Search Results for 'ear'
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Search Results
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In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Anyway Arona, said Sanso, after a short silence while they watched the disco dancers. I have decided to change my name!
Oh great!
Yes, I have always liked the name “Floyd”. What do you think? Got a nice ring to it eh? Do you think it suits me?
Well it appears it is a private party I think Arona. Still, most entertaining, eh what!
and Floyd started laughing, and snorting … and Arona could not help but laugh too … although she was laughing more at the snorting than the dancers.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
In reply to: The Room of Requirements
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Chris! you look terrible! Nurse Bellamy, momentarily startled by Dr Bronklehampton’s unkempt appearance, lapsed into first name basis. Dr Bronklehampton always insisted that a certain level of protocol be observed, except in their more intimate moments of course.
But today he did not even seem to notice her small indiscretion. Nurse Bellamy was perplexed.
I’ll bring you a nice glass of warm coconut milk, and you’ll be right as rain, she said hopefully. As she turned to go a bandaged figure propped up against the wall caught her eye. The apparition was made even more surreal by the addition of a bright yellow wig on it’s head. She screamed, clutching her hand to her bosom.
Oh my God!, what is it! she exclaimed in startled surprise.
A Mummy of course, what does it look like? answered Dr Bronklehamptom in a listless voice.
Chris Bronklehampton stared at the Mummy, and wondered how things could have gone so horribly wrong. All he had ever wanted was to do something good for mankind. Well that isn’t quite true, Chris is it, hmmm really? Weren’t you after a bit of fame and fortune as well?
You won’t get away with this, you know, said the Mummy.
In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud
WOW… lots of interesting ones in that cloud here:
— Once under thinking, session clear words God/Human waiting speaking word, language beginning feeling looked. Key herself aware […]
— Gaughran home looking funny random energies
— Tracy floating, magic color seemed trip
— Points side mountains, process great
— Bugger difficult! Nice interesting moment link
creating action
— Trust help face aspects seems play
— Structures changing… Dancing green heart Finn
— Badul getting synch princess
— Twilight book important
— Elikozoe stories singing magical times. Able feel sort understand images mind, read Armelle. Voice started moments sync call Maevel…In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Huh? Well, I might ask you the same question, Aronikins. I’ve been waiting here for absolutely AGES. Sanso wondered if Arona was quite well after her long absence. Are you OK, dear? he asked kindly. Poor thing seemed to think it was he, Sanso, who had been off wandering around.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Alarmed by the sound of the explosion, Mrs Butterbutt rushed out of her office.
What the hell are they doing again? If it’s these dirty sons of …
She censored her thought as she was about to burst out in anger, she was so focused on that prout farting Mc Gaughran that as she opened the door of the main room, her face was that of a fury…. but as soon as she saw what had happened, she heard the laugh of Little Joe followed by all the drunkards and the sissy cow boys of that town. Her loud laugh soon joined with the others… she managed to calm down and talked to the juicy Aldous.
— Oh you’re going to pay for all that mess, behave Mc Gaugran, you could have refrained from shitting on you!
She couldn’t help but burst into laughter again.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Arona was showing Yikesy how he could play with the sand in the sabulmantium and form it into shapes. Leormn had very kindly, as he had pointed out himself, produced another sabulmantium. In this latest model the sand was all the colours of the rainbow and Yikesy was immediately entranced.
Good grief, said Tina, What am I doing? It is way too early in the morning to be working on the play. Becky, how do you spell Sabulmantium? Al would know, but he is in the bathroom brushing his hair again. He is going to be prettier than me soon.
[Al sneaked stealthily into Tina’s comment with his sumafreak powers and surreptitiously changed the spelling to the standard spelling of sabulmantium, giggling at how he loved doing these kinds of creation pranks. Perhaps he would remind Tina later that there was a glossary somewhere in the play…]
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
“Sand! I may have got the riddle, thought Sanso, but I didn’t get the POINT of the riddle being there in the first place!”
Becky had been flicking through the wads of typed pages as she lay on the sofa, sipping hot lemon and honey, and sneezing. The sneezing! Jeeze, the sneezing had been going on for days. What with all the sneezing and sleeping, she felt more blinked out than blinked in lately.
Sand, sand sand…… Hhmmm, Becky was wondering why the sand syncs were coming in again. She blew her nose, and picked up another wad of typewritten pages, opening at random.
“Illi was bored with the deserted island and the sand dragons. She wanted some action, some surprises, some…..well, some life!”
