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  • #3731

    In reply to: Mandala of Ascensions

    Dispersee Blather, or Dispy for short, was late for the crowning ceremony. It wasn’t unusual for Dispy to be late for official ceremonies and meetings, or to miss them altogether, but she was aware that her unique presence would be missed at this particular ceremony, as she was the one to be crowned. She had recently, much to her astonishment, achieved the coveted goal of the Descended Dispersed Tradition, or DDT for short, and her newly recognized super powers were to be publicly acknowledged in the crowning ceremony.

    Dispy’s old friend Floverley (and by old, lest we be misunderstood, we mean old in the sense of having known each other for eons and countless lifetimes, not decrepit, wrinkled or senile) had offered to design the crown that was to be placed on Dispy’s sparse, dare we say wispy, head of hair ~ something light and elegant, she said, with a feeling of fluidity, something that wouldn’t swamp her delicate features.

    At the crown fitting appointment the day before, it quickly became apparent that Floverley had misjudged the extent of the fluidity of the materials she used to construct the crown, resulting in a thorough drenching. Dispy was a good sport by nature, easy going and able to see the funny side in most situations, but she had not been pleased. She had been on her way to meet Stinks Mc Fruckler, a double agent posing as a descended trickster, for the purpose of writing a report on his activities in disrupting artificial ascension practices, and had to cancel the date at the last minute.

    Not one to hold a grudge, partly due to having no borders with which to contain a grudge, Dipsy had forgiven Floverly for the drenching.

    I just hope she has managed to rectify the crown in time for the ceremony, she thought, as she tried to scrub the last traces of martian mist stains off her eyebrows.

    #3720
    TracyTracy
    Participant

      “I knew you’d have something to say about that Godfrey, but hear this: no comments at all doesn’t count much for a manuscript either,” Elizabeth snorted. “Pass the tissues please, Godfrey, I seem to have snorted a bit too much.”

      “At least there is the possibility of a random daily quote sync, I suppose,” replied Godfrey, while averting his eyes to Elizabeth’s chin. “Which is not to be, er, sniffed at.”

      #3719
      ÉricÉric
      Keymaster

        “Someone told me that gazing at the clouds doesn’t count as a manuscript, dear”

        “Godfrey? Are you back now?” Elizabeth raised a contemptuous eyebrow.

        “Well, I figured you needed some help… Oh, bugger, I guess the truth is that Mars gets boring rather quickly. I should have taken my chances with France instead.”

        “Go figure.” She raised painfully from the couch “Evelyn would call me an evil Yankee-bashing witch to say I’m not surprised, but the hell with her, she always, hem mars everything. Now be a dear, fetch me a hot cup of vegemite, and tell me all about it.”

        #3712

        In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

        TracyTracy
        Participant

          perhaps sun turn eye
          power followed wings
          whispered wonder mist
          fred mouth felt presence

          #3711

          In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

          TracyTracy
          Participant

            spot story view chair
            happened usually himself
            pay looks bring self above early
            young mirabelle stopped
            eyes rolled
            rather empty land

            #3674

            Corrie:

            I was offering the plate of mince pies to Mr Cornwall, who had been coaxed out of his room for the first time in ages and was sitting next to the gum tree sapling that Aunt Idle had strung with fairy lights in lieu of a Christmas pine, when they arrived. We were all surprised to hear the taxi hooting outside, that is, except Bert. I heard him mumbling something about “She bloody meant it, the old trout,” but I didn’t remember that until later, with all the commotion at the unexpected guests.

            “Here, take the lot,” I said, shoving the mince pies on the old guys lap, as I rushed to the door to see who it was. A tall autocratic looking woman swathed in beige linen garments was climbing out of the front seat of the taxi, with one hand holding the pith helmet on her head and the other hand gesticulating wildly to the others in the back seat. She was ordering the taxi driver to get the luggage out of the boot, and ushering the other occupants out of the car, before flamboyantly spinning around to face the house. With arms outstretched and a big smile she called, “Darlings! We have arrived!”

