Search Results for 'blanket'

Unfortunately Aspidistra couldn’t remember the dream that she had told Dick. I wish I could remember it, she muttered to herself. I suppose if Dick suggested I sing the joys of life upon awakening that it must have been an unpleasant dream, she mused, and as such it’s perhaps not terribly important that I recall it.

“What are you mumbling about now, Aspidistra?” groaned Philodendron, her sister. “It’s hard enough to get some sleep as it is with you glowing all the time; if you’re going to keep mumbling as well, well, it’s just not fair!”

“I wasn’t even speaking aloud, Phil!” retorted Aspidistra, stung at the unfairness of the accusation. “You shouldn’t be listening in to my thoughts in the first place, you nosey parker.”

Philodendron sighed and rolled over, pulling the blankets over her head in an attempt to block out the glow and the mental chatter bombarding her from every direction. I really need to learn how to block all this, she thought, I can’t seem to get a moments peace anymore.

“You’re right, you do, Phil” replied her sister.

“AARRGGHH!” Phil shouted. “Don’t keep answering my thoughts, they’re private! Bugger off!”

With the weak Scottish sun warming their backs, India Louise and Cuthbert made sand castles on the deserted beach. Very few holidaymakers visited The Orkneys in the days when the Wrick twins were growing up (Elizabeth was tempted to add ‘whenever that was’ but refrained) and they had the beautiful sweep of coastline to themselves, all but for their nanny, the eccentric Breton, who was sitting on a tartan blanket in the sand dunes practicing her Scottish accent. Nanny had heard somewhere that a Scottish accent had been voted the ‘most reassuring in an emergency’, and in her position as nanny, she felt it would be an advantage, especially while working for the eccentric and adventurous Wrick family.

Seagulls squawked overhead as she recited “… pRRoid te the lowkel in-abitents und steps av bin tayken in RResunt yeers… to improve the appearance of the city …… impRRoov the appeeRents uv the citay…”

Nanny’s studies were interrupted by shrieks from the two children, who were running down to the waters edge, pointing towards an unusual object which appeared to be floating towards them on the incoming tide.

By the time Nanny reached the children the mysterious floating contraption had beached itself on the sand. As India Louise and Cuthbert paddled over to it, a wizened and emaciated Ella Marie Tindale whooped and cackled “Hooley Mooley, that was quoot a rood!”

“Och aye, ma wee bairns, dinnae tooch it!” shouted Nanny “Ye dinnae ken owt aboot it, och! Oof, and what ‘ave we ‘ere, what eez zeess?” she said, lapsing back into her natural French accent, in a state of shock at what the tide had brought in.

The twins became alarmed immediately, backing away and asking nervously “Is it an alien?” “Is it a ghost?” so Nanny resumed the reassuring Scottish accent.

“Nay ma wee poppets, och and it’s nowt but anoother mummay!”

Cuthbert and India Louise exchanged looks surreptitiously. “What does she mean, ‘another’ mummy?” whispered Cuthbert to his sister. “How did she find out about the mummy in the unlocked room?”

“I don’t know!” she whispered back “Maybe she heard me telling Bill!”

Nanny gave both of the children a cuff round the back of the neck, reminding them of their manners.

“Help ze lady off and ztop zat rude wheezpering!”

“It’s the Interjection Intersection, TOOT TOOT coming through!” Baked Bean called gaily, holding her wine glass aloft as she squeezed through the crowd of revellers.

“Gotta get some more of those Kwon Tum Fizz Sticks, TOOT TOOT! Coming through!”

Baked Bean Barb was more than a little tipsy, but so was everyone else at Bea and Leonora’s Day of the Dead gathering. The Boulder Moving Party had had to be cancelled, due to the rain, but many of the guests had arrived anyway and the cottage was packed.

Bea was still cackling madly and having a hoot with the guests into the wee hours, but Leonora was beginning to fade in and out. Sitting next to the woodstove, she closed her eyes, random snippets of conversations wafting through her mind interspersed with snatches of dreams.

