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In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
“Hey, Leo, look at this here in the newspaper ~ my book’s being made into a movie!”
“What book’s that then, Bea? Not that dreadful ‘T’eggy Gets a Good Rogering’, surely.” Leonora replied dismissively.
“Oh they’re not calling it that for the movie…..”
“Bloody good job if you ask me” Leo interrupted, and then exclaimed “OH!”
“What?”
“Book sync!”
“Book sync? What book sync?”
“I forgot to tell you, Baked Bean Barb called…”
“Who?!”
“You remember, we met her in that bar down on the coast awhile back, remember? We got talking over a few tapas ~ found we had some mutual friends back home and all…”
“Funny how that happens, eh ~ small world, innit? So what did she call for then?”
“Well, it’s the funniest thing, she said when she was rummaging around on the rubbish tip….”
“Oh now I remember, you mean Baked Bean Barb! The one that’s lived in her Ford Fiesta for 15 years, and finds food in dustbins? That one? On the run, wasn’t she?”
“That’s the one! On the run for 30 years because of that Baked Bean Incident that was in all the papers”
“You meet all sorts down here, eh. So what did she call for?”
“Well” continued Leonora “It’s the strangest thing! She said she found a book on the rubbish tip, which was in English, so she says she took the book ~ she reads alot you know, Barb does, even though she’s only got one eye. Dunno how she manages it really, her glasses are always so dirty…”
“Will you get to the point?”
“Hang on, hang on, I’m getting there….she found this book, right, so she goes back to wherever she’s camped up, you know, with the other travellers, all them old hippies on their way to Morocco for the winter I expect….”
“We should go with them next winter Leo, might be fun”
“I reckon it would Bea ~ well with Jose coming back soon from that island, we’ll have to go somewhere ~ anyway, as I was saying, Barb starts reading this book, she says it’s the most peculiar book she’s ever read, never read anything like it, she says, but she can’t put it down she says ~ well, you’ll never guess what!”
“I can’t guess, Leo, I’m waiting for you to tell me.”
“Barb says we’re in the book!”
“What do you mean, we’re in the book?”
“We’re in the book! ‘Leonora and Beattie’ are in the book! Renting a finca from a ‘Jose’ and living in the mountains in Andalucia!”
“You’re having me on!” exclaimed Bea. “I’ve gotta see this to believe it.”
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Marvin Scrozzezi was thinking he should really start to find a more suitable title for the movie…
Teri, one of the actresses he had in mind for the much desired role of Finnley, —in fact the actress, that he had almost wrote the part having her in mind— had refused to audition because of the script’s working title with that undignified ‘R—’ word (a hint to the reader, it’s not what you think)…
He was thinking… French people had romantic and colourful ways of expressing the same thing… sweeping the chimney, leaking the leek… Argh… forget it…
He wasn’t sure that “T’Eggy Finds a Big Butternut Squash” would be better either.He really sucked at finding titles.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
“Don’t you think time is ripe, Ratirat?” Angela asked, turning to her friend Seth, the brown furred mouse.
“None of us are ever equipped, for general purposes, to perceive reality in all of its forms.” Seth started in a squeaky voice.“That’s interesting” nodded Angela, though she would have been in trouble had anyone asked her to explain what she just heard.
Seth continued in his unnerving high-pitched voice “The pyramid gestalts can do this, and we help the pyramid gestalts perform this feat.”
“I second that” said Freako the black and white ferret.
“Bloody good point!” Weirdy, the damsel weasel managed to say among the growing cacophony.“Don’t be zilly… I don’t zink people outzide of this zoo are ready for us” snapped Joppy the baby pygmy hippo.
“Zwines!” grumbled Angela, innocently mocking Jobby’s strange accent.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Angela Wing was getting impatient. It had taken the fat white goose many months to reach a state of impatience, being such an accepting sort of creature, but really, she was wondering if she would ever have even so much as a walk in part in the Reality Play. Sure, she was a player behind the scenes, often appearing in the dreams of the players, but heck, a little bit of limelight would be nice occasionally.
She preened her brilliant white feathers, thinking how well they would show up under the lights, as it were. It was all very well lurking in the shadows of the ill remembered dreams all the time, but Angela felt the time was ripe for more exposure.