            “Who the fuck it that?” I asked Clove. “Fucked if I know” she replied, adding in a disappointed tone, “Four more old farts, just what we bloody need.”

            “And a baby!” I noted.

            Clove snorted sarcastically, “Terrific.”

            Suddenly a cloud of dust filled the hall and I started to cough. Crispin Cornwall had leaped to his feet, the plate of mince pies crashing to the floor.

            “Elizabeth! Do my eyes deceive me, or is it really you?”

            “Godfrey, you old coot! What on earth are you doing here, and dressed like that! You really are a hoot!”

            “Why is she calling him Godfrey?” asked Prune. “That’s not his name.”

            “He obviously lied when he said his name was Crispin Cornwall, Prune. We don’t know a thing about him,” I replied. “Someone had better go and fetch Aunt Idle.”

            #3673
            TracyTracy
            Participant

              “Who else is coming? Don’t remind me, I can’t bear it,” Elizabeth said fretfully while Norbert opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish.

              “I have an idea!” she announced suddenly, standing up and crushing a mince pie that had rolled under her desk. “Gather round, come on, come on!”

              Arona Haki shuffled in with the dustpan and mop, as Finnley blew her nose loudly and wiped the tears from her eyes. Norbert stood silently, waiting.

              “It wouldn’t matter WHO came,” Liz paused for effect, “If none of us were here!”

              “But we are here, aren’t we,” remarked Finnley. Norbert and Haki murmured in agreement.

              “We are now!” replied Liz, “But we could be gone in an hour! We could go and visit my cousin ~ third cousin twice removed, actually ~ in Australia. They have an old inn and it’s sure to be half empty, it’s in the middle of nowhere, and,” she added triumphantly, “It will be lovely and warm there!”

              “Blisteringly hot, more like,” muttered Finnley, “And would they like unexpected visitors for Chri, er Kri, er, that date on the calendar?”

              “I’m sure they’d be delighted, “ replied Liz, crisply. “Not everyone is as curmudgeonly about Chri, er, Kri, er that date on the calendar as we are. And anyway,” she added, “If I write it into the story that they are delighted, then they will have no option but to be pleased to see us.”

              “If you bloody lot are coming to the Flying Fish Inn, I’m buggering off to Mars for the holidays” said Bert.

              Elizabeth spun round, saying sharply, “Bert! Get back to your own thread this instant! The bloody cheek of it, thread hopping like that, really!”

              #3669
              prUneprUne
              Participant

                Christmas has always been a strange tradition in our family.
                Maybe because first and foremost, Christmas is all about family. Besides the twins and their bond, sometimes I wonder what makes us a family at all.
                It doesn’t help that we can never get snow around this place, and dressing in red and white fluff is not going to make things suddenly magical.

                It was comical to see the exterminator come with a red bonnet, panting and all red himself, as if he were some genial Santa bringing gifts of death to our yonder’s rodents residents.
                He didn’t catch a rat, but got himself a fright. Thanks to Mater, when she erupted in the attic in her white hanuka honey cream face-lifter mask. I think that sneaky Finly got to her in the end.
                The mystery of the strange noises in the inn is not going soon, apparently.

                Bert and Aunt Idle got back from their trip in the evening. Apparently Bert had insisted to bring some sort of shrub to make a Christmas tree in the great hall (it’s not so great, but we call it that). Finly didn’t seem pleased too much with it. Raking leaves in summer, bringing pests inside… she didn’t have many kind things to say about it. So Mater sends her to cook a “festive dinner”, that’s what she said. I heard Finly mutter in her breath something about kiwi specials. I like kiwis. Hope she’ll make a pavlova… just, not with Mater’s face cream!

