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  • #4508
    Jib
    Participant

      The red woman led Shawn Paul through small busy streets. Shawn Paul had never seen that many people with dogs and parked bikes all gathered in strategic places each time he was about to catch up on her. He swore he could hear her giggle.
      Eventually she entered a cafe called Red Beans. Shawn Paul steered through white tables and chairs made of wrought iron and followed her in, breathless. He had never seen the point in running before. But he still wasn’t sure why he had to catch her. What would he do? Talk to her? Ask her what she did perched on trees and smiling?

      There seemed to be only the bartender who was busy with a huge coffee machine, hissing like a locomotive. A colour, a movement on his right made Shawn Paul turn, and he just had the time to catch sight of a red hat going down the stairs. She certainly went to the toilets. He thought that maybe following her downstairs would be too creepy, but at the same time he didn’t want the bartender to talk to him either.

      So he went down and waited at the door. The lock was red, showing someone was inside.
      Shawn Paul waited. There were many flyers of parties and events pinned on a wall, but he wasn’t the party guy and his eyes flew over the messy images and texts that seemed scattered on the wall.
      After five minutes he wondered if something had happened and pushed the door. It was open and the lock was broken, always showing red. He tutted and shook his head. He had been foolish, he thought. There has certainly been nobody there since the beginning. There was no girl sitting on trees with red sandals.

      He got out of the cafe and was ready to walk back to his apartment with his granola cookies. When someone called him. He turned and stared at a girl and a guy having drinks on the Red Beans’ terrace.

      “I was sure it was you, Shawn Paul,” said the girl. “I thought I recognised you when you ran inside earlier, but you seemed in such a hurry,” said a girl. She had a big grin and a pony tail.

      Her face looked familiar, all rosy and cheeky. She had a nice jacquard sweater and a matching skirt, and she was waving at him cheerfully. Her cocktail was full of reds, blues and yellows.
      “Remember me? Lucinda, from the apartment on the other side…” she added.

      It suddenly dawned on him, they had met once or twice. She had said they should meet again, but they never had. He felt a bit trapped, not knowing what to say.
      “Hi,” he said, and he looked at the guy. He had never met him, that he was sure of.
      The guy looked as embarrassed as himself by the intrusion.
      “Hi. I’m Jerk,” he said.

      “Are you going to the party tonight?” asked Lucinda pointing at a flyer on the table. She took a sip of her cocktail.

      Shawn Paul was about to decline with a ready made up excuse when he saw what was on the flyer. It was a big red balloon with a red hat on a starry background. It said “Reception of the French Ambassador. Free Buffet with Ferrero Rochers and Champagne”.

      Shawn Paul pulled closer one of the heavy metal chairs and sat with them.
      “Tell me more about it,” he said instead.

      “More drinks!” Lucinda shouted, clapping her hands.
      A waiter arrived, limping. Shawn Paul thought he looked like a pirate with his wooden leg, his black hat and small ear ring.

      #4498

      “Tagada” said Margoritt to Tak, after feeding him the last spoon of the red clay paste mixture he had to take daily for the past week.

      Glynnis had mixed a fine clay powder with the yellow flowers of the prikkperikum that grew in the nearby woods. It would little by little absorb the effects of the potion, and hopefully neutralise that garish greenish color off his face and fur.

      Meanwhile, Glynnis had perfected her own treatment by analysing the leftover salvaged from the lotion. Tak, with his sharp olfactory senses when he turned into a puppy, had helped her identify the plants and minerals used in the potion, as he felt bad about the whole thing. She’d liked to spend time chasing with puppy Tak after plants into the mountain woods, the nearby plains, and once even as they went as far as the heathlands where a evil wind blew… too close to the heinous machinations of Leroway to desecrate the land of old.

      Thankfully, this time, she had properly labelled the lotion, with the cute picture of a skull adorned with a flower garland, under a smiling full moon. She wasn’t sure it would be of much use to ward off gluttons, but it put a smile on her face every time she looked at it.

