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  • #1229

    “Is there a probable Becky still at the Serendib Facility ~ in-the-rural-mountainous-central-region-of Sri-Lanka-in-the-2030’s ~ Godfrey?” Elizabeth hurriedly included some background information in her question to appease her publisher, the erudite and enigmatic Godfrey Pig-Littleton.

    Elizabeth was amused to note that erudite was almost an opposite to rude, but as Elizabeth could vouch for, neither was mutually exclusive, as Godfrey was clearly equally at ease exhibiting both ends of the rude spectrum. But I digress, she said to herself, turning her attention to Godfrey.

    Elizabeth,” he said with a frown, “At your request I have had installed all manner of information retrieval systems, both objective and subjective, and yet you will insist on asking me questions instead of accessing the information yourself.” Godfrey shivered, attempting to wrap his velvet smoking jacket closer round his spare frame. The rich claret colour suited him perfectly, but it was clearly inadequate against the bitter cold. “Put another log on the fire, Liz, it’s colder than a witches tit in here today!”

    “Don’t be rude, Godfrey” replied Elizabeth with a sniff. “I’m too cold to move, you do it. I’ve been absolutely frozen ever since Al sent us all to the South Pole. As a matter of fact, there’s been a cold snap all over the globe, which is why” she continued “I am trying to get us all out of there and back to Sri Lanka! We don’t want to start another Ice Age, Godfrey, this has to stop.”

    “Ah, those were the days” smiled Pig Littleton. “I remember it well. It all started when Aunt Jeanne du Bappe was writing her book and wanted more ice for her G&T. Somehow it all escalated out of control, and before you could say Boo to a Goose, the whole place was covered in glaciers. A few million years later, when she’d slept off the effects of the gin, it was just beginning to thaw…”

    “Dear old Jeanne, where is she now? I haven’t heard from her for…er, aeons.”

    “Oh, she’s in fine fettle, got a job in The City you know. They say she’s quite something in The City these days, got quite a name for herself in Design & Communications.”

    “Has she now! She’s done well for herself then, last I heard she was tiling kitchens in New Venice.”

    Pig Littleton snorted. “Aunt Jeanne du Bappe, tiling in New Venice? Don’t be ridiculous, Liz, you’re getting your timelines in a twist. I expect that was one of her protegée’s, Aunt Jeanne’s been in The City for —well…”

    Godfrey was uncharacteristically stumped.

    Elizabeth wasn’t going to miss an opportunity to tease her old friend. “For how long?”

    “For a very long Now”

    “Well, I must say, that’s a fine thing isn’t it, to start an ice age and then bugger off to The City while everyone else freezes their tits off” said Elizabeth, blowing on her hands to warm them.

    “You do realize, Liz dear, that every time you mention the word Cold, or Frozen, or Ice Age, you are increasing the potential of the Ice Age in the Probability Pool?”

    Godfrey, the Probability Pool has frozen over. We’ll be skating right over the top of it instead of dipping into it, if we don’t start a thaw soon!”

    #1225
    TracyTracy
    Participant

      Becky was relieved that Al hadn’t taken the introduction of the new characters too badly. He and Sam seemed to dash off again rather quickly though. Becky was starting to feel a bit lonely, what with Tina away for so long as well as Al and Sam being so wrapped up with the kitchen tiling that they hardly had time to stop for a chat anymore. Gawd only knows how many tiles it takes to tile a kitchen, Becky thought, even a kitchen in the city.

      #1222
      TracyTracy
      Participant

        “Oh no! Last night’s frost has killed all the blibilong plants!” exclaimed Snettie, shivering in the unnatural cold. “Honestly, this global freezing is spoiling everything. If blibilong plants can’t stand this cold, then nothing will grow here anymore, and I am sick to death of eating leopard seal with no greens.”

        “Ugh, don’t remind me. What I wouldn’t give for a nice fresh sun warmed bobbit fruit. All the smikkerts have migrated north as well, I haven’t seen one for months” replied Snooter. “I don’t know if I can stick around here for much longer myself.”

        “But this is our home, Snooter!” Snettie started to cry, her tears freezing on her cheeks. We’re Sprealians, we’ve always lived here. Where will we go?”

        Snooter hugged Snettie. “I suppose we’ll have to go north, like the rest of them.”

