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  • #812
    TracyTracy
    Participant

      Ella Marie put the encounter to the back of her mind, and whistled loudy and kept her eyes averted when dusting the mummy case during the following months. It wasn’t until the floods of the following spring that she heard Elioctyl’s voice again, urging her to take action, that now was the perfect opportunity.

      Pssst! Ella! Do it now, NOW!

      NO! shouted Ella Marie.

      Suit yourself, Honey, replied her husband Arthur, pouring himself a cup of coffee from a thermos and screwing the lid back on.

      Ella Marie spun round, saying HUH? Yes, I mean yes, please.

      Arthur raised an eyebrow and tutted. You said No, Ella, who was you talking to anyway?

      Oh Lordy, Art, I was just saying NO to all the flooding, NO more rain, and all….Ella Marie replied, but her mind was racing.

      Art Honey, why don’t you wade round to your mothers and see if she’s ok, why dontcha, and I’ll start moving stuff up into the attic. River’s gonna burst its banks tonight, I reckon, we oughta do what we can now.

      Don’t get lifting nothing too heavy, ya hear? Leave anything you can’t manage for me, I’ll do it when I get back, Arthur replied.

      As soon as Art was out of the door and down the porch steps, Ella Marie raced out the back door and into the garage. The adrenaline was pumping through her veins, and she felt light as air, and fit as a twenty year old. Her flashlight beam swept the garage…she didn’t know what, precisely, she was looking for, but she knew she’d find it.

      Aha! Ella Marie spotted a coil of washing line rope, and a tarpaulin. Stuffing the flashlight into her pocket, she grabbed the surfboard off the hooks on the wall and dragged it outside, the rope and tarpaulin under her arm. Quickly she tied the tarpaulin to the surfboard, tethering it to the garage door handle while she went back inside for the oars out of the uninflated dinghy. The flood water was past her ankles now, inching towards her knees, as she set off for the museum, pulling the surfboard behind her, thankful for the power blackout and the dark streets.

      #683

      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.

      #510

      :multimedia: Marvin Scrozzezi was considering a script that had been sent to him by his friend.
      Betty, his assistant, had insisted that he reads it…

      Seeing his current movie, it couldn’t be any worse in any case.
      The title of the script cracked him up.

      Ogregan, the Origeans

      Marvin giggled, almost spluttering his smoking chai on the script.

      He started to read the first paragraphs.

      FADE IN:
      EXT. WOODS
      A big humphing man plunges into the woods. Twigs slap at him,
      but the sound of gunfires keeps him going. Sheriff Marshall is
      taking the lead, but an auburn haired man plunges into the woods
      before him, followed by one dark-haired one. They are obviously
      brothers. The older one is ELVIN STREWN, he is following his
      younger brother with the lopsided hair, JAY STREWN.
      JAY is shooting at the fugitive, ALDO MC GALLIGAN, a local
      mobster known as the OGREGAN.
      
      Gunfire explodes in trees near the STREWN brothers, shot at them
      by MC GALLIGAN, and they dive and roll into hiding under a
      palisade.

      Interesting stuff, wonders Marvin… That mobster looks like a fascinating character…

      Flipping though the script he found page 57 another catching bit of reading…

       DISSOLVE TO:
      EXT. PROSPERITY BANK ; SHOT of a Texan bank on a quiet street.
      INT. PROSPERITY BANK
      There are three customers, male. Enters a MOTHER and her SON.
      TELLER#1: What can I do for you Mrs MC GALLIGAN?
      MRS GALLIGAN to her SON who is drawing on her dress: ALDO, will
      you keep still for a moment, good for nothing!

      Pfff, Marvin sighed, feeling bored.
      Not long after, he was sound asleep, snoring loudly on the comfortable chair.

      #310
      TracyTracy
      Participant

        Allow me to explain, George said kindly. But first, come with me. We’ll have our chat somewhere bright and sunny, we’ve spent long enough in this dark cave. Waiting for who knows what, he added with a wink. If you hold my hand and allow me to guide you, we’ll have a picnic on the banks of the Little Brook.

