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  • #653

    Mavis had not yet received any news from her friends Sharon and Gloria. She’d hoped she could have some postcard from them before she goes and join them…

    Nearly two months… Two months since they had all received the exciting email from that Dr. Bronklehampton and had decided to take a leap of faith.
    As a matter of fact, they had taken that leap of faith just before, and it was just a… “synchronistic confirmation that they were heading in the right direction”, that’s what old Harry had said… Or was it Joe? No, that was surely Harry.
    Fred wasn’t very pleased.

    Bored by all the variations of dominoes and dices games at their third-age club, the three inseparable ladies had decided, in a bout of delightful unreasonableness, to embrace all that modern technology had to offer. Sharon and Gloria, being the devil-may-care as they were, got their computer first. Mavis had to convince Fred that he could make his horse-racing bets with that computer without having to go to the city, now that the last pub in the village wasn’t taking bets any longer… and even play poker! she’d said, bluffing so vehemently that she’d almost blushed in shame for fear of being wrong. But that last argument had convinced old Fred. And now, she was connected too. A second-hand computer, with a dusty old keyboard, but she’d let it soak a night in a soapy basin, and it was now shiny as a brand-new one. Except that it now kept behaving strangely…

    In their club, they could boast that now they were connected all over the word, and all the old parakeets of the club had almost choked over their tea when they had heard all of what they had discovered.
    Sharon had won most of the glaring bedazzlement. Wearing newly bought sunglasses, she’d said whispering like a conspirator that she had searched her name on a website and she had seen more than 7 million pages talking of her! Imagine! More than seven million people talking of her! And she had not known she was so famous… Hence the sunglasses, she’d added with a wink… there were probably a slew of paparazzi hidden somewhere to discover all that was to know about her… But you can’t fool dear ol’ Sharon Stone.
    Gloria Fowles had been gathering almost 4,000 pages… But well, she had not the charismatic aura of Shah.
    And Mavis Staples had got a hefty 470,000 pages!… Of course, she had not told Fred, who was already so paranoid about all of this stuff. When they had received the machine, he was convinced there were miniature cameras and transponders from the MI6 inside the PC and had spent hours disassembling and reassembling it.

    Very soon after they had registered for their free email address (the reseller had explained patiently that she couldn’t electrocute herself while licking the envelop), the next day to be precise, at 5:33 —that was the hour when Mavis had finished her routine dusting and breakfast preparing for Fred, and just before taking Gulp, the dog for a news reading (that was what Sha was saying “butt sniffing for dogs, is like news reading for us”), she had granted herself a little peek into the emailbox— she had seen something in the recipe folder.
    She wasn’t sure why they had called that folder “meat” or “ham”… no that wasn’t “ham”… “SPAM” more like it… Anyway, in the recipes folder, she’d received her first email. She’d called eagerly Sha and Glo, and they had received it too, and had even answered it already, as they had spent the all night “surfing” as they said — which was a bit difficult for Sharon with her sunglasses in the dark.

    All three of them had received a free coupon for a massage and therapeutic rejuvenating treatments (and possibly some bonus organ enlargements free of charge) in Tikfijikoo Island!

    Well, now Mavis was ready to go too, now that Fred had been mollified and she’d gathered the money for the trip.
    In a sense, that was good she’d not received anything yet from Sha and Glo, it would allow her to imagine the wildest things!

    #1634

    In reply to: Synchronicity

    F LoveF Love
    Participant

      Sir Edmund Hilary died today (11/1 2008). Sir Edmund is a famous and well loved Kiwi, known mostly for conquering Mt Everest with the Sherpa guide, Tenzing (in May 1953 when he was 33). Within NZ his death is a big thing, he is like people’s hero, and their friend. :yahoo_rose:

      Mount Everest, world’s hightest mountain, is 8,850 metres high. It rises a few millimetres each year due to geological forces. Mount Everest was named after Sir George Everest, the surveyor-general of India who was the first to produce detailed maps of the Indian subcontinent including the Himalayas

      When I first heard that he had died, a voice in my head said “he was 88”, although I was not aware of knowing his age. Anyway yes he was 88.

      Well , also this morning I was walking along thinking about the nature of synchs. I looked at a car number plate. It said HONEY B (honey bee). I thought well that’s unusual, but it’s not a synch is it? yet sort of knew somehow it was going to be, Tracy and I talked about it later. What about BRB I thought, that would be a good synch. The very next car was BRB.

      Anyway just now I learned that Sir Ed was a Honey Bee-Keeper.

      oh another synch! welll he was the only living NZer to be on a money note – on the $5 note – FUN number :face-grin: He was fun, he achieved great things, and humanitarian things, but for fun, because he loved it.

