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  • #316
    TracyTracy
    Participant

      Do you understand? George asked with a penetrating stare.

      Dory sighed, yeah yeah yeah. I must have read the concept a hundred or a thousand times, but I keep forgetting! Why is that George? I understand that in theory, but I always seem to forget, when the crunch comes to shove…her voice trailed off confusedly.

      #310
      TracyTracy
      Participant

        Allow me to explain, George said kindly. But first, come with me. We’ll have our chat somewhere bright and sunny, we’ve spent long enough in this dark cave. Waiting for who knows what, he added with a wink. If you hold my hand and allow me to guide you, we’ll have a picnic on the banks of the Little Brook.

        Dory hesitated. After all, it was George who had given her that drugged coleslaw. The thought of the Little brook and the sunshine was appealing though, and Dory decided to take her chances and go with George.

        She held his hand and closed her eyes, and sank herself back to the back of her mind and relaxed. She felt her body buzz a bit and a ‘falling into a vortex’ kind of feeling, not at all unpleasant, and in no time at all felt the sun warm on the top of her head and the bright sunlight lighting up the back of her eyelids. When she opned her eyes she was surrounded by ferny bracken and dappled silver birch trees and sheep nibbling the close cropped carpet of grass.

        #306
        F LoveF Love
        Participant

          Finn moves silently along the path, placing her feet with care. It is more overgrown in the wood than she remembers, but then it is such a long time since she came this way. She can see in the distance something small and pale. A gentle gust of wind and It seems to stir, as if shivering, as if caught.

          She comes to a halt. The trees are still now, not a leaf stirs. She can hear nothing other than the sound of her own breathing. She can’t see the clearing yet either, but she remembers it’s further on, beyond the next winding of the path. She can see it in her mind’s eye though, a rough circle of random stones, with a greenish liquid light filtering through. The air smells of leaf mould and it is spongy underfoot. There’s a wooden bench, a grassy bank, and a circular area of emerald green moss. Finn thinks of it as place of enchantment, a fairy ring.

          She reaches the tiny shivering thing and sees that it is a scrap of paper, impaled on a broken branch. She reaches out gently and touches it, then eases if off the branch, taking care not to rip it further. There is a message scribbled on the paper, incomplete. meet me, is all it says now

          Finn feels dreamy and floaty. She smiles to herself, thinking of the purpose of her mission, feeling as though it is a message to her from the past. She is overwhelmed for a moment with a sense of love and acceptance towards her younger self. Yes, she whispers softly to the younger Finn, I will meet you at the fairy ring. We will talk a bit. Maybe I can help

          #305

          Quintin couldn’t sleep.
          Now he was thinking, he had delayed it for too long.
          They all had been thinking of it, talking and glossing over it for so long. Some had dreamed of it, feared it, asked for it to bugger off. Lots of pains and struggles, but it had only been clever or not so clever ways to delay the unavoidable.

          Now, he had an urge to insert it. How come he had not thought of it before. All he had to do was insert it in his reality.
          Well, that would sure mean lots of changes, but after all, no pain no gain.
          Or no abundance.

          ABUNDANCE abun·dance [ ə-ˈbən-dəns ] “The ability to do what you need to do, when you need to do it”

          That’s how Pasha, a Russian friend of Dory had defined abundance — speaking of Dory, now Quintin was seeing how she was ahead of the herd, and a bit of a coal (slow) mine canary too. Quintin would have changed all the world’s dictionaries to have that new definition everywhere. What a task…

          Actually, that’s it! Quintin had feared the implications, as lots of people did.
          It would mean everything would be allowed. Everything would be true, even the most blatant contradictions would be harmoniously living side by side. Struggle would be needless, and all that would be needed to do would be to stop paddling upstream.
          What a mess it could be for salmons and control freaks as himself.

          Perhaps worse, it would change everything, even “past” events where everything would also be allowed, now.
          In-of-body travels (rather than the too classical “out-of-body”), meeting other selves appearing out of nowhere, talking with dead people, or sugarplum fairies, traveling instantaneously to meet Tchaikovsky and have him change his dying swan for a stuffed talking Mother Goose, flying, shape-shifting, manifesting objects out of thin air, the possibilities would be extraordinary… All in that physical reality where everyone was struggling to prove none of this was possible.
          But if everything would be allowed, then be it! And he would go and live in 23, Dragon Alley, Phœnix Ville, Sunnyvalley with Yann (and the others of course, if they wanted to) and do whatever they wanted to do.

          OK. That’s a deal then. Release the camouflages, open the watergates and leave the damn dams to beavers and loosers.

          Let’s insert the Shift, now.

          And let the fun continue, and worry wither away.

          ***

          Well, and what’s that Shift all about?

          Quintin’s friends Michaela and Elias had said about it :

          “You are also bored in the experiences that you have created to this point. You have experienced. You have created in the manner that you have designed previously. Now you choose to be creating in an expanded experience, allowing more of your awareness, more of an opening to consciousness, more of your own creativity and your own abilities, and you are discovering that your abilities are within physical focus limitless. You have merely limited yourselves as an element of your beliefs, but as you are also moving into acceptance of your beliefs, you are widening your awareness and you are allowing yourselves to view how many more abilities you hold and how very creative you are, and not creating your limitations with such severity. Those elements in your reality that have been thought to be impossible are not impossible!” 1

          #303

          Becky woke up in a sweat. Her bedclothes were tangled and what remained of her pillow was on the floor. The room was full of downy feathers.

          Sheesh, said Becky, pushing sweaty strands of hair out of her eyes and reaching for her cigarettes.

          What a dream! Wow, I wonder what that witch did to deserve that! Becky couldn’t quite believe she’d had such a violently aggressive dream. All she could really remember was attacking a witch, and slapping her repeatedly, and punching her, screaming all the while DON’T…EVER….DO THAT AGAIN Wangwangawanga…… DON’T DO IT wangawanga… then the witch had turned into a goose, but still Becky kept punching her, causing the poor gooses feathers to fly everywhere, and all the while Becky kept shouting WANGAWANGAWANGA……

          I can’t believe I did that, even in a dream! Becky hated violence so much that she walked out of the room if a violent scene was showing on the television, and she loved witches and geese.

          That poor goose! Becky decided to go back into the dream, to smooth what was left of the gooses ruffled feathers, and apologize.

          She stubbed out her cigarette, and settled back against the pillows and closed her eyes. Now the goose was looking at her reproachfully, in between straightening her plumage, and huffing and tutting a bit.

          I’m awfully sorry about that! I don’t know why I did it. Becky hoped it was a forgiving kind of goose, and not a vengeful one.

          It matters not, I suppose, grumbled the goose, I must have created being slapped around by a sweaty madwoman, though gawd knows why.

          Were you a witch in another focus? Becky asked. Because I was angry with a witch initially, not a big white goose and I don’t know how I came to be pummeling you. Come to think of it, I don’t know why I was attacking the witch either. The witch did look unpleasant though, but you look nice enough….

          Well I don’t look very blimmen nice with my feathers in this state, dearie! And don’t remind me of that dratted witch focus, gawd, I was horrid. Not surprised you lashed out at that one!