Becky yawned. Where on earth did that come from? she wondered, as she tried to rouse herself from her long nap. I wasn’t even dreaming about Angela Wing! All I can remember dreaming about is a book cover, something to do with eights…
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Dory was often reminding herself (and anyone within hearing or blogging distance in the process) of one of her favourite catch-phrases: what you are looking for is probably right under your nose.
It seemed of particular relevance these days, Yurick was noticing, for a variety of reasons.First, his glasses needed some dusting… He’d have to finish that monologue later then.
What was he about then? Yes. The tillandsias near the window. Last week-end, they’d been to a crystal store with Yann, and mildly interested by crystals, Yurick had been wondering loudly at the heaps of strange plants in the middle of the paraphernalia of rocks, shells and starfishes. The store owner had proceeded to explain those were aerial plants, known for gathering the elements of their sustenance out of the air.
The curiosity would probably have ended with those quick answers, had the guy not not given them on an impulse two little specimens just when they were about to go with Yann’s newly acquired amethysts.
Cute. New plants to interact with. Yurick had to say he preferred plants to rocks. Yann for his part had found them funny names. “Sha” for the witchy hairy one, and “Glo” for the pineapple-looking one. Why not…
The tilland… Well, “Sha” and “Glo” (you had to give credit to Yann for granting the reader a good respite from long unpleasant names) had been there in the bathroom for a few days, and only now had Yurick found some interest in investigating more about them.
The capacity they had to live apparently without any strings attached was very appealing to him, and it was like a symbol of focusing on one’s own vitality, and finding the means to live out of that elusive “new energy”; of not feeding off something outside of self.Now, he was finding even more interesting facts; a picture that Yann had taken of a blooming plant recently was of the same genus of plants, and it reminded Yurick of plants which had fascinated him in a botanical garden, that were also from this species.
Interestingly, he found out that the plants were named after a Finnish botanist (Elias Tillandz )… He couldn’t help but notice the similarities with another focus of his: Elias Lönnrot.The string of clues suddenly filling up the previously empty corridors of his mind were sparkling a renewed interest for focus hunting.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Tina leaned back on her rocking chair, and ogled with an eye of pity Al who was trimming one of the plants.
— What?
— Oh nothing, Tina sighed… are we gonna eat any fruit from those, or shall I throw them in the bin?
— Oh, there’s good hope we can soon have a cherry tomato wrapped in a leaf of coriander for our dinner sweetie.
— You and your miniature cultures… She finally rolled her eyes. During Al’s trip in the Floridisles, by a strange series of nearly miraculous coincidences, the plants had stayed intact. She hadn’t watered them for the two weeks, but apparently it had not displeased them.Al had told her the funny story of his grand-father watering his wife’s precious flowers during her absence with gallons of water, and literally drowning them in love.
She had not smiled. “Maybe I’m drowning people in my love too, they tend to get soggy these days…”
So perhaps her lack of attention had been a blessing for the tinsy artsy plantsaïs…What did they have for dinner last time? A puny ratatouille made with courgettes the size of her fingers. First time she’d wished she had bigger fingers. Nah… Al, you got to understand, people aren’t ready for nano-biotics…
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Georges and Salome’s journal
From Salome’s account of her introduction to the Turmak People (Part 2)
Once Cil and I arrived on the Murtuane the most obvious thing to be noticed was that the situation was of great complexity, with far-reaching potential implications.
There was this thing about the Murtuane which was not easily seen with the eyes —but somehow with appropriate shift of one’s attention could be felt to some degree. It was that this part of the dimension (this planet in simpler words) was acting like a form of capacitor which would help regulate the outbursts of energy in various directions of the dimension, namely the Duane —which was more diverse, and more versatile in its types of experimentation.
Usually, Cil had explained, most of the outbursts occurred on the Duane, and they were mitigated by the underlying presence of the balancing energies of the Murtuane.
Most of the inhabitants of the Murtuane were very peaceful beings, mostly due to either their shared telepathic and empathic bond (Children of Turmak), or else to their nurturing societal structure (Zentauras and Children of the Sea).But here, something unprecedented had occurred on the farthest parts of the lands, near the Kandulim shores. A Daughter of the Sea, a representative of the Zentauras had explained, had broken her bond to the Sea to live with someone she had rescued. This in itself which should have been a private matter of the Race of the Sea had become also a thorn in the hoof of the Zentauras, as the couple had not only started to live on the Kandulim, but they also had come to rally more people around themselves, claiming a rightful place to live on their sacred soil.
