Search Results for 'flove'

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  • #3450
    AvatarJib
    Participant

      Accounts of the Journey to the Lower Realm

      Eric
      I was at a steppe first, like I was meditating in the desert, then went through a forest entrance, and stayed under a tree. There were lots of sounds and animals life, flapping wings sounds, deers, ants, but the most vivid presence was that of snake, and I was a bit suspicious, but it came back very gently, inviting, and after I recognized it, it made me journey, travelling like a dragon or feathered multicolored snake to an ancient place.
      The snake analogy with shedding old skin comes to mind, after accepting it, it makes a lot of sense.
      I saw green and purple at times.
      I felt a horse too but it was just a hooves’ sound.

      Flove
      I went through the entrance to a cave. I asked my power animal to come. An ancient tortoise came up to me. I asked if this was my power animal but i felt such love for the tortoise that i felt that was my answer. We explored energetically what the tortoise wisdom i need is. I put my hand around the tortoise neck and we swam in the water.
      I wanted to cry, I loved the tortoise energy so much. And the protection of the tortoise shell.
      I saw a snake.
      The horse was the first animal I felt, right as I went in the entrance. I stroked the horse as i went by.
      I saw a unicorn too, [and ]was surprised by the unicorn.
      I didn’t sense many creatures. just the horse, the snake and the unicorn.

      Jib
      First I saw little white skulls, whistling like the shells of the guy in the video.
      Then I become my shaman self and I have my magic cape. I find the entrance [to the lower realm,] which was kind of difficult at first as if there was some distracting energy.
      I finally enter the lower realm and find my horse right away, he’s very excited and I ride with him for some time, just for the pleasure of being with an old friend.
      Then I ask him to lead me to Abalone and show me whatever is interesting.
      He leads me to see an old shaman, man or woman I don’t know.
      The shaman makes me sit in his room and offers me tea, then tells me to relax and wait.
      So I relax and I begin to project to Abalone as the Giant beanstalk, I begin to grow and grow and grow and have the city built on top of me. I am the whole island.
      I have the impression that the beanstalk is in the center of Gazalbion or very close to it
      Then I come back to the place and have the impression the Shaman wants to delay me, so I say thanks and ask my horse to show me the rest.
      We go the the old Temple and I feel that there is something special there, once again he tells me to relax and just allow not look for things.
      So I wait and feel that the time and space is weird that it flows around the stones in a particular way, like when you follow a certain path or corridor, you may go forward in time and another way lead you back in time. If you take a wrong turn you can end up in a loop.
      Then the signal for the return begins, so I go back from where I come from and thank my horse.
      It was cool and fun to be there again.
      I projected at some point to check if everyone was ok, and felt like it was fine.
      I saw a unicorn too.

      Tracy
      That was interesting, about half way through a zebra started follwing me, well on my right. I saw all kinds of animals, but they were all doing their own thing or turned away, except for the zebra, until the change of tempo and then I was swept up in a flock of cranes I think (or herons or storks but I think cranes), but then the zebra was waiting at the top. I could feel his warm muzzle sort of on my right shoulder.
      First was a field full of unicorns on the left but they were just grazing, then a bison head who turned away, then the group of deer I thought, but the zebra walked over to me grazing. Me and the zebra waited for goats to cross our path.
      The feeling of being in amongst the cranes was amazing and the zebra fell back while that was happening, but then at the end he was waiting.
      I was surprised by the unicorns cos I don’t even think about them usually.
      There were lizards sucttlign around under the cranes.
      A couple of times I strongly saw purple and green, and thought of Jib.<i> not really ask [the zebra if he was the power animal] in words, but his presence calmly walking beside me with the feeling of his muzzle on my shoulder was comforting.
      When the cranes distracted me from him he fell back, but he was waiting at the top.
      The cranes feeling was marvelous, really, they were all flapping gracefully all around me on the ascent. So cranes and zebra stand out the most.
      [At some point] I started going down old stone steps, at first me and FP were kids holding hands, with jib and eric behind us, then I thought, wait, I’m supposed to be doing this alone.
      The unicorns in the very beginning were in a castle courtyard type place but they ignored me.
      Then a bison head who turned away these were in niches in the stone walls
      I ended up in a stalactites type cave, but there were mostly old old stone steps with stone walls along the sides.
      There was a crowd of people, well a small gathering, towards the bottom, but they were, er, faceless. Innocuous.
      I am quite amazed at how great that was! and how many creatures actually popped up
      and how the feeling was of the zebra and the cranes.
      The zebra was stoic and steadfast and comforting, the cranes were exhilarating and uplifting.</i>