          Becky started to relax. Things were looking promising. The goose was turning out to be rather sweet.

          But as you can see, continued the goose, I am not a witch, I am a big white goose now, a rather sweet one too, even if I do say so myself, so let’s hear no more about it.

          Becky smiled broadly at the goose. I appreciate that very much! Oh by the way…what’s your name?

          Angela, answered the goose, Angela Wing.

          REALLY? Becky said, rather rudely, and then caught herself and said: Angela! What a lovely name! Angela Wing, would you like to be in our play?

          #1525

          In reply to: Synchronicity

          TracyTracy
          Participant

            There was an article in todays newspaper about a mummy found in the 1920’s (Tut comes back to London) :yahoo_skull:

            #298

            The City, year 2257

            Janice had just awoken from a strange dream, where she was watching big round cabbages being harvested in what looked like Quintin’s father garden. They were all firmly rooted on a black irrigation pole across the garden, and people were using strange devices to turn them all delicately and pick them afterwards. In the dream, there were black puppies too, sleeping in the straw of a kind of hut nearby. And she had seen another creature, and had been surprised first because it was unlike anything she had ever met, even in dreams. It was hairless and brown as soft mud, and was hiding in the neighbour’s garden. Then it had crossed and came to play with her…

            Janice was lost in her thoughts strolling on the way to the common dome, when she met Rodney, her father’s friend.
            They had been recently trying with her father Jacob, and also Qixi to connect with their shifting focuses of the Ancients, two centuries and half before their time.
            Some of them, they had found, had been playing a sort of game of story-telling and clue-sowing… (Janice was laughing as her father’s friend, the scientist Arkandin, always insisted on seesawing instead)

            Perhaps her dream was telling her that the crop was ripe, and it was time to harvest some from it. She told her dream to Rodney. All at once, he was quite excited and they started to feel they wanted to chat more freely. So they went into one of the Medraw Caps that was available and soon imagined a comfortable environment for themselves to explore more.

            Janice could hear Al or Quintin complain about how things were getting confusing.
            She tried to convey to both of them that they could be excited about it, as it was expanding their understanding, but they weren’t very receptive.

            ~~~

            Somewhere Al was saying to Becky
            — The more you try to fix it, the more confused I am
            — Hahahahah yes! Becky was answering, I guess so! Ahahahah! Al, what a fabulous dance of confusion we do… The Confundo Tango
            — Ahahah, yes!

            Al started again to moan:
            — So who’s dead, who’s the shapeshifter? Who’s the human, who’s the cat? :-??

            (Rodney was laughing, as for him, he could accept the confusion as much easier, letting him free to wander around!)

            Illi was a woman, a shapeshifter who shape-shifted into a cat, then, she died. Becky was saying (Rodney added mentally “Now, she is disengaged” as he knew that “death” was a confusing word.) She was an archaeologist
            — Okay, that’s cool, that’s what I thought, Al acquiesced. Then thought back of what was said of her and wondered… Anyway, it will probably find a perfect answer …
            Becky nodded
            — I got lost myself when two Illis appeared, and a grip-thing as well
            — Because I didn’t want the grip-thing to be dead! Al couldn’t help but laugh. That would have been too easy, like wiggling out. Not using your imagination within the context of objective imagery to sort out “things”…

            ~~~

            While Rodney and Janice were seeing that their other focuses were kind of stuck in their explanation, they had time freeze and both decided to come back to their “now” to start from their understanding.
            A funny thought had come to Janice, that she shared with Rodney.
            — Oh, the funny thing you know, about Becky having written to Sean
            Rodney nodded. Janice continued:
            — It just appeared in my mind just moments ago, at the same time you (well, Rafaela) inserted into the story of Malvina. That Becky would have been asking Sean something, and that perhaps it would have helped him talk to his father in the future.

            — Well, that Sean is SUCH AN ENIGMA! bumped Rodney a bit excited by the implications.
            — What do you mean? asked Janice, who just remembered that Sean Doran has a cousin named Dorean.
            — Who is he? Where is he? was asking Rodney now.
            Rodney was having a hard time remembering what had been inserted yet in the story about him.

            So Janice manifested the Wrick family tree in front of them, so that he could see better. She started by manifesting an acorn, then threw in on the grass, and it sprung forth in a little sapling with signs hanging from its branches.

            — Well, it’s all in the script, answered Janice, he’s Lord Wrick’s son.
            — Oh boy, I am in trouble again for not keeping up with the facts! Rodney sighed, and laughed…
            Janice laughed “So that you can surprise yourself again!”

            Rodney felt thankful for the sumafiness of Janice who was always prompt to display helpful hallucinations and reminders.

            Janice stopped the growth of the family tree for a moment and started to comment it.
            — See, in Becky’s time of the reality play, Sean is Lord’s Wrick son, and has just lost his wife Margaret, and got his two young children around their 10s.
            — When is Becky’s time then? Rodney wondered, I hadn’t though of that…
            Becky’s time for the reality play is around 2033…
            Then Janice had the tree grow again, and sprout more branches from Sean’s children:
            — …Now, Sean is the grand-father of the twins, except than the twin’s time is around 2057 if it had not changed yet. It’s so carefully woven, but it’s fun how it effortlessly came to fit in.
            TRUST AND ALLOWING AND GOING WITH THE FLOW cried Rodney and Janice in unison, in the realisation of how well all this was.

            Rodney was beginning to remember it all.
            — I just remember the part about Sean, so he is still a bit of a mystery
            — Yes, absolutely
            — We don’t really know do we why Hilarion didn’t mention him
            — Oh, there’s also the Margaret newspaper thing… Janice fumbled in her memory to find the proper link that would display the image of the newspaper cut just at the right of the family tree. Adding with a wink “with more dates to get bearings”
            — Ahahah, I’d love to have pocketfuls of ball bearings said Rodney who manifested a pocketful to distract him from the load of information. OH YES! he cried, I had forgetten about this! What an incredibly HUGE story this is…

            Rodney was squinting his dream eyes
            — So, Sean was into humanitarian effort after 2001…
            — His father actually I think, said Janice. He was a bit too young.
            — Oh OK, I misread, that’s hard to read!

            Then, all of a second, Rodney erupted in an uproarious laugh
            AHAHAHA, I had just forgotten to de-hallucinate these pince-nez spectacles! Now, it is much easier to read!
            Janice was laughing so hard, she thought she would shatter the hallucination with the wobbles of the soundless sounds.
            Then she added:

            Sean is born around 2000, a bit before.
            — OK, maybe he went to help the Tuaregs, Rodney was accessing some information now. Maybe he was the one who put the mummy in the locked room that India found.
            — You know I had something funny in store for the mummy mystery, Janice couldn’t help but laugh again. I imagined we could have inserted Old Manon, coming down to secretly drink from her old malt whiskey’s flask, and finding them messing up with her old dear stuffed cat…
            — Maybe the mummy was the same one that Dory saw in the oblong hole in the ground outside the cave, Rodney was still accessing flickering images swirling around his head. And Sean was there helping the Tuaregs and moved it to safety.
            Of course, years previously, Illi Fergusson, the archeologist had buried the mummy there too for safe keeping.