                It seems that giving small gestures of appreciation got the mood going. Aunt Idle is always very good at decorating with the oddest or simplest of things, like rolls of TP. Sometimes she would draw nice hieroglyphs in the layer of dust on the cabinets, it gives the furniture a special look. Mater always says it’s because she’s too lazy to do some cleaning consistently, but I think it’s because cleaning is not creative enough for her. Can’t believe I just said nice things about Aunt Idle. Christmas spirit must be contagious.

                Then, Devan came home with some pastries. It’s not often I see Devan these days, and usually he’s always brooding. I would too, if I had to come back home when I could just start my life away from there. Finly was all eyes on him all of a sudden. Seems nobody noticed, not even the twins, too busy being snarky while playing on their phones,… it looks like there is some strange game between these two, my brother and our Finly. I think Finly makes a lot of efforts to look younger with him, I can see when she fiddles with her hair. They would make good friends, and I’m sure Devan doesn’t mind the accent.

                As always, it’s not about how pretty the tree is, or how good the food is, or how big the gifts are… It’s more about being together, for better or for worse. And Dad, and Mum are always out of this almost nice picture, but somehow, it matters less today.

                There’s a good thing about that Christmas spirit. It gives you the weirdest ideas. To be nice, I asked Mater if we should invite the guests to our festive dinner, and probably lifted by the mood, she said yes, of course. When I went to the closed door to invite the guy, I thought a random act of kindnes is a perfect occasion to learn more about our mysterious resident stranger… Maybe that’s what the adults mean in church when they say you should always be kind to each other.

                #3668
                F LoveF Love
                Participant

                  “Will someone get rid of that old woman with the horrible accent?” hissed Finnley, ungraciously.

                  “What on earth for? She is doing a splendid job. I must say though, Finnley, just as a side note, it is good to hear you sounding more like your normal ungracious self.”

                  “I found dust,” muttered Finnley, glaring accusingly at Haki.

                  Elizabeth look unaccustomedly thoughtful. “Do you think you need a break, Finnley dearest? You really must be exhausted after all the splendid proof reading you have been doing for me this year. Why don’t you go home for a while, on full pay of course.”

                  Finnley burst into tears. “Where is my home though?” she snuffled. ”I am not good with descriptive details. I just found myself in this stupid story doing your stupid cleaning. And now I have a Bulgarian sister, to boot. And,” she looked witheringly at Elizabeth, “ proofreading is one word”

                  “Crikey, matey,” said Norbert patting her awkwardly on the shoulder. “Christmas is a killer, in’t? Family coming out of the woodwork like blimmin worms. Keep ya chin up though, eh. Ya can’t be letting things get to ya like this. Ya wouldn’t be able to carry on like this if ya were in bloody China ya know. Like bloody robots they are there. I don’t think they know the meaning of the word feelings over there.” He shook his head in wonder at their philistinism.

                  “And ya right about that one,” he added quietly, with a conspiratorial raised eyebrow and a slight nod of his head towards Haki.

                  Elizabeth leapt up and rushed to the bookshelf. “I know what you need! some Lemon Juice! I will pick one at random; they are all absolutely superb.” She opened the very small book and closing her eyes stabbed the page dramatically with her finger.

                  ”Let’s not be overachieving fucks.”

                  “Wow,” she mouthed, awestruck. After taking a moment to recover herself, she looked sympathetically at Finnley.

                  “The oracle has done it again. Do you hear that Finnley? You are an overachieving fuck.”

                  Finnley rolled her eyes.

                  #3661
                  F LoveF Love
                  Participant

                    “Oh-my-god-oh-my-god-oh-my-god-oh-my-god-oh-my-god-oh-my-god-oh-my-god-oh-my-god,” mumbled Finnley, head in hands and rocking strangely.

                    Elizabeth was startled by this strange behaviour from the normally quiescent Finnley.

                    “What on earth is wrong with you?” she asked irritably.

                    Finnley raised her head from her hands and regarded Elizabeth with tired, bloodshot eyes.

                    “What’s wrong with me?” she snarled. “I will tell you what is wrong with me. All these fucking batshit crazy characters making mess and expecting conversation is what is wrong with me. What’s going on? It’s not fucking Christmas is it?”