        Dory hesitated. After all, it was George who had given her that drugged coleslaw. The thought of the Little brook and the sunshine was appealing though, and Dory decided to take her chances and go with George.

        She held his hand and closed her eyes, and sank herself back to the back of her mind and relaxed. She felt her body buzz a bit and a ‘falling into a vortex’ kind of feeling, not at all unpleasant, and in no time at all felt the sun warm on the top of her head and the bright sunlight lighting up the back of her eyelids. When she opned her eyes she was surrounded by ferny bracken and dappled silver birch trees and sheep nibbling the close cropped carpet of grass.

        #306
        F LoveF Love
        Participant

          Finn moves silently along the path, placing her feet with care. It is more overgrown in the wood than she remembers, but then it is such a long time since she came this way. She can see in the distance something small and pale. A gentle gust of wind and It seems to stir, as if shivering, as if caught.

          She comes to a halt. The trees are still now, not a leaf stirs. She can hear nothing other than the sound of her own breathing. She can’t see the clearing yet either, but she remembers it’s further on, beyond the next winding of the path. She can see it in her mind’s eye though, a rough circle of random stones, with a greenish liquid light filtering through. The air smells of leaf mould and it is spongy underfoot. There’s a wooden bench, a grassy bank, and a circular area of emerald green moss. Finn thinks of it as place of enchantment, a fairy ring.

          She reaches the tiny shivering thing and sees that it is a scrap of paper, impaled on a broken branch. She reaches out gently and touches it, then eases if off the branch, taking care not to rip it further. There is a message scribbled on the paper, incomplete. meet me, is all it says now

          Finn feels dreamy and floaty. She smiles to herself, thinking of the purpose of her mission, feeling as though it is a message to her from the past. She is overwhelmed for a moment with a sense of love and acceptance towards her younger self. Yes, she whispers softly to the younger Finn, I will meet you at the fairy ring. We will talk a bit. Maybe I can help

          #298

          The City, year 2257

          Janice had just awoken from a strange dream, where she was watching big round cabbages being harvested in what looked like Quintin’s father garden. They were all firmly rooted on a black irrigation pole across the garden, and people were using strange devices to turn them all delicately and pick them afterwards. In the dream, there were black puppies too, sleeping in the straw of a kind of hut nearby. And she had seen another creature, and had been surprised first because it was unlike anything she had ever met, even in dreams. It was hairless and brown as soft mud, and was hiding in the neighbour’s garden. Then it had crossed and came to play with her…

          Janice was lost in her thoughts strolling on the way to the common dome, when she met Rodney, her father’s friend.
          They had been recently trying with her father Jacob, and also Qixi to connect with their shifting focuses of the Ancients, two centuries and half before their time.
          Some of them, they had found, had been playing a sort of game of story-telling and clue-sowing… (Janice was laughing as her father’s friend, the scientist Arkandin, always insisted on seesawing instead)

          Perhaps her dream was telling her that the crop was ripe, and it was time to harvest some from it. She told her dream to Rodney. All at once, he was quite excited and they started to feel they wanted to chat more freely. So they went into one of the Medraw Caps that was available and soon imagined a comfortable environment for themselves to explore more.

          Janice could hear Al or Quintin complain about how things were getting confusing.
          She tried to convey to both of them that they could be excited about it, as it was expanding their understanding, but they weren’t very receptive.

          ~~~

          Somewhere Al was saying to Becky
          — The more you try to fix it, the more confused I am
          — Hahahahah yes! Becky was answering, I guess so! Ahahahah! Al, what a fabulous dance of confusion we do… The Confundo Tango
          — Ahahah, yes!

          Al started again to moan:
          — So who’s dead, who’s the shapeshifter? Who’s the human, who’s the cat? :-??