Wow, I’d forgotten all about Illi, thought Becky. She imagined the calm quiet beach, Illi’s island get-away. Well, before she’d conjured up the sand dragons it was quiet, anyway. Becky thumbed through the next pile of papers.
“Arona pulled out a well worn map from her bag. The map had been a gift from a traveling wizard who visited the village a few years ago. Arona had given him food and shelter and he repaid her kindness with the map.”
Well, I’ll bet that’s a clue, thought Becky drowsily, But I can’t be bothered to work it out now.
The trouble is, Becky muttered to herself, When I start this random reading thing I just can’t stop, it’s like an addiction. She sighed and opened again at random:
“The hydroplane was flying over the “Sarcastic Sea” in the Bermuda Triangle. Anita was not afraid, her parents had told her about the triangle and the different legends of people disappearing or reappearing there….”
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
The old abbot Hrih, was coming back from the gardens of the Monastery, the soil dampened and muddied by the heavy rains of the season sticking to the sole of his sandals. Hrih Chokyam loved to be reacquainted with the rawness of nature, and the fluidity that the rain provided to the ground by transforming it into malleable mud.
He was bringing back vegetables for the dinner’s soup, and was amazed at the fact that even though he had felt so close to the earth, barefooted in his sandals, he had not even a drop of mud on him.
He had delayed his choice for much too long already, and the not so subtle pressing of his main confident Aum Geong to officially elect his successor was making him unquiet. He was deeply trustful of Aum Geog, and of his sincerity as a Holder of the clear Light that was being tapped into, channeled and refined by the Monastery’s spiritual endeavours.
But Hrih was feeling that Aum Geong’s views were slightly too narrow for the heavy task he was wanting him to carry on.
He was too good at creating structures and rules, and Hrih felt that even if all done in good intent, it would be taking the risk of chocking the great outburst of powerful energy that was lying at the very foundations of the Monastery.The young man that he had noticed a few hexades1 ago, though very discreet seemed bright and very dedicated to his task. He had been greeted by all, and had soon felt at home. Franiel, as he was named, was under the tutelage of Jog Lam, a very wise (albeit young) monk that Hrih had adopted some years ago as the parents had been abandoning him a young baby at the eternally opened doors of the Monastery.
Hrih had made a decision. He would not play favourites. Seeing the blank black Meditation Wall, an idea crossed his mind. He would announce at the dinner that the monks willing to do it could do a short poem of 3 stanzas where they would express their highest truth on the Meditation Wall…
1 On that part of the Duane (the planet where Mount Elok’ram is), time is divided in groups of six days or hexades, each being attributed to one of the Elder Gods: Ghört (Airs) Nærvel (Waters) Agnima (Flames) Selvaniel (Woods) Margilonia (Earths) and Lejüs (Forgotten). The names or the days are Ghordië, Narduë, Agduë, Seldië, Marduë, Shandië.
Name Element Quality Hexade Ghört Airs Male Ghordië Nærvel Waters Female Narduë Agnima Flames Female Agduë Selvaniel Woods Male Seldië Margilonia Earths Female Marduë (Shaint) Lejüs Forgotten Male Shandië In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Felicity sat patiently in the waiting room of DDT Productions, quietly confident in her ability to secure the job. The advertisement had said ‘Do you have the ability to say the first thing that pops into your head? Without doubting it? Then this job is for you!’ Well, thought Felicity, This job’s for me!
Her interview wasn’t scheduled for another half an hour, but she had arrived early purposefully, to get a feel for the place. She smiled; it felt like fun, she decided to get the job.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
A dragon egg was hatching. A bluish light around the shell.
That egg was not in a rookery, it was in the Marshes of Doom.A little girl was passing by and whistling. She was eight and quite unaware of what was happening. But she was drawn to that particular spot where she could see something shining. Her excitement was enhanced by the unheard humming of the baby dragon emerging. Her heart was full of joy and happyness.
She had that name in her mind Asiir and that song her mother was always singing to her when she was younger. At times she would sing it to her again, lost in her memories. And it was quite endearing a song, about another world blending with their own, that world, what was the name?
La Phrëal said a voice in her head. She was a bit startled and stopped singing. Nothing… just the joy and the excitement. She started to walk again in the tall grass.
She continued with her song and began to see the edges of the egg. Wow, she stopped in awe. It was beautiful, with many shades of blue and it was pulsing. Seeing it she was even more full of joy and of love. All fear she could have had before had vanished of her heart.