      With the full moon a day’s ahead, she started to grow restless. Even Eleri had noticed, and she wasn’t one to notice subtleties. While she’d encouraged Hasam’ to start to work at something outside with his hands, like building a magic rainproof dome — working with his hands was something the God would find himself endlessly bemused at — she’d started her plan to glamour-bomb the forest with placing at the most unusual places hundreds of concrete statues of little fat men wearing doilies. Something Gorrash obviously felt he was the inspiration for. In truth, it wasn’t far from it, as she’d taken the opportunity of a bright day of his stone sleep to make a plaster mold of him, and then artistically adjust postures and decorum to get her little fat men done. Gorrash had felt so appreciative of the likeness, probably encouraged in that thought by the rest of Rainbow’s babies dancing around him, that he even helped her ferry the heavy cargoes to the oddest destinations.

      #4495
      Jib
      Participant

        Shawn-Paul lived in a studio apartment, crammed with bookshelves full of books and trinkets that he gathered during his many walks around the city while looking for inspiration. He hadn’t read all of the books, but he always had the intention to do it one day. One day easily became two and three, and so many.
        Someone with OCD could dust date the different purchases by measuring the thickness of the layer of dust on the books.

        That day, Shawn-Paul was drinking a hot chocolate at his computer on the small desk where some books lied open or closed on top of each others. The top one’s cover claimed in bold red letters “NARRATIVE COACHING, The Definitive Guide to Bring New Stories to Life”. Shawn-Paul had bought it thinking it was a coaching book for writers but it apparently aimed at teaching coaches to tell good stories. The book had proved interesting and especially another occasion to enrich his knowledge about the world or in one word procrastinate.

        Shawn-Paul took a sip of the hot chocolate, which was now more lukewarm than hot and felt the impulsion to open his browser and watch a video about narrative coaching on U-stub. That’s when it all went wrong and myriads of ads popped up and covered the screen and his newly bought writer software were the first word of his novel still waited to appear.

        At first, he panicked and his sudden movements back and fro almost broke the fragile equilibrium of the desk clutter. But then he shrugged, took his phone to call his friend Jeremiad for help and remembered how that went last time when he had to listen to his friend’s imaginary problems, just like imaginary friends but worse. He put the phone back in the clutter and looked at the last ad. A girl with sensuous cherry red lips winking at him with a packet of granola cookies spinning around her head.

        Unaware of what was happening, Shawn-Paul felt hungry and considered his lukewarm chocolate. He smiled as he thought he could make another one and enjoy dipping some cookies in it.
        He went to the kitchen and foraged through the clutter of dirty dishes and empty cookie packets. There were none left. The effect of hunger on Shawn-Paul was square grumpiness. Not round, not rectangular. Square. And it didn’t fit the curves of his stomach.

        Shawn-Paul put his writer’s jacket and cap on, added a wool scarf because he had a sensitive throat, and it looked cool on him and he winked at his reflection on the mirror hanging on the main door.
        He left, unaware of the smile of the granola girl.

        #4492
        ÉricÉric
        Keymaster

          When Jerk came for his shift at the WholeDay*Mart, it was still early in the morning. He liked this shift best. Early customers were always a bit sleepy, except for a few of the early riser soccer moms up for a jog, and usually were far less chatty than the midday crowds.

          One had to find ways to keep awake though. What he liked best were the invisible people. There was one in particular who’d caught his attention for the past few days. She had the insolent smile of people in the know, piercing eyes that would go straight to you without care for the social barriers, or untold rules and rites of the place. In short, she’d struck him as the only awake person in the lot, almost winkfully so.
          And to his surprise, nobody seemed aware of that. It was as though she was in the background of the other drone people, who just couldn’t register such oddity into their daily computation.

          He suspected for a while that she had found some way to trick the self-checkout line, as her whole demeanour looked more bag lady than suburban heiress, and her cart always seemed well stocked.

          He couldn’t care less — after all, for a meager pay, he wasn’t there to police. He was just intrigued by how she would seem to get away with it and be totally unnoticed.

          #4491
          F LoveF Love
          Participant

            “But is it empty?” asked Finnley, mysteriously.