“…it’s the blanket prediction festival today…”

“…they all say the same sling…”

“…its The Absolute Sling!”

“…not that there is some portals, or there isn’t any portals, not that it’s any predictions or any non-prediction, but you see, the watermelons are better than orange in the new energy…”

“…cakes are great Bea, what are they called?”

“Yuki Buns they are, and that’s an Araili Tart…French recipe actually…the Armelle Caramel isn’t French though, dunno where….”

Someone snorted with laughter and said “I had Ogean Porridge for breakfast this morning…”

“…bloody porridge, man, you’re in Spain now, you should be eating Paella Patel…”

“Fran Fritters and Baruch Kebabs for me, mate, I like Obarbecued best…”

“…Kai Jon Prawns and Creole Opancakes…”

Hoots of laughter: “…oh a mergence…”

“…Frags Legs…”

“Take one aspect of Araili and one eye of Oba….
One pinch of Snoot…”

“…a tablesnoot…”

“…and a cup of glukenitch droppings…”

“Not that much!!”

“Here, have some banoonanawananas and badulnuts” Bea said, passing round a bowl of, well, banoonanawananas and badulnuts. “Anyone for Oonatchos?”

All this talk of food was making Leonora hungry. She rubbed her eyes and made her way into the kitchen.

Phoebe was sweating a lot.
Apparently, her dream activity was very intense and the conditions of her guestly detention was quite harsh. A wooden board as a bed, and one of the scratchy kind of blanket, not even a nice color… quite indescribable, actually. But for now, she wouldn’t have time to think about it. Her feverish look and behavior would make them think she was in a bad shape, but it was quite purposeful. Even if they had removed all her trinkets and jewelry, obviously thinking that they were the ones giving her her abilities, she had more tricks in her pocket.
She was looking for something, something that should be in this dimension now. She wasn’t sure where, though and she needed it before they arrived at their destination. Leaving her body and the submarine, she had been aware of some unusual activity around in the ocean. Maybe whales, but they were acting differently the last time she paid a visit to this dimension, and something didn’t seem right. Maybe she could find it out later. She had more pressing things to attend to.

She had been taken to her room by a handsome young Russian after the onboard doctor, who was quite handsome too, had examined her. She had the vague impression she was turning a tad nymphomaniac. She chuckled and she stopped as soon as she realized she sounded like an old goose. No she would not loose her dignity. But she needed to release her tensions.

The doctor had told her she was lucky they came at that very moment, but kept quiet after that. That she was aware of, but she couldn’t get more out of him and she was too tired to use her other tricks on him.
Better rest a moment; she was confident she’d be kept up to date soon enough by Pavel.

How strongly she was despising him…
She didn’t know it was possible before their first encounter in Paris, years ago.
Mixed feelings filled up those memories… it was also at the same time she’d met Georges, the Dandy as he liked to be called then. What a pair of thieves they were… When was it? 1852? 1853? She wasn’t sure…

Her first mistake was to ask them to retrieve that stone from the antique store for her… Of course she hadn’t told them what she was looking for… she only asked them to steal everything in the shop! Still, they didn’t bring it back from the shop though she was positive the sunstone was there… they told her that was all they found; Georges seemed so sincere that she wouldn’t have thought he would double her and keep the stone… and much less use it. Soon enough… yes soon enough she realized she had been deceived.

Her second mistake was to offer them an arrangement… but that’s another story. She was not as wary as she was now.

She sighed.

Nothing interesting to steal in that room. Just raw blankets and a plain wooden chair… she wouldn’t have expected more from Pavel. Always keeping the best for himself and not quite as chivalrous as the Dandy. Pavel… How did they call him back then? She couldn’t or wouldn’t recall it… something like the Monk… the Monkey would have better suited him, she thought bitterly.

But now; she had no time to loose in dim memories.
She had to plan her escape.

knock knock

It only took her a few seconds to compose herself.

— Come on in.

