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  • #6103

    In reply to: Tart Wreck Repackage

    “Do what?” asked Rosamund, returning from lunch.

    Rosamund! About time. You’ve been gone days. Thought you must have quit.” Tara tried to keep the disappointment from her voice.

    Tara and I are going to expose the cult! And it would be a whole lot easier if you would stick around to answer the phone in our absence.” Star looked accusingly at Rosamund.

    Rosamund scrunched her brow. “Am I in bloody groundwort day or something? Didn’t you close that case?” She grinned apologetically.  “Just before I went to lunch?”

    Tara rubbed her head. “Damn it, she’s right! How could we have forgotten!”

    “Oh!” Star gasped. “The person who turned up in the mask! Yesterday evening. That must have been our second case! The one with the cheating husband!”

    They both looked towards the wardrobe — the large oak one, next to the drinks cupboard. The wardrobe which had rather mysteriously turned up a few days ago, stuffed full of old fur coats and rather intriguing boxes—the delivery person insisted he had the right address. “And after all, who are we to argue? We’ll just wait for someone to claim it, shall we?” Star had said, thinking it might be rather fun to explore further.

    Tara grimaced. “Of course. It wasn’t an armed intruder; it was our client practising good virus protocol.”

    “And that banging noise isn’t the pipes,” said Star with a nervous laugh. “I’d better call off the caretaker.”

    “We really must give up comfort drinking!” said Tara, paling as she remembered the intruder’s screaming as they’d bundled her into the wardrobe.

    Rosamund shook her head. “Jeepers! What have you two tarts gone and done.”

    Star and Tara looked at each other. “Rosamund …” Star’s voice was strangely high. “How about you let her out. Tara and I will go and have our lunch now. Seeing as you’ve had such a long break already.”

    “Me! What will I say?”

    Tara scratched her head. “Um …offer her a nice cup of tea and tell her she’ll laugh about this one day.”

    “If she’s still bloody alive,” muttered Rosamund.

    #6102

    In reply to: Tart Wreck Repackage

    “That damn cult is going from strength to strength and not a damn thing we can do about it,” said Star.  “What bloody awful timing for a lockdown, just as we were getting started!”

    “I know,” replied Tara sadly.  “At this rate we’ll have to go back to work for Madame Limonella.”

    “Don’t be silly, she’ll have had to close down too!”

    “Don’t you believe it!” retorted Tara, “She’d find a way to keep her clients happy.”

    “But we’re not keeping our clients happy are we? We haven’t found a way. We’re pretty useless, aren’t we?”

    “Not just our clients. Well client, really, we only had one. We could have saved the world from the Zanone cult if it hadn’t been for this quarantine.  Hey, maybe that cult started all this, just so we couldn’t stop them.”

    Star barked out a bitter laugh. “Now you sound like one of them parroting out conspiracy theories.”

    “We could find a way to break the quarantine, sneak out at night dressed as urban kangaroos or something.”

    Star was shocked. “Tara, that’s morally reprehensible!  Where is your community spirit!”

    “I don’t think the kangaroos would mind all that much,” Tara replied huffily.

    “I didn’t mean the kangaroos, good lord!  But you know what, you might be on to something.  Remember that kangaroo dressed in a mans overcoat that tried to break someones car window the other day?”

    Tara had a feeling Star had got her wires crossed somehow, but didn’t question it. Star was getting excited and it was a welcome change from the weeks of despondent boredom.

    “Well never mind that,” Star continued, who had started to wonder herself, “The point is, we can use a disguise.  And it’s a matter of grave social responsibility to expose the cult. In the fullness of time, we will be exonerated, hailed as heroic, even.”

    The excitement was contagious and Tara found herself sitting upright instead of slumped in despair.  “Let’s do it!”

    #5975

    In reply to: Story Bored

    TracyTracy
    Participant

      Board 2, Story 2

      Lucinda,  worried about what Maeve would think when she found that the magic parrot had turned Fabio into a unicorn, prayed to the blue diamond. The doll behind her kept interrupting.

      Becky was having a strong word with the dragon about turning up in green wearing a waistcoat when she’d specifically ordered a sand dragon, and failed to notice the fox.

      Roberto decided it was time to talk to Godfrey about his piglets, after finding one of them hobnobbing with a suspicious looking character from another story.