        Snooter and Snettie gazed around at the deserted city. Alabash had been built around the shores of Lake Flom, in the mild and temperate regions of central Spreal (later, much later, Spreal was referred to as Gondwana, but Snooter and Snettie didn’t know that. And they certainly didn’t know that the remains of their civilization was to disappear under masses of ice for so long that all memory of them was long forgotten, and that anyone mad enough to suggest that they once existed would be considered a bit of a nutter).

        Snettie, I think the time has come” Snooter said solemnly. “I think we have to go north. There’s only old Spagwan left here now besides us, and his daughter Illiofilly. We’ll never survive here with just four of us, even if it didn’t get any colder, and it is getting colder, every day. Why, the first four floors of all our buildings are iced up now for heaven’s sake. What happens when the ice reaches the top floors? Then what?”

        “We’ll all be dead by then, Snooter” Snettie sighed “By rights we should probably be dead now. When we run out of furniture to burn to keep warm, then what? All the trees are dead and buried in ice.”

        “We’ll come back though, when it warms up again. This can’t last forever, and when it’s over, we’ll come back.” Snooter said optimistically.

        “How long do you think it’ll be?” Snettie asked her husband.

        “Oh, not long, a few years at most. Don’t worry, you’ll be back home before you know it, but for now, let’s go and find some warmth and some decent food, eh?”

        “Ok, but first I want to leave something, some message or clue or something, in case anyone comes back here before we do, so they know we’re coming back”

        #1219
        ÉricÉric
        Keymaster

          That’s some stroke of genius, said Al to himself, as he was waiting in the cold for a gondoskate to pay a visit to Becky Tooh who was sick with the flu at home with the three kids, and Sean nowhere to be found. Usually Sam was keen on helping Becky Tooh with the motherly duties, but as he was gone to the City he had relied on Tina and Al for that…

          If we manage to move the characters of the Reality Play out of that freezing land sooner, we’ll probably soon get hotter as well… Well, at least it’s worth a try!

          #1213
          ÉricÉric
          Keymaster

            Georges and Salome’s journal

            From Salome’s account of her introduction to the Turmak People (Part 4)

            Legends of the past can tell you a lot more on the present than what sometimes is actually revealed by present events. I discovered the truth of this statement when we arrived with Cil at the capital of Tùrmk. As Cil was discussing with officials of the Turmaki Gatherings, I was offered to go to their House of Remembrance. It was, I gathered, a sort of physical repository of the knowledge of the Turmaki that would allow me to bridge the gap of my abysmal ignorance of their history.

            I was only barely starting to understand the odds of the physical configurations of space in this dimension, and I was nonetheless more than eager to add history to my previous geography lessons.
            Turmaki are living in a sort of interesting land forming a sort of circle at the centre of which lies the most beautiful sea I have ever seen, with a very subtle and vivid shade of deep indigo blue. Most of Turmakis’ activity was directed inward of the circle, and the outer sea wasn’t a matter of interest to them. Later at the House of Remembrance, I learned that there had been an agreement in the past with the other sentient races to not mingle, so even if there was not physical barrier, all they focused their attention upon was their land, and theirs only.
            Their Capital City, Tùrmk, may probably be seen as a very rudimentary city by all Earth-biased accounts. However, at that time, I had not really seen much of the Earth to be blasée anyway, so I was quite receptive to the beauty of its simplicity. It was located at the foremost point of an inner peninsula known as the Nirgual’s Head, facing twelve beautiful islands on which sacred temples had been erected.

            My fascination for the beauty of these islands led me to discover more about their significance. In the House of Remembrance, a similar structure of twelve doors led me to learn that the twelve families held significance even here and throughout Alienor as well. Representatives of the families were chosen among the Guardians, as I remembered Georges had discovered and interestingly some of them had had quite an influence upon the history of the various people of Alienor. I couldn’t really trace it back to tangible proofs, but as I said, some legends are quite telling — thus corroborating Cil’s earlier statements.

            I have not much time left to start telling them now, but I will probably tell more about the Legends of the Six ‘Fudjàhs’ —or Power Objects.

            (Part 3)

            #1200
            Jib
            Participant

              After that strange dream, Yann had completely forgotten about the city and the puzzle reality game and the park. He’d caught a cold and a disturbing hiccup that made his thoughts hard to follow. He’d been wanting to do so many things during that week end, and it was all running away from him.