          (Rodney was laughing, as for him, he could accept the confusion as much easier, letting him free to wander around!)

          Illi was a woman, a shapeshifter who shape-shifted into a cat, then, she died. Becky was saying (Rodney added mentally “Now, she is disengaged” as he knew that “death” was a confusing word.) She was an archaeologist
          — Okay, that’s cool, that’s what I thought, Al acquiesced. Then thought back of what was said of her and wondered… Anyway, it will probably find a perfect answer …
          Becky nodded
          — I got lost myself when two Illis appeared, and a grip-thing as well
          — Because I didn’t want the grip-thing to be dead! Al couldn’t help but laugh. That would have been too easy, like wiggling out. Not using your imagination within the context of objective imagery to sort out “things”…

          ~~~

          While Rodney and Janice were seeing that their other focuses were kind of stuck in their explanation, they had time freeze and both decided to come back to their “now” to start from their understanding.
          A funny thought had come to Janice, that she shared with Rodney.
          — Oh, the funny thing you know, about Becky having written to Sean
          Rodney nodded. Janice continued:
          — It just appeared in my mind just moments ago, at the same time you (well, Rafaela) inserted into the story of Malvina. That Becky would have been asking Sean something, and that perhaps it would have helped him talk to his father in the future.

          — Well, that Sean is SUCH AN ENIGMA! bumped Rodney a bit excited by the implications.
          — What do you mean? asked Janice, who just remembered that Sean Doran has a cousin named Dorean.
          — Who is he? Where is he? was asking Rodney now.
          Rodney was having a hard time remembering what had been inserted yet in the story about him.

          So Janice manifested the Wrick family tree in front of them, so that he could see better. She started by manifesting an acorn, then threw in on the grass, and it sprung forth in a little sapling with signs hanging from its branches.

          — Well, it’s all in the script, answered Janice, he’s Lord Wrick’s son.
          — Oh boy, I am in trouble again for not keeping up with the facts! Rodney sighed, and laughed…
          Janice laughed “So that you can surprise yourself again!”

          Rodney felt thankful for the sumafiness of Janice who was always prompt to display helpful hallucinations and reminders.

          Janice stopped the growth of the family tree for a moment and started to comment it.
          — See, in Becky’s time of the reality play, Sean is Lord’s Wrick son, and has just lost his wife Margaret, and got his two young children around their 10s.
          — When is Becky’s time then? Rodney wondered, I hadn’t though of that…
          Becky’s time for the reality play is around 2033…
          Then Janice had the tree grow again, and sprout more branches from Sean’s children:
          — …Now, Sean is the grand-father of the twins, except than the twin’s time is around 2057 if it had not changed yet. It’s so carefully woven, but it’s fun how it effortlessly came to fit in.
          TRUST AND ALLOWING AND GOING WITH THE FLOW cried Rodney and Janice in unison, in the realisation of how well all this was.

          Rodney was beginning to remember it all.
          — I just remember the part about Sean, so he is still a bit of a mystery
          — Yes, absolutely
          — We don’t really know do we why Hilarion didn’t mention him
          — Oh, there’s also the Margaret newspaper thing… Janice fumbled in her memory to find the proper link that would display the image of the newspaper cut just at the right of the family tree. Adding with a wink “with more dates to get bearings”
          — Ahahah, I’d love to have pocketfuls of ball bearings said Rodney who manifested a pocketful to distract him from the load of information. OH YES! he cried, I had forgetten about this! What an incredibly HUGE story this is…

          Rodney was squinting his dream eyes
          — So, Sean was into humanitarian effort after 2001…
          — His father actually I think, said Janice. He was a bit too young.
          — Oh OK, I misread, that’s hard to read!