      A 2.3-metre (7.5 ft) bronze statue of Sir Ed was installed outside The Hermitage hotel at Mt Cook village, New Zealand, in 2003. :face-wink:

      a few quotes:

      • “We knocked the bastard off” – announcing he and Tensing had reached Everest’s summit to life-long friend George Lowe
      • “I thought, ‘well Ed, me boy, we’ve done it’.” – on reaching the Polar Plateau after leading the first vehicles overland in Antarctica to the South Pole (in 1957) and wondering “whether I was heading in the right direction”.

      (hahha i am watching a doco about his life as I write this, they just said that after reaching the summit and hugging, and leaving some chocolate and a cross for the gods, that ……… after a quick pee, they went down for some hot soup ahahhah pea soup synch :yahoo_straight_face: )

      Like the old abbot Hrih Chokyam Lin’potshee, Sir Ed loved the mountains and went “higher than anyone had ever been on the top of the mountains” Hrih, Eric’s comment

      wow i just noticed the new quote of the day well it is about India Louise and Hilarion Wrick. Hillary’s first wife, Louise, and daughter, died in 1975 in a plane crash on the way to India. They were just talking about it on the documentary, and how profoundly it affected Sir Ed’s life, when I noticed the new quote.

      —Just flow with the story my little one, don’t hold on too much, or you will find it too difficult, and you will stop to find fun in it. ~ Lord Hilarion Wrick

      more

      #1997

      In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

      ÉricÉric
      Keymaster

        A cloud-assisted demented rewrite, just for fun…

        PERPLEXED BY THAT PARTICULAR case, THE sheriff HAD HIS glassES floatING BEFORE HIS eyeS.

        SOME mean rather weird beings… THE brotherHOOD OF magic NEEDED TO SEND Elikozoe INTO A space Craft TO CARE FOR THE boy WHO felt six motherSHIPS COMING IN HIS dreams.

        DURING THESE moments easily FORGOTTEN, SOME others young legends WERE sent Aside TO answer AND bounce WITH alone aspects THAT wondered HOW TO keep focused.

        THE trees WERE laughing “yeah!” THEY SAID, AS Anita FELT cold AMONG THE roseS randomLY SCATTERED.
        SOME told HER ABOUT love, AS SHE asked WHETHER dragons REALLY seemed LIKE nothing ELSE SHE HAD SEEN BEFORE.

        Chris turned wondering ABOUT nature THESE days WHEN everyone, Elizabeth INCLUDED, KEPT thinking WHAT THEIR hair looked LIKE FROM behind.

        DEEP inside, SOME help began slightly TO COME TO THE lady AS SOON AS THE dark cloud HAD taken HER TO sleep. THE truth IN particular WAS LIKE A friend WITH purple COLOURS AND A skull IN HIS HAND, WHO sat WAITING FOR HER.
        “let HOPE COME, despite whatever FATE bringS TO THE door! YOU must wait SOMETIMES, AS factS follow!”

        Nice Tina WAS caught floating ON THE STREAM, AND moving ALONG IN A green jogGING GEAR WAS Joe, BOTH full OF IDEAS THAT gave THEIR friends AN experience NEWLY created. BUT THEY needed magpieS AND tried FOR THESE creatureS INSERTION TO work.

        FOR Arona, ALL WAS happening ON Earth LIKE SOME important dream. IT WAS LIKE dancing IN A real play, WITH THE sea NEARBY.
        A series OF dog-EARED BOOKS WERE NEARLY outside, AND deep INSIDE, SHE KNEW THE novelS WERE close TO surface OUR dimension, WITH HER head looking BEYOND, AS perhaps Yurick WOULD AGREE.
        HIS heart often sounds interesting, BUT OF ALL THE ones SHE liked, IT SHOULD BE herself.
        THE Duane SHALL BE rememberED, SHE thought, IN DUE times…

        WITH THE goat, Anna suddenly giveS THE blue busy spiders SOME NEW reality, AND Kay IS getting hot. SHE HAD forgotten THAT handS COULD BE making names, AND SHOUTING HER CreEd, THE voice OF THE girl SAID IT matterED THAT THE story became shouted IN THE sky.
        Eric WAS ENduring Sanso WHO loved THE sandY BEACHES.

        STAYING clear THIS NEW year DEMANDS SOME self AWARENESS, ESPECIALLY ON THE yellow CHAKRA points, TO ALLEVIATE UNNECESSARY physical pain.

