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  • #3295

    “Wait, wait!”
    When Jonbert in his crab suit arrived on the spot, most of the life had deserted the place to go for a half-brain peaceful sleep, except a few remaining inebriated whales making some more ambergris gyrating around the fading crystal. At times, the hologram could still be faintly perceived.

    “It’s so unfair, I’ve invested so much in this quest to see it fail now and have other reap the reward! I have a question, answer me!”

    The St Germain hologram seemed roused by the word question, if not by the emotional request.

    “A question… Mmm, sounds tempting, I didn’t really get a good question in ages, not to be rude with the previous ones, but well…” he shrugged.
    “Alright, alright, a few questions but be quick with it, I’m nearly done packing my data to transcend to Peasland.”

    Despite the draw to ask more about Peasland, Jonbert was steadfast in his resolve and asked the question that had been on mind rehearsed many a time, hopeful for a mind-blowing answer.

    “Life everlasting is at hand; all I need is to refine enough gold to go through time…”
    “Oh, or simply a bit of gugleshopping would do”
    “What?”
    “Nevermind, must be a data interference”
    “How do I manage that? Can you teach me transmutation?”
    “Well, sure I can, it probably would help, actually I just did it again right here about half an hour ago.”
    “Where is the gold? Where is it?”
    “It’s in the heart, that’s where true transmutation works. Maybe you should listen to some music, I hear a hit song is on its way.”

    Jonbert had the vague feeling he was being mocked, if not by Saint Germain, by fate or worse, his own attempts at a futile quest.

    “But seriously, endings are not so bad you know” the hologram went on “sometimes some experiences are like being trapped in a crystal. I was trapped in a crystal, in a previous life, a long time ago you know… But I digress… You see, new life sparks new creativity. I suggest you make peace with your life and go on with the rest of it, otherwise you’ll find out you have missed it completely. No amount of fountain of youth is going to make you feel better, not in this state. But the reverse is true, the more you will enjoy and inhabit your present, the longer you will live, without even ageing.”

    It surely wasn’t an answer he was expecting. Nobody would have dared give him such answer.

    “Take it as you are not dead yet, this capacity to be surprised is a great feeling… Now I must bid you farewell my friend. You had indeed some great questions…”

    “Wait!” the unexpected words had stirred him somehow and Jonbert had a sudden idea “Tell me a bit more about this Peasland place,… are they in need of a person in a place of authority? Can I come along?”

    “I don’t see why not. Let me recalibrate that crystal, and we’ll be there in a minute.”

    And with a flash of light, the hologram and the crab-man disappeared to the relief of Belen who was monitoring the scene with interest mixed with concern.

    “That was unexpected. And bloody hell, I’m dead. Those humans know nothing.
    Well, look at the Now, it’s high time I go back to Peter, he and the kids must be worried green sick…”

    #3173
    TracyTracy
    Participant

      Boris, Ivan and Igor were too busy with the stage props and costumes to notice that the actors had been mesmerized in the chapel. Not only were they busy with the practical affairs of the behind the scenes activities of the theatre, but they were preoccupied with their secret mission, unbeknown to the rest of the theatre production team.

      #3042
      F LoveF Love
      Participant

        I am going to write with my left hand said tina joyously but you can’t said becky, not when you are typing. yes i can said tina all i have to do is imagine i am writing with my left hand and that is all i need to do and fairies and dandelions will take care of the rest of the garbage that comes out of my mouth as i breathe in light and then i breathe out grey plonkety plonkey plonk. you have to be brave and not worry about the garbage collectors who will frown at you for spewing out all the nasty words that come out when the light needs to find more room. but i am brave, as a general rule. i think.

        #2983
        Jib
        Participant

          Aqua Luna’s duster was stuck in Cornella’s keyboard. She was still struggling to free it without paying too much attention to the screen. The red symbols blinking on the maps would have confused her, she would not have understood their meaning or the significance of the buttons she inadvertently pushed in her struggle. She has grown in the countryside, at a time where there was no internet available. She barely used her Oopia telepooh her daughter offered her a few years ago. The truth was she didn’t know how to take the call, even after her son in-law, showed her. Richard, that was his name. “He got the face’s name” she thought imagining the rag was a hair in his nose.

          “I got it!” she exulted, pushing unknowingly the key combination to lock the session again. She returned the keyboard to its former position just as Cornella arrived.
          “Oh! Thank you Aqua, you’re such a sweetie.”
          The cleaning lady who didn’t really understood English put on her talk-to-my-hand smile. And left the room. She would clean the other desks later, she needed a break.