            Godfrey and Liz looked at her questioningly. “Is it empty or not, Finnley?” Liz sounded impatient; she was anxious to get to the cellar.

            “Well, yeah, it is actually.” Finnley sighed a little sadly; it was barely perceptible. “I just said that to …. I don’t know why I said it really.”

            “Waste time?” suggested Godfrey helpfully.

            #4488

            Maeve liked to make dolls. They were all quiet, and full of an inner life that would transport her in wild imaginary adventure while she was making them. She liked also to collect strange people and make them into her dolls.
            She would often go to the mall, take a table at the coffee shop, and observe the daily life show for inspiration…

            In the apartment next to hers, lived Shawn-Paul, a handsome bearded bachelor, who was a writer he’d said. She had not made him into a doll, not that he wasn’t doll material, he seemed weirdo plenty, but she noted there were subtleties to the character she wanted to explore more.

            :fleuron:

            “Are you ready?” Ailill, had a blue suede hat this time. He liked to change his headpiece regularly to fit his mood, but somehow couldn’t or wouldn’t change it to any other color than blue.

            Granola wasn’t sure she would be ready to pop-in properly. She still had to build her character a little bit. She would have only mere seconds each time to make an impression, a glance was all it took at times. Something had to attract attention.
            “I think you’re plenty ready” Ailill smiled as he pushed her in the downward spiral that had appeared at their feet. He jumped right after her.

            #4485

            When they reached outside the next morning, the sky was blue, and the light already intense.
            Birds were hovering silently above in regular patterns.

            “See Olli, those are not normal birds.” Rukshan pointed toward the sky. “Too regular pattern – they are the guarding watch of whatever landed there. Better not to attract too much attention.”

            He handed to Olliver a tan cape to put over his red shirt.
            “Better be careful with the sun too.”

            The baby snoot was quick to jump on Olli’s shoulder, and at its touch, the cape seemed to glimmer invisible.

            “Ah,… that can work too.” Rukshan was still intrigued by the creatures’ capacity. They didn’t seem born of magic, but of inter-dimensional energy blending.

            “We shouldn’t be far from a village, I’ve seen some oasis from the top of the ridge earlier, we’ll follow that route, and hopefully will find out some more about these mysteries.”

            #4483

            Thankfully, there had been a little left of the potion that Tak had so voraciously eaten.

            Rukshan had almost aborted the trip to the desert to take care of the little shapeshifting gibbon urchin, whose new shade of green looked serious enough.

            As quiet as she used to be, Glynis had shown a lot of cool and dexterity in handling the suspicious food poisoning case. She was gentle with the little boy, and didn’t show much concern about his going through her stuff.

            In the end, she said she would be able to manage curing him, but that it would take probably a moon’s time.
            Seeing Rukshan’s longer than usual face about the delay, she was the one to push him to go to the desert mysterious blue beams.

            “Go with Olliver, he will teleport you both, and you can be back faster. Once you’ll be clear of what it is, we can plan something. It seems rather obvious nobody’s really ready to leave.” She glanced wryly at Eleri who was munching noisily on her goat milk’s oats.

            Rukshan smiled. She’d almost sounded as though she was the boss. In any case, Glynis was right. Despite the cottage becoming overcrowded, and the threat of nearby building work encroachments into the forest paradise, all the unexpected friends seemed not in a rush for a change of scenery. Fox, Gorrash, Eleri and Hasam’, Margorrit and Tak, and the occasional resupply visits from the village…

            “I think you’re right.” He picked up his bag and nodded at Olli. “Let us go and investigate this desert beam. Are you ready?”

            And in a flash of the golden egg device, gone they were.

            #4481
            TracyTracy
            Participant

              “In the pentatonic scale of things, one can only shake ones head kindly,” mumbled Liz, humming tunefully. “Of course, geotectonically speaking, “ she added, “Would be quite another matter, and could potentially result in considerably more shaking than an indulgent platonic head.”

              #4476

              Glynis hadn’t said a word to any of the others about the potion and was non-committal when they pressed her for information as to the identity of her unusual visitor.