          Then, all of a second, Rodney erupted in an uproarious laugh
          AHAHAHA, I had just forgotten to de-hallucinate these pince-nez spectacles! Now, it is much easier to read!
          Janice was laughing so hard, she thought she would shatter the hallucination with the wobbles of the soundless sounds.
          Then she added:

          Sean is born around 2000, a bit before.
          — OK, maybe he went to help the Tuaregs, Rodney was accessing some information now. Maybe he was the one who put the mummy in the locked room that India found.
          — You know I had something funny in store for the mummy mystery, Janice couldn’t help but laugh again. I imagined we could have inserted Old Manon, coming down to secretly drink from her old malt whiskey’s flask, and finding them messing up with her old dear stuffed cat…
          — Maybe the mummy was the same one that Dory saw in the oblong hole in the ground outside the cave, Rodney was still accessing flickering images swirling around his head. And Sean was there helping the Tuaregs and moved it to safety.
          Of course, years previously, Illi Fergusson, the archeologist had buried the mummy there too for safe keeping.

          Now, Janice was hooked:
          — Was it where Illi learned about shapeshifting tricks from the old tribe?
          Rodney noticed Janice’s funny remark and laughed before continuing:
          — The Tuaregs were conducting secret coleslaw experiments in the desert. In combination with sound and irrigation techniques, they were going to run the entire Sahara into a broccoli field.

          Janice was amazed at the cabbage “coincidence” and irrigation stuff with her dream of that morning. Of course she knew there where probably mis-interpretation of the imagery coming from Rodney’s visions, but something made sense.
          — Around which year? she asked
          — Arrggh I don’t know!… Then, taking a breath of dream air, Rodney said “1923”. When Illi learned shape-shifting trick, 1923.
          — It makes sense, said Janice who was now thinking of other dispersed informations about Illi Fergusson.
          — Yes, she learned from Dashine Ashara… Although who that is, I don’t yet know.
          — Wow, said Janice. She had felt a connection with the “da’sheen” sound. She continued: somewhere, Illi Fergusson has said: “my parents were aristocrats”
          — Yes, answered Rodney who was accessing again, they were, and they knew the Wildes .
          — And it was said too: “[…] a nurturing presence that reminded Illi of the maid she and her parents had in their cottage in South Africa”… like her parents were traveling a lot.
          — Ah, South Africa! Illi’s parents emigrated to South Africa with Sir Abingdon Portfellow, an elderly scholar on ancient artifacts and embalming.
          — Seems she knew John Lubbock too, said Janice again, reviving old data banks of information. Dates seem okay, so if she was around 30 in the Tuareg adventure, she could have met him.
          — Wow, said Rodney, this is even more interesting…

          “But we may sit at home and yet be in all quarters of the earth.” Janice had just summoned the voice of the naturalist and archaeologist. Rodney applauded “Lubbock said that? cool quote!”.
          — Yes, like Illi’s quote, which was from him “What we see depends mainly on what we look for”. I wonder if that’s one of your (Illi’s) overlapping focuses, said Janice

          — Well, Illi didnt stay long in South Africa with boring old whatever his name was, Rodney pursued
          — Yes, she was young with her parents. They were traveling…

          They were both amazed at the magical cooperation they were doing at that moment. Janice would have loved to share all of that with Qixi and Jacob, but probably their energies were present at the moment too, though not focused here.

          She then remembered something else:
          — Oh, and there is something else! Quintin’s dream of the woman detective. Let me fetch it she said, summoning now Quintin’s memory to talk to them.
          … by night, near a museum in London, in the 1920s. She was investigating a case of a strange disappearance near a small replicate of an Egyptian pyramid that had been put here for display. There had been an exposition of ancient artifacts in the museum, which had been recently unearthed by a team of archaeologists and graciously lent by Egypt’s officials. Strangely enough, the woman detective feels linked to the story, and is probably Dory
          Date fits again, she said in awe.
          — Perfect! said Rodney. She was of course Dory too, but in that focus she was Illi Fergusson… he slowed down, then said No! wait! The detective was another one of my focuses. The archeologist who stole the mummy for safekeeping was Illi.
          — Hmmm
          — Hmmm
          — So you are both the thief and the detective, the one who creates mystery for yourself, how interesting, giggled Janice.
          — Yes, and not only that Janice! Rodney was taking a mysterious air… I am the mummy too!

