in his surrounding as they were conveyed by his John aspect… they were connected to another of his friend. Oh! and a few ostrich eggs suddenly appeared ;))

                Yellorange green current of a snoot was swirling around some trees. The John aspect of himself was amazed at the beauty he was generating, and as he was felling Pashi moving her attention toward him in a softurplime mergence, this new aspect of consciousness manifested the spring. The ears of this focus were experiencing the different layers of its movement.

                #675

                But what the heck is he doing? He’s not gonna puke into my car! Armando was giving short anxious looks at the rear having finally noticed where the frogging sound was coming from.
                Oh, no… Al is very professional Tina was giggling. You know, he’s a top consultant on health issues. He’d tell you that better than me, I’m just a cosemotologist, but he knows what he does
                Oh really? Armando sounded interested
                Indeed… Al started
                Cosemotologist? interrupted Armando, almost flying over a wild goose crossing the path of the car.
                Yes answered Tina, batting a few eyelashes in the process.
                It has to do with this new thing, like using emotions as make-up?
                Yes, sure. It’s pretty effective for black spots, for instance, I’m not telling that for you of course. Here’s my card, if you’re interested in some private consultation. I also do sebum-blotches analysis, all you have to do is apply your face on a sheet of paper…

                Oh, wasn’t that mean, Tina? although Sam was finding the discussion hilarious, he knew Armando was quite ticklish on his appearance.

                And what’s the use of his swelling and frog sounds then? asked Armando, in a subtle attempt to move the focus of attention away from him
                Mmm… I’m still experimenting, but it’s an alteration of some of our common digesting bacterias, to have us efficiently process some of the new foods. But as I see it, the process of adaptation of these new bacterias may have some unpleasant side effects of swelling. Fortunately, I’ve found some old beat in the MuSoundeum that seems to help dissipate the swelling effects… I suppose the singer is still alive now… Perhaps you even know her, she was called Britta Toothpicks

                Good grief, here it is! Armando was visibly very relieved to have the rooftop of their destination on sight. He started to descend abruptly, making Chump bark at the slight air decompression, and in a matter of minutes, at the sound of frogs and Britta Toothpicks’ beats, they had all landed safely on top of the River Soup Restaurant and Salsad a new hype all-you-can-eat restaurant, where people would sit on boats and scoop their food out of the soup-river.

                #1502
                TracyTracy
                Participant

                  Ahahah, Sanso’s long lost twin brother Sinkso has finally made an appearance…..:yahoo_tongue:

                  #646

                  Before leaving the castle, the fake Viscountess needed to check something on the skull…
                  Was it a genuine one? She had almost trusted the so-called experts of the auction room, while she knew perfectly well that they only could see what they knew. And they didn’t know as much as her.

                  To her knowledge, there was only a handful of genuine old crystal skulls. But counterfeits were legions and a plague for such a skillful cat burglar as she was. Well, cat-burglar,… perhaps not as acrobatically as she used to… As a matter of fact, her life-long search for these skulls had suffered the competition of a little embonpoint… — the good thing being that those few sticky superfluous pounds had been perfect to impersonate the Viscountess.
                  In the past, she had come across a few of these fake skulls and most of them bore very similar indications leaving her to think stakes were high that they were coming from the same con-artist.

                  She methodically drew a little dagger from a scabbard at her belt. Going to one of the window, she drew one of the curtains a few inches to reveal the pale sun of Shropshire which was already fading.
                  Then, she turned the jeweled hilt in such a special manner that a soft clicking sound was heard, and a beam of light started to converge from the sun rays into the dagger. She directed the ray coming from the tip of the dagger’s blade into the bottom of the skull, and hold her breath in expectation.

                  Soon the skull started to glow a bluish light, and light poured out of the skull onto the walls in dancing symbols, while a soft buzzing sound was being heard around, started to drown her in a slightly dissociated state.
                  She cut the dagger’s beam very quickly, her heart pounding at the validation. It was a genuine skull. One of the six.

                  She had to hurry, she needed to proceed on her investigations to find the missing ones.

                  The trunk was there. She took another key that she had around her neck, leaving the first one on the cupboard’s lock for the Viscountess to be freed as soon as she would be out.
                  With the key, she proceeded to open the high-tech lock of the armored trunk which opened with a blow of air.

                  Her jumpsuit was here, along with the two turbo-reactor powered condor-wings that she strapped on her jumpsuit in very professional movements.

                  A few moments later, with her big dark sunglasses that gave her the appearance of an obese fly, Carla was flying high over the countryside of England, enjoying the soft gliding on the slightly damp air.

                  #624

                  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.

                  #609
                  ÉricÉric
                  Keymaster

                    — So he wants us to paddle down a river of pea-soup, is that it, sweetie?
                    Al was asking Tina, while playing with his teeth and gums…

                    — Oh, I don’t have any clue really, sighed Tina who began to feel annoyed by Al’s constant fiddling with his mouth.
                    — Well, not to worry then, except I’ve got focuses dead from poisoned pea-soup as far as I remember, so I am not overly enthusiastic about the whole pea-soup adventure… Better make it some more fluid…
                    — And will you tell me what you’re doing now with that mouth of yours Albert? Last time that was the hair, then the nails… it seems you can’t get enough of these explorations of your body consciousness, can you? Tsss… Tumold aligned people…
                    — Oh, this is fascinating, can’t you see, how fluid this all area is, despite the appearances.
                    — If you say so…
                    — Look!
                    — Oh now, you’re being gross! Tina was positively appalled by Al’s behaviour
                    — Oh, it’s funny, look… I can make my gums as malleable as marshmallow, and have my teeth float on that gum-soup…
                    Yikes!
                    — Entirely fascinating… And I can also grow some new ones, what would you say of pointy teeth like cannibals?
                    — Oh, come on, Tina was now no longer impressed… Have fun as you want, I’m going for a walk to help Becky buy her wedding dress… She wants something that looks “tribal” she said…

                    Tina went outside shrugging at the toothy grin Al gave her.

                    #572

                    The meowing of the angora Zhulie had woken up Yurick.
                    The past few nights, he had not heard her at all, but tonight, she seemed to request specifically his presence.
                    Last evening during the dinner, it had cracked him up because the cat was acting funny when it had smelled the cooked bamboo shoots of the sautéed vegetables he had for dinner. Perhaps a recognition of the Pekingese that he had once seen her to be, in shared focus in Imperial China.

                    Well, obviously Zhulie was no ordinary feline. Her character reminded Yurick of a blend of himself, Yann, Finn and his own mother. So that each time he was playing with her, he instantly had them in mind, in various orders of appearance, or strengths.

                    In any case, when he came back to his bed, Yurick was annoyed at first, to have been drawn out of his comfortable dreams, but he managed somewhat to get back to a state of relaxation, in between dreams and reality —which was obviously a mere way of saying things, as dreams are reality.

                    Speaking of dreams, his mind was wandering around the news that his mother had told him, about a distant cousin having published a book revolving around dreams and fantasies.

                    And then, within the dream, in the dream, in the dream,… an idea formed into his mind with the clarity of an evidence.
                    He could see it happening… Not only one book, but… oh, he couldn’t wait to tell his friends!

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