        CLAD IN teal, SHE WAS waiting FOR HIS parents’ words TO HAVE moved AND TO BE connected. Franiel HAD FELT within HIMSELF four OLD fatherS’ ADVICES, AND HAD AGREED TO TALK TO Salome’S face AND ANSWER HER call THAT HAD APPEARED quickly UPON THE wall AND HAD BEEN wandering OVER HIS bed.
        HE careD FOR THE past, AND THAT VISION WAS telling. IN THE morning, HE SAW IT AS A gift, SHINING IN SOME DISTANT island, LIKE A moviNG presence.

        Yann VowED TO FIND HIS WAY IN THE soup OF linkS, AND FIND THE OLD godS’ energy THAT kept THE planetS MOVING.
        HE heard SOMETHING, A FUGACIOUS moment following HIS ADMIRING OF THE beautiful weather, UNDER THE Glistening sun. A SINGLE dragon’S hands COULD nurse POTENT writing abIlITIeS, AND soon WOULD open GREAT awareNESS OF joy AND moveMENTS AND music WHICH WOULD MAKE HIM laugh OF ALL THAT HE WAS creating WITHIN THIS focus.

        Tracy FEELS away OF THE action. IT seems QUITE human… NOTHING IS white DURING twilight, SHE noticed, AND FELT given TO understand.
        AS MRS Bellamy, SHE WOULD HAVE stopPED LONG ago, HAD NOT come THAT powerful mummy.
        WITH Georges startING TO APPEAR, worry BECOMES quietNESS FOR Jib, AND crystal-CLEARNESS FOR Sam.
        MANY years AHEAD IN A GALAXY far-AWAY, ANOTHER Dory IS named AND readS ABOUT DR Bronklehampton’s WORKS.
        HAVING TAKING leaveS, AND BEING gone FOR ALL, OLD Hrih DELVES INTO THE skulls AND HIS eyes SEE A next hope IN A book.
        MovementS HAPPEN FOR Claudio already… THE world woke UP IN surprise.
        A known sense OF TIMESPACE-travel APPEARS IN THE commentS, AS seen THROUGH light.

        Akita’S body AND mind started TO ACT LIKE A saint AND FEEL strange under THE change.
        “TO danGER, bugger!” WAS HIS decision NO longer… HE FELT warm… Towards THE worlds treeS, askING HIMSELF IF IT WAS A game, HE SAW TWO male children PLAYING against EACH OTHER.
        THEY managed TO show HIM THAT THE Murtuane WAS familiar.
        THE whole air WAS speaking. IT sort OF opened ITSELF SO THAT HE knew later OF THAT SPECIAL room OF TIME AND SPACE, AND HAD THE WIND AGAIN BRUSH HIS skin similar TO WHEN HE WAS seeing home IN HIS HEAD.

        Felicity IN THE BEDlam SAW half-formS, COUNTING three OF THEM, INCLUDING Gustav IN THE saloon, AND Becky WHO WAS THINKING SHE WAS AGAIN IN THE wrong PLACE: A monastery!
        SHE’D RATHER HAVE yourself BE A star, AND HERSELF BE HERE TO MAKE THE FUN postS AND playing lost.

        Eight powers smiled: true saying!
        THE sisters focuses IN THEIR caveS HAD SOME fine land TO PLAY WITH.
        Apparently sound WAS key once, BUT THE VOICES IN THE night speak UNCEASINGLY, AND TO write SOME great stories, SPEAK strongLY. THEY seem TO BE feeling yesterday SOME perfect movements…

        THE marmoset HAD FOUND A family, AND funny wordS TO process. IT laughed short GIGGLES
        AS FOR myself, SAID THE cat TO Floyd, I’D create A party-LIKE life, WHERE I DO AS I please, AND LET paper WORK AND feelINGS AND desireS AND tryING AND tellING TO monkey.
        THAT shapeD SOME fun, AND syncHRONICITIES AGAIN happened SHORTLY.

        IN THE FLOWING water, “aum” SOUNDS RIPPLED IN A huge dear dance beginning TO REFLECT himself IN images. HE sighed AS HIS attention GOT INVOLVED IN THE trip AND HE remembered…
        ON THE beach, obviously AWARE OF THE synchRONICITIES, THE creatures wanted TO CLAP THUNDEROUS applauseS.
        LIVING THE dead GUYS’ ideaS…

        #651
        Jib
        Participant

          Everybody was talking about this new yellow flying car… and one of Sam’s friends had now got one at the “shop”.
          This was the new buzz in the city, making things go so fast and easy… better than the gondolas, really , some were saying.
          But for Sam it was all the same… teleportation would really suit him better :p

          For now, his friend was coming, he had called Sam and asked him to let his window open so he could park his new car next to it and enter directly in the apartment. So much fuss about it.

