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  • #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…

    #1708

    In reply to: Synchronicity

    Jib
    Participant

      Eric gently reminded me (thanks ;;) ) that the licence plate of the car was

      110 BKY 78

      Is it a Becky-Clue?

      #745

      Arona, my dear?

      The silky voice of Malvina resounded in Arona’s ear, while she was meditating on the implications of the story Vincentius had told her.

      — Yes?
      — May I borrow you Buckberry and your sabulmantium for a few moments?
      — Oh sure, no need to ask… Though I don’t think you require my permission for Buckberry, isn’t he free as I am?
      — Oh yes he is, exactly as you said, free as you are

      Arona could have sworn she felt a winking energy rippling through her flesh, making some unfamiliar electrical currents crawl underneath her skin. She would have said she was thoroughly disliking it, though she wasn’t really sure if she was.

      — Oh, Malvina added as if an innocent afterthought, we are moving by the way, perhaps you may find interesting to join us for the homationing ceremony. You may learn some more about your sabulmantium.
      — Well, why not, answered Arona having no idea of what a homationing ceremony could be…
      — Very well, please join us in the main entrance, where I am playing the harp. We will be waiting for you.
      — I’ll be there in a second.

      So, they were moving? Speak about implications… Arona muttered, stroking dozing Mandrake, who had feasted on too many of the moorats crawling inside the moisteous cave tunnels.
      I guess I’ll take this astounding elan as a hint that I’ll be going alone she said. A yawn for all answer.
      Considering it was Mandrake, that was almost a mark of distinctive affection… or was it rather of affectionate distinction?

      Moving? She didn’t want to move, not yet, not like that… And to be honest, with all the stuff in that cave, she sure didn’t want to help pack all of this, be it by magic. What an impossible task.

      Vincentius the nanny was taking care of Yikes, so she was confident should anything happen, he would be alright.

      :fleuron:

      On the outside of the cave, the dragons were all lined up, as if waiting for some unknown signal. Leormn first in shades of teal, and his spawns, Buckberry, with the most florid and baroque hues of purple that one could imagine, and the two facetious Heckle and Jeckle in shades of emerald, looking unusually calm.

      Malvina, with Leo the little marmoset on her left shoulder, was playing her harp, while Irtak was accompanying her playing a mouth harp.
      Some drums had been disposed around, and quite naturally, Arona felt like beating the measure on these, getting slowly and slowly relaxed by the music and guttural sounds produced by the throat singing dragons.
      She almost laughed and broke the meditating pattern when she let the memory of Sanso come into her awareness. What a shame he’d missed that, that would have fitted him better than her.

      Slowly the sounds stopped, and Malvina very gracefully rose from her stool, and greeted Arona with a loving hug. Her flowing robe was a tender orchid hue with laces of thistle pink, and her silvery peach long flowing hair were giving her the aura of a princess.

      — Wait, where are Georges and Salome? She said, are they already gone?
      — No, they are waiting for us at the new location, she said with a smile… Now, Leormn will start the ceremony.

      Arona almost said Wait again, in anticipation of what was to come, and finally decided to let it flow. The serene look of Malvina and her motherly smile was of a nurturing reassurance.

      Outside, in the grassy lands, the dragons had all grown wings and were apparently ready to take off. A pile of conic shaped dirty sand was standing in front of the entrance, that Arona had never seen before.

      She could feel Buckberry answer her unspoken question without even a word being uttered. It is soil from the cave, and we will use it now.

      Arona watched the dragons rise in the sky full of damp gray clouds, and wondered what they were doing.
      They are doing two things, Arona answered Malvina (again that disagreeable habit of reading thoughts, couldn’t help but think Arona, wishing there would be some World around where such thing wouldn’t be so easy), first they are checking what kind of creature are staying with us and following the movement, continued Malvina, ignoring the remark, and second, they are drawing with that sand from the cave a circle to enclose the area we want to move

      Arona didn’t dare say the explanations were making her even fuzzier, so she nodded as if abreast of what was going on.

      Popping sounds of the dragons blinking in and out to get some more dirt almost made her dizzy, and she forgot the strangest feeling she had when she thought she heard “the area we want to move”.

      — Now, continued Mavina, the sabulmantium.