          Cornella’s voice stormed out.
          “What the heck! There has been a breach in the artifact chamber!”
          But Aqua Luna wasn’t paying attention, it was like French to her. She was rather wishing she could taking one of those red limo to go back to her place. The Chicks always used them to go everywhere, but Aqua had to take the public transportation system. That wasn’t fair.

          She sneaked into the garage, not aware of the camera system or the alarm system. Tony, one of the chauffeurs was there.

          #2949

          In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

          TracyTracy
          Participant

            open inside, turned green ~ making work away next face.
            busy under odd baltazar fairy…

            #2870

            In reply to: Tales of Tw’Elves

            ÉricÉric
            Keymaster

              The world didn’t end that day.
              But maybe it should have, or at least the endless list of senseless rules, silly obligations, half-compromises and clever-yet-too-often-outdone-by-stupidity ploys to defeat them.
              Stuck in the middle of his twelfth failed attempt at booking a flight for the Land of the Long Cloud, he found himself dreaming of buying… well, no— buying was sorely overrated nowadays. With all the rules on how you could or could not spend your money, he’d found it impossibly difficult to buy his friend the new camera of his dreams.
              So, let’s dream of building something instead: a dream submersible airborne trailer, or maybe just a flying house with giant wheels, to soar above the pettiness of this world, and to go unfettered wherever fancy called.
              He knew why the shark tank in the department store had exploded last week, killing only the sharks and turtles. It probably wasn’t being boxed, as much as being forced to look everyday at the headless consumers that killed the creatures. Whatever the reason might have been, in all fairness, they’d managed to boldly go beyond the end of their world.

              #2085

              In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

              TracyTracy
              Participant

                feeling alone blithe keep help fairy hands

                :creating_magic:

                #2794
                ÉricÉric
                Keymaster

                  (#235)
                  Well I think for you, said a green creature, to Roselyn. The creature had been there as some sort of exotic plant. I am Frowdup an unusual little Fairy Princess, rather antisocial, sadly.
                  Frowdup cleared his significant sort of way. I will try sad succinct and precise possible, he said.
                  Fairy Princess initiate a witch to magical design the cave with sand. You fly.

                  The creature had stopped Frowdup.

                  #2726

                  In reply to: Strings of Nines

                  ÉricÉric
                  Keymaster

                    “Hem, well…” Vincentius said after a moment, not wanting to upset Arona too much “I just though you’d blend in more stealthily with that bikini, look at that naked green fairy over there, she’s far more outrageous…”

                    “What, darling?” Arona couldn’t make sense of what Vincentius was saying; “are you suggesting this unfit piece of garment is not a figment of my imagination? And pray tell, how could I’ve even got myself into that without noticing?”

                    “I’m afraid you’re unmistakably regaining your acute sense of analysis and continuity honey. As far as the clothes change is concerned, be reassured, I’ve been trained to do many things in my life, such as extracting a wisdom horn off a charging rhinope in pain, so when it comes to matters of bikini, I could have done it twice without even looking.”
                    Needless to say, Arona was aghast at such blunt honesty.

                    #2706

                    In reply to: Strings of Nines

                    ÉricÉric
                    Keymaster

                      “Oh silly me” Winky started to object (again), “I’m all nakie (and boobies), with a snail on me.”
                      Then, she bit her lips, “I didn’t even know I had that much shyness and prudishness in me, lordy. I used to be much more daring.”

                      She took a big inspiration, and channeling her inner fairy essence, started to shout out “champagne, champagne for everyone!”, casting an odd look at poor Shelly Dwelling with a eye moistened by sudden desire for some butter parsley garlic sauce to accompany the impromptu buffet she clapped into manifestation, with bowler hats included for all the guests.

                      #2701

                      In reply to: Strings of Nines

                      F LoveF Love
                      Participant

                        Suddenly the green fairy burst into tears. Yikesy wondered what to do however continued to smile in the meantime. A crying green fairy was unlike anything he had encountered before.

                        When the snail rolled her eyes Yikesy felt close to tears himself. It reminded him so vividly of Arona, who was taking such a very long time to rescue him.

                        “Last one to the emporium buys us all bowler hats!” shouted Minky, hoping to revive the morale of his motley tour group.

                        “I don’t want to go the emporium and I am not crying!” exclaimed the green fairy indignantly. “I have some bowler hat fiber caught in my eye”.