The disruption didn’t suggest any foul-play from outside forces, yet Cil and I quickly got that feeling that there is more at play that meets the eye…
( Part 3 )
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
“Oh My God” exclaimed Bea. “I had a dream about the DOOR!”
“Oh, well done! The question is, did you remember it?” asked Leonora.
“As a matter of fact, Leo, I did!” replied Bea with a happy smile. “As a matter of fact, although I’m not too sure how factual matter really is, but anyway, I did remember the dream, and I wrote it all down.”
“Gosh, up early this morning, weren’t you?” asked Leo, who was sipping coffee at the kitchen table and watching the sun come up over the mountains through the open door.
“Oh I didn’t write it down this morning, silly! I wrote it all down last week.”
Leo placed her cup on the table and rubbed her eyes, frowning. “Wait a minute, let me get this straight…..”
Bea laughed ~ she was in rather a jolly mood, despite the early hour. “I had the dream last week, Leo, but I only just realized this morning that the dream was about THE DOOR”
“So what did you learn about the door, then?”
Bea frowned. “Well I’m not really sure. But it seemed so significant because it was that scary door, you know, the dreams I’ve been having for years about that door in that bedroom that’s too scary to get near, never mind go through….would you like to read it? Maybe you can interpret it for me.”
“If I must” sighed Leonora “You better pour me another cup of coffee then and pass me those cigarettes.”
Leonora read from Bea’s Dream Journal:
I was sorting winter clothes out on an upstairs landing of a cottagey gabled house, and decided to use the upstairs bedroom instead of the downstairs one. The bedroom was a recurring dream one, gabled attic with dormer windows kind of room. Then I saw the door and remembered this was the door I was always too terrified in dreams to open; it was so scary that I always wanted to use this bedroom but never could because of that terrifying door and whatever lay beyond it.“Didn’t you do a waking dream and go through that door?” Leonora asked. “Oh, yes here is is…”
Remembering that I had done a waking dream and gone beyond the door once, I marched up to the door, flung it open and strode through. Suddenly an almost overpowering fear and dread stopped me in my tracks but I carried on anyway.“Oh, bloody well done, Bea! Good for you, girl!” Leonora could be a bit waspish at times, but she was a kind old soul underneath.
It was a bit like a old slightly shabby but once grand hotel foyer, high ceilings (not the same as when I went through in the waking dream, which was then rows of closed doors on either side). The foyer opened out on the left into a large old fashioned restaurant dining room, with one person over on the far side sitting at a table. I carried on straight ahead through opaque etched glass double doors onto an upstairs outdoor terrace. There was a city scene below. On the left was a shallow ornately shaped ornamental pool.“Reminds me a bit of our trip to Barcelona, this does, eh” Leo commented.
“Yeah, I’m sure that had something to do with the gargoyle imagery” replied Bea.
A woman squeezed past me holding a small thick book and I knew she was going to jump off the terrace which was several storeys up. She collapsed into the pool, writhing backwards, baring a flat white breast and dropping the book.“Flat breast, hahah Bea, that weren’t you then, obviously, was it!”
Bea chuckled. “Not bloody likely! I reckon that bit slipped in the dream because I can’t find a comfortable bra lately”
“You and me both” replied Leo. She continued reading from the journal.
I picked up the book, and somehow ended up with two books, which seemed like guide books. I couldn’t hold onto the two books with the creature in my hand, which was weird, like a very heavy small furry grey reptile, or gargoyle.
“Maybe it was a baby dragon?”
“Don’t say that!” retorted Bea, who had a horror of dragons. “The thought did cross my mind too, though” she admitted.
I was holding it with one hand round its middle and the fat grey belly of it was bulging out under my fingers. It was unbelievably heavy for such a small creature and I didn't want to hold it, so I passed it to a boy. (Twice I was holding the creature, and twice I passed it to the boy, but I can't recall the other time)Back inside the building, I followed the boy down a big wide staircase that curved round to the right at a landing below. I started to fall down the stairs and knew it was because of the book that I was holding that the woman had been holding when she collapsed into the pool, so I threw the book down the stairs to save myself, and felt the tumbling down from the books perspective, although I stayed in the same place, clutching the banister.“Well I am amazed that you remembered so much, Bea! Going through the doors and finding the books reminds me of Jane’s Library you know”. Leo was starting to go into an altered state.