      The dragons were now all back, and the pile of sand had disappeared.
      Arona’s attention snapped back to herself, and she handed the fine object to the lady. She couldn’t help but notice the glowing eyes of Irtak, who apparently was very eager to see what would happen.
      So he will move too, she thought, hope his father won’t be too sad… Why did she felt it was a separation from this place she had found she was liking…

      — If you look closely, said Malvina to no one in particular, but Arona took it for herself, you will see how easy it is to come back if you feel so inclined.

      At her touch, the coloured sands in the sabulmantium’s transparent dragon shell globe started to move. And all could see the cave being formed, with all the little people, dragons, glukenitches and even Leo and Mandrake… They were all here, enclosed into a circle of sand.

      — Now, if you will follow me… said Malvina who traced on the ground a curvy symbol.

      And very slowly, as the whole sand scenery inside the sabulmantium was turning in a round, they all felt as though they were dissolving into the air. Yet, they were all solid, and the interior of the cave was still too.
      The only thing that was moving was the exterior, twirling and changing, getting out of focus, and moving erratically at the beginning, and then getting close to a focal point. Some fine tuning was occurring.

      And in a snap,
      The landscape
      Was
      In all its splendor…

      — Greetings! a smiling couple at the entrance of the cave said to the people inside.

      #1705

      In reply to: Synchronicity

      Jib
      Participant

        I had a few syncs today too… not mentionning all these pooh stuffs…
        well yes I had a pooh synch today, I was to go to the drugstore to update my vital card (dunno how to tell it in english, but it’s a card that have some information about individuals concerning their health and stuffs…), I walk right with my left foot into a big shit… a funny signal to bring to my attention that I was not paying attention.
        That’s for the pooh synch…
        After that, I read that you mentionned pee in some comments… well I had a pee sync too when going to another drugstore this noon just before I came back home for lunch… there was that paper with a cutie pic of a Gibbon, and it mentionned the HURO project… uro being also a prefix for pee…
        When I got home I had mails from my parents… and they told me they had a new car (just for the record, the old car was red, the new car is… grey) and they had sent me the dvd of their wedding with a pic of my mother in wedding dress on the front…

        When I checked my emails, my father had sent me pictures of my mother in front of the new car… and she was holding a plush Gibbon in her hands :)) I may put the pic later.

        So many synchs :D

        #743
        ÉricÉric
        Keymaster

          Al woke up from a series of lucid dreams, interspersed with false awakening in which he was in the same space arrangement, but visibly another time space or even dimension… He was quite familiar now with these stuff, and could remember them well, but still had doubt about the implications of the strange imageries he was getting glimpses of.
          It was like his tatami (because at this time, Al was finding more comfortable to sleep on the rice-straw mattress) was a flying carpet with its own volition, and Albert, like some modern-time Aladdin, was finding himself plunged right into new horizons.

          Last vision had almost made him blush of the deranged aspects of his mind. Sure he was finding Becky rather attractive (who wouldn’t, he was wondering), but imaging her scantily clad in that skimpy dress in the middle of the bushes was surely some trick of his luscious mind rather than some bona fide connection of his magic tatami.

          Good thing too that the joggers (or thought-forms, whatever they might have been) in the park in which the magic tatami had landed couldn’t see the projected form of Al, because he was unable to move right now, except for some embarrassing lower part of his body. Now the tatami was looking like a circus tent. Oh dear… the wedding had been really hard on his nerves, he reckoned.

          When he finally woke up, he noticed some voice messages on his telephone from Becky and thought he would probably skip mentioning his last synchronicity of his :yahoo_whistling:
          What was she wanting that necessitated a dozen messages on his phone? Couldn’t she just call Sean, or was he still incapacitated by the gallons of vodka he had “injested”?
          Well, surely the matter would wait for him to shave, for he was starting to look like Mr Cavern, with the huge hunger too —he smiled at the idea that dear Becky would surely fear he might eat a clue by mistake…

          :fleuron:

          Moments later, after a good shower, fresh clothes and some slices of buttered nuts bread with pumpkin jam, he telepathically connected to Becky, wondering why she had not thought of that method in the first place… What was the point of all these group meditations together with Sam and Tina if they couldn’t make good profit of the enhanced neurological pathways they had built together. Granted Becky had always been a bit reluctant to use it, or perhaps just forgetful of that possibility… Anyway…

          CAN’T YOU JUST KNOCK BEFORE YOU CONNECT! a shriek suddenly filled his skull

          Al immediately shut the visual, blushing of the renewed deranged vision…

          — Sorry, I just…
          — Oh, no need to trail forever on that… I’ve found someone to help me, and yes, I do remember how to connect telepathically!