                        “I believe Mr Jib’s emporium is currently closed anyway,” interjected the parrot wisely. “I follow Mr Jib on Flitter and it seems he is part of a consortium currently cavorting in a secret destination which begins with the letter W and ends in the letter N and has 35 letters in between.”

                        “I am confused,” said the lost and confused Yikesy. “Are Mr Minky and the green fairy one and the same?”

                        “Hahahahahahahahaha” laughed Shelly, surprisingly loudly for a snail. “We are all confused! None of it makes sense so why bother trying. What good is sense anyway? Would you like them to be one and the same?”

                        “I don’t have an opinion either way really on that one” retorted Yikesy. “I suppose the less names I have to remember the better. What I would really like is a glass of pineapple juice and a dish of black truffles.”

                        #2697

                        In reply to: Strings of Nines

                        TracyTracy
                        Participant

                          “I’ll catch you up in a minute” said the green fairy, in between mouthfuls of bowler hat. “I’ve nearly finished. Pass me that can of Guinness will you, this hat’s awfully dry.”

                          #2815

                          In reply to: Snowflakes of Tens

                          TracyTracy
                          Participant

                            There was no place like home, notwithstanding that home could be considered to be anywhere at all. Home in this case was Blithe’s patio one balmy September evening. Citronella candles flickered on the table, and coloured fairy lights strobed in strings along the facade of the house. A rosy glow emanated from the bedroom window and Blithe took a snapshot, noticing later the fly screen visible, overlayed onto the bedroom scene. Not only was the view of the bedroom limited by the width of the camera lens, it was also limited in the sense that the wire screen was obscuring almost half of what would have been visible if the photograph had been taken from the other side of the screen, or, with no screen at all in between the lens and the view of the room. However, despite having such a partial view of the whole, the remainder that was viewable was still identifiable as a bedroom.

                            Blithe wasn’t about to remove the screen however, because it was doing its job of screening, or filtering out, the unwanted insects. That wasn’t to say that she was denying the existance of those insects, or that they weren’t welcome on the other side of the screen, just that she was selectively screening the unwanted items from a particular scene. If, for example, the room was full of insects, Blithe might have been preoccupied with them, to the exclusion of whatever else she might have preferred to focus on within the bedroom. Out on the patio, however, the insects were, if not always entirely welcome, appreciated. The praying mantis and the dragonfly were welcome, and the butterflies and moths were always welcome, because Blithe had associated the energy of those insects with familiar welcome energies. The wasps, flies and ants were not translated in the same way, but were appreciated for entirely different reasons, being an aid to exploring such issues as irritation (and occasionally, pain). Blithe had to admit that despite the praying mantis and dragonfly being welcome, it would not be true to say that they were welcome in the bedroom, however.

                            There had been times when Blithe wished that the whole patio was enclosed in screens, but the trouble with screens was that they tended to filter out everything of a certain size, although perhaps that was more a beleif about physical screens than anything else. Was it possible to filter out flies and wasps, but allow dragnflies and butterflies? Possible surely, she thought, but perhaps not with physical wire screen devices and associated beleifs.

                            A few days previously Blithe had cleaned the mesh filter on her kitchen tap, unrestricting the flow. Coincidentally, her friend had also had a tap mesh restricted flow incident, and had removed the mesh filter altogether. Another friend had removed a window screen for cleaning, and had chosen not to replace it, as she was appreciating the allowance of much more light. And then another friend had mentioned a dream, of dragonflies under a screen that was covering a pool. She had lifted the screen in the dream, to allow the dragonflies to escape, and yet some of the dragonflies chose to stay under the screen.

                            Intrigued with the words screen and mesh, which meant the same thing in one respect, but not in others, Blithe investigated the definitions. To screen could be to filter out the unwanted, but to mesh was to weave together. But were they so different, really? A screen was also a blank place on which to project images ~ meshed and woven selectively screened and filtered images, perhaps.

                            {link ~ weaving}

                            #2694

                            In reply to: Strings of Nines

                            TracyTracy
                            Participant

                              “Of course I’m a real green fairy” replied the green fairy with a scowl. “And if you’re not Alfred Jarry I’ll eat my bowler hat”

                              #2693

                              In reply to: Strings of Nines

                              ÉricÉric
                              Keymaster

                                Mandrake had been on Yikes’ trail for what seemed to be like ages, closely followed by Arona, the silly dragon and that demigod Arona seemed to have grown so fond of.