            Now, Janice was hooked:
            — Was it where Illi learned about shapeshifting tricks from the old tribe?
            Rodney noticed Janice’s funny remark and laughed before continuing:
            — The Tuaregs were conducting secret coleslaw experiments in the desert. In combination with sound and irrigation techniques, they were going to run the entire Sahara into a broccoli field.

            Janice was amazed at the cabbage “coincidence” and irrigation stuff with her dream of that morning. Of course she knew there where probably mis-interpretation of the imagery coming from Rodney’s visions, but something made sense.
            — Around which year? she asked
            — Arrggh I don’t know!… Then, taking a breath of dream air, Rodney said “1923”. When Illi learned shape-shifting trick, 1923.
            — It makes sense, said Janice who was now thinking of other dispersed informations about Illi Fergusson.
            — Yes, she learned from Dashine Ashara… Although who that is, I don’t yet know.
            — Wow, said Janice. She had felt a connection with the “da’sheen” sound. She continued: somewhere, Illi Fergusson has said: “my parents were aristocrats”
            — Yes, answered Rodney who was accessing again, they were, and they knew the Wildes .
            — And it was said too: “[…] a nurturing presence that reminded Illi of the maid she and her parents had in their cottage in South Africa”… like her parents were traveling a lot.
            — Ah, South Africa! Illi’s parents emigrated to South Africa with Sir Abingdon Portfellow, an elderly scholar on ancient artifacts and embalming.
            — Seems she knew John Lubbock too, said Janice again, reviving old data banks of information. Dates seem okay, so if she was around 30 in the Tuareg adventure, she could have met him.
            — Wow, said Rodney, this is even more interesting…

            “But we may sit at home and yet be in all quarters of the earth.” Janice had just summoned the voice of the naturalist and archaeologist. Rodney applauded “Lubbock said that? cool quote!”.
            — Yes, like Illi’s quote, which was from him “What we see depends mainly on what we look for”. I wonder if that’s one of your (Illi’s) overlapping focuses, said Janice

            — Well, Illi didnt stay long in South Africa with boring old whatever his name was, Rodney pursued
            — Yes, she was young with her parents. They were traveling…

            They were both amazed at the magical cooperation they were doing at that moment. Janice would have loved to share all of that with Qixi and Jacob, but probably their energies were present at the moment too, though not focused here.

            She then remembered something else:
            — Oh, and there is something else! Quintin’s dream of the woman detective. Let me fetch it she said, summoning now Quintin’s memory to talk to them.
            … by night, near a museum in London, in the 1920s. She was investigating a case of a strange disappearance near a small replicate of an Egyptian pyramid that had been put here for display. There had been an exposition of ancient artifacts in the museum, which had been recently unearthed by a team of archaeologists and graciously lent by Egypt’s officials. Strangely enough, the woman detective feels linked to the story, and is probably Dory
            Date fits again, she said in awe.
            — Perfect! said Rodney. She was of course Dory too, but in that focus she was Illi Fergusson… he slowed down, then said No! wait! The detective was another one of my focuses. The archeologist who stole the mummy for safekeeping was Illi.
            — Hmmm
            — Hmmm
            — So you are both the thief and the detective, the one who creates mystery for yourself, how interesting, giggled Janice.
            — Yes, and not only that Janice! Rodney was taking a mysterious air… I am the mummy too!

            Janice bust out laughing imagining Rodney in bandages. Yes, of course!
            Then, she had a name come with that: Apsh’un Shet she said, very self-absorbed.
            Now, that was Rodney’s turn to burst out laughing.
            — “I am not sure about that!”
            — Doubting my insights… mmm, how rude… Janice frowned then laughed again.
            — If you call me that, I may have to make you out to have a speech impediment
            — Sounds a good Egyptian name for me though, seems it means “Light of the Dawn
            — Does it? Oh that sounds nice…
            — Well, in some Egyptian dialect, yes. She was a Princess…
            — Hahaha! Reminds me of Aspen Shit. Rodney doubted Janice could be serious about that name, but Janice was now the one to be accessing some information.
            — Bit bossy Princess
            — Which dynasty?
            III rd, answered Janice, who fumbled in links of consciousness to find some timeline to project for them.
            — What year?
            Janice projected the timeline below then said
            — I’d say around 2657 B.C., in Ancients way of telling time.

            They both marveled at the splendid team work they had been doing, and hoped that the other focuses involved would be able to get some parts of their insights too.

            Rodney was seeing something else
            — There is also, a very fascinating link between Tassili in the Sahara and Egypt which is a mystery AND there is a connection with Egypt and Scotland too…
            Illi the gripshawk comes from the mysterious land of the Sands, south of the map fragment
            — We may unravel more than we think… Illi is an other dimensional focus of the Illi essence…
            — Yes she is. She is a connection too, being “lost” in the land of dragons after hopping through traveling portals…
            — Exactly
            — And they communicated because they are helping each other
            — Which is why she doesn’t always ‘fit’ into this reality’s energy configuration
            — And they have some difficulties at times with translations of other dimensional stuff
            — Yes! resulting in confusion!

            And they both laughed again, looking at the great tapestry of clues that was woven before their dream eyes.

            #289

            The arrival of the noisy pink fairy was the last straw for Illi. She imagined her deserted island again and made sure she paid attention to imagining it completely deserted this time. No more fat nuns appearing from the heavens or squalking fairies!

            Illi made the new island a paradise….she magicked up staff when she wanted food or a massage, a gaggle of party people for when she felt like dancing, and blithely disappeared them when she was done. Mostly Illi slept. Her favourite spot was near the lagoon on the sand under the coconut trees. She lay and dozed and drifted and dreamed and imagined and dozed some more, trailing her fingers through the sand, pushing little heaps of sand here and there, pulling them back, making channels and watching the sand sift back in and disappear them. She dreamed of sand sculptures, an astonishing variety and all made from…sand! Tiny grains of sand, made into anything at all…..every tiny grain of conscious energy…made into anything at all…..and in comes the tide and washes and ripples a clean new beach….to make anything at all……

            #282

            — The legend of Mævel — (Part I)

            as told by Cpt Bone to young Tomkin

            In the time of the Gods, the King of the Fairies, Aldurion, fell in love with a beautiful mortal named Theÿa.
            He wanted to make her his Queen but only the Elder Gods could bestow the gift of immortality upon mortals.
            So he went to see Ghört, the God of the Airs. Ghört could certainly grant him what he requested, but for that, Theÿa would have to be transformed into an air sprite. Aldurion wouldn’t be able to hold her again. So he declined the offer, and went to see another Elder God.
            Then, he went to see Nærvel, the Goddess of the Waters. But Nærvel could grant him immortality if Theÿa was to be transformed into a water sprite. So Aldurion declined again.
            Then he went to see Agnima, the Goddess of the Flames, and then Selvaniel the God of the Woods, and Margilonia the Goddess of the Earths. But all of their conditions were the same, Theÿa would have to be transformed into an immaterial and immortal elemental fairy. But Aldurion couldn’t bear to have her changed into something else than she was.