                    #3658
                    F LoveF Love
                    Participant

                      ”Don’t worry, Lady Elizabeth, Your Royal High Goddess, you go and take an aspirin. I will keep an eye on him for you,” smirked Finnley.

                      #3641
                      F LoveF Love
                      Participant

                        ”What exactly are you still doing here, Finnley? I have Haki to do the cleaning and look after the baby and Sonia. And what a beautiful job she does too. Without any unnecessary complaining,” Elizabeth added pointedly.

                        Finnley rolled her eyes. “And I suppose you expect her to do your proofreading as well?

                        “Oh yes,” Elizabeth conceded gratefully, always amazed at Finnley’s perspicacity.

                        ”By the way,” said Finnley, ”I know you miss Godfrey but you might want to stop with all the comfort eating. Your bum is starting to look obese.”

                        #3640
                        Jib
                        Participant

                          Liz went to the patio followed by her rat poodle who was wearing a pink adidas jacket matching perfectly with Liz’ pink rabbit sleepers.
                          “Oh gosh, I forgot the little dirty thing”, she said rolling eyes.
                          Sonia, that was the dog’s name, barked like only rat poodles know how to bark, with a classy snappy high pitched tone.

                          #3635
                          TracyTracy
                          Participant

                            Aunt Idle:

                            Trying to get a conversation out of Bert was like trying to prise a can of beans open with a nappy pin. If he’d been a bit more willing to discuss it with me I might have told him about the note, but I didn’t. I suppose he was disgruntled because I was more interested in that medical team buying up ghost towns than his bridge, so we sat in silence for the rest of the trip. Not that I wasn’t interested in the place on the other side of the river, but there was something very odd going on, and I couldn’t put my finger on it. That note, made from old maps at the Brundy place, then Flora’s card with the same name on ~ what the dickens was going on? Should I ask Flora point blank, or would that alert her that I was on to her? Might be better to be more subtle, see what I could find out before confronting her. I even thought of getting the remote view team to see if they could find anything out ~ although the results were so sketchy that might just be a wild goose chase, lead me off in the wrong direction.

                            “Take the next left, Idle, down this here track,” Bert said.

                            Miles away I was, so I didn’t hear him at first and had to slam the brakes on a bit sharpish. I caught Bert rolling his eyes at me and glared at him.

                            The track hadn’t been driven on for months, if not years ~ that much was obvious. We bumped along kicking up a cloud of dust for a few miles before the river came into sight, then the track followed the river for another half a mile or so, eventually petering out.

                            “We’ll have to walk from here,” said Bert, getting out of the car. I passed Bert the rucksack with the bottled water and locked the car. “You don’t need to lock the car here” Bert snorted.

                            “Habit,” I snapped, “Lead the way.”

                            #3628
                            Jib
                            Participant

                              The doorbell chimed. Liz had a chill streaming through her spine. As nobody was moving, still as a crane in a Japanese sumi-e.
                              “Finnley, ma fille, open the door.”
                              The old maid mumbled something in Maori, rolling her eyes, and sticking her tongue out à la haka. She didn’t need tattoos with all her wrinkles.
                              “It’s a baby madam.”
                              “What do you mean a baby ?”
                              “A newborn, I think the storks brought it at our door, it’s covered in guano”.

                              #3619

                              In reply to: The Hosts of Mars

                              F LoveF Love
                              Participant

                                ”Here’s one for you!” cackled Mother Shirley. She was in a great mood now her headpiece fitted so comfortably. Finley 21 was going to be very useful. ”Knock knock”

                                Finnley 21 rolled her eyes again.

                                ”Who’s there?”

                                ”Shirley.”

                                ”Shirley who?”

                                ”Shirley you must know. You’re a computer!”

                                Mother Shirley broke into guffaws of raucous laughter.

                                That wasn’t the slightest bit amusing. The voice in her head sounded very stern.