              Yurick was preparing him some medicine made from essence drops and jasmine tea, and Yann particularly enjoyed how his friend was taking care of him… he was feeling like a child of about 8. Though he was grumpy and mumbling a lot, he was pleased that they shared this occasion to talk about everything and nothing in particular. When Yurick told him about a lightus flower and a spam about a puzzle, Yann remembered his dream and what he saw there. He was telling his friend about the different patterns he saw in that park and that’s when emerged the idea of a book.

              The 2 friends were quite excited about the idea of a hidden city, yet to unfold. This book would be one step toward its manifestation.

              Yann, who was quite readily passionate about weird things was already imagining walking the ground of the park and hearing the sound of the water condensing from no cloud and falling in the even pong.

              “And you know what? That teacher you were listening to in my dream, something in his way of speaking reminds me of Aleksane…”

              “I have the impression of a hearty laugh, an eye and a thrilling atmosphere”, said Yurick.

              #1199
              Jib
              Participant

                Sam was packing his stuff… the City had emerged and he wanted to visit it.

                Yes FoxSam! I’m bringing you with me…” and more to himself “and I won’t forget my copy of Tiles Of The City Bible either

                #1198
                Jib
                Participant

                  Yann woke up puzzled by his dreams. He’d been walking in the street of a big odd city… an oddicity? He giggled in himself. Yurick was still sleeping and he didn’t want to wake him up.

                  In that oddiCity, there were many people but as he could feel in his dream they were not necessarily interacting with each others directly, and strangely it seemed that the different individuals were not necessarily at the same time though he could clearly see them in the same place.

                  He was wondering as some people were waving at him… did he know them? As far as he could tell, they weren’t triggering any memory of individuals he had met in his waking life. Some of them seemed somewhat familiar but he couldn’t put a name on their faces. When he was feeling like it he would wave back at them but most of the time he would simply ignore them. No consequences.

                  At some point In his dream, he’d ended up in a big park, very calm and soothing. He could see some people smiling and laughing, and the sound of their laughs was not intrusive, it was merely part of the environment like the birds chirping.

                  He remembered having seen 3 fountains… when he found the second one, he thought he took a wrong turn and was back at the first one, but a closer look let him notice a few definite differences, and it was more obvious with the third one. Though the designs were similar, the water in each of these fountains was behaving quite differently. In the first one, the water was acting just like he was expecting from water: springing from a pipe, from the bottom up and coming down according to the laws of physics. In the second one, it was as if water was magically condensing from somewhere above the surface of the pond and falling down like the rain. Quite beautiful and very hypnotic… no cloud above. The third one could seem a bit chaotic at first glance, but the movements were quite harmonious too and Yann could fathom some kind of rhythm or interactions going on. He couldn’t clearly see where the water was coming from, and he didn’t have the occasion to examine it as his attention was caught by a voices coming from a gathering of people nearby.

                  He found them in a clearing; some people were sitting in front of what appeared to be puzzle pieces. The shapes were quite different from the ones he’d been accustomed to, but it didn’t seem weird at the moment. A man was standing and walking among the others, giving them information and directions on how to manipulate the different pieces.
                  As Yann was approaching closer, he noticed that Yurick… no it was Quintin… it seemed he hadn’t called himself Yurick yet… well he was there too and he seemed quite puzzled and engrossed by what he had in front of him. He only had 2 pieces, but it seemed quite difficult to make them fit together.
                  As Yann was about to call his friend, the man began to talk to him.

                  “Hello. Do you want to try by yourself?..”

                  Yann felt something was not as it should have been… it was as if the man was talking to him, and at the same time continuing with his explanations to the other people. And as he was staring at Yann, waiting for an answer, his attention was also focused on his students going on and on with some endless instructions on how it all functioned and what was the proper use of the pieces…

                  “You’re new in this area, I never saw you here before, though you seem familiar…”

                  That’s when he woke up, puzzled. A bit sad that he’d left the enchantment of the park, but relieved that he wouldn’t have to listen to all the babbling of the man. What was his name again? It had been lost in the huge amount of words, not clearly separated from the names of the tiles or the names of the other students.