          With that, all was left in Al’s skull was a big whooshing wind.

          #741
          TracyTracy
          Participant

            Elvira was tucking into some reindeer stew left over from Becky and Sean’s wedding when she telepathically tuned into Becky’s distress signal. Chewing thoughtfully, Elvira tried to make sense of the visual imagery she was receiving. She seemed to be getting a mixed message; was it a nun, or was it a tart? She reminded herself to trust her impressions, and not discount them even if they seemed incongruous or unlikely, and accepted that Becky was indeed in some kind of tarty nun trouble. The question was, where was Becky.

            Elvira pushed her empty plate away, and focused on the situation. AHA! Nutley Park, 25th bush on the left.

            Boris, I’m going out, she said. Becky’s in a spot of tarty nun trouble in Nutley park.

            Right Ho, dear, shall I come and help?

            Another image of popped into Elvira’s head of the see-through black mini dress. Er, no Boris, I’ll handle this myself.

            And with that, Elvira, sprightly old crone that she was (and fortified with mushroom laced reindeer stew) bustled off to hail a gondola cab, carrying a large carpet bag containing a selection of hastily chosen clothing.

            #739

            Vessie Darl, Sha and I are just popping down to the beach for some more of them special beauty sea waters you told us about.

            Great idea, Gloria, responded Veranassessee vaguely. She watched absent-mindedly as Gloria’s generous body, clad only in a skimpy red bikini, disappeared down the corridor. There was something about that shade of red tugging at her memory. Vermillion red …

            Red! PLAN B! Oh my God! how could she have forgotten!

            It was two days since she had called him, that meant he would be here soon, that did not leave her much time to prepare.

            :fleuron:

            Everything has to be perfect. She wears a silk vermillion red camisole, the one he gave her, scarcely covered by lush black velvet and topped with bright red lipstick. She casts her eyes critically around the room. It is nearly three years since she has seen him, she doesn’t want to spoil this moment. The glasses of soft red merlot are ready, a plate of miniature liqueur chocolates on a plate by the bed.

            She shakes out her long dark hair and looks in the mirror. Her chocolate skin glows, her eyes are bright. She will do. She touches the red silk camisole … it is still beyond her comprehension how she can have forgotten.

            When he arrives he is beautiful. Too beautiful. she thinks. It is so easy for him, effortless. He appraises the room and laughs casually, he knows how hard she has tried. Agent V he says, a pleasure to see you again. He kisses her. She remembers everything.

            He takes a sip of the wine. She watches him, unsure of herself. He has a black bag with him.

            He looks at her, sees her looking at the bag, and smiles slowly, I have something to show you, Agent V, he says, and she can sense his pride, the barely suppressed excitement in his voice.

            He opens the bag carefully, pulls out a small white box, handles it lovingly. Two years experimentation in the Russian lab, he says softly, delicate threads of spun blue bonnet spider silk and yet strong enough to hang a bridge on.

            He looks at her. Come here. he says

            She hesitates for just a moment thinking of Mahiliki, and then inwardly shrugs, bugger it, I never really wanted to live on Fukitupi island and have loads of babies anyway. She moves over to him. He takes the transparent silk and slowly starts to wind the delicate thread around her wrists. Try and break it, he whispers in her ear, kisses her neck.

            Then stops.

            My God, what the fuck is that?

            Veranassessee sighs.

            :fleuron:

            No I swear Sha, I am telling you, I saw him go into Vessie’s room.

            Oh my God Glor, he might be a murderer, or a bloody rapist even!

            I tell you though, he were right bloody gorgeous.

            Well never mind that! The door is locked Sha. I think we’d better shout out. Make sure she’s okay.

            Right, good idea. And then if she doesn’t answer we can bash the door in and we can both pounce on him.

            Right, on the count of three Glor, we’‘ll shout out, one… two… THREE!”

            #737

            Finnley, you let me in right this mooment! commanded Elizabeth Tattler imperatively.

            I am sorry, Ms Tattler, I am under strict instructions from Mr Arak that I am under no circumstances to let you in until this office has been cleaned. I will lose my job if I let you in.