          #1995

          In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

          Jib
          Participant

            Ok first scrying since a long time

            keep sky three planet
            thinking playing hands
            beings heart let salome laugh
            care boy nurse goat
            malvina forgotten star getting focuses

            >:D<

            #1620

            In reply to: Synchronicity

            F LoveF Love
            Participant

              Bubbles, skull, 3d software and other miscellaneous type synchs …

              When I left for my walk yesterday, Eric said to me “happy bubbling”, as I left cafe I picked up newspaper off the rack and there was a big photo of a little girl blowing bubbles on the front page. It was a lovely photo, one which had won a photo competition, the child looked very happy. I was wondering what bubbles meant to me, did not think of the 8 thing, but that is a good point.

              Yesterday I had a hair appointment. As I left the house my atttention was caught by a picture which came up on my computer of a skull Dusky Moana (children’s story about a photographer, treasure etc) Later I saw that Eric had started writing about the crystal skull again in the story. Eric’s comment

              As I leafed through a magazine at the hairdressers I was interested in a story about an artist who does his work using 3d software, (I don’t know much about it computer 3d stuff, so was interested to see Jib had been playing with 3d software yesterday. ahahah also George and I are obsessed with flies at the moment, is this a synch? I would love to see the image you did Jib!). It caught my attention because of another image of a girl blowing bubbles. Also because the artist started off saying:

              I was born in London, England on October 26 1958, the youngest of four and much to my parent’s surprise, I was born a dog.
              which I found very funny really, in fact I found his whole Bio very amusing. (ahaha also very amusing none of our numbers in his birthdate, that makes an intriguing change )

              In the interview it talked about how he worked as a photographer in a children’s ward for a number of years, and this greatly influenced his work, endowing his subjects with surreal otherwordly qualities to help them cope with life. Quite a few of them have sort of insect type appendages.

              Ray Caesar Bubbles

              also, just on the off chance anyone interested Ray Caesar’s Bio

              The other image which caught my eye in the magazine was this one of the world’s most valuable skull, made of diamonds: The Diamond Skull (Interesting I was getting the skull imagery I thought, because I have not really been able to quite follow the whereabouts of this skull in the story, it has perplexed and bemused me a bit.)

              Sorry to mess up the order of your next comment Eric. I often whisper my comments to myself when I don’t finish writing them in one go, and I was not expecting anyone else to be up writing. But I think that is a tremendous synch, particularly in relation to Tracy’s comment about the 888th comment and a huggy is a nice one for it to be. Tracy’s comment mentioning the 888th comment (Is this a synch or did Tracy already know about the 888th mark having been hit? oh who cares, lovely synch, that was evil twin popped in for a minute)

              I had a Sam synch, well this is getting long. But anyway I was thinking about spiders as I left the supermarket (long story as to why I was thinking about spiders), Anyway Jib and I had talked about spiders in the story earlier, and as I looked up I saw the car plate coming towards me was X SAM X ….. (what does this mean? is it sam surrounded by X’s? or kisses from Sam ? hahah well I think I will go with that one ) :yahoo_kiss:

              #649

              Carla’s next destination was a spot far North, more than 570 miles North of Shropshire, past the Highlands, to the castle of Malcolm O’Dolly, also known as the Crazy Baron

              #646

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

              #645

              As soon as she’d come back from her trip, Dory had planned to travel again very soon.
              Of course, she had enjoyed tremendously being home, being with Dan and young Becky… yes, she had… the first day for sure…
              Well… She was a born wanderer, she couldn’t do against her own nature, no need to beat herself for that, and feel guilty for leaving Dan and Becky periodically. Hopefully, Becky was very understanding, and perhaps that the fact that Dory was her stepmother made things easier for them both, without burdening their relationship with useless obligations towards one another.

              On the other side, many exciting destinations were on her list, and she barely knew where to start. One that had attracted her curiosity was the site of Jiroft in Iran, where the famed lost Kingdom of Aratta had been supposedly found very recently. Artifacts had been discovered on this site, predating our commonly supposed invention date of written language, which had fascinated Dory for a while, before she got lost amidst the wide spectrum of her other interests.

              Well, all of this was of frenzying interest, but there were dogs and back issues…
              Somehow, Dory had been struggling with lots of tensions in her back, and the more she forced herself moving, the worse the pain was. Finally beaten by herself, when no one else, friend, family or doctor could accomplish such a feat, she was stuck to a cushioned armchair for most of the day holding to her pain as to a stuck parasitic hated friend.
              And then, there was the dogs.
              As she was barely able to move, Dan had renounced to have her come with him and Becky to see Sabine, Becky’s mother, in Mallorca, where she had invited them for the Epiphany.
              Secretly, Dory was happy to have to stay at home, and not to have to make pleasing faces to the horrid obsessive woman she could only stand a few minutes without having to go out and empty a whole pack of cigarettes to calm her down.
              The only little drawback was that she had to take care of the dogs… And she was running short of dog’s food…

              Before leaving, Dan had left her a phone number of their new neighbours, a batty couple of Brits who had just rented the farm nearby, and with whom Dan was occasionally playing golf and lending a hand in small DIY work.
              Reluctantly, Dory took the post-it and smiled at the familiar handwriting of Dan

              BEATTIE & LEONORA FLETCHER : 933-157-821

              She composed the number in a deliberate slow motion, which strangely felt very empowering.