            Then, only one of the Elder Gods was left, the one than few of the Immortals dared talk to, and of whom most mortals were afraid, to the point of systematically using the Old Speech respectful form of address (“Shaint”), when referring to him.
            So Aldurion came to see Lejüs, God of the Forgotten.
            Lejüs was greatly pleased to see him. When Aldurion had finished exposing his request, Lejüs took a moment to ponder. Giving immortality was none of his wonts, as he was keeper of the Forgotten. But he was not without compassion, and seeing Aldurion’s plight, he offered to grant his wish at the condition that, not his wife, but their first born child, would become Forgotten.
            Aldurion was so hopeful that all he saw was that the condition seemed so small, based on a future event that perhaps wouldn’t even happen… All he wanted was to have Theÿa as a Queen, and so the deal was made.

            So became Theÿa Queen of the Fairies.

            A few God’s Years later, which meant in human years much more than a few years, Theÿa became pregnant.
            When she announced the news to Aldurion, he was suddenly reminded of the deal he had made with Lejüs, and was quite distraught, as he had not revealed it to Theÿa. But he remained quiet, hoping that Lejüs would have forgotten about the whole story (well, that was forgetting he was Keeper of the Forgotten).
            So Theÿa gave birth to a little baby girl fairy, with golden wavy hair and bright eyes. She, like her mother, had no wings, but there was magic in her. They named her Araoni.

            But Lejüs had not forgotten of course, and came to see the Royal couple to claim the baby. Aldurion pretended that the mother and baby was still very weak, and he would have to come back in a few God’s Days. Lejüs agreed, and left complaisantly.

            Aldurion was at a loss for solutions, but Theÿa was a fairy with lots of ruse, so he decided to reveal it all to her, hoping that she would have a solution.
            Theÿa asked him time to think about this, and told him not to worry.
            Later, she had an idea, quite brilliant she thought. All she had to do was to find another child to give Lejüs.
            So she gave baby Araoni to one of her diligent nurse, the old fairy Gretchÿa, telling her to find a house were a blond new born girl could be exchanged and proceed to the exchange of the babies.

            So Gretchÿa went across the lands of the Worlds, but only in one home she could find a blond baby girl. The new-born baby girl was almost dying, as the parents were a careless couple of peasants, already plagued with many children, and they could not bother with children hesitating to live.
            Gretchÿa was heart-broken when she did the exchange, promising to baby Araoni to get her back soon. The young human baby girl was weak and yet unnamed, and the old fairy nurse knew she would probably not live long, and be claimed by Shaint Lejüs. So all was good.

            When Lejüs came back, he smiled as he saw the baby girl, and left with her without much more words for the Royal couple.
            Lejüs smiled, for when he had taken the young baby, the parents had instantly forgotten about her, and so did everyone having ever known her…

            The human parents, surprised to see the condition of their baby improving beyond all hope, named her Mævel, which meant marvel of Maÿ the month in which she was born.

            #280

            When Rudy the myna had come back crashing on the boat, it all became suddenly a huge uncontrollable chaos.
            The hovering menacing clouds that were looming in front of them were coming closer at a dreadful speed, and even more concerning were the rocks that were appearing everywhere now, that they had more and more trouble to avoid in betwixt the turmoils and eddies.

            So they had finally come to the Great Rift, Bådul was thinking. The back of the legendary water dragon that noone was known to have crossed.

            But Bådul knew better.
            He howled orders to get everybody ready at their posts, and felt reassured when he saw that Austor was maneuvering with dexterity and confidence through the rift.
            He ignored the crazy laugh of Razkÿ, the madman who was now shouting with a manic laughter “We all gonna diiie! AHAHAHAH! DIE! DIE!” Then winking at Bådul and laughing again.

            :fleuron: :fleuron:

            A few months earlier, Northern Åsgurdy

            A huge cloaked figure was riding in the middle of the deserts. The saurhse, a bit small for its rider, was getting tired, but the man wanted to move before the night came. Åsgurdy had a climate which made travels uneasy on land, and only on these bipedal saurians they named saurhses, could Åsgurdians easily travel on the burning hot sands by day. Then, they could gain the high plateaus of rock and ice, where the temperature was kept cold by the high chilly winds. But at night, the deserts would be chilly too, and the cold-blooded creature he was mounting would require a shelter.

            He knew that such a shelter wouldn’t be far away now.
            That region was mostly uncharted as it was fairly remote from all known cities, but that strange man he had met had said he was a traveler who knew were he could find something priceless.
            At that time, Badul had felt he had nothing to lose, and said to himself “when in doubt, go for the experience”.
            He had felt he could trust that man known to him only by a strange name, something like Gheorg.
            There had been nothing boastful about him, and he had been kind to him. He had been the only person in the World he had known to have given him back his dignity as a human being, and even more, to have given him a reason to live.
            He owed him a lot, and perhaps even more as he was now drawing closer to the cave… that same cave which was a mere cross on the torn map he had been drawing hastily before vanishing almost preternaturally, living him a bit of money and that map…

            ~~~

            Roselÿn had felt the urge to move somewhere else. This land didn’t resonate with her energy, and that of Rëgkvist, and of the few eggs the dragon had managed to lay, none had actually been able to hatch.
            It had affected her so much that she had even retreated from her sisters’ usual talks through the glubolíns.
            She needed to move on.

            ~~~

            When he entered the cave, Badul was disappointed. He could feel there had been someone living here quite recently, but it was like the cave was now abandoned. He hoped he could have found more answers, but now it was again like burning sand slipping through his fingers.

            In a fit of rage, he took a boulder as big as him and threw it across the cave with a roar.
            Something was brought down by his huge force further down into the cave and he heard it quite distinctly.

            He tied up the saurhse at the entrance of the cave, and entered it with determination, ducking through the tunnel too narrow for his big baby-faced frame. Then he found something glowing. At first, he thought it was some gold, but what kind of fool had been living here before and had been in such a haste to move as to forget gold?

            It was not gold. It was something like a broken shell. The broken bits were like a jigsaw puzzle and he wished he could make it one, as he was attracted by the strange radiance of the thing.

            :fleuron: :fleuron:

            Austor did not believe his eyes…
            They had crossed the Rift, all three of the ships.
            And it was nothing like the dark void they had nearly expected behind.

            It was an open sea, glistening in the sun, and all hope had come back through them all.

            #277
            F LoveF Love
            Participant

              You are very fat, said Chiara to Roselyn

              And she laughed. Yes, I am

              My Nana is fat, but not as fat as you.

              Roselyn seemed to consider this for a moment, and then laughed again. Would you like to go on an adventure with me?

              Chiara was not quite sure. An adventure sounded quite fun, however she had some beliefs you were not supposed to go off with strangers, however nice they may seem. But Roselyn did seem familiar to her.

              Where would we go?

              We would fly to Fairy Land, replied Roselyn

              This offer was way too tempting for Chiara to decline

              Oh yes!

              Take my hand then, and close your eyes tightly.

              Next thing they were flying through the air. Chiara loved the feeling of flying, she often went flying in her dreams. She giggled with delight as Roselyn, no longer seeming to be impeded by her fat body, effortlessly did flips and twirls in the air.