      #3344

      Fanella took Sanso’s advice and sobbed heartily. It released vast misty clouds of yellow and green energy that she had been bottling up during the recent traumatic experiences with teleporting. The coloured mist filled the room and poured out of the open window, tinting the sea mist pea green and bile yellow. Fanella was still hiccuping and blowing her nose when Sanso arrived, displacing the yellow green mist with a gust of orange red, and a foul odour.
      “Excuse me for a moment dear” he gasped, doubled over clutching his abdomen. “One can only cloak a signal for so long before it goes into spasm.”
      Fanella forgot her crying bout at the sight of Sanso on the floor imitating a sagging cow, but was glad she had a tissue handy to cover her nose with when the room suddenly filled with noxious orange gas, expelled with a trumpeting sound equal to the horns of Gabriel.
      AHHHHH” he said, smiling broadly. “I think we should get out of here now.”
      “Yes, let’s!” replied Fanella, trying not to choke.
      “What a relief! I wasn’t feeling my usual self, trying to digest that signal. Now I feel back to my usual stalwart and trustworthy self.”
      “Thank Flove for that!” responded Fanella, also feeling very much better, and ready for the next adventure.

      #3338

      Jack and Lisa sat in dark silence at the kitchen table drinking their coffee, Lisa struggling to recall the dream that had seemed so important, so joyful. Was it something to do with Fanella? But what? Well, maybe there would be some synchronicity later that would remind her, jog her memory.
      “I think I might go for a jog down by the river” said Jack.
      “Suit yourself” replied Lisa waspishly. “How is Igor doing, by the way?” she added, reminded of the poor fellows bee stings.
      “Oh he’s fine, but he’s pretending he isn’t. I think he’s enjoying Mirabelle’s nursing actually. The cucumber treatment seems to have worked, anyway.”
      “And what exactly is that girl doing with a cucumber, in Igor’s bed?”
      “Flove knows, but it’s doing the trick.” As Jack started to push his chair back and get up from the table, a gust of displaced air hit the table with such force it knocked the coffee cups over, and cigarette butts in the ashtray flew across the room.
      “You clumsy oaf, Jack! Steady on!”
      “It wasn’t me! Look!” he exclaimed, pointing up at the ceiling.
      Fanella! What on earth are you doing up there, hanging from that beam!” cried Lisa in astonishment. “And where did you get that unusual map print scarf?”

      #3284
      TracyTracy
      Participant

        Pooh
        – An Original Song
        by Consuela
        I get on with life as a writer,
        I’m a loose kinda person.
        I like basketball on Sundays,
        I like diving in the week.
        I like to contemplate scooter.
        But when I start to daydream,
        My mind turns straight to exercise mat.

        Boom boom shake da boom-boom-boom!

        Do I love exercise mat more than scooter?
        Do I love exercise mat more than scooter?
        I like to use words like ‘pooh,’
        I like to use words like ‘tart.’
        I like to use words about scooter.
        But when I stop my talking,
        My mind turns straight to exercise mat.

        Boom boom shake da boom-boom-boom!

        Do I love exercise mat more than scooter?
        Do I love exercise mat more than scooter?

        I like to hang out with Godfrey,
        I like to kick back with Flove,
        But when left alone,
        My mind turns straight to exercise mat.

        Boom boom shake da boom-boom-boom!

        Do I love exercise mat more than scooter?
        Do I love exercise mat more than scooter?