                                As they were walking, flying and hopping further North, they had passed the Forest of Endless Desolation, just through the Isthmus of Ghört’s Hammer where the whaling laments of the lamanatees were luring the careless travellers in pits of dark despair, only for them to sink in cores of boiling lava if they strayed too far away from the darken wizened old sticks that once had been luxuriant trees.

                                Mandrake would have made a meal of the dreaded lamanatees, but Arona had thought safer for them to plug their ears with candle wax and invoke their Mother guidance to help in their quest to find the lost boy. Little had she thought of the pain it would be to scrap it off his catly ears without turning wax into furballs, and his ears into a prickly mess.
                                These minor troubles apart, they had gone through Arona’s homeland, the pretty Golfindely, which was only a soft consolation before they got to the far ends of it, where land, water and ice meld and become one. It was the threshold, the passageway to the homeland of the dragons, where only Sorcerers and their likes were known to have been and returned.

                                It was there that the sabulmantium had hinted Yikes would been found.

                                :fleuron:

                                When Minky came finally back to the High Priestess of the Pendulous and Loose Otherworldly Threading —aka Messmeerah (Winky) Maymhe—, Messmeerah was taking a dip into the Rejuvenation Pool. Her last vials of bleufrüsh blood had been all drunk, and she was starting to get all sagging after mere hours out of the icy waters.

                                She welcomed with a large smile, the sack Minky was carrying as a treasure, where Yikes was calmly waiting.
                                “Thank you Miny” she said, throwing some ashes to the minion who, in a puff, instantaneously transformed into a large redhair rat, which disappeared behind Messmee’s luscious green hair.

                                “There, there, there, look what we got…” she finally said ominously to the boy who was considering the naked green evil fairy in front of him with a rather interested and mildly amused glance. “Don’t you have anything to say?” she said, raising an eyebrow, maybe slightly disappointed at the lack of frightened reaction.

                                “Oh, looks like you’re a genuine green fairy, “ he said staring at her with a smile.

                                #2806

                                In reply to: Snowflakes of Tens

                                ÉricÉric
                                Keymaster

                                  The leaves were dry. They’d started to change to a brownish hue at the tip, then rapidly withered. They’d hoped it wouldn’t affect the whole crop, and when the first tea bush went down, they quickly uprooted it, for fear it would spread to the whole hill.
                                  But despite their best efforts, the tea bushes went down, one by one, as though engulfed by a deadly plague. He and she were worried for their next year income, as their tea field was their main source of revenue. The highlands had always been favourable to them, and it seemed such an unlikely and truly unfair event given that the beginning of the year had brought an unexpected bounty of huge tea leaves.
                                  What had happened? He was quite the pragmatic about it: disease, pests, too much sun, over-watering, over-pruning… nothing extending outside the visible, the measurable. She was the mystical: core beliefs, did she worry too much about that sudden wealth and made it disappear, the evil eye, greed and covetousness, celestial punishment.

                                  It never occurred to her she could reverse it as easily once she understood what it was all about.
                                  Well, she almost started to get an inkling of that thinking about warts. How efficiently she got those growths when she was so troubled about them, and how they all disappeared when she forgot about them. How not to think about something that’s already in your head? In that case, distraction never worked; it was a rubber band that would be stretched then snapped back at the initial core issue.
                                  Snap back at yourself.
                                  >STOP< – She stopped. Time to read that telegram delivered to oneself.
                                  Everything still, for a moment. Dashed.
                                  She started to look around.
                                  The air was still, hot and full of expectation.
                                  Almost twinkling in potentials.
                                  Like a providential blank page, in the middle of a heap of administrative papers full of uninteresting chatty figures.
                                  The pages are put aside, only the blank page is here.
                                  She can start to populate it with colours, sounds and life, anytime. Lavender maybe. Soon.
                                  But not yet now.
                                  She wants to breathe in the calmness, the comfort of the silence. Even the crickets seem to be far away.
                                  She was alone, and impoverished…
                                  She is alone, and empowered, … in power.

                                  [link:leaves]

                                  #2463

                                  Meanwhile, Landelin was perfecting his blubbit duct-tape traps.

                                  Landelin was a quite reclusive man, some Peaslanders considered him even a bit mentally challenged with a reputation for having teafing as a secondary hobby. Yes, secondary. Before teafing, came duct tape ; duct tape always came first.
                                  Landelin had been fond of duct tape since he was a kid, since he’d glued his first nanny to the cellar door and then went off buying more duct tape at the local grocery store with the money he’d teafed from her. Teafing always came second.