              The colour of the world around them changed, the blue sky became all the shades of the rainbow. Down below, Chiara could see an island in the middle of the sea, which sparkled like broken glass in a kaleidoscope of shifting colours.

              Roselyn guided them gently down to the island.

              Chiara gazed around, speechless with wonder and delight and then nearly jumped out of her skin as a loud voice behind her shouted “BOUH!”

              ******

              NB: What is Fairy Land like? Well, if you like gigantic flowers, bright colours, and the possibility of unexpected magical happenings, you would probably quite enjoy it. There is loads of spontaneous singing and dancing which can be a little unnerving at first for the uninitiated. You have to be prepared to go with the flow in Fairy Land because the creatures that live there don’t have the same rules as those that come from the “real world” (whatever that is), and many of them tend to be quite mischievous.

              #1334
              Jib
              Participant

                still sipping my glass of flanting gloat milky way… I’m positive I’ll come here more often, it appears to be quite an interesting place with so many animations :yahoo_skull: and so many people :yahoo_april: :yahoo_hiro: :yahoo_hypnotized: :yahoo_idk: :yahoo_bug: :yahoo_party: :yahoo_devil:

                #1308

                In reply to: Yuki’s Livrary

                ÉricÉric
                Keymaster

                  September 24 th

                  Quintin remembered a snapshot of the notes that Dory had taken during her first trip to the Madagascan caves, a year ago.

                  Relevant extracts:

                  At one moment, I saw some hooded figure in the sideways tunnels… He vanished on the left, couldn’t follow him…
                  […] HE KNEW HIS WAY INSIDE !
                  When he vanished, I had the vision of something, […] like the layout of a labyrinth, of cave tunnels — that are all underground and the many entrances are all over the world… PORTALS
                  focus opening/doors ; time/space…
                  The central cavernous part is some kind of key center, where anyone can meet…

                  This has inspired Quintin to write some notes too.
                  He has the vision of these portals organized as clusters, like a tree, with branches and leaves… I will send him a more detailed image, but that may take him some time to digest!

                  September 26 th

                  The latest additions to the story have inspired Quintin. He had some inkling of how “essence” (or what is somewhat referred as “oversoul” ) and all the “focus” of essence (or lifetimes) interplay, and are not as separate as they sometimes seem to be.

                  Here would be what we will say to him, if he wants to listen:

                  « Now, terminology can become tricky as, for much time, you have been accustomed to be considering of your experience as the projection of that of an “essence”, somewhat separate from you, the lowly focus.
                  Of course, you pretend the contrary, and become quite nifty in brandishing sentences like “I am essence, and I create all of my reality”, which you are and do actually, but that you do not always believe and trust.
                  These terms of “essence” and “focus” were given to you as means for you to better understand the interplay of consciousness. In the beginning of the acquaintance with these new terminologies, you have felt them remotely blurry and unrelated to previous concepts, which was the intention. But now, you once again objectify your understanding in something too rigid at times, and that little story is giving you a hint of what your real power is.
                  And you begin to really experience it, and really pay attention.

                  « As was expressed many times, “essence” is no thing. It is an action.
                  The “essence” is each of you, that very portion of you that you feel when you slide your attention into the comment box.
                  In that, your purpose, you see, is only to experience, nothing more, nothing less.
                  And then time, as you know it, becomes irrelevant, you see. Your natural time is expressed through you and your explorations.
                  Notice how playfully, as essence (essence playing focus or focus playing essence), you let your natural time unfold, and at times find some strange weather pattern in your awareness that needs clarification. As essence, you playfully find the most perfect habits [shapes and clothings] to wrap around you, and continue your story.
                  Just as your dreams at night overlap and blend into each other.
                  Just as Rafaela created new focuses [Sam and Becky] to continue to play and make the story expand for all of the other focuses, Dory included.

                  « That “I” of you is ever present, and is reflected perfectly in others’ perceptions, as you are drawing them to you purposefully. Do not brush aside their adjuncts, for they are also you, having moved your pawns forward, so to speak, through their moves.

                  « Thus understand that the story is a continuous stream reflecting the essence that is you, and your travel through the various guises you borrow.
                  In that manner, it does not matter how much sense it makes in linear terms. Because, in a way, it can’t make sense in these linear terms.

                  « Let us explain this in other terms.
                  When you found difficulties in understanding the “scheme” so to speak, the figure that is drawn by the participants, it is because you apply the linear understanding of what such a scheme should be.
                  In that, you only perceive the “plot” as a succession of dots without a continuity, whereas the continuity is to be found in the other stories interwoven.
                  You are accustomed to stories where a single individual is enacting throughout the play, in a linear continuous fashion. The individual goes through many different actions, but is always the same in your perception.
                  Here, the tricky thing is to notice the continuity throughout the various habits [clothings] taken by the essence(s). It matters not that the essence takes that guise of say, a pirate sailing on high seas, just after having been an old crafty Lord in his windy castle. The underlying aspects of his exploration has been continuous and coherent: in this case, exploring and making sense of one’s exploration. It is just that a certain appearance has been perhaps more fitting to express certain aspects or qualities of essence, but the exploration has been one, throughout the entirety of the experience.

                  « We will let you ponder this, and we will continue our own story, writing about you… »

                  September 28 th

                  This sand symbol that Quintin has brought up seemed to have come from many directions at once. Each character has connected it, in various ways.
                  Armelle (Arona) to her magic, Rafaela (Becky) to her collecting customs, etc. etc.

                  Let us say that this symbol is not as innocent as it may seem. There are lots of associations with sand.
                  It is solid, yet fluid. In association with water, it can be used to build, and also to erode. It can shift into many forms, one of which is your glass, and your electronic components.
                  And most of all, it is, after your very oxygen, the most abundant constituent of your reality.
                  It is almost limitless in your understanding.
                  As is your magic.

                  This magical device we made Quintin see in a visualization is an analogy of your very action of creation as essences.
                  The sand which molds itself to make forms and shapes in three dimensions is in fact likened to your consciousness. Each grain of sand represents your links of consciousness that bind together to do your command.
                  The shapes are moved by your essences, in which you may see that the essence is no thing at all, but is a continuous stream of action, not separate from others’.

                  As Quintin said to Fiona, some individuals do differently when they create and shape their sands.
                  In analogy with the coloured sands, some people like Quintin enjoy using other people’s colours in shaping his own characters, while some others prefer to keep their own colours, to create a more definite sense of individuality. But they integrate the others’ movements and shapes nonetheless, regardless of how much they perceive it to be coming from them.

                  With that said, let us see how much more will appear from that sandbox…

                  September 30 th

                  The Wrick family tree as it is now (or “will be” drawn around the time of the twins in 2057).

                  The Secret Life of Margaret Wrick , a newspaper cut from 2033.

                  October 7 th

                  The dragon Naasir’s dream
                  A panorama illustrating the portals between the worlds created by each of the participants… But who is dreaming, really?

                  And an illustration of Chiara’s encounter with the glutton “dreggun” Buckberry

                  #79
                  ÉricÉric
                  Keymaster

                    These are excerpts from Yuki’s diary, explaining some of the details of the experiment called — Malvina’s story —.