        I’m not too fond of italian bank,
        I really hate germans,
        But I just think back to exercise mat,
        And I’m happy once again

        Boom boom shake da boom-boom-boom!

        #3282
        F LoveF Love
        Participant

          Livy and Me
          – a suspense novel
          by Flove

          “I’m going to need expensive Italian real estate, big, expensive Italian real estate.”

          He had not known love or loss until he risked losing his brave basket ball player Livvy.

          His contented life is shattered when he learns that the lazy Dead Kennedys plan to bankrupt Livvy and he knows he has to stop them or his heart will die.

          At 40, the Exercise Mat Salesman from Belgium is both delightful and friendly. But will it be enough to protect Livvy?

          He goes to a Basket ball tournament in Hawaii where he acquires some expensive Italian real estate and Scooters. It finally seems that he will be able to stop the Dead Kennedys that wish to bankrupt Livvy.

          However, when Livvy calls, begging him to come home, he is forced to decide what is more important: stopping the lazy Dead Kennedys that bankrupting each other, or preserving his relationship with his basket ball player?

          Flove delivers a brave and poignant story that explores the love between a Exercise Mat Salesman and his basket ball player.

          “Never have there been more chilling villains than lazy Dead Kennedys that bankrupt each other.”
          – The Daily Tale
          “Are we seriously supposed to find a delightful and friendly Exercise Mat Salesman from Belgium heroic?”

          #3215

          So this is 2222, thought Sadie, relaxing back in the warm sand. Not bad so far! I wonder where we are. Further along the beach she could hear the sound of laughter and bickering as the boys and Sanso practised their moves for the upcoming show—the details of which were still under wraps. Linda Paul, now she had sobered up, seemed to have forgotten her strange request for Sadie to take on a drag queen identity. ”Thank Flove!” Sanso, however, with unexpected enthusiasm had taken on the non de plume “Miss Titters” and insisted that he was going to join the 3 divas on stage for their closing number.

          “Miss Titters! A bit childish,” Sadie rolled her eyes, then noticing that it did not feel good to be judgemental, chastised herself. That didn’t feel good either so she chastised herself for chastising herself. Fortunately at that moment a Juicy Lemon came through on her e-zapper interrupting her rampage of chastisement with perfect synchronicity.

          Oh just release that little bird

          ***

          Irina perched on the edge of her antique Rocchetti sofa—a beautiful piece of furniture over 200 years old, made from faux fur and crafted in the shape of a cartoon bull—and looked critically at the hologram of her mermaid outfit rotating in the centre of the room.

          “What do you think, Mr R?”

          ”It is an exquisite piece of design engineering, Ma’am. The organ you see in the chest cavity can operate as a lung or a gill enabling you breathe as a human or to extract oxygen from the water. The circulatory system has been engineered to withstand different water pressures. The skeletal system is light and pliable and designed for speed and agility under the water. The eyes have been designed to ensure you will be able to correctly focus both above and under water. The intricate design of the ears means that you will be able to hear as a human above water or use sonar communication under water.”

          ”Yes, yes, most interesting, Mr R. But do you think my bum looks fat in that tail?”

          ”Not at all, Ma’am. Your figure is beautifully proportioned and the tail only accentuates your womanly curves.”

          ”I think that shade of pink is much better. What do you think, Mr R?”

          ”The carmine pink suits the undertones of your skin most favourably, ma’am. It is preferable to the cerise pink you chose earlier. Although that was an excellent choice too, of course”.

          ”Wonderful! Print it out then, Mr R. And print out your Octopus suit at the same time. I feel an unusual emotion which may even be excitement. Hawaii, here we come”

          #3091
          TracyTracy
          Participant

            Thank Flove for the daily random quote, that was a life saver. The deFørmiñG mirror to the rescue, coming hot on the heels of The Formula: (note the word form appears twice, just like with a mirror, but unlike a mirror reflection, is not an exact replication):
            “The formula for creating your reality is: You project energy. You reflect that projection. And you either react or engage choices in relation to the reflection. Generally speaking, if you are not aware of what you’re doing you project energy, you reflect energy and you react to the reflection. When you are aware of what you are doing you incorporate choice rather than reaction. In this, what you have presented to yourself is a significant step. This is the beginning step in the movement into genuine recognition of your genuine self and in that the beginnings of genuine recognition from genuine self of how you create your reality; therefore the formula. This formula can be called a sort of deFørmiñG mirror…”

            #3082
            F LoveF Love
            Participant

              After leaving the parcel in the capable hands of the Post Office staff (and while she was there remembering to send a cute birthday card with kittens on it to her friend Trove and a note to Jove and Erove saying how nice it was to see them recently) Flove was ready for her next assignment.