          Janice bust out laughing imagining Rodney in bandages. Yes, of course!
          Then, she had a name come with that: Apsh’un Shet she said, very self-absorbed.
          Now, that was Rodney’s turn to burst out laughing.
          — “I am not sure about that!”
          — Doubting my insights… mmm, how rude… Janice frowned then laughed again.
          — If you call me that, I may have to make you out to have a speech impediment
          — Sounds a good Egyptian name for me though, seems it means “Light of the Dawn
          — Does it? Oh that sounds nice…
          — Well, in some Egyptian dialect, yes. She was a Princess…
          — Hahaha! Reminds me of Aspen Shit. Rodney doubted Janice could be serious about that name, but Janice was now the one to be accessing some information.
          — Bit bossy Princess
          — Which dynasty?
          III rd, answered Janice, who fumbled in links of consciousness to find some timeline to project for them.
          — What year?
          Janice projected the timeline below then said
          — I’d say around 2657 B.C., in Ancients way of telling time.

          They both marveled at the splendid team work they had been doing, and hoped that the other focuses involved would be able to get some parts of their insights too.

          Rodney was seeing something else
          — There is also, a very fascinating link between Tassili in the Sahara and Egypt which is a mystery AND there is a connection with Egypt and Scotland too…
          Illi the gripshawk comes from the mysterious land of the Sands, south of the map fragment
          — We may unravel more than we think… Illi is an other dimensional focus of the Illi essence…
          — Yes she is. She is a connection too, being “lost” in the land of dragons after hopping through traveling portals…
          — Exactly
          — And they communicated because they are helping each other
          — Which is why she doesn’t always ‘fit’ into this reality’s energy configuration
          — And they have some difficulties at times with translations of other dimensional stuff
          — Yes! resulting in confusion!

          And they both laughed again, looking at the great tapestry of clues that was woven before their dream eyes.

          #158

          Illi set off at a brisk trot in search of the cave. A deafening clap of thunder made her flinch and lose her footing. She slipped, and slid down a steep slippery wet bank, tumbling and rolling out of control. Arrgghh! How embarrassing, she thought, I hope no-one is watching….OUCH! She banged her head on a strangely perfect long oblong stone, which catapulted her into the air and into a cork oak tree. Lordy! She clung onto the knobbly grey bark, trembling and gasping.

          Well, I may as well have a smoke and catch my breath, she thought, at least it’s fairly dry here in this tree. She inched upwards until she found a comfortable fork in the branches and leaned her back against the trunk, fishing in the pockets of her tartan jacket for her Camels and her lighter.

          Ahhhh….that’s better! Now, where are we? Illi felt more optimistic, and surveyed the terrain. AHA! In a little dip behind the tree was a dark hole in the ground. That will lead to a cave, I’m sure of it! Illi lit another smoke, musing that she might never have found the cave entrance had she not banged her head on the strange oblong stone, and hurtled into the tree.

          Feeling much more enthusiastic, Illi climbed down out of the tree and went to investigate the dark hole in the ground. HHmmmm…no sign of a rope, or steps, no light, she wondered what to do next. A voice boomed in her head TRUST! Trust is the key!

          Suddenly feeling very devil-may-care and adventurous, Illi dived into the hole head first… wwwwhhhheeeeeee HOOOOO…… the free-fall was exhilarating, exciting, wildly fun….and then a little voice of doubt crept in, Are you stark raving MAD?

          Whallop! Illi landed on something soft, something sodden and smelling a bit of mold. Momentarily stunned, she just lay there, in a heap on the soft wet lump.

          “Holy MOLY” the soft wet lump shouted “Get OFF me! How incredibly RUDE to land on me like that without so much as an introduction!”

          Illi trembled.

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