      #5844

      Life around the woods had changed in a strange way since the appearance of the beaver fever. It was called after some theory from where it came from. Some said patient zero was a trapper far off in the woods who caught an infected beaver and sold its fur to the market. The fur then contaminated the coat maker and then the clients who tried on that coat, hence leading to contamination nests in the entire realm. The beaver fever took time to incubate, so when people first noticed the trapper wasn’t coming back, it was too late.

      That’s not such a bad thing to live a little recluse in the woods, thought Eleri. She usually was restless and lately had been wandering off into town and into the countryside looking for things to paint with her tar black pigment. It is a new phase of experimentation, she had said to Glynis who had been wondering if she could include more variety to her palette. I’m looking to capture the contrasting soul of what I’m painting.

      Don’t you mean contrasted? asked Glynis.

      Do I? Whatever, I’m experimenting.

      Glynis knew better than to argue with Eleri, and Eleri knew better than trying to make words fit the world. It was better to make the world fit her words. How could you explain that to someone? So she assumed people understood.

      With the curfew, though, it had first become harder. Then she had found a way by painting her own garments tar black and to complete her attire, she had asked Fox. He had also found a hobby and with a sharp knife and a log he could make you a mask so vivid to look alike anything you asked. Eleri had asked him for a crow and had painted it tar black. She looked like those doctors during the plague a few centuries back and dressed like that people certainly respected the safety distance promulgated by Leroway’s decree.

      That man seemed hard to get rid off, especially in time such as those. Eleri suspected that Leroway was not the man she knew and once courted her. She needed to get close to investigate. Her new attire, if it might not help with the investigation at least would help embolden her and stave off boredom.

      #5737

      April knew better than to ask where June managed to teaf the money needed for the plane tickets. Nothing she could have scrapped from their meager wages.

      The loud voice got her all startled.

      “Not so fast Ladies. Hands in the air!”

      An officer in uniform was standing there, his service taser pointed at them like they were two dangerous criminals. He was flanked by a trenchcoat acolyte inspector whose tiny glasses were shining in the dark.

      “Damn it June,” whispered April “they’ve caught up with us with your shenanigans; did you steal credit cards again?…”

      “Shhtt! Don’t say anything. They look daft enough, let me do the talking.”

      “Mrs June, you’re under arrest for multiple accounts of credit fraud, as well as unlawful impersonation with the intent to commit fraud. You can remain silent. Anything you’ll say may be held against you…” The inspector was speaking like a robot.

      “STOP RIGHT THERE!” the officer shouted, “hands up or I shoot! Last warning!”

      June was undeterred; she had eluded the police forces for so long and in so many States, she felt invincible and started to voice confused explanations while moving her hands in a frantic fashion and trying to sweet talk the police force.

      She never saw the taser come.

      Between fuzzy moments of consciousness, she realised she was being cuffed, and her and April taken to the police station.

      #4747

      In reply to: The Stories So Near

      ÉricÉric
      Keymaster

        WHERE ARE THEY ALL NOW ? 🗻

        a.k.a. the map thread, and because everything happens now anyway.

        POP-IN THREAD (Maeve, Lucinda, Shawn-Paul, Jerk, [Granola])

        🌀 [map link] – KELOWNA, B.C., CANADA

        It looks like our group of friends live in Canada, Kelowna.

        Kelowna is a city on Okanagan Lake in the Okanagan Valley in the southern interior of British Columbia, Canada. The name Kelowna derives from an Okanagan language term for “grizzly bear”. The city’s motto: “Fruitful in Unity”

        Interestingly, Leörmn the dragon from the Doline may have visited from time to time : Ogopogo / Oggie / Naitaka

        FLYING FISH INN THREAD (Mater/Finly, Idle/Coriander/Clove, Devan, Prune, [Tiku])

        Though very off the beaten track, the Flying Fish Inn may be located near a location that was a clue left as a prank by Corrie & Clove on the social media to lure conspiracy theorists to the Inn.
        🔑 ///digger.unusually.playfully

        It seems to link to a place near documented old abandoned mines.

        🌀 [map link]  – SOME PLACE IN THE MIDDLE OF AUSTRALIA, OFF ARLTUNGA ROAD

        DOLINE THREAD (Arona, Sanso/Lottie, Ugo, Albie)

        This one is a tricky geographical conundrum, since the Doline is a multi-dimensional hub. It connects multiple realities and places though bodies of water, with the cave structure (the Doline) at its center, a world on its own right, where talking animals and unusual creatures are not uncommon.

        It has shown to connect places in the Bayou in Louisiana, where Albie & Mandrake went to see the witch, as well as the coastal area of Australia, where they emerged next in their search for Arona.