“Are you going into an altered state, Leo?” asked Bea. “Are you channeling Juani Ramirez again?”
“The creature, the gargoyle, was representing ‘a different species of awareness, of consciousness’” continued Leonora, as Bea hastily started taking notes. Leo wouldn’t remember what she’d said while she was channeling Juani, so it was essential that Bea record what was said.
“The weight was a marker to help you recall the creature, as well as being symbolic of denseness”
Bea couldn’t help making a snirking noise. Dense eh, she said under her breath.
“The door” continued Leonora “Is a signpost, a marker.”
Just then the phone rang, snapping Leonora out of the trance. Bea picked up the telephone, but there was nobody there.
“Pffft” said Bea.
“More coffee?”
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
“Listen to this, Bea” Leonora said.
Bea looked up from her book “What’s that then Leo? I’m just getting to the juicy part where T’eggy gets….”
“Listen to this” Leo interrupted, and read from the book she was reading, “As a writer I feel free to do anything I please, investigating anything, saying anything…..as a writer I feel free to be psychic as a bird, do what I please and use my abilities psychically quite freely. When I think of me as a psychic I get hung up because I seem to be in the company of so many nuts. Writers may be as nuts as anyone else but it’s a nuttiness that doesn’t bug me ~ there’s no dogma attached…..”
“What on earth are you reading, Leo?”
“The memoirs of Jane Roberts” replied Leonora. “What a coincidence this is! I was just starting to think about writing some fiction, you know? Because when you write fiction nobody really questions what you write, it’s easier, somehow.”
“Well if it’s fiction you’re after, I can recommend T’Eggy Gets A Good Rogering, it’s brilliant.” replied Bea helpfully.
“Bloody hell, Bea!” said Leonora in exasperation. “I want to write tasteful enlightening fiction, wonderful stories with a moral and a point and a lesson ~ I don’t want to read the trash you read!”
“Suit yourself, you judgmental cow” replied Bea huffily. “And anyway, you haven’t even read it, so how would you know?”
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Al and Sam were waiting silently at the Yukaili airline terminal… the departure of their flight was in an hour and they decided to play with Tina and Becky 2 who were making egg sculptures in a white room.
They were sending them energy suggestions to move their hands and the tools in certain ways in order to influence the result.
Tina and Becky being very focused on their tasks were not necessarily aware of the meddling of their friends and at times were swearing like … I prefer not to tell.The end result was an watermegglon on Becky’s side and an a vegemegg from Tina’s side.
Both were contemplating their creation with awe and wonder… sparkles in their eyes.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
“I had an absolutely brilliant revelation last night” Bea was saying “about The Door. Buggered if I can remember what it was, though.”
“Well fat lot of use that is then, Bea” replied Leonora. “Any snapshots? Can you remember anything at all?”
“Well, there was a big pale green patch that floated down, then there was the floating part, oh and all the coloured light flashes…the French girl, the old fashioned scene…..and that weird change of focus, sort of off centre and a bit out of body, with the guy behind my right shoulder shouting HEY every time my focus started drifting back to normal. Oh, and the spiraling part, that was cool too!” Bea was starting to drift off into another world just thinking about it.
“Yes, well, now we know all about The Door” said Leonora sarcastically. “Very helpful, Bea, well done.”
“That’s it!” shouted Bea, leaning forward in excitement. “It’s about blocking energy!”
Leonora rolled her eyes.
“Holding tightly to energy, that’s what the closed door is. I can have an open door, and still be free to create who walks through it. We don’t lock the door here, do we, but we don’t get any intruders.”
“Maybe that’s because we’ve got nine dogs” said Leo. “And anyway, define intruder, in a ‘you create your own reality’ context. What’s the difference between an intruder, and a wonderful surprise?”
Bea was stumped for a moment. “That’s a good question, Leo, we’ll come back to that in a bit, but let me finish telling you this before I forget again.
I used to mentally open a big double door every time I did a meditation or went to sleep” Bea continued “and I havent opened that door in months. Well, sometimes it’s open, obviously, but I dont seem to throw the doors open wide anymore, you know, to other energies objectively, if you see what I mean.”Bea was starting to ramble. “I used to invite any Tom, Dick and Harry to my meditations as long as they weren’t aliens.”