                  #1150

                  Dory was often reminding herself (and anyone within hearing or blogging distance in the process) of one of her favourite catch-phrases: what you are looking for is probably right under your nose.
                  It seemed of particular relevance these days, Yurick was noticing, for a variety of reasons.

                  First, his glasses needed some dusting… He’d have to finish that monologue later then.

                  :fleuron:

                  What was he about then? Yes. The tillandsias near the window. Last week-end, they’d been to a crystal store with Yann, and mildly interested by crystals, Yurick had been wondering loudly at the heaps of strange plants in the middle of the paraphernalia of rocks, shells and starfishes. The store owner had proceeded to explain those were aerial plants, known for gathering the elements of their sustenance out of the air.
                  The curiosity would probably have ended with those quick answers, had the guy not not given them on an impulse two little specimens just when they were about to go with Yann’s newly acquired amethysts.
                  :raw-crystal:

                  Cute. New plants to interact with. Yurick had to say he preferred plants to rocks. Yann for his part had found them funny names. “Sha” for the witchy hairy one, and “Glo” for the pineapple-looking one. Why not…

                  The tilland… Well, “Sha” and “Glo” (you had to give credit to Yann for granting the reader a good respite from long unpleasant names) had been there in the bathroom for a few days, and only now had Yurick found some interest in investigating more about them.
                  The capacity they had to live apparently without any strings attached was very appealing to him, and it was like a symbol of focusing on one’s own vitality, and finding the means to live out of that elusive “new energy”; of not feeding off something outside of self.

                  Now, he was finding even more interesting facts; a picture that Yann had taken of a blooming plant recently was of the same genus of plants, and it reminded Yurick of plants which had fascinated him in a botanical garden, that were also from this species.
                  Interestingly, he found out that the plants were named after a Finnish botanist (Elias Tillandz )… He couldn’t help but notice the similarities with another focus of his: Elias Lönnrot.

                  The string of clues suddenly filling up the previously empty corridors of his mind were sparkling a renewed interest for focus hunting.

                  #1146

                  “Oh My God” exclaimed Bea. “I had a dream about the DOOR!”

                  “Oh, well done! The question is, did you remember it?” asked Leonora.

                  “As a matter of fact, Leo, I did!” replied Bea with a happy smile. “As a matter of fact, although I’m not too sure how factual matter really is, but anyway, I did remember the dream, and I wrote it all down.”

                  “Gosh, up early this morning, weren’t you?” asked Leo, who was sipping coffee at the kitchen table and watching the sun come up over the mountains through the open door.

                  “Oh I didn’t write it down this morning, silly! I wrote it all down last week.”

                  Leo placed her cup on the table and rubbed her eyes, frowning. “Wait a minute, let me get this straight…..”

                  Bea laughed ~ she was in rather a jolly mood, despite the early hour. “I had the dream last week, Leo, but I only just realized this morning that the dream was about THE DOOR

                  “So what did you learn about the door, then?”

                  Bea frowned. “Well I’m not really sure. But it seemed so significant because it was that scary door, you know, the dreams I’ve been having for years about that door in that bedroom that’s too scary to get near, never mind go through….would you like to read it? Maybe you can interpret it for me.”

                  “If I must” sighed Leonora “You better pour me another cup of coffee then and pass me those cigarettes.”

                  Leonora read from Bea’s Dream Journal:

                  I was sorting winter clothes out on an upstairs landing of a cottagey gabled house,
                  and decided to use the upstairs bedroom instead of the downstairs one.
                  The bedroom was a recurring dream one, gabled attic with dormer windows kind of room.
                  Then I saw the door and remembered this was the door I was always too terrified
                  in dreams to open; it was so scary that I always wanted to use this bedroom
                  but never could because of that terrifying door and whatever lay beyond it.

                  “Didn’t you do a waking dream and go through that door?” Leonora asked. “Oh, yes here is is…”

                  Remembering that I had done a waking dream and gone beyond the door once,
                  I marched up to the door, flung it open and strode through.
                  Suddenly an almost overpowering fear and dread stopped me in my tracks
                  but I carried on anyway.

                  “Oh, bloody well done, Bea! Good for you, girl!” Leonora could be a bit waspish at times, but she was a kind old soul underneath.