        At the center of the Doline is a mysterious dragon named Leörmn, purveyor of precious traveling pearls and impossible riddles. We thus may infer possible intersection points in our dimension, such as 🔑 ///mysterious.dragon.riddle a little North of Hawaii, in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

        However, the inside of the Doline would look rather like Phong Nha-Ke Bang gigantic cave in Vietnam.

        NEWSREEL THREAD (Ms Bossy, Hilda/Connie, Sophie, Ricardo)

        It is not very clear where our favourite investigative team is located. They are likely to be near an urban area with a well-connected international airport, given their propensity for impromptu traveling, such as in Iceland and Australia.

        For all we know, they could be settled in Germany: 🔑 ///newspapers.gone.crazy
        or Denmark 🔑 ///publish.odds.news

        As for the Doctor, we strongly suspect his current hideout to be also revealed when searching from his signature beautification prescription that has made him famous in connoisseur circles: 🔑 ///beauty.treatment.shot at the frontier of Sweden and Finland.

        LIZ THREAD (Finnley, Liz, Roberto, Godfrey)

        We don’t really know where the story happens; for that, one would need to dive into Liz’s turbulent past, and that would confound the most sane individual, starting with keeping count of her past husbands.

        As a self-made powerful best-selling writer, we could guess she would take herself to be the JK Rowling of the Unplotted Booker Prize, and thus would be a well-traveled British uptart, sorry upstart, with a fondness for mansions with character and gardeners with toned glutes. Of course, one would need the staff.

        DRAGON 💚 WOOD THREAD (Glynnis, Eleri, Fox/Gorrash, Rukshan)

        This story happens in another completely different dimension, but it can be interesting to explore some of its unusual geography.

        The World revolved around a central axis, and different worlds stacked one upon the other, with the central axis like an elevator.

        We know of

        • the World of Humans, where most of the story takes place
        • the world of Gods, above it, which has been sealed off, and where most Gods disappeared in the old ages
        • Under these two, the world of Giants exists, still to be explored.

        At the intersection of the central axis of the world and the human world, radiates the Heartwood, a mystical forest powered by the Gem of Creation which has been here since the Dawn of Times, and is a intricate maze, and a dimension in itself. It had grown around itself different woods and glades and forests, with various level of magical properties meant to repel intruders or lesser than Godlike beings.

        The Fae dimension is a particular dimension which exists parallel to the Human World, accessible only to Elder Faes, and where the race originated, and is now mostly deserted, as Faes’ magic waning with the encroachment of humans into the Forest, most have chosen to live in the Forests and try and protect them.

        #4742

        “Psst|! Glynis!” the muffled voice seemed to be coming from behind the smugwort bushes.

        With a sigh, she plonked the unappetizing looking casserole on the table, making it look heavier than it was. Sighing again, Glynis made her way out of the open kitchen door with a slow heavy tread. There it was again: “Glynis! Shhh! Over here!”

        For a brief moment she forgot all about feeling like a sloth in a concrete overcoat, and succumbed to a mild feeling of curiosity.

        “Who’s there?” she whispered, peering into the moonlit bushes. “Oh, it’s you|! Eleri, what the dickens are you doing lurking around in there?”

        “I’m, er, undercover,” Eleri replied. “Just tell me what’s going on, and be quick about it! I’m expected in another story any minute!”

        #4713

        Tak didn’t like school at first. It was only at the insistance of Glynis that he had to socialize that he tried to put some effort in it. He didn’t know what socializing meant, one of these strange concepts humans invented to explain the world, but if Glynis thought highly of this socializing, he had to give it a try, whatever it was.

        Rather quickly, he’d managed to make friends. He didn’t realize it at first, but his new friends were all a bit desperate, and more or less called freeks or something. He wasn’t sure he deserved to be called a freek, but he was going to try hard at this too.
        “You don’t have to try hard”, his new friend Nesy told him “I think you’re a natural at this.” Nesy’s name was really Nesingwarys which is really hard to pronounce, so she told him to call her Nesy. She had dark and white hair, shining like a magpie’s feather coat, and dark blue eyes that were both kind and ferocious at the same time.