“What about the dogs in raincoats dimension?” asked Leo “What were they if they weren’t aliens?”
“Oh, they were alright, I liked them. Oh you know what I’m like about that other dimensional stuff, don’t get me started on that now. I think occasionally things happen and I get rattled, and shut the door for a bit.”
“Right, so let see if I’ve got this straight” said Leonora “There’s more than one layer to this Door thing because what you’ve just told me is what’s going on in your reality. The question is, what’s going on in mine?”
In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud
Indeed Jib, as usual, as usual:
Follow THE call OF THE WILDE,
THAT WHICH especially ASK YOU TO hold STILL AT home.
YOU KNOW, IT DOESN’T TAKE lots OF walking
TO let YOUR arms HAVE SOME EXERCISING:
SOME WOULD SAY “perhaps”;
BUT NO NEED TO SAY “I knew THAT!”LET’S EXPLORE A stone idea:
OF dragons starting watermelons story, flying AROUND
AND smiling, DIVING IN THE flove…In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
“Blimey, Leo, that reminds me about The Door” remarked Bea, who had got to the part about the door in the potting shed in T’Eggy Gets A Good Rogering.
“I don’t know how you can read that trash, Bea, really I don’t” said Leonora, with a sniff.
“Never mind that, what about The Door? WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO ABOUT THE DOOR?”
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
— “Dory?”
— “What, hon’?” a distracted Dory answered to young Becky
— “You’d better remove the magnets from the iron, or you’ll ruin another one…”
— “What are you talking about?!” Dory was perplexed, trying to find her way through the airport to Gate 57-¾, but only to find nothing but benches in between Gate 57 and 58.
— “Oh, never mind… It’s only a dream and you probably won’t remember it anyway.”“There!” the suspicious bag lady of the Heathrow terminal had reappeared briefly just for Dory to spot her entering the restrooms.
Becky was already rolling the heavy bumper-stickers patched suitcase to follow her without question.— “But why are you taking the suitcase to go to the bathroom, Beck’?”
— “What are you talking about Dory!” Becky was sometimes losing patience. “Can’t you see it’s the entrance for Gate 57-¾?!”
— “Uh?” A moment of clueless mystery on Dory’s face. “Oh…” Another mini-black hole on her face.“Oh. Okay then. Let’s go…”
If there was something that her exotic life had taught Dory, it was to never question the moment. If the circumstances are here, if the impulse is there, then go for it. Explanations will follow. And in case they don’t, make them up as you roll and rock!
Becky meanwhile was rather surprised at how people, even her own step-mother, as tuned in ghostly stuff as she was, most of the time failed to see the things for what they really are. And if these big painted letters on the door “GATE 57 ¾” weren’t obvious enough, and people preferred to interpret them as restrooms, then… what else could be done? She sighed.
Later on, she would learn that it was a common, well documented trait in human consciousness; that people were sometimes psychologically (but not physically) blind to stuff outside of their current focus of attention, or simply blind to things too far off their beliefs; in other terms, it was a matter of energy reconfiguration. As long as it worked…“Oh look at that… Yukailli Airlines counter is here! What bloody stupid idea to put a closet door at the entrance…”
After having made the departure arrangements at the counter, Dory came back to Becky who was looking outside at the planes.
— “Ain’t them beautiful?”
— “Yeah, and I suppose you’re seeing planes, aren’t you?”
— “Err, yes of course, what else, silly… Though now you ask me, they seem a bit weird… foggy or something”.In fact, what Becky was seeing wasn’t conventional planes. It was more like “fly-boats”. Some sorts of hybrid ships made to fly with huge wings transparent and shiny like those of flies.
— “I hope they have crunchy coleslaw for meal, I’m starving” a contented and tired Dory said, when she collapsed into the comfortable seats.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Georges and Salome’s journal
From Salome’s account of her introduction to the Turmak People (Part 1)
Georges being involved more and more within the Quorum of Jokans, it has enabled me, if only by proxy, to get more acquainted with the personality of each of them.
The Guardians are an ancient and very distinctive race which is, in many aspects, surprisingly similar to our Dream Walkers. One of these points of similarity is their aptitude at morphing their environment, and altering much of the physical properties of it within their dimension of operation.