                    Note: for the reader not familiar with all the names here is a quick reminder:

                    • Araili > Yann, Írtak, Sam, Jacob …
                    • Armelle > Fiona, Arona, Tina, Qixi …
                    • Rafaela > Dory, Illi, Becky, Rodney …
                    • Yuki > Quintin, Al, Janice …

                    September 12 th, 2007

                    Today, an experiment has been launched by Quintin. Time will tell if it will bear some fruit, but the idea sounds good.
                    Having people join in a story telling, and see what happens, what are the “lessons” one can draw from this…

                    Armelle, Rafaela and Araili are already on the starting-blocks, though Quintin is not quite aware yet.

                    I can hear some thoughts: Let’s say for the moment that there are no rules. We will see what prompts the desire for having rules…

                    September 13 th

                    Some of the people familiar with Janice and her friends’ adventures have already joined in with much enthusiasm.
                    This first comment seems very promising.

                    Right now, it feels easy and fun.

                    Quintin seems to think that everything is very straightforward.
                    The magical world with the cave in one part, separated from the “real” world. (Two Worlds, and he thinks that will be enough to content Rafaela, ahaha, how presumptuous)
                    The first he sees as a representation of what psychologists think of as “subconscious”, and the other being the conscious, physical part.

                    But of course, he thinks he knows better than that. He calls the first one “subjective” rather than subconscious, because it’s a translation of subjects which unfold in many related objects in the “objective” or physical world.
                    That’s a good point, though a bit distorted. It would be better to say Malvina’s World is a translation of the subjective, in the manner of a Heroic Dimension.
                    But the thing is, that he missed the point in thinking one World is more “real” than the other.
                    We’ll be having some fun soon…

                    First remark… The second comment of the story has been interrupted abruptly in the middle of a sentence. That is interesting. We will urge Quintin to leave it as it is, despite his feeling of it being awkward.
                    We will appeal to his imagination.
                    It seems he has heard the suggestion.

                    September 14 th

                    For the most part, the story starts to get much involvement. Lots of energies are being projected into it, and with every adjunct, each participant’s perception stretches to accommodate the changes and smooth out the bumps in their own sense of continuity.

                    But as I expected, some challenges seem to appear already.
                    Is it raining or not in that world?
                    The question seems simple, but it is very profound and Fiona seems to struggle a bit with it, as is Quintin. The question frame itself [“that World”] shows where the difficulty lies.

                    He seems to avoid the discrepancy and pretend that he has not seen it. Mmmm, avoiding the obstacles… that will very soon come right back in front of you dear Quintin, for Dory is quite playful.
                    At least Fiona has been challenging Dory for not paying attention… Armelle’s ineffable loving ruthlessness!
                    How will it unfold?
                    Rafaela seems to be delighting herself as though she’s preparing some mischief, but Dory struggles in the “back”…

                    September 15 th

                    Dory is indeed very playful and her imagination is unrestrained. I extend much appreciation to this focus of Rafaela, especially as Quintin has to stretch his imagination to make things “fit”.

                    Quintin is still avoiding the issues that appear sporadically and prefers to stay focused on his own perception of the story… Careful Quintin :face-smile:

                    Yann joins the fun —objectively, that is, for Araili has been present already since the very beginning.

                    September 16 th

                    Halcyons days…
                    My dear friend Archie is answering some of Quintin and Yann’s questions.
                    Something starts to dawn on Quintin. But his mind is on other matters.

                    He understands that the energies of the writers are melding in writing the story, but he still tends to think that they blend completely.

                    September 18 th

                    Quintin has been drawing some of the characters of the story. It’s interesting.
                    He had good insights, as Yann will tell him later that his clothes today were exactly the same as the colours he had drawn.

                    Characters drawn:

                    • Mavina, Leörmn the dragon and weaszchilla, Írtak, Huÿgens (and Fjutch), Arona and Illi (the gripshawk)
                    • Malika, Quintin, Yann, Fiona and Dory

                    Interestingly, Fiona resolves her issues in her cave.
                    Dory too, but she did not need the cave to do this.

                    September 21 st

                    For Quintin, the story seems to lose all common sense, as some characters move from World to World. You could have expected that Quintin!
                    And Dory pops in and out, in her mind, in her dream state, or in future timeline mixed with present or past one.
                    Quintin will soon realize that he himself is doing this constantly, though he does not register it.

                    But the worst thing for him is that there are bleedthroughs in between Worlds. The Reality Times newspaper was brilliant Rafaela, a perfect trigger for the beliefs that the Worlds are closed and impermeable to each other!

                    Archie has been answering new questions about that story and this had been quite interesting for all of the participants.
                    There is much for them to digest from the realization that each of them had been creating their own versions of the stories through their perceptions. And that they were each having their version of the story, drawing from each other’s input, like a conductor of an orchestra incorporating some instruments.

                    Of course, some things still matter, and one of the point of the story is also to discover these.

                    September 22 nd

                    Quintin has been drawing new characters.

                    Characters drawn:

                    • Båd Al’Guz (Bådul), BelleDora, Buckberry the dragon, the twin dragon eggs, Archibald the parrot, Sanso the Wanderer
                    • Illi Fergusson, another Illi that Quintin has tried to sneak in as a bait for Dory, with hints that she is disengaged (or “dead” in common vernacular) and merges with others of her focuses…
                    • Jacqueline Bleomelen (Nanny Gibbon), Lord Wrick, his great grand children the twins Cuthbert and India Louise, Manfred, William P. Jobsworth the painter

                    A new perception trick: Dory felt relieved upon seeing the moth feelers of BelleDora.
                    She had at first thought they were whiskers, which was not Quintin’s intent…

                    September 23 rd

                    Quintin seems to have connected to a map drawn by Lord Wrick, when the old Lord has started to document his great grand children travels.

                    Quintin had tried to put some annotations on this fragment, but he doesn’t yet completely understand that his perception of this World, though accurate, is only valid in this present moment, and may change at any time.

                    Up to now, here are the names he could find:

                    • North: the Icy Lands, and Dragon Cemeteries
                    • Center: Goldfindely, homeland of Arona, connected to the Warring Kingdoms of Lan’ork by the Isthmus of Ghört’s Hammer. The Isthmus of the Dragon Head seems to lead to Malvina’s cave and hideout. Mount Elok’ram is pointed as the highest place of the World yet discovered. Three main rivers are drawn: in the ancient myths of the people of this land, they represent the three Daughters of Ghört, weavers of men’s destinies: Tibreÿa, Uleÿa, and Snimeÿa. Snimeÿa cuts the thread of life, which is shown as the river leads after many meanders to the Marshes of Doom.
                    • Far East, North: the Land of Båd Al’Guz, Åsgurdy. A harsh mountainous land of islands and seas.
                      Both parts of the World seem to ignore each other till now, as they are separated by the Great Rift, which in the past has deterred many intrepid navigators.
                    • South: the Desert Lands. Illi’s birthplace, rarely explored by humans thus unaware of most of its marvels, gripshawks nomadic tribes included.