        “Don’t mind the others, they’re all ignorant peasants, or worse, ignorant spawns of the bourgeois elite.” She’d told him. Tak had opined silently, not wanting to show that he wasn’t sure about the meaning of all the shiny new words. He suspected Nesy to like shiny words like magpies were attracted to precious shiny stuff.
        When she was staying at the cottage, Margoritt also liked to teach him shiny new words, but he would only taste them and forget — to him they were more like sweet food for his tongue than shiny stuff to keep.
        When it came to stuff, Nesy had rather simple tastes. She showed him some little clay statues she’d made, and kept carefully wrapped in a small felt satchel. They had all sorts of funny faces, she was really talented. They reminded him of Gorrash, so it almost made him cry.
        Tears were a magnet for nasty kids, so he knew better than to let them out, but Nesy had noticed, and squeezed his hand for comfort.

        He liked the other freeks too. They seemed to understand him, and he didn’t have to use his hypnotic powers for that. Glynis had told him not to use his powers at school, otherwise he wouldn’t learn anything. Aunt Eleri had disagreed with that, but she disagreed with everyone.

        “You should come visit at my home” he said to her spontaneously “I want to show you the baby snoots, now they’re almost grown up, but they look funny and pretty, especially when they eat Glynis’ potions.”

        #4688

        “It is a rather peculiar mystery indeed, don’t you think.” Liz leaned suggestively towards the Inspector. He had insisted to keep his trench-coat on, which for some reason she was finding incredibly alluring. It reminded her of all the fun she had in the past, playing her favourite character, Becky in tarty nun’s outfit. She made a mental note for the next costumed party.

        “Some peanuts, Inspector?”
        “Good gracious, no. I’m terribly allergic to nuts, but I’m partial to your delicious canapés.”

        Luckily for him, he couldn’t see Finnley overlooking behind the velvet curtains and the paneled walls, glaring at Liz for taking the credit of her cooking.

        After a mouthful of tarragon cod pâté with capers, Walter leaned back and a little further from Liz and said “Mmm, delicious. Well, it is indeed quite a good mystery you’ve chosen to write about. All these keys, I love the idea. It sounds out of a spy novel, but I do wonder what are the connections, you see, in most crimes I’ve solved in the past,” he cleared his throat, taking the glass of red wine Finnley had just brought “there is always a good chance the culprit is closer than you know. The skill is always to find the hidden connection.”

        “Aaah. I’m so glad you’re saying that Walter, I was telling them the same no later than this morning!”
        She took a random ramekin from the coffee table “some peanuts?”.

        #4671
        F LoveF Love
        Participant

          “For the love of Flove, will everyone put some clothes on,” muttered Finnley.

          To set a good example, she put on a her best grey overcoat—which only had a few ever-so-small moth holes—and a pair of woolly socks pulled up to her knees.

          “There are far too many naked bodies covered only in towels and togas for comfort in this thread,” she said, shaking vigorously and thinking how pretty the dust looked as it floated around her. “And I for one intend to take a stand.”

          “Indeed!” agreed Godfrey. “it’s a health and safety issue for one thing. I’m concerned Liz might have one of her turns, the amount of time she spends peeping through the curtain at Roberto. She looks quite flushed.”

          #4645

          It had been a day of full work for Ricardo, rather than his frequently dull work at the paper.
          Connie and Hilda were crazily busy bouncing off bits of odd news to each other and it was a sort of playful banter that even had Sweet Sophie come out of her pre-lunch-post-lunch slumber that occasionally trailed until tea time.

          News of the Rim had been scarce, there was no denying. Honestly, he wondered how Bossy M’am managed to still pay the bills and their wages, however meager those (or his) were. He giggled thinking about how she probably scared the debt collectors off their wits with her best impersonation of Johnny Depp playing Jack Sparrow playing Tootsie meets Freddy Krueger.

          Speaking of which, he couldn’t help but eavesdrop, while pretending to clean the coffee cups and the butter knives full of vegemite and scone crumbs.

          “Dolls! Are you daft? What about all those crop circles in France instead?”
          “Listen, you decrepit tart, I’m telling you there’s plenty to investigate about this Findmy stuff group. Secret dolls scattered around the world, masonic occult secret symbols…”
          “Hardly matter for an insert on 4th page, dear. While on the other hand, elongated skulls, secret underground bases in Antarctica…”
          “We talked about this! Conspiracy theories are off limits! We only want the real stuff, the odd happenings that hits your neighbour that you wouldn’t have known about without us reporting it! But dolls! that’s something, no?”
          “Flimsy at best…”
          “What else then?”
          “I don’t know, seesh, what about Hundreds attending two frogs wedding in India ?”
          “Already covered, too mainstream…”
          “What about the Mothman of Tchernobyl?”
          “We stopped cryptozoology, remember, after that pathetic chase after the trenchcoat ape that got us torpedoed in the other paper rags when we reported it without checking our facts?”
          “Facts! FACTS! Don’t you get me started about FACTS!”