                                  Plagued as all Peaslanders with blubbits, he’d reasoned, quite reasonably for someone as mentally challenged as him, that blubbits were like worries and warts (and he knew quite a bit about the former and the latter), and none could stand a chance if administered the right amount of duct tape. By right amount, he meant, as much as needed to cover them in silver linings and eventually, maybe erradicate them —but that was a bit besides the point anyway.

                                  Pity there wasn’t more than a few blue pelts’ hair to teaf from a blubbit, he thought quite reasonably again, as his last prototrap worked like a charm and had a few blubbits suffocating under a fair amount of stickiness.

                                  Well, from blubbits, perhaps not so much, but from Peaslanders waiting for naught but a savior, maybe… After all the other treatments have failed, they surely would turn, as they all do, willingly or forcibly, to the raw power of taping.

                                  #2394

                                  The poor Peaslanders were utterly disoriented by the blatant lack of sense in the Eighth Dimension. It was such a blessing they had for most of them already lost their head, kept safe by a dear member of the family.

                                  Once in front of them, the glowing figure uttered ominously:

                                  “opened everyone eye ball,
                                  Worserversity nonsense portal deep
                                  sheila Elizabeth bird gone surprise
                                  come speak thread
                                  face cat Godfrey later create”

                                  And then the figure disappeared in a fit of oink oink’s.

                                  “I think it’s her shoes that make the strange sucking sounds in the mud” aptly remarked little Pickel.
                                  “How come you know it was a ‘her’, it could have been a cloud as far as I know…” retorted Autie Toot who never got a chance to get a good look, with her head upside down in her arms.

                                  “Silence!” ordered Pee Stoll more raucously than he had wished to “We need to concentrate! This riddle may be the clue to the plague of blubbits, can’t you see?!”
                                  “Well… It’s not that easy, you know” Auntie Looh objected sheepishly, while still struggling with her garments as well as with her head.

                                  “I think it’s fairly simple” ventured S’illy (whom nobody ever listened to, probably owing to her tender age as well as her melodious voice) “We got to find the Worseversity, they probably have worked on a cure; our contacts there will be a sheila called Elizabeth… and a Godfrey will provide a cat to eat the bird and put us back to our dimension…”

                                  “Darn riddle!” sweared Pee furiously who hadn’t paid any attention “It’s probably just another bunch of nonsense!”
                                  “I guess we’ll just go anywhere then!” merrily suggested the Aunts each going in opposite directions while the bird rolled its eyes.

                                  #2369

                                  “And how do I play these notes?” asked Pee raucously. “I can’t even see them without my head.”

                                  “Mmmh! Yes that could be a problem” acquiesced Fwick. The saucerer scratched his chin for a few seconds as he couldn’t remember where he had put that ancient device.

                                  “Well maybe I could just send you to the bird keeper, and he can give you one of our last Anthornis Melanura…”
                                  “I beg your pardon?” Pee’s voice was more raucous than ever, it was quite disturbing to the saucerer who wasn’t used to talking with a headless Peaman, but he couldn’t show his discomfort though, as he thought of it, the headless Peaman was also eyeless and couldn’t see his discomfort.
                                  “Hum! This is the ancient name of the legendary Bul Bird of New Peasland. Mewrich Peamon, the bird keeper, his family has been breeding these birds since the great Peaphetess Frean Psea found these notes some millenia ago; they are the only ones which can open the ED. Any other sequence of notes would… well we don’t know exactly what could occur. You’re on your own on this one, Pee. ehr, I’m sorry, ehh, But be assured that I’ll take care of Peanelope for you.”

                                  “Oh! You’re too kind, Saucerer” said Pee who couldn’t have known that his faithful wife and the Saucerer were having an affair.

                                  A sudden cry from Lilly startled them both. She had burst into tears and her brother was looking like a culprit. But Fwick wasn’t sure as he hadn’t got a head either…

                                  “What have you done, Pickel?” asked Pee with his raucous voice.

                                  #2780
                                  TracyTracy
                                  Participant

                                    Margaret reckoned she’d made a rather amusing essence, whose vibrational tone translated as the name Pigoosus. A dirty park littered with pigeons droppings had been so full that she had barely noticed the “ubiquitously absent” Finnley

                                    The inspiration to take a break from that strange coollage of magpies was full of surprises, indeed still in fairy land, apparently with some invisible being that she was considering working with. Hesitant at publishing her book, Finnley swore out loud at that Mr Arak, forcing her to work with Al.

                                    Finnley was still wondering who this Al was. Perhaps he had a damn good coontract.

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