                    When he discussed Arona’s village with Fiona, Quintin had the vision of some dolphin-like creatures, but bright yellow. They are called golfindels and are mostly seen on the northern shores of Arona’s homeland, which is thus called Golfindely.

                    #270

                    Oörlaith heard the sound of a barking dog not far from her rookery. They were back with his master, and she knew at once their mission was complete.

                    A few months ago she had met a strange man, he told her he was called Leonard, and the funny black dog that was following him everywhere was called Moufle. An ancient word for mitten… Well she didn’t ask why he’d call him like that, the dog was so hairy…

                    Leonard was a lonely traveller, quite ancient as she could feel, but she wasn’t able to know his actual age. And there were some other weird feelings when she was focusing on his energy tone, something to do with time itself.

                    When she first met him she knew he was the one she was looking for for ages. It’s been such a long time she hadn’t heard from her sisters. Oörlaith’d been having these dreams since they chose different direction many years ago, Malvina and Roselÿn, her precious ones. It wasn’t necessary for her then to keep objective contact with them through the glubolín.

                    One year ago, the dreams stopped abruptly, and she tried several methods to reach her sisters. None of them with success. All her attempts failed, and she thought first she had lost her own power, but she knew one can not loose power of self, just forget it or create it on purpose. She realized then it was time to recreate these links more objectively.

                    She couldn’t find her glubolín though. And Leonard arrived. Fortunately enough he had news from some strange events occurring in the land where she knew Malvina had settled her rookery. Was she still here with Leörmn?

                    ***

                    Yann had been feeling many impulses to draw scenes from his dreams and from the story they were creating with Quintin, Fiona, and Truth. It was an urge from inside and last night he had a very intense dream activity, most of which he couldn’t remember, it was more like a big forum with many different personalities all exchanging experiences and exploring new avenues.

                    He was also attracted by old stories he was writing when he was a student, the one involving Georges and Salome, it seemed to him they had taken a life of their own now, and they felt very powerful, and most of all, they felt like really having fun.

                    One of the drawing that was intriguing him was one that represented a sign of sort, in grayish sparkly clouds. He had given the pic a strange title, Oorlath. Yann had connected the name to an individual and was surprised when Quintin told him about a princess named Oörlaith. He was wondering who she was…

                    She still had no face when he thought of her… maybe she was hidden for the moment… and he had the strangest thought that she knew Leonard, the man he’d been drawing with his black hairy dog.

                    Haha, he had felt her smile.

                    ***

                    Chiara was looking for the boy she’d met last time in her dreams. Maybe he could give her some berries again, they were really tasty and fluberrish.

                    But she’s been looking for him for so long she wonder if she could find the way again…

                    Where she was now felt different. The light? The air? She took a deep breathe and just sat down on the grassy land. She had a quick thought that the land were more rocky than grassy a few seconds ago, but as she was feeling the grass under her hands, she dismissed the thought.

                    She was hearing birds singing, it was quite funny the way they were bounding from one sound to the other and she could understand what they were saying, much gossips and a few compliments for a new mother ;)) nothing really important to her. She Jibbled.

                    Lying down on the mossy land, she was looking… mossy? wasn’t it grassy? Now it’s mossy… hope that wouldn’t become mothy ;))

                    She was looking the clouds, some were grayishly sparkling, she was enjoying it…

                    “Are you looking for something” a voice said.

                    Chiara quickly sat up and gazed at the fat lady who was standing before her.

                    “Hahahaha, you found me at least my dear” laughed the woman.

                    “My name is Roselÿn, and you are Chiara, aren’t you?”

                    The little girl was gaping at Roselÿn… how could she possibly know her name?

                    “I feel I know you :yahoo_thinking:” she said dreamily.

                    “You make me feel like when I’m with my uncle Yann, and… there’s something else… oh!?”

                    #269

                    Malvina had been busy opening doors for herself, and thus, for the All.

                    Creating the sabulmantium with Leörmn had revealed new potentials to her. And just before putting the final touch to the device, she had felt engulfed in a huge wave and before she knew it, she was talking with someone. A great creative power, which was stemming from herself, and also from which she stemmed too.

                    It had named itself Naasir.

                    It had revealed to her, in the form of a dark abyss, myriads of unknown potentials waiting for her to leap in faith into them. It had gently requested that she release her hold on the caves openings, so that she could explore more, and also bring more to herself.

                    Then Naasir took the form of a great dragon in that abyss, from which roots were growing and pushing their way, slowly and surely, into the rich soil towards the light of their fullness.

                    She had then seen the dragon’s arched back and tail shift into a chain of spiked rocks, separating the worlds seas in two. Three of the scales on the right of the dragon’s skin were glimmering, and she could see they were looking for a passage.

                    Would she allow that to happen? Yes, she wanted to. Open the doorways, and reunite what was separate, but gently, one at a time.

                    Slowly, the kite-shaped rocky plates on the back of the dragon moved apart, to open a slight, safe passage for the glimmering scales. They were caught in the eddies that surged from the opening, but Malvina’s focus helped them to float and cross safely, as they wanted to.

                    She then came back to herself, seated in front of the glass-shell dragon egg filled with coloured sand, awed with that power she had just felt through her. She knew it was her own power, and that the device had only allowed it to be expressed, but she had felt wary of how the sabulmantium could be used by others.

                    At the same time, Leörmn who was once again the tiny weaszchilla trotting on the wooden table in front of her had laughed squeakingly. And looking at the toy in front of her, she had understood how it could only be used by those who would see beyond the thinly veiled surface. For the uncaring eye, this would only be a toy, mundane and without interest, but for the pure of heart, its help could be harnessed.

                    That’s how she’d knew she did not need it any longer, and could release it.

                    So, the doors had been opened, and people were feeling the new jewels sparkling behind the dark passages. And gifts from friends could now come across the veils.

                    Malvina saw that during the last transmugrification, Leörmn had created an entrance near her laboratory, and it was as if it beckoned her now.

                    When she entered, she saw a guéridon table in the middle of a moistly pungent room. On the table, a polished egg was here. She recognized it at once. It had an azure blue glow to it, and fond memories came back to her.

                    Back then, she was a young Sorceress in training on the Island of Mörk, in the middle of the Icy Lands, the birth and dying place of the dragons.

                    This egg was one from a set of three. It was the first glubolín she’d ever made, along with her two companions. They had kept it to communicate with each other when they parted.

                    Malvina, the youngest of the three, had kept the azure blue, and chose to go to the Dragon Head Peninsula.

                    Oörlaith had kept the mauve, and went near the town of Kapalÿka, on the Snimeÿa River delta bordering the Marshes of Doom.

                    As for Roselÿn, the eldest of the three, she had taken the amber one, and had went as far as anyone would have dared go, flying on her spiked dragon Rëgkvist, past the Great Rift.

                    They had kept in touch, but contacts had been more and more sporadic as each were discovering their own new environments, and had ceased altogether, almost at the same time.

                    As far as she knew, Roselÿn had been starting her own rookery in the sandy ice deserts of Åsgurdy, mostly hiding there from the superstitious people of that land. And Oörlaith, whom she was closest to, had been devising another funny way to keep people away from her rookery. Her own dragon, the playful Andarión, was shape-shifting as a huge shrimp to pretend that the surroundings were haunted.