I suspect that, similarly to our Dream Walkers being responsible for the creation of physical focus as we currently experiment it in our Earth dimension, they are also for a great part responsible for the creation of many a species in the neighbouring noospheres —note that I shall occasionally use “Noosphere” as a word more apt to convey certain notions rather than the word “planet” which is loaded with certain beliefs.I will not enter into the social details of the race of the Guardians in this note, as it would be too long for this place, and Georges will probably explain it in more details later.
However, I shall use this as an opportunity to introduce a character who soon became a close ally in our explorations of this universe.
As a matter of fact, I came as a surprise to both of us when she started to pierce through Georges disguise, flawless as it may have been. We found out that they shared a connection which probably was the cause for their allowance of connection through the veils of their disguises in time and space.
A rather elegant member of the Quorum of Twelve, Cil —as she is named, pronounced See’l — intuitively found out that we were not really who we claimed to be, especially that we were not from her known universe at all. But what could have been a difficult situation turned out for the best, as she was equally eager to discover about us, as we were about her people and universe.The recent reports of uprisings of the Zentauras was the matter which was seriously discussed, and it was decided as a favour from Noraam to Cil to allow her to go for an investigation on the Murtuane, to find out the reasons for this matter, if not the culprits among their kin.
Needless to say that I was very much enthusiastic at the idea of having a guide to explain me more on the relationships at play…(Part 2)
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
After her publisher sent her back the manuscript of her last noovel with a few annotations, Elizabeth Tattler started to question whether she was blinking into the Eirth dimension.
“Look at that!” she said, watching at all the circled sentences… “good greif, my freinds…” then a few paragraphs later “the cheif of the oodlings”… “her neice…” Something was wroong with her.
Was she ODding or what?
Bah, if her publisher wasn’t happy, there still remained Barash who was never afraid to publish a few “od-oddities” (other-dimensional oddities)…
“Free rein on the reindoors!” She shouted in her office.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Dory finished the puzzle, yawned and glanced at her watch. There was no sign of the flight to Long Pong leaving any time soon, so she made her flightbag into a pillow and settled herself along the plastic seating for a nap.
She dreamed first of her grandparents in their old house in Slurbridge. The house was the same, but her grandparents, Florence and Samuel, were much younger than she had ever known them during her lifetime. They were preparing for guests, and Florence was rearranging the bedding in the upstairs bedrooms. Apparently one more guest was expected than previously arranged, and she had squeezed in a single camp bed next to a double bed. Dory had an idea the camp bed was for Dan’s niece, Aurelia. Funny that, as Florence and Samuel had never known Aurelia ~ or Dan for that matter.
The dream landscape changed then to an island. The “Others” were coming and she and her friends had to hide. “Let’s hide in the pyramid” one of them had said, but Dory replied “No, we must hide somewhere less obvious, until we know what the “Others” are like.” They weren’t afraid, but they were taking precautions. Someone had been looking after the dogs and cats, but when Dory went to check on them, they had been ‘kept safe’ in a freezer. As Dory opened the door, a half frozen black cat emerged and ran off. “I reckon she’s better off taking her chances out there than in the freezer!” said Dory. At the bottom of the freezer were some frozen parts of Tom, Captain Bone. There was no sign of the others, but strangely, Dory wasn’t worried.
Next to the freezer was a cupboard, and Dory grabbed a handful of magnetic fridge letters, thinking that they would come in handy as clues while they were hiding from the “Others”.
“Yukailli Airlines direct flight leaving for Tikfijikoo Island at Gate 57 and three quarters” the bag lady prodded Dory, amidst a shower of electric blue sparks. “Wake up!”
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
“What a shame we didn’t get the 999th comment on the 9th of the 9th month”, Becky remarked to nobody in particular. “Still, never mind, at least I got the 1000th.”
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
When Balbina woke up from that which had been her longest and strangest projection out of her body ever, all the memories of this fantastic adventure were oddly still fresh and crystal clear in her mind.
She doubted that it may have been as real as she has perceived it to be; but the funny rabbit, before they all entered the long dark tunnel, had winked at her and told her there would be signs for her.
Outside the window, the sunlight was starting to show on the Cordillera de la Costa, the nearby mountains.
She was feeling strangely rejuvenated by this unexpected night spent in far-away travels, and it was almost as if her whole body was feeling better than it ever was.
But of course, it was more of the same. Fabella, the nurse would soon enter and great her with a…“Did Madam sleep well?”