              “I used to know him … he just came to tell me his father died”, was all she had said, turning her head to avoid Margoritt’s keen gaze and excusing herself hurriedly on some pretext of needing to gather more herbs for the impending journey.

              “His father must have been as old as Methuselah and then some!” muttered Fox crossly after she was gone. “I don’t believe it for one moment. Always keeping secrets, that one.” He shook his head, possibly irritated as much by the heat and mosquitoes as Glynis’s small evasion. For after all, they each carried secrets and it was generally acknowledged they were an unlikely group of travellers who found themselves together.

              Privately, Glynis was nearly bursting with anticipation and would have applied the potion to her face at once had the instructions on the package not said to wait for the full moon.

              On the first night of the full moon, take one half teaspoonful and rub into the affected area. Rub thrice in a clockwise direction and once in a counter-clockwise direction. Repeat until the lotion is fully absorbed. FOR EXTERNAL USE ONLY.

              And tonight was the first night of the full moon phase.

              It was as she was staring in shock and disbelief at the empty jar that she heard the scream.

              #4474

              Rukhsan was ready with his package, the plan, the backup plan, and all the disaster recovery plans they would never need to do their journey to the west.
              All of this preparation was starting to make him antsy, and he hoped everyone would make it in time to start the expedition.

              Eleri had promised to be back in time, but she had that tendency to… forget things even more since her bout of illness. Glynis’ ginkgo leaves tea had helped a little, at least for the memory thing, not really for Eleri’s stubbornness to have them wait for her return — such assertiveness that was a sure sign of her recovery she’d said.
              She’d gone already for weeks, and tonight’s was the departure… He had to trust everything would line up.

              Right now, there was nothing to expect… but the unexpected. All carefully laid out plans would never stand a chance once on the roads, he knew that. It gave him some small comfort to just be aware of all the places and manners where the camel’s back would break.

              Pricking up his ear in the still evening, he found out that this time, it seemed to start from the kitchen.

              #4462

              Night had fallen when Rukshan came back to the cottage. He was thinking that they could wait a little bit for the trip. He did not like that much the idea of trusting the safety of their group to a stranger, even if it was a friend of Lhamom. They were not in such a rush after all.

              Rukshan looked at their luxuriant newly grown pergola. Thanks to the boost potion Glynis had prepared, it had only took a week to reach its full size and they have been able to enjoy it since the start of the unusual hot spell. The creatures that had hatched from the colourful eggs Gorrash had brought with him were flowing around the branches creating a nice glowing concerto of lights, inside and out.

              It was amazing how everyone were combining their resources and skills to make this little community function. In the shadow of the pergola there was an empty pedestal that Fox had built and Eleri had decorated with nice grapes carvings. Gorrash was certainly on patrol with the owls. His friends had thought that a pedestal would be more comfortable and the pergola would keep Gorrash’s stone from the scorching heat of the sun. Also, he wouldn’t get covered in mud during the sudden heavy rains accompanying the hot spell.

              Seeing the beautiful pedestal and the carved little stairs he could use to climb up, Gorrash had tried to hide the tears in his eyes. He mumbled it was due to some desert dust not to appear emotional, but they all knew his hard shell harboured the softest heart.

              The dwarf had repaid them in an unexpected way. Every day just before sunrise, he would take a big plate in his hands and jumped on the pedestal before turning to stone. It allowed them to put grapes or other fruits that they could eat under the shadow of the of the pergola.

              Rukshan came into the house and he found Margoritt sitting at the dining table on which there was a small parchment roll. Her angry look was so unusual that Rukshan’s felt his chest tighten.

              “They sent me a bloody pigeon,” she said when she arrived. She took the roll and handed it to Rukshan. “The city council… Leroway… he accuses us of unauthorised expansion of the house, of unauthorised construction on communal ground, and of unlicensed trade of manufactured goods.” Margoritt’s face was twisted with pain as the said the words.

              Rukshan winced. Too much bad news were arriving at the same time. If there was a pattern, it seemed rather chaotic and harassing.