            Now there’s an idea! she thought, toying with the idea momentarily

            Why that pompous, arrogant, supercilious proot ….. Elizabeth paused midflow to admire her vocabulary.

            Finnley was quite enjoying the change of routine, and Ms Tattler’s office really was a treasure trove of interesting bits and pieces. The thick layer of dust, and were those magpie droppings? were a little off-putting mind-you. She plucked a book randomly from the shelf, and lifting the visor of her protective faceshield in order to see better, gently wiped the title clean. “I am Perfect Indeed” The author was some fellow named Erwin P Lemone who Finnley had never heard of. She picked another one, “Basic Flying Massage Techniques of the Ancient Kuzhebar, Book One for Beginners” by Jibberish E Shrale

            Finnley, Elizabeth’s voice had taken on a wheedling tone from the other side of the door. Be a sweetie-pooh will you and put this note in my clooh-box. Finnley watched intrigued as a piece of paper inched its way under the locked door.

            Sure Ms Tattler, where is the clooh-box?

            On my office desk, next to the daily quotes. Don’t mess anything up Finnley dear, you be careful, I have very precious things in my office.

            Finnley could not resist a peek but the scribbled words made no sense to her

            Amanita muscaria intoxication typically produces macroopsia – Beckipooh?
            13th gate and the 13th skull FEBRUPOOH 20TH 2008
            The Snoot – who is he really?
            supercilious proot! Arak Dr Bronkelhampton? ? ? ? WHAT IS PLAN B?????????

            Her eyes fell on the daily quote for the day, that Lemone chappie again!

            rainy wedding, merry marriage

            She snorted derisively, He must be madder than Almad that Lemone, how silly! No wonder poor Ms Tattler seemed a bit mindblown sometimes if she reads stuff like that

            #1458
            TracyTracy
            Participant

              I did it for you:

              Feanaro Telemmaite and Nolofinwe Elanesse

              Emily’s was cool: Itarilde of Dorthonian.

              Darren: Elessar Carnesir

              Sanso: Galdor Nenharma

              Zhana: Luthien Alcarin

              Rachel: Tamuril Calafalas

              :yahoo_heehee:

              #1696

              In reply to: Synchronicity

              TracyTracy
              Participant

                Have you heard about the giant frog from Madagascar called Beezlbufo that ate baby dinosaurs?

                I read that in the newspaper today! It sounds like one of our concoctions.

                #720

                As the bride and groom were exchanging the rings, Al was brought back a few weeks earlier, when Becky had announced the little group she and Sean would get married. The initial excitement gone, Tina, Sam and Al had been given the honor to organize that very special day, while Becky surely wouldn’t care to be bothered by such petty things.

                I think she’s already getting that distinguished snobbish style of the Wricks muttered Tina who was not so fond of being handed down these kinds of unprompted crottes.
                Al, who was probably thinking as much managed a Don’t be so hard on her, that’ll be a mighty fine wedding, after all, marrying a Wrick has its advantages, we don’t have to be measly on the expenditures
                Sam, a bit lost in circles, had acknowledged.

                Well, that had been fun after all, at least Al was thinking, he had not needed to deal with Becky’s own mood fluctuations. As the only Sumafi of the group, he had willingly taken care of the list of the guests, and all the catering orders, while Tina was taking care of the decoration (bride included), and Sam was arranging for the organization and rental of the places and hotels for the wedding and its slew of guests.

                Of course, as intimate Becky had first required the wedding to be, she had soon changed her mind, and had not resisted long the temptation to gather lots of people she had almost forgotten over the years.
                Al could almost see clear as day — now the weather had brighten up a bit — in his mind his notepad full of Becky’s recommendations:

                Becky’s family and friends
                Sam, Tina & Al (of course)
                Sabine Baina (mother) and Patel Mahapushtra, her new husband (a child’s toys mogul)
                Dan (father) and Dory (step-mother; might fear a trip to New Venice, you’ll have to use some extra coaxing with her)

                [long list of friends, snipped for reader’s comfort]

                Sean’s family and friends
                (mother deceased, father unwilling to come, pretexting his rheumatisms and not being able travel so far, but most likely unwilling to see Sean)
                Sean’s children, Perry and Guiny
                (aunt and cousin, Deirdre and Dorean Wrick) — Al’s update: they have unexpected guests coming back from Russia at their home, wonder if they could come? Becky: Sure!… Mmmm, Russia you said?