“Quite, yes”… Her voice was quivering. Hardly the youthful voice she had during her projections out of the body.So, there she was again, in that old people house, and no way out of this mis…
“What?!” she made the nurse busy cleaning her instruments repeat —to which she was far too pleased to comply.
“Yes, Madam, your son phoned this morning and told he would come for you…”Her son? That was most unexpected.
What did the rabbit said already? Help would come from the most unexpected corners… Well, she had almost forgotten that this corner still existed!
“Did he say something else?”
“Oh, I’m not really allowed to tell, M’am…”
“But of course, you can’t really resist (little goose)” simpered the old wincing lady in a whisper to herself.
Fabella was indeed continuing, unstoppable “… but he seems to consider it’s too expensive to have you here, and would love to have you home with him”Well, of course, you can’t really expect him to be so generous for no reason Balbina was thinking… But anything would probably be better than this old fools’ home. Even her son’s home.
Besides, it was located outside Caracas, near the mountains… And if the funny rabbit’s directions were correct, it was very, very close from where her hosts (provided they existed of course) were to re-emerge.
She’d never imagined that falling into the abyss of sweet madness would be so exciting.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
It may have been the sudden change of environment, but Leörmn had great difficulty at staying focused.
By staying focused, he meant more than just focusing his attention and thoughts. Actually, not much more, as nothing more than his thoughts and his attention were creating of everything —his body included. When he failed to focus as he was now, usually he simply started to disappear from other’s awareness, even though he could be aware that he was still present in their proximity. For most of his activity was happening in the Unseen, and his body was unnecessary for him to manipulate that environment.The twin dragons, Heckle and Jeckle were equally disturbed, but to a lesser extent, perhaps because their communicating together made their de-focusing less of a concern.
The place where they had been guided to was really unusual. Unusual for dragons at least. Even possibly hostile.
It was like crossing that door had made them turn the physical reality inside-out, and though it was very similar on the surface, the exterior was significantly different.
Apart from the twins, Leörmn was feeling energies, strong energies focused nearby. They were possibly as strong as dragons’ energies, though their configuration was unfamiliar.
Where were they? What was this place?Leörmn was feeling so powerful undercurrents that it was very disturbing. In his discomfort, he tried to reach for a familiar energy.
In the pool, Salome was feeling the disturbance, as it was already making the cave wobble slightly ever since Leörmn had taken off.
Georges was having fun shape-shifting his skin to get more dolphin-like slickness, and was trying to bring her into his games, but she was caught by the demanding feeling and couldn’t concentrate on the game.
She made a foam bubble around herself to lift her up above the surface of the water. “There… I’ve always felt better in the air.” As a matter of fact, be it only the slight gain of altitude, but her thoughts felt clearer already.
“Oh, my… They are on the Murtuane… Georges, you knew that?!”
Georges was having too much fun to actually physically answer, but Salome knew he was more than vaguely aware of that.
She went deeper into herself, trying to see what was the issue… As far as she knew, the Murtuane was very closely tied to the Duane, and actions made into one of the planet had repercussions onto the other. They were close counterparts for each element, and perhaps it was the drawing closer of these which had created an imbalance of some kind.
“Yes…” she smiled. She was seeing how it could be made easier.She sent to Leörmn the clearest picture she could make, then popped her foam bubble, to gracefully dive into the pool, having changed her skin to that of a black and white killer whale.
“Thank the Elder Gods,” Leörmn thought, as he just received the warm familiar energy of Salome from deep inside himself.
So that was it… He had to find his counterparting Nirgual, and merge with her for the duration of their little excursion here.
N’meôrl was the name. Salome had met her already a long time ago. She was a brilliant shade of abrigot (some orange smooth fruit).It would be quite easy actually. Like the Dragons, Nirguals were summoned by their true name, no matter the distance.
Blessed be Salome…Popping back into focus, Leörmn pronounced loudly “N’meôrl, I hereby summon thy!”
When the huge bird appeared all the others who had started to assail the dragon with question were startled.
Contrary to all appearances, Leörmn was not a dragon of many words, so very few needed to be actually exchanged. The two creatures both knew what had to be done to preserve the balance. And even if they had not known, the pressure on their energy fields was so intense that the merging was just like two magnets drawing closer naturally.
And One again they were.