              — Hello! a quavering male voice answered
              — Err… Mr Fletcher?
              — Ms Fletcher,… herself, what can I do for you?
              — I’m Dorothy Mc Leane, one of your neighbour, you probably know my…
              — Oh, yes! Dorothy, may I call you Dorothy, Dan spoke of you so much that we were very eager to meet you, weren’t we Leo?

              A ruffling sound behind Beattie Fletcher seemed to approve.

              — And is there anything we could do for you?
              — Well, I’m awfully embarrassed to have to ask you, but I’m stuck at home, and my dogs don’t have much food left…
              — Oh my dear! You did so very well to call us, didn’t she Leo? We’ll be at your home in a few minutes!
              — But…
              — Oh, no need to thank us for that, it’s all natural, after all that your delightful husband did for us! We see you in a moment…

              And with that the line was cut. Dory was a bit disconcerted by the strange couple, but decided to dance with what was coming to her doorstep (wishing it would not be flamenco), seeing that having placed these quaint people in her reality could not entirely be a stroke of wild madness… If only…

              #644

              Back in the depths of the water, Aglaë was thinking of a way for her to move easily on the other world.

              There was a legend of her people, a legend which was told to the children. It promised pain and an accursed half-life to those trying to disown their heritage, and live outside of the life-sustaining element of water.
              For most of the children, such an idea was incongruous at best, and none would have thought of breaching the taboo simply to try something different and potentially lethal.
              But to Aglaë, all that it meant now was that such a thing was possible.
              In that legend she had been told when she was young, there was a prince, who betrayed his people, and was condemned to an exile outside of the oceans. So that he would not die an immediate and atrocious death on the dry surface, but rather suffer even more, by not being able to come back to the depths, he was given a mixture of plants to ingest. A deadly algae which grew in the cemeteries of the Holders of Dreams, on the carcasses of the Wise Ones, mixed with an herb from the lands.

              Aglaë did not know how and where to gather the plants… She was hesitant to do such a thing, for it would surely infuriate her father… But she was willing to do it. She would have to find a naïve ally to help her in her task, because she was seeing her half-brother Pelorus becoming suspicious and she did not want to have him discover her plans before she could realise them.
              Pelorus was very close to their father, who had made him Captain of the Tritonic Guard. Though he was not having a slithery serpentine tail like her own, he was very agile and swift in the waters with his tentacles, and was very respected, as he had a reassuring presence, radiating might and power.

              #1619

              In reply to: Synchronicity

              Jib
              Participant

                Hehehe another synch :D
                I forgot to tell that yesterday morning going to do a presentation I noticed a car with a licence plate like 8283 and I just had the idea that it was 23 with two 8 like bubbles or cushions :-?

                And yesterday evening I was playing with a 3D software about body manipulations, the individuals or animals are already created and you just have to manipulate the bodies to create the attitude or movement you desire… and I had created a man fumbling back and I wanted to add a little fly… I added the fly but it was so huge that the man had his head inside the fly’s body :-O
                I’ll post the pic when I go back home for lunchtime. ;))

                I join my hands to this huge :yahoo_big_hug:

                #641

                AN EXCHANGE WHICH TAKES PLACE ON THE STREETS OF LONDON DURING THE REIGN OF QUEEN VICTORIA:

                ‘Ere!, I saw you take that.

                Let go of me, I didn’t do nothing.

                I aint blind and I aint stupid, lad. I saw you put your thieving hand in this ladies handbag. Now what you got?

                Nothing. Just this coin. It’s for me mam, she’s at home poorly, dying, and we aint got no food. ‘Ere, take it. it won’t happen again.

                You’re right it won’t happen again because you’ll be going to the gallows I’ll be bound. I know your face. You’re one of them Magpies. I’ve ‘ad my eye on you for some time. You’re clever at covering tracks I’ll grant you that, but not clever enough it seems.

                Look Mr Constable, I don’t know nothing about no magpies, they thieving birds aint they? It was for me poor old mam, I swear to God, if I be lying may ‘e strike me down dead.