              “They threaten us to send a bailif if we don’t stop our illegal activities and if we don’t pay the extra taxes they reclaim,” she continued. “I’m speechless at the guile of that man.”

              Rukshan smiled, he wondered if Margoritt could ever be rendered speechless by anything except for bad flu. He uncoiled the roll and quickly skimmed through the long string of accusations. Many of them were unfair and, to his own opinion unjustified. Since when the forest belonged to Leroway’s city? It had always been sacred ground, and its own master.

              “I have no money,” said Margoritt. “It’s so unfair. I can’t fight with that man. I’m too old and tired.”

              “Don’t forget we are all in the same cottage, Margoritt. It’s not just you. Eventhough, they clearly want to evict us,” said Rukshan. “Even if we had enough money, they would not let us stay.” He showed her the small roll. “The list of accusations is so ludicrous that it’s clearly a ploy to get rid of us. First, that road they want to build through the forest, now evicting us from the ground.” And those bad omens from the mountain, he thought with a shiver.

              “We are not going to give them that satisfaction, are we?” asked Margoritt, pleading like a little girl. “We have to find something Rukshan,” she said. “You have to help me fight Leroway.”

              “Ahem,” said a rockous voice. Gorrash had returned from his patrol. “I know where to find money,” he added. “At leas, I think I know. I had another dream about my maker. It’s just bits and pieces, but I’m sure he hid some treasure in the mountains. There was that big blue diamond, glowing as brightly as a blue sun. And other things.”

              A big blue diamond? It sounds familiar. Rukshan thought. There was an old fae legend that mentioned a blue diamond but he couldn’t remember. Is it connected to the blue light Olliver mentioned earlier? He wondered.

              “That’s it! You have to go find this treasure,” said Margoritt.

              Rukshan sighed as he could feel the first symptoms of a headache. There was so much to think about, so much to do. He massaged his temples. The trip had suddenly become urgent, but they also had to leave someone behind to help Margoritt with the “Leroway problem”. And he winced as he wondered who was going to take care of that road business. It was clear to him that he couldn’t be everywhere at the same time. He would have to delegate.

              He thought of the telebats. Maybe he could teach the others how to use them so that he could keep in touch and manage everything at distance. He sighed again. Who would be subtle and sensitive enough to master the telebats in time?

              #4461

              Rukshan went into the forest and looked carefully for a particular creature. It was almost nightfall and there should be some of them already out on the branches. The air was cooler in the evening, thanks also to the big trees protecting them from the scorching sun, and Rukshan couldn’t help but think that the climate was really going haywire. One day cold, one week hot and wet. And this bad omen feeling that everybody seemed to get recently. He knew it was time to go, and despite the comfort of Margoritt’s cottage, he was starting to feel restless.

              He was making a lost of noise, stepping on every dry twigs he could find. A couple of rabbits and the crowd of their offsprings jumped away, a deer looked at him as if he was some vulgar neighbour and the birds flew away, disturbed during their evening serenades. But this was the kind of noise that would attract the telebats, small nocturnal animals that you could use for long distance communication.

              He found one on an old oak tree. It seemed to be in resonance with his cracking twigs. Rukshan hurried and caught it before the spell of his steps would dissipate.

              Rukshan to Lhamom: Hope everything’s fine. Stop. Something happened. Stop. Need help organise trip to mountains. Over,” he whispered in the sensitive ears of the small animal. The telebat listened carefully and opened its little mouth, making sounds that no normal ears could hear. Maybe Fox could have, but he would have found it as annoying as the cracking twigs. Then Rukshan waited.

              The answer wasn’t long to come. He knew it because the ears of the creature vibrated at high frequency. He listened into the creature’s left ear where he could hear the answer.

              Lhamom to Rukshan: Father not well. Stop. I’m worried. Stop. Have to go home take care of him. Stop. I send Drummis to help you. Over.”

              Rukshan responded with “Thanks. Stop. Hope everything well with Father. Stop. Have safe trip home. Over.”

              He hung up the telebat on the branch where he found it, and gave it a moth that he had found on his way.
              Rukshan frowned. He have never met Drummis. He wondered if he could trust him.