4:21:44 PM 8-8-08 1da Geolocation Time.

sometimes the flow climbs a mountain.

pause. step. quick step. pause again. step. upstream another step. the stones solid, smooth, settled beneath my feet with the timeless passing of water. the path of gravity. the rising of a mountain. a rapid, considered, going on pace. sand between the stones. the moments of time. light on the rippling waters flickering. the air transparent, timeless, crisp, cool.

knowing i’ve passed this way before, i pass again for the first time.

it’s good to be back. returning. beginning.

knowing my destination. the cave far above beneath the ancient pine. the boulder near the rough and gnarled trunk, slick and smooth. so hard the sense is of softness gliding with my fingers over the iridescent surface. soft to sit upon, to watch the valley far below extending forever into the distance. soft to recline upon, arcing my back. the warmth of the day in the stone, lingering far into the night to heat my bones. …knowing my destination, i take the next step into all that is new.

sitting near the water. deep transparent pools of green/blue. the setting red sun. a shelter beneath driftwood high on the bank. a myrtle tree draping a blanket of scent over me, opening my soul. with each breath. i watch the light fading into the words echoing through my skull… life is hard… the song…

Life is hard
Anyway you cut it
Life is sweet,
Like a berry from a tree
Life is temptation, baby,
Every single day
Life is hard

Life is funny,
I dont mean ha-ha
It‘s not always sunny,
When it needs to be
Life is frightening,
Nothing lasts forever
Life is hard

My time
Is next to nothing
My time
Falls on you, yeah
Everything
Is in motion
Life is hard

Life is precious,
No matter how you see it
Life is crazy,
Like yellow fishes in the street
Life is lonely
When you‘re not with me
Life is hard

Gentlemen
Is that you story?
Hanging religion
From a tree, yeah
My time
Is next to nothing
Life is hard

My time
Is next to nothing
My time
Falls on you, yeah
Everything
Is in motion
Life is hard

My time
Falls on you, yeah
Life is hard
Life is hard

– J. Mellencamp – while on the planet earth.

ok. life is also beautiful. – 1da

it’s a cruel crazy beautiful world – J. Clegg – also while on the planet earth.

stars flickering in the fading twilight. the silence of a light breeze as pine boughs begin to whisper. the ache of tall trees swaying in the night with a moan like countless masts on the tall ships of a planet. blink. and i sleep.

Oh for foocks sake, Finnley grumbled, does that woman never go home?

Elizabeth Tattler was passed out on the desk, two empty wine boottles on the floor beside her chair.

Foock you too! Foock you too! Screeched Robert X

She grinned, she quite enjoyed Robert X, or MrX as she liked to call him.

So what’s our Elizabeth been up to eh Mr X? Finnley picked up the messy pile of papers on the desk and carefully put them in order. They looked sort of interesting. Maybe it was time for a rest break. She pulled out her vegemoot sandwooches on chunks of rye bread, and, carefully dusting it first, she sat down on a big armchair in the corner of the office to read.

Twenty minoots later she threw the pages on the floor in disgust, but then, disturbed by the mess it made, picked them up again.

The character Veranassessee left her particularly disturbed. What a name! And what a Wishy Wooshy Noomby Poomby. Whats all this YES YES YES businoos! That Agent Gabriele was a selfish and dictatorial bastood as far as she could tell.

She would see about that! She was no writer but she was sure she could do better than this load of old mongoat droppings.

Well she would if she could find a pen on Ms Tattler’s shamboolic desk anyway.

Veranassessee (V) drew back from his sloppy kisses. Wait! Have you got protection? she asked, imperatively and sensibly.

Protection? … my gun is under the pillow … oh right I see what you mean, stuttered Agent Gabriele apologetically, reluctantly pulling himself from making suction noises on her breast to rummage for a condom in his suitcase.

Great, now say that stuff again. You know all that crap about how beautiful I am. I sort of liked it.

Agent Gabriele willingly obliged. Of course V recognised it for the lustful rubbish it was … still might as well have a bit of fun. He was damn good looking.