          Suddenly, they both turned simultaneously at Ricardo, seemingly realizing his presence.

          Ric’, this cuppa isn’t going to make itself, dear.” They both said like a couple of creepily synched automatons.

          #4603

          Leörmn was hiding tranquil at the bottom of a watery hollow deep inside the Doline.
          His sleep was stirred slightly when Mandrake had swum past him, without noticing the large pale water dragon lying at the bottom.
          Mandrake didn’t know, but the pearls he’d found were excretions of the dragon who had a hard time digesting the mistletoe’s fruits that dropped in the pond from the large oak trees hanging over inside the Doline; the seeds were coated in magical dragon mucus, that dried and crystallized, giving the pearls… interesting properties.

          #4549

          A deep guttural roar echoed through the mountains, ferocious and hungry.
          Fox’s hairs stood on his arms and neck as a wave of panic rolled through his body. He looked at the other his eyes wide open.
          Olliver had teleported closer to Rukshan whose face seemed pale despite the warmth of the fire, and Lhamom’s jaw had dropped open. Their eyes met and they swallowed in unison.
          “Is that…” asked Fox. His voice had been so low that he wasn’t sure someone had heard him.
          Rukshan nodded.

          “It seems you are leaving the mountains sooner than you expected,” said Kumihimo with a jolly smile as she dismounted Ronaldo.
          She plucked her icy lyre from which loud and rich harmonics bounced. The wind carried them along and they echoed back in defiance to the Shadow. It hissed and hurled back, clearly pissed off. The dogs howled and Kumihimo started to play a wild and powerful rhythm on her instrument.
          It shook the group awake from their trance of terror. Everobody stood and ran in chaos.
          Someone tried to cover the fire.
          “Don’t bother, we’re leaving,” said Rukshan, and he himself rushed toward the multicolour sand mandala he had made earlier that day. Accompanied by the witche’s mad arpeggios, he began chanting. The sand glowed faintly. It needed something more for the magic to take the relay. Something resisted. There was a strong gush of wind and Rukshan bent forward just in time as the screen and bamboo poles flew above his head. His chanting held the sands together, but they needed to act quickly.

          Lhamom told the others to jump on the hellishcopter whose carpet was slowly turning in a clockwise direction. Fox didn’t wait to be told twice but Olliver stood his ground.
          “But I want to help,” he said.
          “You’ll help best by being ready to leave as soon as the portal opens,” said Lhamom. Not checking if the boy was following her order, she went to her messenger bag and foraged for the bottle of holy snot. On her way to the mandala, she picked the magic spoon from the steaming cauldron of stew, leaving a path of thick dark stains in the snow.

          Lhamom stopped beside Rukshan who had rivulets of sweat flowing on his face and his coat fluttering wildly in the angry wind. He’s barely holding the sands together, she thought. She didn’t like being rushed, it made her act mindlessly. She opened the holy snot bottle and was about to pour it in the spoon covered in sauce, but she saw Rukshan’s frown of horror. She realised the red sauce might have unforgivable influence on the portal spell. She felt a nudge on her right arm, it was Ronaldo. Lhamom didn’t think twice and held the spoon for him to lick.
          “Enjoy yourself!” she said. If the sauce’s not good, what about donkey saliva? she wondered, her inner voice sounding a tad hysterical. But it was not a time for meditation. She poured the holy snot in the relatively clean spoon, pronounced the spell the Lama had told her in the ancient tongue and prayed it all worked out as she poured it in the center of the mandala.
          As soon as it touched the sand, they combined together in a glossy resin. The texture spread quickly to all the mandala and a dark line appeared above it. The portal teared open. Rukshan continued to chant until it was big enough to allow the hellishcopter through.

          COME NOW!” shouted Fox.
          Rukshan and Lhamom looked at the hellishcopter, behind it an immense shadow had engulfed the night. It was different from the darkness of the portal that was full of potential and probabilities and energy. The Shadow was chaotic and mad and light was absent from it. It was spreading fast and Lhamom felt panic overwhelm her.