                Now, finding some great gift for someone as easily distracted as Becky, and as spoiled as Sean was another ball of wax…

                #717
                ÉricÉric
                Keymaster

                  Becky, Becky, wake up… Lordy, she’s really in denial, you’re right sweet pea…
                  We’ve got to rush now, all the people are already arrived now, and we’ve got to go to the civil ceremony now
                  Yes, yes, we’ve got plenty of rice for you Becky
                  What? Yes, I suppose she ate those mushrooms that were in the blue mud package. They were only supposed to be rehydrated and applied on the face, not eaten… Now she’ll be delirious for quite some hours…
                  Peregrine, Guinevere, kids, yes, take that dress, and take good care of the bride herself, she’s not much on her two feet today…

                  Al was doing his best to apply all the self-centering techniques he knew and not let things get awry now… Glad he had Tina to help, her practical senses sharp as ever.

                  #715

                  Several days later, when the wedding celebrations had finished, nobody could remember anything about it, other than the jokes and poems. In true Russian custom, there had been ample alcohol…well, more than ample, there had been several hospital admissions from alcohol poisoning, drunken brawls and accidents.

                  Becky swallowed another aspirin, recalling one of the jokes that Sam had told.

                  As a Lord Wrick was driving down the freeway, his cell phone rang.

                  Sam continued: Answering, he heard the mummy’s voice urgently warning him, “Wrick, I just heard on the news that there’s a car going the wrong way on the M4. Please be careful!”

                  “It’s not just one car,” said Wrick, “It’s hundreds of them!”

                  Sheesh, sighed Becky.

                  As she poured herself another mug of coffee, a limerick popped into to her head.

                  There was an Old Crone with a beard,
                  Who said, ‘It is just as I feared!
                  Two Owls and a Lynx,
                  And a Rabbit in Pink,
                  Have all built their nests in my beard!’

                  Who had told that one, was it Sean? Becky smiled wanly as another one popped into her head.

                  There was an Old Abbot whose habits,
                  Induced him to feed upon rabbits;
                  When he’d eaten eighteen,
                  He turned perfectly green,
                  Upon which he relinquished those habits.

                  The toast popped up, and as Becky buttered it she remembered a joke of Al’s.

                  Most dentists chairs go up and down, don’t they? Al asked the wedding guests.
                  The one I was in went back and forwards.
                  I thought, “This is unusual.”
                  The dentist said to me, “Al, get out of the filing cabinet.”

                  #711
                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    Oh, Thank Flove for that! exclaimed Becky delightedly, when she looked in the bathroom mirror on the morning of her wedding. The Siberian Blue Mud treatment worked!

                    WOW! said Becky as she peered at her reflection. It’s made me look fantastic!

                    Indeed, her skin was glowing like a summer peach. She smiled happily and sighed a deep sigh of contentment. She was glad she’d chosen Tina to be the Head Witness for the Russian style wedding ceremony. She knew she could trust her to carry out the ritual joke and poem telling with aplomb. Al and Sam would make great witnesses too. She couldn’t wait to hear their jokes and poems at the wedding party.

                    Becky giggled, And Sean will love all the drinking.

                    #1892
                    TracyTracy
                    Participant

                      Amanita muscaria intoxication typically produces macropsia, which means that the sense of scale is lost, and small objects can look many times their actual size….

                      Coincidentally, my photo blog is a bit macropsiac lately……

                      The above link provides clues to the ‘frozen reindeer meat’ surprise entry.

                      #703

                      So you have requested audience… a deep voice, hoarse as a water’s torrent running and jumping on a river bed smothered with pebbles, asked from the darkness.

                      Midora was not afraid of the darkness. As best as she could explain it, it was the void of creation, where everything came from, and where all was stripped of intrinsic meaning. It was from this place that she could reach for the answers.

                      She knew this place, she felt memories swirling around, as uncatchable as a swarm of short-lived sparkles born from the reddish embers of a dying fire.
                      In this lifetime, she was only a eleven year old girl, but she was as old as this voice within her. There was a time where she was playing with that voice, a time where her being was not yet, and yet a time which was in her future.
                      She was pure consciousness in that dream time space, and yet, she was feeling more comfortable with physical symbols around herself. So she focused on one of the symbols that she knew would help her stabilize her vibration, and in doing so, all the small particles of golden light around her started to swirl and coalesced into a dream body.