              She was stationed in Rotorua and although the exact nature of the assignment had not been explained to her she believed herself to be there in a journalistic capacity. She found herself standing in the ocean with a group of people, strangers, watching a game of rugby. The rugby game was also in the ocean. She had some brief interactions with her companions and had to move away from a rather unpleasant man who was annoying her. After the match, they all walked back to a small town — via the ocean. It was dark and Flove was initially hesitant because she was not a good swimmer, but she felt some security as her companions seemed composed about the journey. The ocean was not as deep as she had anticipated. Even though the water eventually came up to her shoulders, she found she was able to walk the whole distance. At one point she noticed the fins of a shark swim by in the inky darkness of the water, but she regarded it with childish delight, rather than fear.

              #3073
              F LoveF Love
              Participant

                Of course she was keen to visit the “New Stonehenge”, as it was being penned in social media, but first she must sort this damned parcel mix-up. Said parcel was large, flat, wrapped in brown paper and addressed to a Mr or Mrs Chuen. Flove suspected it contained a family photo. Why she was wandering around Hastings with the parcel, or the exact nature of the mix-up, was unclear to her. Let alone something she could explain coherently to anyone else. Yet there she was, waiting in line at the Post Office with this blessed parcel. Her frustration may have made her a tad impatient with the lady who served her. “I am fed up with the Post Office getting things wrong. I am doing this for the good of mankind” she announced fervently.

                #3066
                F LoveF Love
                Participant

                  Dear Tracy

                  Your ramblings are hilarious. i have been reading back on this thread.

                  I have to remember the daily quote because it is a synch. I have been thinking many thoughts lately about setting things free. The image in my mind being setting birds free. Doily is synonymous in my mind with something very funny. I can’t think of doily without thinking of Raven suggesting you were wearing a doily on your head. Where is that photo of you with a doily on your head? I think you should post that again so I can laugh at you.

                  “Finally the answer we need! Let’s release the damn bird and get back home now! Besides its cage needs cleaning and it’s starting to smell, and I can’t stand this place any longer…” Doily couldn’t be stopped.

                  Re: old boot. That is very funny. I really wanted to get rid of the old boot but I had to be true to my vision (I was doing the Seth exercise on inner landscape) so the old boot had to stay. Although I did not associate it with you, of course.

                  yours sincerely,
                  Flove

                  #2739

                  In reply to: Strings of Nines

                  EricEric
                  Keymaster

                    Arona was starting to get cold in the pinkini. She wondered how the lady with the green hair managed to keep warm with so little (not to say as much as nothing) on her skin.
                    She probably had some fuel more lasting than just Nhum.
                    Upon seeing that (not the nakie lady, Flove forbid, but the freezing Arona and the night falling down), chivalrous Vinny and Bucky went to gather some bones and fire to spend the night around a nice bonefire. Just what she needed for a keetle of hot tea.

                    Note from the observing Sue Maffey, who started quickly to get high and delirious on Nhum tea in chippendale cups and mumbled to herself and patient Minky-in-crutches in between a few hiccups: “you knew that a bonfire is actually a fire made of bones, originally said of fires in which the bones of slaughtered animals were burned, allegedly a Gaengelic tradition of the slaughter season in autumn (Samhain, which was soon to come).”
                    She almost gasped wondering where their camelephants had suddenly gone and why that purple reckless dragon suddenly looked satiated.