                No more blasphemy from you. I expect the good Lord’s got better things to do than spend his time striking down lying thieves. Thing is you’ve been been caught thieving from this lady and it’s not looking too good for you right now.

                And I will thank you Ma’am for your courageous co-operation. said Constable Marshall O’Riley, turning galantly to the finely dressed woman, clutching her handbag tightly to her person. You have been victim of a heinous crime, and I would wish to trouble your gentle self no more with this matter. But I will thank you for your details and be assured I shall call upon you should we need you to give further evidence.

                No sooner had the lady gone than Constable O’Riley turned to the young thief.

                Now you listen to me carefully, young lad. I have an idea that, if you play your hand right, might save you from hanging.

                I’m listening.

                You and me is not two figures to be seen together, except for somewhere private. I want you to talk to the one what leads your little gang. I have an idea that could be of mutual benefit. I will let you go now, and you be here tomorrow same time, and I will tell you where the meeting will be held. I’ve ‘ad my eyes on your gang for quite some time, all I needed to convict you was to catch you red ‘anded, and I got that now. So If you ain’t here, I know where to find you lot, and I swear I’ll drag you in front of the magistrate. Do as I say though and we could all be laughing.

                #1615

                In reply to: Synchronicity

                F LoveF Love
                Participant

                  I just read T’s comment in the story: one for sorrow, two for joy (Malvina's Dragon Rookery # 509). As I was out driving along the road a little bit earlier, I noticed the number plates of a couple of cars coming towards me, 157 and then 257. I particularly noticed the “1” and “2” in sequence, and mentally laughed wondering if Tracy was playing a game and what we were counting too. Shortly after that 557 passed me.

                  :fleuron:

                  These comments really are very funny, the way they are lining up. I was going to write another comment in the story just now, but decided it was too hot, must be the hottest day ever I thought, and then laughed at myself because it is not really that hot ( hottest day this summer though I bet ). Next thing I looked at the daily quote and it is the one where Tina says:

                  “Icy” is an exaggeration of course, said Tina, “it just meant I had to put a jacket on again today”. :yahoo_oh_go_on:

                  #636
                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    Becky clutched her ribs painfully.

                    Not my feelings, not my feelings, she muttered. Feel into it, but it’s not mine.

                    What a load of rubbish, Becky said, coughing and grimacing in agony. Rubbish, rubbish, RUBBISH RUBBISH…..

                    aaarrgghhhh…..Becky wept (gently, carefully avoiding wracking her ribcage)

                    #1613

                    In reply to: Synchronicity

                    Jib
                    Participant

                      carved faces in stone synch :D the borgulm tree I put in my last comment in the story Malvina’s Dragon Rookery # 502 is almost the same as the name of the man who carved the 4 US presidents’ heads in Mount Rushmore !!!
                      Gutzon Borglum
                      8-} weird name though :))

                      #1612

                      In reply to: Synchronicity

                      TracyTracy
                      Participant

                        She made her way downstairs to the kitchen, and the headlines in the Reality Times newspaper on the table caught her eye:

                        ‘Mysterious Carved Rock Faces Appear in Yorkshire Villages.’

                        SYNC! Todays random quote, and I just this minute mentioned to Jan how things keep appearing IN the book before we hear about them OUTSIDE of the book, and I mentioned the Yorkshire stonecarver. We had been discussing previously the ELIZABETH sync. Some of Franci’s descriptions of Elizabeth fit exactly Jan’s impressions of Elizabeth in the movie she just watched.

                        The botanist, the woman in mans clothes, and the island all cropped up OUTSIDE the book yesterday……

                        #623
                        F LoveF Love
                        Participant

                          Elizabeth Tattler stared morosely at her screen. Her long hair, formerly her crowning glory was wild and matted, small bald patches had formed where she had begun to habitually pull at it. Her beautiful violet eyes for which she was famous were bloodshot from weariness.

                          Ms Tattler was known planet wide for her series of children’s books “The Fickle Four”. The exploits of Almad, Tinigrump, Samnuf and Bekipo were beloved by children of all ages and planetary connections, although perhaps most endearing to those of the Fumari dimension who had a natural disposition for exploits of such fickleness. The catchprase “Bit rude Tinigrump”, and “Madder than Almad” had become part of the national vocabulary in recent years.

                          Formerly Ms Tattler had written, with limited success, novels of a more adult nature, drawing on her numerous marriages for creative inspiration. However her publisher had asked her to create a series about four friends who were on a mission to create other worlds, the focus being on “providing positive and fun role models” for children growing up in these difficult times of planetary upheaval. The works were in the science freakshow genre of writing and the popularity of the original novel had been unprecedented, taking Elizabeth and her publisher by surprise and leading for the demand for many more.