                      She was in front of a cave, in a mountainous area. This body provided her a slowing down of the stream of information that came to her, and she could manipulate more efficiently the interaction with that huge presence she felt. The precipitous rocky environment was a symbol of that steadiness and slowing down and also, for her benefit of her beliefs in that acquiring such information might be a difficult task.
                      Now she had identified it, she could more easily dispel the obstacles on the path to the cave. The cave of course, was her symbol for reaching into her deep inner nature. And the darkness was only a fitting blank canvas for herself to project and translate the energy interactions.
                      All of that she knew, as it was knowledge embedded into herself that she could more easily access into this trance-like state, in her room in that location in space and time of 2112 in New Venice. And she knew that also for she was taught by her parents, Bart and Oscar, on how to access it.

                      The voice was inside the cave. And no sooner had she thought of it that she was finding the whole place morphing into a vast room built into the rock, in the middle of which a majestic golden dragon was slowly breathing.
                      She had translated the vast energy as that of a dragon, but she knew when she felt into it that it had possible variations, one of which being that of a she-phoenix, of various sizes, where sizes where symbolic of its age and wisdom.

                      You may call me Naasir the dragon grinned at Midora. You are right, in a sense, you can consider yourself being born from me, though in your true form, you are equally august and splendid as I am. You will, in time, have access to that form, again. But for now, I can provide some answers to your questions. The only thing is… Are your questions up to the challenge? he added with the most benevolent smirk his wide toothed grin could convey.

                      Midora pondered for a moment, beholding the perfection of her translation of the energy. Each scale on the body of the dragon was a work of art. His half-closed eyes, with an amber shiny center, and teal border were equally mesmerizing.

                      :fleuron:

                      — What is the significance of these books I have inherited from my parents?

                      As you know, this place is the place were significance fades away, or radiates, depending on the direction in which you look, only to be replaced by fulfillment. Your… books hence, have no significance, I would say, for me at least. What do you want to know about them?

                      — They were passed from people to people, and as far as I understood, they started to be imprinted with these people’s stories, starting from my grand-parents Indy and Cuthbert. But there are still blank pages inside them, and no seeming order from one page to the other. I think that’s why my grand-parents grew tired of it.

                      Continue…

                      — What I mean is… I feel attracted to them, and yet I don’t understand how they work…

                      These… are not mere books as your ancestors understood them. In fact, they were crafted by a distant civilization, not denizens from this dimension in which you are presently focused, but travelers, with whom you can still interact by means of this device. When the “books” traveled into this dimension, they retained their initial properties and functioning, but their initial shapes were translated into something as close as you could understand so that you would allow them to appear into your reality. This knowing might help you unravel their true nature.

                      Another thing. Books are energy deposits, in your reality. There was a misunderstanding in that they were thought to be able to liber or to free your memory by imprinting it into the pages, but memories are alive and not separate from you. They live as you live and change them. So, the books are still being written, and that which you can read is the part of the book which is the most probable story in which you choose to insert yourself, so as to explore it. You can alter these probabilities, even if you might doubt it, but as you chose them, they are much a part of your design of your reality, that which you chose to explore. In short, a complete book means the end of your exploration, and prompts for a disengagement for you to continue other explorations, and on the contrary, a blank books means a boundless realm of probable explorations.

                      — Can you tell me why there are two of them?

                      They are more than a couple. These ones are the only known ones that your ancestors happen to have found. Most of them have been destroyed over time in this dimension, as their possibilities were heavily cloaked. They are all linked together, as you will find out. You may gather some answers in finding Badul

                      And with that, Midora was once again floating in an intermediate state hung between space and time, longing for her physical body. She woke up strangely energized…

                      #702

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

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

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

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

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

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

                      Oh! Who’s there?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                      #692
                      TracyTracy
                      Participant

                        It was a perfect year for mushrooms in the mossy green fields of the Upper Ubzich regions, and gaily coloured clumps of them glistened in the morning dew. The weak sun felt deliciously warm to Zhanochka, after the interminable months of frost and ice. She pushed her sleeves up past her elbows, exposing the milk white flesh that she (or anyone else for that matter) rarely saw, clutched her grimy skirts up above the oozing mud, and ran across the field for no reason at all, other than it felt good to run.