                    By now, almost everyone else who was there, including (but not only) Mandrake, Yickesy, Winky-nakie-greenie-Messmeerah-with-her-carved-jamón and Mrs Janet had thought the same at least once. That and wondering whether they’d ever get to see that famed Jiborium.
                    So much for cheap package tours.

                    #2651

                    In reply to: Strings of Nines

                    While Malvina had been enjoying the fishy delicacies of Olliburthon, she had gathered again a sense of purpose.
                    “Not quite yet, but working on it…” she snapped at Leörmn, who was always quick to point out what wasn’t quite actualized. “You see, it is merely a matter of concentrating and soon it’ll be. Anyway, the fish is good here; look at those divinely prepared dishes! Leo would have loved them.”

                    Leörmn wasn’t very concerned by the seeming (he almost thought “seaming” in another probability) lack of direction of late errands, as he was well aware they all served a purpose. Oh, he knew that very well indeed, so very well… — but bugger if he could explain what said purpose was. Of course he, like any dragon of his age, could have easily said, if the proper motivation, question or else had prompted him to investigate further. But in its own nature, a dragon wasn’t inquisitive. He was accepting, for all that is before him, is all that is.

                    So when the idea germinated inside Malvina’s head, he already knew it would lead to a manifestation of some form, sooner or later.
                    So how could he have been surprised when she told him.

                    “You could at least play a little surprised!” she said “Doesn’t it sound fun and exciting to have our own Temple of Flove?”
                    “I hope it won’t smell too much of fish, or you may repel your patients…”
                    “Don’t be silly, we can’t be doing that here, you know that much better than I do!”
                    Leörmn cracked a smile, knowing indeed very well where this would all lead.
                    “And I will have a lovely white embroidered gown to officiate” Malvina was unstoppable “with pearls and shiny moonstones…”
                    “Oh, of course, and rubies for the boobies” Leörmn couldn’t really remain serious.
                    “That’s an idea!” Malvina was so enthralled she wasn’t really paying attention. Tomorrow she would bid farewell to Kalliona’s lovely company and Olliburthon charming gastronomy, and set her new journey’s destination to the Land of her ancestors, near the Great Lake of Umphillax, where her journey started, long before she even met her sisters.

                    “Tally-oh!” Leörmn cheered, loving the way magic could make packing and unpacking so easy.

                    #2348

                    Ann was savooring a coughee with Lavender and Phenol. It was certainly not easy to follow a conversation when you were coughing all the time after a sip of coughee but it was quite savoory and tasty, and Flove knows why it was soo expensive.
                    Phenol was one of those students at the worserversity with acne and he or she wouldn’t allow another person to see his or her real face. So maybe for convenience only we can call him or her: IT.
                    It was the only moment you could hear a sound coming out of ITs hood, during thoose coughee sessions it was hard to keep completely silent.
                    Ann was very curious though, and it could be the only reason that she kept asking Phenol to come. She was still in search of clooes about that when a man arrived.

                    He was wearing a black hood and speaking with that particular raucous voice you only hear in movies… She got the chills and asked him to join their company. Lavender rolled her eyes because the man with the raucous voice stepped on her right foot. Not that she suffered much, because she couldn’t feel her right leg since that accident a few years ago.

                    The man ordered a coughee with croombs and stayed there, saying nothing. That was not unpleasant at all, since Ann was chatting and coughing, taking the coughs of the others as a yes or a no to her questions. At least an acknowledgment that she was heard.

                    #2341
                    TracyTracy
                    Participant

                      As far as the Ooh-dimension was concerned, the shift of Vowellness was probably complete

                      “Thank Flove for that!” Ann (or was it Elizabeth?) exclamied. She continued to read the contents of the large manila envelope that had been delivered several weeks late due to the postal strike.

                      “Postal strike?” Gordon (or was it Godfrey?) inquired sarcastically. “Ann ~ or is it Liz? ~ surely you just made that up! Do you need an excuse?”

                      LizAnn chose to ignore her old freind Pig Littleton and continued to read.

                      And she couldn’t find anything new being published by Ms Tattler in all now probable directions she was looking into.

                      LizAnn snorted.