                    Recalling all these moment, Malvina laughed at how silly they all were, and felt a long to be connecting again with her friends. Would anyone of them be around their own glubolíns?

                    #263

                    It’s been a long time since Írtak last paid a visit to his family. But this time would not come now as the twins were just hatching.

                    The hatchtone, a humming inaudible sound that would help the little dragon break the hard shell, had been resonating for almost an hour now, and Írtak had to constantly refocus and pay attention to himself not to be distracted by the unheard sound. The tone was quite intense and as they were both hatching at the same time the hatchtones were enhancing each other.

                    Írtak could see the shell resonating with the gluid tones. It was shifting shape slightly, and his eyes were also perceiving a bluid glow around it.

                    In the hatchtones were the names of the dragons… Írtak was a bit astonished because those names were quite odd, but he was feeling a strange inner giggle of sort coming from some part of himself.

                    He was translating the hatchtones as Heckle and Jeckle.

                    “Defunitely!”

                    The inner laugh of Malvina was still resonating in his ear when the shell began to crack.

                    #260
                    F LoveF Love
                    Participant

                      Arona and Mandrake sat side by side looking into the glass ball filled with sand. They had been practising for some time, and had both become quite proficient at shifting the sand.

                      So what shall we make now Mandrake? Something we both like maybe?

                      A fish perhaps? suggested Mandrake

                      Oh excellent idea! and no sooner was it thought of than the sand would shift accordingly.

                      Scrambled eggs I think too, on chunks of homemade bread, said the still hungry Arona, and chocolate!

                      Some milk for me, said Mandrake

                      Hmmm not sure about that Mandrake. Lots of cats have allergies to cows milk.

                      Mandrake rolled his eyes And chocolate might make you fat, he said, but was I so rude as to mention it? and Mandrake created a hairy cow, and a farmer to milk the cow.

                      Arona laughed, and created a little sand langoat, just in case the stubborn Mandrake changed his mind. Langoat’s milk would be much better for him she thought.

                      The glass ball was now filled with a miniature world of sand objects.

                      Arona leaned back against the wall and stroked Mandrake. She felt very fond of the grumpy cat. The feeling of being able to create whatever she wanted had been fun. Perhaps, she thought, her creations were rather rudimental at this stage, but then already she could feel bigger things brewing within her as her confidence grew. She felt as though the sand game had focused her, like a beam of light which shone only on that which was intended.

                      Arona closed her eyes and allowed her mind to open and reach out, something she knew she had always been able to do easily, but her fear of the “madness” had made her cautious and hide these abilities, till she became unsure of them. The “madness” was the term the people in her Village had given to the poor wretched wandering ones, who claimed to hear voices and communicate with Gods. Once as a child she had seen the Villagers drive one of these poor souls from the Village, shouting and abusing him. She did not really understand what he had done, only that the Villagers were afraid of him. So Arona had felt it was better to keep some things to herself.

                      Arona left her mind open and allowed images to enter. Some of the images she did not understand, and she let them flow on, enjoying the energy of them notwithstanding. She saw a dragon, it was not the one with the mouthful of riddles, but another one, a baby one she felt. Her ability to see pictures was quite rusty, but she felt a connection with this baby dragon and a great fondness for it.

                      She felt a great peacefulness in her body, a knowledge that walking in the world of magic would be easier from now on

                      #259

                      Jadra slept fitfully. He was in the forest and he dreamed of a great tidal wave sweeping over him. He was holding on for dear life to the branches of a tree while angry faces swept by him in the water, shouting abuse at him, although he could not make out the words.

                      “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me” he shouted back.

                      But then, to his horror he saw his left hand separate from his arm and he could no longer hold on. He saw his hand being swept out to sea and all that mattered was that he find it again. He let to of the safety of the tree and felt himself being pulled by the waves.

                      Jadra awoke trembling and shaking in terror. He looked for his left hand on the end of his arm, where it should be, but he could not see it. He knew what had happened. He had thrown his hand in the river. He thought it was sticks and stones he had thrown in, but he had been mistaken. He knew that now. He had to go and find his hand in the river.

                      Jadra felt such anguish. Not so clever Jadra Iamaman. You stupid old Fool

                      Forgive me! he shouted to the Gods. Whimpering in pain he rushed back the way he had come, back through the forest to the spot where he had last seen his hand. He threw himself into the water and dived down deep, not caring he could not swim, only knowing his hand was in there somewhere.

                      ***

                      There were very few people around that early in the morning, but a small boy saw Jadra go in the water and stood watching. He waited and waited, and when he knew for sure there was something wrong he raised the alarm.

                      ***

                      Jadra felt a great peacefulness sweep over him. He stopped fighting and abandoned himself to the mighty current of the water. A unicorn swam by him in the water and whispered to him she would take him to safely home.

                      ***

                      They pulled Jadra’s body from the water a mile down river.

                      #258
                      F LoveF Love
                      Participant

                        India Louise sat at the end of the extraordinarily long oak dinner table. A tiny figure engrossed in some drawing. The morning sun shone in the window, brightening the otherwise dark room.

                        Lord Wrick walked in, not seeming to see India Louise at first. He held a letter in his hand, and some old newspaper clippings. He sat down heavily at the table, opened the letter, and read it. After reading it, he sat staring into space for a long while.

                        India Louise looked up from her drawing.

                        What is wrong Grandpa? You look sad. She walked over to him and hugged him. See look at this. Look at my drawing of a flower, perhaps that will cheer you up. The painter Bill has been showing me how to use these paint sticks and also how to use my mind to help make the painting have life.

                        It is beautiful India Louise.

                        What did the letter say Grandpa. Why is it making you so sad?

                        It is just an old letter, India Louise.

                        Yes it looks very old. Was it bad news?

                        Just reminds me of things I wish I had said a long time ago, said her great grandfather, Regret is an awful curse

                        The little girl hugged him again. Yes it sounds awful. I think I will draw another flower for you grandpa.

                        He smiled. Thank you India Louise. I will be back soon. I will put the letter away now.

                        Yes, put it away now. I can’t see any point looking at it if it makes you sad, and then come and see the flower I will draw for you.

                        Lord Wrick walked over to the bookshelves and reached up. There was a tin on the top shelf. He opened the tin and got out an old key.

                        He walked down the passage way, to the right and then down some stairs leading to the cellar. There was a door, which had not been opened for some time, and he had to use some force to get the key to work in the lock.

                        The room was dark, musty, mostly full of what would seem to be junk, which had been thrown there when people did not know what else was to be done with it. There was an old chest of drawers against one wall. He pulled open the top draw, fingering gently some of the items, more old letters, a feather, some pebbles, a diary, some old paintings and photos. He knew each object had a life of it’s own, memories which create worlds. He added the letter and the newspaper article.

                        As he left the room, he wondered whether to lock the door again, and decided not to. He had a funny feeling within himself as he made this decision to leave it open, a shift, as though his simple decision had changed things, somehow.

                        Silly old fool he thought, laughing at himself. He would go and see the flower that India Louise was drawing for him.

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