                   It was a bit like a old slightly shabby but once grand hotel foyer, high ceilings
                  (not the same as when I went through in the waking dream, which was then rows
                  of closed doors on either side).  The foyer opened out on the left into a large old
                  fashioned restaurant dining room, with one person over on the far side sitting at
                  a table.  I carried on straight ahead through opaque etched glass double doors
                  onto an upstairs outdoor terrace.  There was a city scene below.  On the left
                  was a shallow ornately shaped ornamental pool.

                  “Reminds me a bit of our trip to Barcelona, this does, eh” Leo commented.

                  “Yeah, I’m sure that had something to do with the gargoyle imagery” replied Bea.

                  A woman squeezed past me holding a small thick book and I knew she was
                  going to jump off the terrace which was several storeys up.  She collapsed into
                  the pool, writhing backwards, baring a flat white breast and dropping the book.

                  “Flat breast, hahah Bea, that weren’t you then, obviously, was it!”

                  Bea chuckled. “Not bloody likely! I reckon that bit slipped in the dream because I can’t find a comfortable bra lately”

                  “You and me both” replied Leo. She continued reading from the journal.

                  I picked up the book, and somehow ended up with two books, which seemed like guide books. I couldn’t hold onto the two books with the creature in my hand, which was weird, like a very heavy small furry grey reptile, or gargoyle.

                  “Maybe it was a baby dragon?”

                  “Don’t say that!” retorted Bea, who had a horror of dragons. “The thought did cross my mind too, though” she admitted.

                  I was holding it with one hand round its middle and the fat grey belly of it
                  was bulging out under my fingers.  It was unbelievably heavy for such a small creature
                  and I didn't want to hold it, so I passed it to a boy. (Twice I was holding the creature,
                  and twice I passed it to the boy, but I can't recall the other time)
                  Back inside the building, I followed the boy down a big wide staircase that
                  curved round to the right at a landing below.  I started to fall down the stairs and
                  knew it was because of the book that I was holding that the woman had been holding
                  when she collapsed into the pool, so I threw the book down the stairs to save myself,
                  and felt the tumbling down from the books perspective, although I stayed in
                  the same place, clutching the banister.

                  “Well I am amazed that you remembered so much, Bea! Going through the doors and finding the books reminds me of Jane’s Library you know”. Leo was starting to go into an altered state.

                  “Are you going into an altered state, Leo?” asked Bea. “Are you channeling Juani Ramirez again?”

                  “The creature, the gargoyle, was representing ‘a different species of awareness, of consciousness’” continued Leonora, as Bea hastily started taking notes. Leo wouldn’t remember what she’d said while she was channeling Juani, so it was essential that Bea record what was said.

                  “The weight was a marker to help you recall the creature, as well as being symbolic of denseness”

                  Bea couldn’t help making a snirking noise. Dense eh, she said under her breath.

                  “The door” continued Leonora “Is a signpost, a marker.”

                  Just then the phone rang, snapping Leonora out of the trance. Bea picked up the telephone, but there was nobody there.

                  “Pffft” said Bea.

                  “More coffee?”

                  #1144
                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    Chuckling to herself about Sam’s latest entry (which was another splendid synchronicity with the daily random quote: “Just as Becky was retorting crossly to Al to please knock before remote viewing her…”) Becky Tooh went outside into the sunshine to hang out the laundry. Blinking in the strong sunlight she reached up to peg a towel on the line and noticed two huge eagles circling above her. I swear they are looking right at me, she said. She watched them circling until her eyes could stand the glare of the sun no longer, then turned back to the laundry basket.

                    Oh will you look at that! she said crossly. Bird pooh all over the washing!

                    #1094
                    Jib
                    Participant

                      Felicity was the middlename of Finnley, and she was quite joyful actually…

                      #1091
                      TracyTracy
                      Participant

                        “Get you hands off my bosoms, you cheeky blighter!” exclaimed Felicity, the downstairs maid.

                        The drugs that she had added to Sir Coon’s tea were evidently starting to take effect. He was hallucinating.

                        #1066
                        Jib
                        Participant

                          Sam (the fox) had adapted quite well to Sam’s apartment.
                          He was rather fond of dark corners where his glowing fur would create more effects. An accurate reflection of Sam’s own centeredness on self and fascination with the influence of his energy on his environment, including other individuals.