                      She was of course ignoring the disrupted echoes from the Jumbled Eights thread, which were probably the brainstorming board of ideas of the writer, which she had the greatest difficulty to follow (she wondered if even the writer could).

                      Reaching for her handkerchief, LizAnn snorted again. “No the writer bloody can’t follow it” she muttered. “But does it bloody matter!”

                      Her own thread and the details of the history of the Wrick family was always sketchy and full of holes;

                      “Aha Ha Ha Ha”

                      she’d attempted at learning more about the elusive Becky , but she kept blinking in and out of continuity, too quickly for her to follow her anywhere in her explorations

                      “Yes, where the devil IS Becky, Gordfry? or is it Godon?”

                      #102
                      EricEric
                      Keymaster

                        This is a new game: choose from the current random comment, and its following comments, and only deleting some words, sentences, letters, bits here and there… let a different story be written. You have to incorporate at least a few words from each comment you’re passing through. Only one daily entry per writer (reusing another writer’s current random thread is allowed though taking turns is encouraged), so that it keeps weaving a new story. Of course, if you don’t like the rules, you can play in other threads instead. Don’t forget this is the Del’Eight thread, where DEL is key.

                        #1664 Elizabeth was beginning to realize that there WAS no road.
                        Whenever she found herself following another, she didn’t want it.
                        Perhaps it was rough and coarse, plain and functional. Some were together somehow.

                        It really was the most fabulously absorbing babbling,…

                        “How long now?”

                        Yann couldn’t help but laugh. She would choose… some of them are so slippery…

                        SPLASH! warmly as Flove was.

                        #2251

                        AH HA! shouted Harvey, with his distinctive nasal twang. I KNEW it was you really you Heliptrope! This is about W.A.R.P.E.D. and the dreaming fiasco isn’t it!

                        Dreaming fiasco? I can assure you that this is not about any dreaming fiasco. Although I shall be sure to mention this “dreaming fiasco” to the Fellowship upon my return, said Heliptrope, snarkily, feeling a little put out that his cover had been blown so quickly. No this is a message for Lavvie.

                        What is it? Is it about the piglets? I still feel guilty about giving them away.

                        Heliptrope sighed. Quiet both of you. The message is this: “Eau de Nil”

                        What? Eau de Nil? What in the name of Flove is Eau de Nil?

                        Heliptrope smiled mysteriously and took his leave.

                        #2569

                        In reply to: Strings of Nines

                        EricEric
                        Keymaster

                          Largely concealed by his trenchcoat and his large pinhole glasses, peering through the other pinholes he’d made in his copy of that outdated rag of the Old Reality Times newspaper in front of him, Godfrey was spying on Franlise who he could see trotting on the cobblestone pavement at a fast pace —and rather elegantly for a cleanlady, he should add.
                          She was wearing a pair of posh fishnet stockings which would on occasion raise a few whistles from the bystanders. All of which was making his staying incognito rather impracticable.

                          Maybe she had detected something, but suddenly as well as inexplicably, she altered her course to dive into a dark alley on the side of a tall building. From there, she seemed to have vanished. She was certainly inside that building… all of this was getting suspicious and suspiciouser.

                          Godfrey decided to wait patiently for an hour or so. After all, the autumn breeze of Hoowkes Bay was doing good to his flooh. He ordered a coughee latte at the terrace of a nearby café, throwing occasionally a few side glances in case the mysterious inner-lovely cleanlady would suddenly reappear. He was quite enjoying being here, taking a break from Ann’s often incoherent streams of thoughts his flooh was giving him a hard time to piece together. He’d been better at that than he was now, he was the first to admit.
                          Now, he wondered, why was he continuously attracting such extravagant authors such as Elizabeth and Ann. Perhaps he loved the thrill posed to him by the labyrinthine tendrils of imagination these two had the curious ability to spread afar and entangle beyond hope… Or perhaps it was simply a curse.

                          A that point, the screech of a magpie pierced the mid-afternoon sunlight bathed and calm balmy air, interrupting his thoughts. An omen?