Perfect, she said. Now, what position do you prefer?

He was momentarily speechless, stunned, and even more aroused, if that was indeed possible, by her forthrightness.

She rolled her eyes. Yes, you know POSITION … on top … underneath ..front … back… through a hole in a blanket …? myself I like to keep things simple, don’t want to make too much mess around the place.

Anything you want Darling Agent V.

A little bit later he sighed contentedly. You are by far the best lover I have ever had.

Thanks, everyone says that. Hey! Put out that cigarette, there’s no smoking inside you know. She looked critically around the room. You know this room could do with a damn good clean, I could see dust on the headboard, you know, while we were doing it.

I’ll make sure I clean it next time, he murmered huskily, kissing her, and saying that stuff again, about how perfect she was.

Finnley giggled to herself. Much better! Well who’d have thought she would have a bit of a gift for writing. Carefully she replaced the pages under the telepooh and made her exit. With a bit of luck Ms Tattler would never notice.

A few moments later she was not so sure.

What’s the matter?

Oh you know … I am a bit distracted …too much going on I guess. She did not want to tell him that she could feel the presence of Mahiliki strongly in the room, his sweet trusting face gazing reproachfully at her. He would be worried about her, worried about the storm. She wondered how he was getting on.

I understand, he smiled ruefully, it’s hardly perfect timing is it? Anyway that wasn’t the reason I asked you to meet me here, but I guess it just seemed like too good an opportunity to miss.

I am sorry, she said, rolling her eyes.

Maybe some other time. He handed her a robe.

Sure. She wrapped it tightly around her. Anyway, the Doctor?

All taken care of. I left Nurse Bellamy administering warm coconut milk, unbeknowst to her laced with a sedative. The Doctor will be peacefully sleeping for at least 24 hours.

And Jarvis?

Jarvis is an opportunist, but not dangerous. He was employed by the Doctor as a bodyguard, but has since changed sides. He is now working as a spy for the Magpies.

The Magpies?

Your hunch was right. The Magpies are operating on the Island, and they plan to strike soon.

Sha was gazing dejectedly at herself in the mirror. Glor what d’ya reckon. Are all these bloody beauty treatments working or wot?

Course they are!

They looked at each other. Well, maybe it’s a bit soon to tell eh? she said doubtfully.

Mavis! Sha shook the lump covered completely by blankets huddled on the bed. Come on Lovey, the storm won’t urt you. What d’ya reckon Mavis, ‘ow do we look?

A dishevelled head popped out. You both don’t look no bloody different to me, ‘cept you’ve put weight on, she said honestly.

Well that bloody does it, said Glor, We’d better find that Vessie, find out wots wot!

Franiel awoke, it took him a few moments to get his bearings. He stretched, and slowly adjusted to his waking state. He wondered how long he had slept, it was quiet and dark. Although he couldn’t see much, he could feel that dawn was not far away. The ghost hour.

He must have slept for hours.

Remembering Leonard he looked around and softly called out. There was no reply, and unless Leonard was sleeping, Franiel was alone. “Aye” he sighed, and finding the blanket from his pack, fashioned it into a tent over his head and took shelter in it. It was nearly day, another day.

Thinking of his encounter with Leonard, the strange dancing and especially the sweet taste of the nectar, Franiel reached into his pack again to retrieve the chalice.

It is no longer there

Franiel was not quite sure if he heard a voice utter these words, or if it was just a strange sense of knowing. He still felt around, taking out each item carefully and methodically, emptying the pack, not really wanting to believe the chalice has gone, nor to consider what the implications of this loss might be.

Perhaps he did not put the chalice back in the pack after all? He crawled around his surrounds, squinting into the half light of the morning, feeling the dew damp ground. Deciding to trust what he knew in his heart already he sat back and quietly watched as the sky eventually flushed brilliant crimson.

Red sky in the morning. A warning ….it is only weather words but ….

Reluctant to consider his options, he instead considered some dandelions, how luminous they looked in the morning light.