                          Ah, she sighed, and then spluttered as she inhaled the dusty, smoky air, but what a noose this has created. Her yellow nicobeck stained fingers touched her neck and then ran agitatedly through her hair. For at some point, when did it start? the story had begun to take a life of its own. She no longer felt in control as plots became more and more bizarre. She felt unable to follow anything through, creating endless threads which seemed to lead nowhere. She looked around her small office, everywhere was the evidence of stories started and discarded, screwed up pieces of paper covered in frenetic doodles littering the floor.

                          The telepooh began to buzz. She knew it was Bronkel her publisher before his face came up on the screen.

                          I know you are there Elizabeth. Will you pick up please!

                          In a fit of rage Elizabeth picked up the telepooh and threw it across the room, where it narrowly missed Lana, one of her 20 fainting Mongoats she kept as pets. Lana fainted for a few seconds in fear and Robert X, her pet Magpie, hopped around delightedly, Bugger the telepooh, Bugger the telepooh! he screeched. Poke its eyes out! Poke its eyes out.

                          #622

                          Somewhere during the 23 rd century

                          “aaa AAAA AAAAA Tcheeeew !”

                          “Hiiiiii?! Oh Fracking NOOOoooo!”

                          The shriek had been heard in the whole facility.

                          Phefia Beryl was the first on the spot where Vinya Grey had been playing so exuberantly with her vocal chords.

                          — Vinnie? Are you alright?… What just happened?
                          — Oh, Pheffy… I think I made an awful blunder…
                          — What do you mean?
                          — You know, my last experiment?
                          — The g…
                          — Yes!
                          — What?!
                          — They poofed away…
                          — Away?… You mean, all of them? Oh bugger…

                          :fleuron:

                          A few minutes later, Vinya and Phefia were around a white table sucking on straws picked into white and red polystyrenoid balls.

                          — Vinnie, you look terrible… That last geomagnetic storm had not done very good on your DNA I’m afraid.
                          — And the worse is that each time I sneeze, I blow up wormholes… I thought it would go better very quickly, but last one was big and lasted long enough to let the whole experimental herd wander off in another time/space and/or dimension…
                          — Yeah, that’s pretty bad… But wherever they went, they probably will die very soon… Imagine… With their stiff legs anytime they see something frightening, I guess a mere mapgie could easily have them for dinner…
                          — Such a pity… I was close to doing something great with them… When we discovered these fossilized blue spiders, I knew it was the first step.
                          — Bwah, this rehydrated frogrog is the grossest thing I’ve ever drunk… But yeah you’re right, the first results were very promising. The spiders venom could provoke very random and deep mutations.
                          — And all we needed was a little more control on the direction of the mutations.
                          — Anyway they’re just goats… You possibly can’t have breached a cosmic law with a handful of GOATS
                          — Hope so Pheffy, hope so…

                          :fleuron2:

                          San Demangelo, 1848

                          Elroy was laughing… Hey Joe, Twi! he shouted A letter from Uncle Ernie!

                          — Uncle Ernie? How’s the old bat doin’? asked Twilight
                          — He’s sending his greetings for the new year, and babbling about last dead people in the neighborhood. But there’s something funny. He’s saying that he’d just acquired some funny goats. Like popped in, out of nowhere. At first he’d thought of a joke, but apparently no one’s been claiming them. He’d thought them dead, they were a dozen laying stiff on the ground, but when they started to wake up, they went down again like broken dolls. Apparently the magpies on top of the tree had been scaring them. Ahaha… Where does he get such strange stories…
                          — Well, magpies are scarey, Twilight said meaningfully, with a side glance at Joe
                          — Whatever… At least he’d been giving us a good laugh. He’s saying he’s gonna breed the horny beasts, and start a Fainting Goat Fair (or FGF) in Marshall County. Perhaps we could get there next Thanksgiving…
                          — Depends when the Freak Show’s coming to town, mused Twilight, I hope to see them soon…

                          #620
                          F LoveF Love
                          Participant

                            The Story Vincentius told to Arona

                            I was seven when my father died. He leapt into a swollen river to help a neighbor who was drowning. He saved the neighbor but could not save himself. Everyone called him a hero but my mother called him a stupid fool. She was filled with sadness for her loss, and anger that he would leave her in such a way. I remember she got a pair of big scissors from the sewing box and cut off her long hair. For weeks after that I would see her move her hand to brush her long hair away and suddenly realise it was no longer there and I would see her go still. Then her body would slump and she would stand there looking lost and not knowing what to do. One day her heart just stopped beating. They said she died of grief but I think it was that life had become an empty hole that just got deeper and darker. I don’t think that is the same as grief, but maybe it is. My three older sisters and I cried and cried when my father died, but I never once saw her cry.