                          Maybe also, and more simply, he was taking a liking to the mysterious cleanlady and was envying her apparent natural ability at streamlining those nuggets of thoughts into seemingly coherent patterns. If such a thing as a Fellowship of Unification and Continuity in Knowledge existed, it couldn’t really be a terrorist organisation… it seemed more like a flovesend relief group to him.

                          But frankly, he didn’t even know what he was talking about.

                          #2508

                          In reply to: Strings of Nines

                          “Did you call me?” Sumhellfi the Devilish Half-Elf Half-Goblin :yahoo_devil: of the lost Dhataland poopped into existence to answer the wishes of the lost soul.

                          When she had tripped on the dog’s turds that her friends had reminded her more than once to take care of removing, she also inadvertently moved the old family dusty fish-clock that sings when you stoke it. Only that it had not sung for years —Flove forbids! That awful drunkard song didn’t play now there wasn’t any battery left in the horrible decoration.
                          Was it a magic clock? With a genie in there? :ghost:

                          While Yoland was lost in deep thoughts and concern, Sumhellfi leaned forward with an enticing raise of the eyebrows :yahoo_smug: “May I offer you some sliced naggin? It tastes like coleslaw they say…”

                          #2225

                          Annabel Ingram was chatting the tourists through her guided tours, but most of the time, her mind was wandering elsewhere.
                          As a matter of fact, she often thought she should have been named “Wandering Elsewhere” instead. These were her two favourite words in the whole Manilvan language. Scholars had made fancy claims like basement portal or something of that ilk was the loveliest words combination, but she’s never been one to follow the trends and fleeting modes anyway.

                          All in all, it was probably time she got herself a new job; touring the tourists in the middle of “ohs” and “ahs” to the Doorway of the Goddess Amarylis Moo Rue? Not for her any longer.
                          To be bluntly honest she was beginning to find herself a little of a fraud, as she tried to maintain a decent level of excitement at the ridiculous amazement of the tourists when they recounted their litanies of visions of Goddess Amarylis surrounded with cohorts of naked ladies and bare butt cupids holding wreaths of flowers. Amarylis was the Goddess of Flove. A glorious goddess representing the duality of the aspects of love and death. Quite a hype for people coming from the cities, eager to get a quick shot of esoteric experiences.

                          But she’d seen Amarylis more than once, and it was not all that pretty behind the scenes. She was not as mean as herself, but she wasn’t the last to poke fun at people for whisking unwarranted followers to the altars. Anyway, that and her perfumes, honestly you had to wonder. Lavender and decaying morue (cod), what a blend… :yahoo_rolling_eyes:

                          #1168

                          Military hospital, Scott Base, October 2008

                          “It’s BLOODY freezing ‘ere!” a hirsute mop of hair was whining on a camp bed next to two others.

                          “Would you just shut the flove up, Glo! You’ve been whining for ‘ours now! It’s not bloddy believable…”
                          “Like Mavis says, Glo! We all got in that same bloddy boat ye know… It’s no bed of stinkin’ roses for us either!”

                          A long sigh came from Glo, again interrupting the silence.

                          “A bloddy pity, you have to admit; being a lady, with PMS for years… At least I could console meself I didn’t have to shave like a man for Pete’s sake! And now we’re over with bloddy PMS, we are as hairy as gorillas!”

                          “Don’t be silly Glo, they said they’d find a cure… innit Sha? T’is not what they said? Vessie promised us!”
                          “Yeah, just before that little trollop ran away with the others, leaving us in quarantine… Not even a consideration for our efforts to help her seduce the sexy guy …”
                          “Ungrateful yeah… When we could have stolen the guy’s heart easily…”
                          “Ahahaha, no blimin’ way! not with your new hairdo Sha dear… Ahahah, don’t mean to be rude!”
                          “Hey girls, any idea where’s Askitoy?…”
                          Akita ?”
                          “Put him in confinement I reckon… The poor bloke was delirious, saying he was a WWII soldier…”
                          “Good thing the bloddy honeycomb didn’t make us loose our sharp wits, eh!”

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