          They ran. Jumped on the carpet. Kumihimo threw an ice flute to them and Fox caught it not knowing what to do with it.
          “You’ll have one note!” the shaman shouted. “One note to destroy the Shadow when you arrive!”
          Fox nodded unable to speak. His heart was frozen by the dark presence.
          Kumihimo hit the hellishcopter as if it were a horse, and it bounced forward. The shaman looked at them disappear through the tear, soon followed by the shadow.
          The wind stopped. Kumihimo heard the dogs approaching. They too wanted to go through. But before they could do so, Kumihimo closed the portal with a last chord that made her lyre explode.

          The dogs growled menacingly, frustrated they had been denied their hunt.
          They closed in slowly on Kumihimo and Ronaldo who licked a drop of sauce from his lips.

          #4539

          Fox, layered in warm clothes, looked dubiously at the hellishcopter. He had assumed it was fantastic and awe inspiring creature from the underworld. But it wasn’t.

          “It’s a carpet with a circular wooden platform,” he said, feeling a bit disappointed. He noticed the steam that formed out of his mouth with every word and it made him feel cold despite the numerous layers around him.
          The carpet was floating limply above its shadow on the snow. It looked old and worn out by years of use. The reds blues and greens were dull and washed-out, and it was hard to tell apart the original motives from stains. Oddly enough it was clear of dust.

          “Not just a carpet, said Lhamom with her usual enthusiasm illuminating her face. It’s a magic carpet.” She wore that local coat of them which looked so thin compared to his multiple layers, but she had assured him it was warm enough for far worse temperatures. Steam was also coming out of her mouth when she talked.

          Fox was still not convinced. “And how fast does it go?”

          “Fast enough,” said Lhamom. “You’ll all be back in no time to the forest.”
          “Isn’t there a risk for the luggage to fall off? I don’t see any practical way to attach them.”
          “Oh! Sure,” retorted Lhamom with an amused look. “You won’t fall from the platform unless someone pushes you out.”
          Fox winced and gulped. His mind had showed him someone shaken by an uncontrollable movement and pushing him off the platform above the sharp mountain tops, and even if it his fantasy had no sound, it was not very reassuring.

          Lhamom looked at him sharply. “Are you afraid of heights?” she asked.
          Fox shrugged and looked away at Rukshan who was busy packing the camp with Olliver and their guide.
          “What if I am?” Fox said.
          “I have some pills,” she said, foraging in her numerous pockets. She brandished victoriously an old little wooden box that she opened and showed him brown pills that looked and smelled like they had been made by dung beetles.

          Rukshan had finished his packing and was approaching them with a messenger bag.
          “Don’t play with him too much, he said, in his current state Fox’s will swallow everything, except food.” Rukshan and Olliver laughed. Fox didn’t know what to make of it, feeling too exhausted to find clever retorts. Lhamom winked at him and put the pills back in her pocket.

          Rukshan put his hand on Fox’s shoulder. “We’re going home through a sand portal, he said giving putting a hand on his bag. I’ve gathered coloured sand from the different places we visited and Lhamom had brought some holy dripping water collected from the running nose of the lama headmaster of Pulmol Mountain when he last had a cold.”
          That sounded a little complicated to Fox and he didn’t try to make sense of it.
          “We’ll only go on the hellishcopter to fly throught the portal with all the stuff we collected. But I need time to make the sand portal, and from what you reported the dogs have said, we may only have little time available before that thing you have felt come to us.”

          Fox started. With his bowel adventures and Rukshan’s previous dismissal of the matter, Fox had forgotten about the odd presence he had smelled and that had seemed to preoccupy the hunting dogs at night.
          “What do you mean?” he asked, trying to not let worry crept back in his mind.
          “I first thought it was fantasies coming out of your imagination because of your poor health condition, but when I told Lhamom this morning she told me what it was.” Rukshan hesitated.
          “What? asked Fox, his heartbeat going faster.
          “Some kind of ancient spirit roaming through the mountain. It feeds of human flesh and is attracted by magic. It was liberated by an earthquake recently and it that Olliver and Tak felt. Up until now the dogs, who are the gardians of the mountains, were enough to ward it off for us despite the presence of the baby snoot. But now that Lhamom has brought the spoon and that I’m going to use magic for the portal, it may get bolder and the dogs will not be enough to stop it. Fortunately it only gets out at night, so we have ample enough time, Rukshan said cheerfully. Olliver also is exhausted and he can’t use his teleporting abilities for all of us. By using a sand portal I may even be able to lay a trap for the spirit when we leave, but I need to begin now and let’s pray the weather remains clear and windless.”