Becky had decided to take her friends out for the day. Poor Al needed a break from scratching his head in confusion, and dear Tina needed a break from rubbing her aching temples. She knew Sam would enjoy a day out too.

Becky was enjoying preparing the itinerary.

Champagne breakfast at the Droles de Dames cafe in Le Touquet~Pu first, a table reserved under the gaily striped awning overlooking the sea. Fresh croissants and hot coffee, Bavarian cream donuts, tangy fresh squeezed Tesorillo orange and Tiki kiwi juice, scrambled dragon eggs on French toast, and Moroccan mint tea.

The exhibit of Sand Sculpture was next, a pleasant stroll on the beach after breakfast would be just the ticket, Becky thought.

Next, a little side trip to place a few hibiscus blooms on the grave of Oscar Wilde. He was buried at the Father Chase Memorial Garden on a mossy knoll overlooking the sand sculptures, a short stroll from the beach.

A golden coach and six dappled grey horses would meet them at Father Chase gardens and take them to the lawns of Sandlebright Hall, for the hot air balloon ride. The big red balloon would land on Isla de los Perdidos, a magical island in the Rift Straits, for a picnic lunch under the coconut trees and a relaxing swim in the deliciously warm lagoon. Balti had agreed to provide head massages for the little party of day trippers, and had suggested a big iced jug of crop juice as the perfect accompaniament.

A paddle steamer would arrive to take them back to the mainland after the sojourn on the magical isle. There were comfortable whicker steamer chairs on the deck with cosy tartan blankets for those wishing to snooze a little, or raucous poker games inside the red plush interior for those who chose to exercise their creating skills on the green baize tables.

The Cirque de Paradoxia matinee was on the agenda for the afternoons entertainment, with the new sonic stone juggling as one of the highlights.

A theatre supper in Covent Garden, Becky had decided, and the Orient Express was the perfect way to get there. Hercule Poirot had kindly agreed to serve drinks and nibbles on the journey. Becky perused the entertainment section of The Reality Times, wondering which play to take her freinds to. Aha! Salome, of course!

Becky considerately booked rooms at the Hogwarts Hotel on Queen Street for her friends to freshen up and change, ready for the evenings festivities. A hot pink stretch limosine would call for them and escort them to the Blue Man Group show, and then on to the party at the Dragondrome Stadium.

Becky booked rooms at the Taj Mc Fal Hotel for her friends to retire to after the party, whenever they so wished…the pink limo would be available all night.

There, said Becky in satisfaction, they will love it.

The singing in the next room was getting louder. As Dory started to sing along, she felt better. Bugger this! she shouted, and leapt off the musty sofa. The trip to the cave! She felt around the floor with her feet for her shoes, and wasn’t altogether surprised to find her magic flying sandals. Perfect, how perfect is that! She looked around the cluttered shop store room as she buckled the sandals straps. She grabbed a bright blue energy blanket off a pile of coloured shawls, a pith helmet off a hatstand, a mini magic tool kit in a terracotta patterned kilim bag, and on impulse, a glass egg timer with bright fuchsia pink sand.

As she ran out of the back door a parrot in an elaborate wrought iron cage squalked ‘Don’t forget the key, dear, don’t forget the key’.

Key? What key?

‘Don’t forget the key dear don’t forget the key dear don’t forget the key…’

WHAT bloody key dear! Dory was really anxious to get to the cave now, but something held her back.

The key, the key… There was something she couldn’t quite remember about a key. She looked around the room in a panic, It could take me HOURS to find the key in here, she ranted. Ok, ok, I tell you what, she said to the bird, I’ll let you out of that cage, you find the key, and catch me up. Meet me at the cave with the key, OK?

Dory felt like a wet blanket. She’d overdosed on colours in the shawl and cape shop, and had to lie down in the back room. As she waited for the room to stop spinning, sprawled on a rather smelly old sofa that seemed more like a glukenitch bed than a sofa, she listened to various snatches of conversations through the thin walls.