Lola, I’m choosing you
Hearing these words in her head, her heart exploded of joy, it was so intense the she burst out crying and laughing at the same time. The shell had cracked open and she could see the little creature emerging, so graceful, pink with golden shades. How will she explain that to her parents?
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
— Well, to me, it was rather obvious it was a bleedthrough from one dimension to another… sighed Al, who had now half-long teal-coloured hair in perfect shape, as he was filing and shaping his nails turned back to a reasonable size.
— Oh, that FLOYD treatment did well on you marveled Saint Tina.
— FLOYD what?? looked back Becky, who was still fumbling into Sam’s hair, at the sound of the strange word that might have been a clue.
— FLOYD: Focus Lots On Yourself, Dimwit that’s the name of the treatment… It’s made of extracts of Fuckus Rapidus, a new plant that has been blooping in Russian taiga recently. It had covered a whole region in a fortnight. People wondered what they could do about them, but apparently, some old crone found an interesting use for them… But we’re getting side-tracked, aren’t we?
— Oh, this is fascinating Becky said, wondering if she would look better now with a mane of luscious raven hair on her beautiful dark-skinned head… What’s the name already? BOYF?
— No! BOYF is the exact opposite, it’s Blame On Your Friend it’ll have all your hair and nails fall in a few days, even your pubic hair I fear… I still don’t know what’s the use of that though there might be some customers for it…
Al was puzzled.In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Becky hugged Sam and ruffled his fluffy mop of hair. You’re so funny, Sam, she said, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Sawyer reached for his boots, his eyes still blind with sleep. He didn’t know how much longer he could cope with all this. Years ago, when he’d joined the Weather Incident Rescue Team, or WIRT, he’d imagined a relatively easy life, long spells of inactivity in which to play poker with his team-mates, and an occasional exciting incident. Little did he realize that he would be working on average a 100 hour week…and even then, the team was chronically short-staffed.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Marvin Scrozzezi was considering a script that had been sent to him by his friend.
Betty, his assistant, had insisted that he reads it…Seeing his current movie, it couldn’t be any worse in any case.
The title of the script cracked him up.Ogregan, the Origeans
Marvin giggled, almost spluttering his smoking chai on the script.
He started to read the first paragraphs.
FADE IN: EXT. WOODS A big humphing man plunges into the woods. Twigs slap at him, but the sound of gunfires keeps him going. Sheriff Marshall is taking the lead, but an auburn haired man plunges into the woods before him, followed by one dark-haired one. They are obviously brothers. The older one is ELVIN STREWN, he is following his younger brother with the lopsided hair, JAY STREWN. JAY is shooting at the fugitive, ALDO MC GALLIGAN, a local mobster known as the OGREGAN. Gunfire explodes in trees near the STREWN brothers, shot at them by MC GALLIGAN, and they dive and roll into hiding under a palisade.Interesting stuff, wonders Marvin… That mobster looks like a fascinating character…
Flipping though the script he found page 57 another catching bit of reading…
DISSOLVE TO: EXT. PROSPERITY BANK ; SHOT of a Texan bank on a quiet street. INT. PROSPERITY BANK There are three customers, male. Enters a MOTHER and her SON. TELLER#1: What can I do for you Mrs MC GALLIGAN? MRS GALLIGAN to her SON who is drawing on her dress: ALDO, will you keep still for a moment, good for nothing!…
Pfff, Marvin sighed, feeling bored.
Not long after, he was sound asleep, snoring loudly on the comfortable chair.In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Jo was coming back to the saloon… he saw the new guy rushing out, very pale and sweaty face… his skin around his eyes were of a bad red. He seemed feverish and freezing. He saw him open his saddlebag and take an old dirty sweater, quite yellowish and quite fitting with his face color.
He thought for a moment of the itchy fever, no, he dismissed the thought quickly, this fever was… no that simply wasn’t possible. This deadly fever hadn’t been heard of for years now.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Beattie and Leonora had finished unpacking their belongings, and had rearranged the meager furnishings of the little white washed cottage. There was one item as yet unpacked: a sturdy wooden crate.
What are we going to do with them, Bea?
Hmmm? Beattie looked up from the computer. Oh, the bloody skulls. Well, not on the mantelpiece that’s for sure! We’ll have to hide them again. How about in the old bread oven outside?
There’s an idea, replied Leonora. Give us a hand then, Bea…
But Beattie was busy tapping away at the keyboard. Well, what a coincidence! she cackled, turning round to face Leo. Bert’s found another one!
In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud
Becky had forgotten about that, all those years ago on Deadweb.