                        Zhanochka kept running. And running……something strange happened to Zhanochka that day, the day she ran and ran…..

                        It was, in retrospect, as if she had run from one world, into another one, a completely different world, and she was glad.

                        #691

                        So tell us about Russia, Elvira, Fleur asked the rather formidably silent old woman. What was it like?

                        Elvira raised an eyebrow, and then frowned. Well, I…..quite honestly I don’t remember much about it. She sighed deeply and her shoulders sagged.

                        Well, did you take any photos? pressed Fleur. Did you bring any souvenirs back?

                        Oh, I…..yes, I have some photos……

                        Elvira rummaged in her oversized carpet bag and pulled out a manila envelope, tattered along the edges. She passed it to Fleur.

                        #685

                        Dory was bored. She didn’t really know whether to be Dory, or Becky, or even Illi today. Maybe I will be someone new, she thought. Hmmm……

                        Elvira, how about that. Well, Elvira was just as bored as Elvira as she would have been as Dory, Becky or anyone else for that matter. What happens when the inspiration goes? Where does it go? One minute the world is full of interesting things, and then Poof! nothing is very interesting at all……

                        Elvira had lots of interesting things to do, she had many books, and various artistic projects half started or not even started, just thought about on and off for ages, and she had puppies to play with, and a big drawer full of pens and things to draw with. She had a camera that took little videos that was often a lot of fun…but nothing seemed worth the trouble today, nothing at all…..not even that silly wacom thing, and after all that fuss to buy it, too…it was more fun talking about buying it then the darn thing ever was afterwards…..

                        The Internet, how could anyone be bored with an internet! There must be something seriously wrong with her to be bored when she had Internet! But she halfheartedly googled this, googled that…ho hum, tedium, nothing very interesting there….

                        Well, what about your imagination then! Elvira sat up a bit straighter, challenging herself. You can surely do something interesting in your imagination, can’t you?

                        She slumped back down again, and sighed. Like what? Well, imagine you are out in the sun, going for a walk…..

                        Well ok, then, I am on the beach. At first I feel the sun on the top of my head and I squint at the bright sparkles on the sea. Then, my ears are ringing with cold, it’s a windy cold day after all and not much fun on the beach at all. Oh pull yourself together, woman! Pull your scarf round your ears! It’s a great day for driftwood, just look at those waves rolling in.

                        I am trudging along, and the sand is hard to walk on and makes my legs ache. My God, I am out of shape! There are soggy oranges and piles of bamboo sticks, and plastic bottles all washed up in curving heaps. A soggy Marlboro carton; my, are they still smuggling fags from Gibraltar, I am so out of the smuggling loop these days….

                        Well, was that it? Elvira chastised herself. Not much of a flight of imagination there, was it? Maybe a walk along the river instead…..

                        Oh alright, if I have to…..actually I can’t be bothered to do this imaginary walk either, it’s no use….nothing is really very interesting today. I would like someone to amuse me, charmingly, pointlessly, something funny and light, and delightfully meaningless and simple…..

                        And god forbid, nothing to do with beliefs, please! Or any of that weird stuff, like other lives and other dimensions, and talking to aliens and all that weirdo stuff….weirdo, weirdo, stuff! UGGHHH Elvira shuddered.

                        Well, one thing I am pleased about, she mused almost happily, I can smoke again now my lungs are behaving. I thought I would be gloriously happy forever if I could only breathe without fear, and already I am Ho Hum about breathing….thought for sure I’d remember to focus on every brilliantly wonderful NOW moment, I did, after that fright with the lungs, but no….back to normal, well, worse than normal really, because now I am not even interested in anything……

                        I wonder if I should start drinking again…..Oh don’t be silly, Elvira told herself rather sharply. Well, drugs then, maybe that would buck me up. It’d buck you up alright, but for how long? Well when they wore off, I could take some more.

                        Yeah, right…..

                        Elvira sighed again. Even Bertie Wooster hadn’t even managed to raise a smile this time, and he always used to make her smile. Reading Wodehouse now made her frown, wondering what ever she had used to find so amusing……

                        The birds are making a racket out there, she noticed. Whatever do they find to sing about all day? Chirp chirp…jeeze….. maybe I should take up golf, she wondered. Dan seems to always have an interest, something passionately all-consuming……he never has enough hours in the day for all HIS interesting things….

                        Where have all my interesting things GONE?

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