                          A shift in his aspects made him feel dizzy for a moment. A nudge of energy from Tina and Al. They were at the floating terrace of a cafe and offered him to join in. Apparently, the ripples created by the hurricanes of last week were arriving in NYC. It was worth seeing. Some improvised surfing contest in the main channels of the city. Apparently Tina expressed quite freely to Becky and she needed to release the pressure. She had brought her bathing suit and was about to participate in the exuberant playful expression.

                          Apparently the fury of the elements somewhere can generate fun in another place. Something about influence and reconfiguration?

                          FoxSam was wagging his tails so it was obvious he wanted to come with him.
                          Sam wouldn’t have let him alone, anyway.

                          #1060
                          ÉricÉric
                          Keymaster

                            Today was the commemoration of the fifth anniversary of the first transmutation made on Earth.

                            Of course, it didn’t take into account previous attempts (or successes), because they were of the domain of science-fiction and dubious history facts. But now, not only was it rock-solid proven feasible, but also it had change people’s lives like the invention of electricity had about two century ago, in the mid 1800s.

                            At first, people had not grasped the profound implications of that discovery. It was another funny science experiment from researchers, and didn’t seem to have any more practical usage as did goat cloning, and creation of phosphorescent pigs. However, to mark the consciousnesses of the importance of the event, the government hadn’t skimped on the showcase. Not that it was of any importance after what evolution was bound to happen afterward, but still, huge sums of money were spent brilliantly.

                            The symbolic aspect of choosing what object to transmute wasn’t unnoticed. It could be virtually anything physical: garbage, contaminated soil… But it had to mean more.
                            Someone whose name was forgotten came with a suggestion and it slowly came up as the most natural thing —to close this area and open on the new one.
                            There had been many people still left to convince, the die-hard fanaticism, but it had to be it. And for good measure, the involvement of other nations was asked.

                            Sept. 4th, 2044, the ceremony opened with the display of what was left of Enola Gay that plane who had dropped the first atomic bomb, which had been almost forgotten in the West, but not completely in the East. And many nations came afterward, each carrying a symbol of what they wanted to recycle, to free themselves off.

                            Then all of these heterogeneous elements entered the P-Machine, a distant relative of the Z-Machine which had been adapted and enhanced to produce aneutronic fusion at its core —highest temperatures of the universe thought unreachable by human means, harnessed to change the elements at will, and producing no harmful radiations as the atomic towers of the past.
                            After a silent moment of unbearable expectation, melted gold started to flow out of the machine, making people wonder if that was all of it?

                            Yes, it was merely it. Transmutation could be done, and it was not so impossible as people thought in the past. It meant free resources, recycling of garbage, abundance for all… at people’s grasp.
                            What people had failed to recognize at the beginning, apart from the immense possibilities that were lying before them was that the machine could only transmute matter. And even if it could virtually free them of greed (because everything from gold to rocks was basically of the same value now), people’s own values were now made prominent, there was no camouflage left: no victims, no shortages, no lack of.

                            Even five years after, it still meant huge challenges, but there was hope.

                            #1035

                            Dory had booked flights to Long Pong with stop-overs at Dubai and Sri Lanka. None of the airlines had heard of Tikfijikoo island, but Dory had a hunch that she would find a connecting link in the Chinese city, and would trust her intuition and impulses upon arrival there.

                            Becky could hardly sleep for excitement. Finally, she slept, and dreamed of a strange facility in the mountains of Sri Lanka.

                            #1809

                            In reply to: Synchronicity

                            Jib
                            Participant

                              ok there are enough syncs in such a short few time that I have to write some of them :)

                              Since a few days, I have loads of them with Rome, it began with my desire to watch the series and shows it to Eric. Then something about a dream of Stacy ;;) and some pics of Rome coins Melissa sent me. And then at work, I heard someone tell another individual : “you mean you never went to Rome? Yes, I went…”

                              I play with my sister, Francie and Eric to an energy ball exchange game, and there are some interesting hits each time. The bomb sent by Francie was particularly interesting in that it was a glass of wine, and after I looked at the energy ball early in the afternoon yesterday, we went to buy some stuffs for my new wood carving hobby :p and we found something interseting about a set for carving glasses. We bought it of course.

                              At the book shop, where we found the prout syncs ;)), there was that book among the dvds… about Natural Vision Improvement by Janet Goodrich… and talking with Francie of the energy ball, I talked to her about this book and she told me about an optometrist in her city who does the same thing and that she had an appointment tomorrow!