                            When my mother died we had to cry in secret, because my Grandmother Naja moved in to take care of us. She didn’t believe in crying. There were many things she didn’t believe in. Grandmother Naja ate like a bird, looked like a piece of old leather and moved like a skittery rabbit.

                            Vincentius she would say to me, peering at me shortsightedly, you need to get bigger. Your parents are dead and you are now the man of the house. Every day she would poke me in the ribs and say Vincentius, you need to get bigger”. Every time she poked me I remembered all over again that I was not good enough and that my parents were dead.

                            One day she sent Taffy, the second oldest sister out to the garden to get a cabbage. But there were no cabbages left the garden. Well! said Grandmother Naja, I can’t cook cabbage broth without any cabbage. So she gave Taffy a coin and sent my sisters into the Village to buy a cabbage from the market.

                            I begged to go too.

                            You are too small and you are too slow! said my sisters

                            Eventually though they gave in to my pleading.

                            I have often wondered if I knew the events that day would bring, if I would have begged so hard to go, mused Vincentius

                            to be continued …

                            #619

                            Home, at last… Bernie Eleonara Mynd, Viscountess of Shropshire sighed, dropping her hairy salmon coloured hermine fur coat to the butler.
                            Now, leave me alone Vigor, I don’t want to be disturbed.
                            Madam, Vigor bowed deferentially

                            A smoking teapot of fine herb tea was prepared on the glass coffee table just near a black silk pouch. With a greedy look on her face, she untied voraciously the pouch to reveal the crystal skull she had just acquired.
                            After a few seconds of beholding the priceless possession, she lifted the teapot lid with a stiff face which eventually smiled blissfully at the smell of the fine Earl Fuchsia crop which was infusing.

                            Good Lord, that trip was exhausting!… she growled in a very deep voiced that suddenly sounded more male than before.
                            Didn’t know I had to go as far as Spain to get that darn skull!

                            Bernie suddenly ripped her fine chignon from her head, revealing a bald head with a few short black hair on the top. She spitted her false teeth, peeled off some wrinkled patches of latex skin, smeared the mascara around her globular eyes and scratched her crotch…

                            A ruffled sound and a “mmm mmm” suddenly caught her attention off the itchy body parts.

                            She went to the cupboard, drew a key dangling from a necklace deeply buried inside her ample bosom, then stopped for a moment, and muttered a “bugger” before unbuttoning her tight blouse and removing the corset that was constraining her breath.
                            Smiling wickedly, she proceeded to open the cupboard, but recoiled at a pale tied and muzzled figure who looked much similar to whoever she was impersonating.

                            Oh, Lordy, what a stench! There’s no point in making such a fuss Viscountess, this will soon be over… I just needed a few things, and will soon be off, tonight to be precise…

                            The pale figure whined with pleading eyes.

                            Oh, just don’t make these eyes at me…

                            Bugger! I can’t bother with her now, she said to herself, closing the cupboard’s door oblivious to the plaintiff whines. Now, got to move on real quick, before they realize something was wrong with the transaction.

                            :fleuron:

                            Juan had insisted that they all spent Christmas together before Paqui and Joselito went for their trip. He felt that there was more to this trip that he could grasp, and wanted to share these precious moments now, not wanting to live on regrets.
                            Now, the new year was here, and he was alone. At least, he’d been more than glad to see Claudio move out. It had all been a lot easier than he’d thought at first. Obviously, when Paquita had said to that maggot that she was going to accompany Joselito to his trip on the whachaname-Kikkoo Island, Claudio had been outraged, probably thinking a good playing victim act would soon make things right for him.
                            But he’d been wrong altogether. It was not about love for him or the other. It was all about freedom and being what she wanted. And emotional blackmail very quickly proved besides the point.
                            His father had been proud at Paquita. Her decision obviously was made, and it had been the first time he had seen the frail girl unwavering at the arguments.

                            The situation had soon proved unbearable for Claudio, who had no longer any reason for hanging around Juan and Paqui’s house, and one day he’d moved out, rather discreetly, not to be heard again. Somehow, Juan was aware of the town’s gossips, that he had acquired some unexpected sum of money, not sure if all very legally, but the thing was that he had decided to take his chances by going some said to Nicaragua, others to Brazil or even to the US…
                            But who really cared?

                            :fleuron:

                            On his plane for Valparaiso, Claudio was looking at the letter he’d found in the family trunk. It was a brief correspondence between his grand-father and a certain Cillian Mc Gaughran, and it was linked to the skull he had sold such a handsome price. Perhaps he could get more information about them, if the recluse old man was still alive, that is…

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