          It took some time for the meaning and the implications of flesh eating to sink into Fox’s mind. He looked nervously at the sky where it seemed a painter had splashed a few white strokes of clouds with his giant brush. Were they still or moving? Fox couldn’t tell. He looked back at Rukshan and Lhamom.
          “What can I do to help?”
          “I need you to explain the plan to the dogs so that they release the spirit when I give the signal.”

          #4510
          F LoveF Love
          Participant

            Maeve sighed loudly—something she had been doing an awful lot of lately—and checked the time on her phone. If she left now and really hurried it would only take 5 minutes to get to the cafe. On the other hand if she took her time … well, with any luck the others would have already moved on.

            Not that she didn’t like Lucinda, on the contrary she enjoyed her neighbour’s gregarious nature and propensity to talk amusing rubbish — usually in public and at the top of her voice which would cause Maeve to look around nervously and lower her own voice in order to compensate.

            Maeve had made peace with her own introversion years ago. In order to survive with a semblance of normality, she had cultivated an outward calm which belied the activity going on in her head. The downside of this was she suspected she came across to others as muted and dull as the beige walls of her apartment. The upside was it allowed her to hide in plain sight; and she considered this to be a very handy trait. In truth, Maeve was one who liked many and few; she would happily talk to people, if she knew what on earth to say to them.

            ‘Anyway,’ Maeve reasoned, ‘I have to finish the doll.’

            She looked with satisfaction at her latest creation; a young boy wearing a vintage style buzzy bee costume. She had painstakingly sewn, stuffed and painted the cloth doll and then sanded the layers of paint till he looked old and well worn. ‘He looks like he has been well loved by some child,’ she mused. There was just one more step remaining before applying a protective coat of varnish and seating him on the shelf next to the others.

            She went to the kitchen drawer. In the 3rd drawer down there was a cardboard box of old keys. Most of the keys didn’t fit anything in her apartment; in fact she had no idea where they came from. Except one. She picked out a small gold key and went to the writing desk in the lounge, a heavy dour piece of furniture with a drop-front desk and various small drawers and cubby holes inside. Maeve unlocked one of these drawers with the key and pulled out a small parcel.

            ‘Only 3 parcels to go,’ she thought with relief.

            A small section of the stitching was unfinished on the back of Bee Boy, just enough to squeeze the package inside and then rearrange the stuffing around it. With neat stitches Maeve sewed up the seam.

            She checked the time. It had taken twenty six minutes.

            “Want to go for a walk to see Aunty Lulu and her nice new friends? See what she is going on about decorating?” she asked Fabio, her pekingese.

            #4428
            TracyTracy
            Participant

              “Good!” said Walter, rubbing his hands together. “A bit of cooperation wouldn’t go amiss around here!” he said, unbuttoning his trench coat and closing the door behind him.

              “I wasn’t talking to you, I was conferring with Roberto”, she replied crossly, but it was too late. The disappearing gardener had vanished again.

              Walter draped his coat on the back of a kitchen chair and sat down.

              “Do sit down”, said Finnley with unmistakable sarcasm. “I’m far too busy to join you, I have dusting to do.”

              #4418
              ÉricÉric
              Keymaster

                “Hold right there!”

                Liz’ looked over her shoulder to see the too familiar trenchcoat of Walter.

                “Blimey! What are you doing here, lurking in the dark, you gave me a mighty fright!”

                “It’s the Good Thoughts Police! Freeze your pen right where you are! We had our eyes on you ever since you started introduce all the queer characters!”

                “What do mean, silly goose. All my characters have been queer, and I mean that as a compliment!”

                “Shush now! Blatant racism, and hints of sexism and female coercion, you can’t deny that now! Black on white -err, I mean… Look at what you’ve done to the poor maid! You better write this off before the rest of the Political Correct Bureau is sending the cavalry!”

                #4361
                ÉricÉric
                Keymaster

                  Finnley! Finnley!” Liz’ called from her boudoir.
                  “What is happening with the ceiling? There is water dripping everywhere, it is ruining my last manuscript! You surely haven’t left a window opened upstairs, have you?”

                  She tutted, her hair in disbelief. “With that storm outside, at least that idiot Walter did well to take this ghastly frog trenchcoat back with him.”

                  She paused her litany to contemplate her latest treasure, carefully arranged at the bottom of a large envelope. Seven green potsherds sent by her old friend with a note attached: “Some patterns ideas, I’m sure you’ll know what to do with them.”