                              Well I think that’s all that I can remember for now :p

                              #1011

                              A Pacific island then… she thought

                              Let’s move there…
                              She could feel her ghost body hover, like a feather sucked into a whirlwind.
                              She had to be confident she’ll snap back right at her lying body when she’ll be over with the trip.
                              Trust that everything will be okay. As it always were. Will always be.

                              She could see the Earth from above… The Pacific Ocean, its huge vastness, delimited by coasts of lights.

                              Oh, of course, she had not thought of that, but it was night there. She could see towns, concentrations of which were twinkling like shiny stars on a dark sky; but she didn’t want towns. Far too crowded, lots of energies that were maybe intoxicating at first, but she could feel she would be worn out in a second.
                              For, as she traveled in spirit, she had access to so much more information than people usually get with their physical senses alone,… it was hard to explain.

                              There… in that dark patch, when she moves closer, she can feel the immensity of the ocean surrounding everywhere. She moves closer to that long island that must be New Zealand, because she doesn’t want to be far from any sort of indication of her location. Keeping an eye on this, she spots something which isn’t a city light. It’s dancing, like a fire.
                              How can she spot a fire at that distance is beyond her understanding, but she has learned not to question, and act upon her impulses.

                              She wills herself at the fire.

                              Waves, the peaceful sound of the waves.

                              Around the fire, she can see a dog, crouched near a thoughtful man; there’s a young girl too, with a little white rabbit in her lap. The girl’s parents are resting in a hug, and a man with a strange energy configuration, the like of which she hasn’t seen, is closing the circle.

                              What a bunch of interesting people…

                              #1009
                              F LoveF Love
                              Participant

                                The truth was the book was nowhere near finished. In fact the island story she was working on currently was becoming more and more complex. Elizabeth put it down to her own wonderfully complex nature, this insatiable need to add more and more characters, all converging on the island for the dramatic finale.

                                Finale! She snoorted derisively. Having no idea where it was all going ,if the truth be told, then there was not much likelihood of a finale for quite some time.

                                A tentative knock on the door. It was that bloody Finnley! Since the sex scene fiasco Elizabeth had banned her entry to her office. Quite a rookus there had been. Still, she had to grudgingly admit, the girl had writing talent! Perhaps she could make use of her. Elizabeth quite fancied herself in the role of a leader, and the idea of Finnley in a sort of subservient underling capacity was tremendoosly appealing to her.

                                #1004
                                TracyTracy
                                Participant

                                  Becky was undecided. Add to the last entry? Or start another? Grinning wickedly, she started another.

                                  Her second impulse selection was a slightly late coincidence, but a coincidence notwithstanding. It was about Sand Dragons . A Few days previously Becky had been to an auction. She bid for and won a first edition copy of Wisp magazine; it had cost her an arm and a leg, but she was delighted with her purchase. It would increase in value, and was a delight to read some of the first published articles of the many authors, poets, artists and photographers who would later become famous. The article about sand sculptures had reminded her of the T.R.A.P. day out.

                                  Well, how about that! exclaimed Becky, reading the rest of the comment. Wish House is one of my most favourites, and I chose it by accident!

                                  She read:

                                  Illi used to play a game with Cranky (as she affectionately called nanny Chraddock) in the long months while her parents were away, called Wish House. Every room in the sprawling Elizabethan house was a different time and place, and the moment they entered the room they imagined themselves to be different people, in other times. Petunia Duster the maid loved to join in too; consequently not alot of housework got done, but with Gus and Flora always off travelling, nobody minded. Playing was, after all, so much more important than dust. In fact, a thick layer of dust made the rooms all the more mysterious and magical.”

                                  Becky ran her finger along the dust on her desk and smiled.

                                  OH! Becky jumped. I almost forgot to make a note of the number, now what was it? she mused, scratching her head. I think it was 171 :notepad:

                                  Becky wondered whether or not to start another entry. Intuitively, she chose not to. Her third random choice was another synchronicity with the first edition of Wisp: it was about pyramids in Spain. The first edition of Wisp magazine was particularly valuable as it was the first mention in print of the discovery of the Iberian pyramid culture.

                                  Number 835 she noted :notepad:

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