                                #3618

                                Aunt Idle:

                                Bert came with me. Usually one of us always stayed home to keep an eye on Mater and the kids, but now we had that capable girl, Finly, to keep an eye on things.

                                It was good to get away from the place for a few hours, and head off on a different route to the usual shopping and errand trips. The nearest sizable town was in the opposite direction; it was years since I’d been to Ninetown. I asked Bert about the place on the other side of the river, what was it that intrigued him so. I’ll be honest, I wondered if he was losing his marbles when he said it was the medieval ruins over there.

                                “Don’t be daft, Bert, how can there be medieval ruins over there?” I asked.

                                “I didn’t say they were medieval, Idle, I said that’s what they looked like,” he replied.

                                “But …but history, Bert! There’s no history here of medieval towns! Who could have built it?”

                                “That’s why I found it so fucking interesting, but if it doesn’t fit the picture, nobody wants to hear anything about it!”

                                “Well I’m interested Bert. Yes, yes, I know I wasn’t interested before, but I am now.”

                                Bert grunted and lit a cigarette.

                                ~~~

                                We stopped at a roadside restaurant just outside Ninetown for lunch. The midday heat was enervating, but inside the restaurant was a pleasant few degrees cooler. Bert wasn’t one for small talk, so I picked up a local paper to peruse while I ate my sandwich and Bert tucked into a greasy heap of chips and meat. I flicked through it without much interest in the mundane goings on of the town, that is, until I saw those names: Tattler, Trout and Trueman.

                                It was an article about a ghost town on the other side of Ninetown that had been bought up by a consortium of doctors. Apparently they’d acquired it for pennies as it had been completely deserted for decades, with the intention of developing it into an exclusive clinic.

                                “There’s something fishy about that!” I exclaimed, a bit too loudly. Several of the locals turned to look at me. I lowered my voice, not wanting to attract any more attention while I tried to make sense of it.

                                “Read this!” I passed the paper over the Bert.

                                “So what?” he asked. “Who cares?”

                                “Look!” I said, jabbing my finger on the names Tattler, Trout and Trueman. Bert looked puzzled, understandably enough. “Allow me to explain” I said, and I told him about the business card that Flora had left on the porch table.

                                “What does Flora have to do with this consortium of doctors? And what the hell is the point in setting up a clinic there, in the middle of nowhere?”

                                “That,” I replied, “Is the question!”

                                #3617

                                In reply to: The Hosts of Mars

                                ÉricÉric
                                Keymaster

                                  Being a distinguished host, Mother Shirley had been assigned one of the Finnleys bodies, the one with the number 21 plastered on its forehead.
                                  “Twinnie,” she called in her croak of a voice “do the thing!”

                                  Finnley 21 rolled her eyes to connect to her inner source, which was the main computer board, and a stream of random words started to flow down like colander water:

                                  half leading usually jack gave legs secret stick
                                  light plan fell yourself elizabeth sometimes child
                                  downson recovery management karmalott surprise early

                                  Shirley clapped her hands gleefully like a child. “How wonderful Twinnie, you’re my personal Oracle, the words of the Mighty Goddess of War have never felt so close and special to me.”
                                  Mother Shirley looked undisturbed by the lack of response from the cybernetic body, and went on “Now, will you, help me adjust this headpiece, it chafes at the temples.”

                                  #3613
                                  F LoveF Love
                                  Participant

                                    “By the way, how DO you spell your name? Is it Finnley with one “n” or two?”

                                    “Either way is fine by me”, grunted Finnley, rolling her eyes.

                                    #3611
                                    TracyTracy
                                    Participant

                                      “Finnley, I do hope you realize the extent of my kindness and patience with you. I hope you appreciate it. Not only should you be cleaning, which I have generously turned a blind eye to while you read cheap tuppeny scandals, but you badger me to keep busy while you are relaxing on full pay!”

                                      But Finnley was engrossed in her tawdry novel again, and didn’t hear her.

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