                  #4359
                  ÉricÉric
                  Keymaster

                    “So, that’s where the gardener has been hiding all this time…” Godfrey thought, quietly stepping out of the shadows into the sinkhole tunnels. “Maybe I’ll just tell Liz’ he has resigned. Although she seemed more taken by this one than with the previous guys…”
                    While the gardener was snoring loudly, he took time to look around, and noticed the sprouting sack.
                    “How curious that those old books have started to come to life again…”

                    An idea had crossed his mind, both dreadful and exciting. The portal…

                    Leaving the gardener to his dreams, and taking another secret exit out of the dark tunnel, opening another succession of doors with the turn of a key hanging from the watch chain of his burgundy waistcoat, he soon found himself reappearing into a deep secret place. A small round room, almost like the inner chamber of a burrow, with no visible door, no window, seemingly lit only by a single ray of light coming from the pinhole in the ceiling, reflected on the glittering curved walls. At one side, was a well, and one could hear the humming sound of flowing underground water.
                    On the well, where deeply carved words : “HC SVNT DRACONES”. Just below them, painted in white in Godfrey’s flowering handwriting : “Here be dragons!”

                    There still was the heavy latch, bolted by a large futuristic-looking lock.

                    Phew, still closed. Godfrey sighed a sigh of relief. He couldn’t imagine the damage to Liz’ frail hold on reality, where she to find about what was lurking behind.

                    Popping a peanut in his mouth, he smiled wryly, reminisced of what Finnley had said about her “discovering” of the attic; yes, their secret was fine with them for now. At least so long as what was locked on the other side stayed there of course…

                    #4331

                    “What was in the bag, Finnley, tell us!”
                    Everyone was looking at the maid after the Inspector had left hurriedly, under the pretext of taking care of a tip he had received on the disappearance of the German girl.

                    Godfrey was the most curious in fact. He couldn’t believe in the facade of meanness that Finnley carefully wrapped herself into. The way she cared about the animals around the house was a testimony to her well hidden sweetness. Most of all, he thought herself incapable of harming another being.
                    But he had been surprised before. Like when Liz’ had finished a novel, long ago.

                    “Alright, I’ll show you. Stay there, you lot of accomplices.”

                    Godfrey looked at Liz’ sideways, who was distracted anyway by the gardener, who was looking at the nearby closet.

                    Liz’, will you focus please! The mystery is about to be revealed!”

                    “Oh shut up, Godfrey, there’s no mystery at all. I’ve known for a while what that dastardly maid had done. I’ve been onto her for weeks!”
                    “Really?”
                    “Oh, don’t you give me that look. I’m not as incapable as you think, and that bloodshot-eyes stupor I affect is only to keep annoyances away. Like my dear mother, if you remember.”
                    “So tell us, if you’re so smart now. In case it’s really a corpse, at least, we may all be prepared for the unwrapping!”
                    “A CORPSE! Ahaha, you fool Godfrey. It’s not A corpse! It’s MANY CORPSES!”

                    Godfrey really thought for a second that she had completely lost it. Again. He would have to call the nearby sanatorium, make up excuses for the next signing session at the library, and cancel all future public appear…

                    “Will you stop that! I know what you’re doing, you bloody control machine! Stop that thinking of yours, I can’t even hear myself thinking nowadays for all your bloody thinking. Now, as I was saying of course she’d been hiding all the corpses!”
                    “Are you insane, Liz’ —at least keep your voice down…”
                    “Don’t be such a sourdough Godfrey, you’re sour, and sticky and all full of gas. JUST LET ME EXPLAIN, for Lemone’s sake!”

                    Godfrey fell silent for a moment, eyeing a lost peanut left on a shelf nearby.

                    Conscious of the unfair competition for Godfrey’s attention Elizabeth blurted it all in one sentence:
                    “She’s been collecting them, my old failed stories, the dead drafts and old discarded versions of them. Hundreds of characters, those little things, I’d given so many cute little names, but they had no bones or shape, and very little personality, I had to smother them to death.” She started sobbing uncontrollably.

                    That was then that Finnley came back in the room, panting and dragging the sack coated in dirt inside the room, and seeing the discomfit Liz’ with smeared make-up all over her eyes.

                    “Oh, bloody hell. Don’t you tell me I brought that dirty bag of scraps up for nothing!”

                    She left there, running for the door screaming “I’m not doing the carpets again!”

                    And closed the door with a sonorous “BUGGER!”

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