              #4447

              It had taken Rukshan close to a year to clear the fog.

              He had to admit, he’d dreaded more than was necessary. Faes where a bit thick headed and stubborn when it came to honoring vows and sacred words. There had been lessons to unravel for a lifetime in that year span they’d spent on the holy grounds.
              Even the angry God had come around, and he wasn’t the threat Rukshan had thought he would be. Only another lonely soul, longing for companionship.

              Yesterday, Rukshan had finished the book of Kumihimo. Propitiatory work, but he was beginning to see the benefits. He had finished collecting all the pages of the vanishing book, by burying himself in work for the commune, and on the few moments of silence left to himself, reaching towards the source of knowledge and gathering the elements once thought forever lost. Clearing of his Mind Palace.

              Now he had to let it go. The Book was complete, and needed to be offered on the pyre.
              Only then the Shards would be rightfully returned, rejoined and ready to spell the next evolution of their journey.

              The pyre was neatly prepared. Gathering of fragrant herbs of the woods was a specialty of the Potion maker, the gorgeous assemblage of the beams had created a sriyantra-like pattern that seemed like it could easily open a portal to the Gods’ realm.

              All of them had gathered around at the full moon. Gorrash had just awoken, and the feast was joyous and full of sparkling expectations.

              Each of them took a thread to light the flames, and once the Book was put on the pyre with great reverence, all of them, one by one lighted one of the corners.

              They all felt a great weight lifting from their chest, the weight of the sins of their past lives vanishing in the light, and a great joy pouring in from the dancing flames at the centre.

              All was well and fresh on this night, and there was great content, and anticipation for what tomorrow would bring.

              #4445
              TracyTracy
              Participant

                “I dreamed of a red dog,” Liz said with her mouth full of dimpled baby chin, “And a white dog, down by the river.” She picked up a chocolately shell like baby ear off her lap and popped it into her mouth, and continued, “I was going to bring the red dog home, you know, and then, “ Liz paused to bite the little baby button nose off, leaving just the eyes and forehead, “I realized that it was just fine where it was.”

                “Must you speak with your mouth full of baby faces, Elizabeth?” asked Godfrey, miming a green sick emoticon.

                #4441
                Jib
                Participant

                  Finnley presented the plate of freshly baked round cookies to Liz who took one and watched it warily, not sure how to feel about them. Certainly the herbal chocolate made her mouth watery like the Niagara falls, but…
                  “Why on earth did you give them those baby faces?” she asked.
                  Finnley shrugged.
                  “I’ve been taking pottery class recently and thought I could do extra practice at home. I have a project you know.”
                  “Have you heard of nailed it?” Liz asked, biting in into the cheek of one chubby little cookie with melting sugary blue eyes. It distorted its laughing mouth in such a way that it looked like it was crying now. She felt a bit guilty about it, but the chocolate taste exploding in her own mouth made her forget all about it and she swallowed the other cheek.

                  “Look! they can move!” said Roberto. He was pressing on the sides of one particularly creepy little face, making its mouth talk. “Give me milk!”

                  “Stop playing with food, Roberto,” said Finnley. The hispanic gardener looked at her with puppy eyes and swallowed whole the baby cookie. “Showy,” he said his mouth full.
                  “Where is Godfrey, now,” she muttered, “Everyone needs to taste one.

                  #4438

                  In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    full mother line reading
                    soft touched
                    john dreams
                    stood taken
                    mind age meant thin rubbish city
                    carried tower
                    voice meet market

                    #4436

                    In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

                    TracyTracy
                    Participant

                      glowing fence mean visit forgotten
                      felt focus sunny witch behind wisdom
                      hungry stories taking early under eggs
                      keep laughing carefully nature

                      #4420
                      F LoveF Love
                      Participant

                        As soon as the words had left her mouth, Lottie regretted them. She looked at Albie’s shocked, crestfallen face and knew she had been too harsh. Maybe she wasn’t cut out to be a writing mentor. It was a constant battle for her: should she be brutally honest and possibly save them years of misdirected effort or should she foster their creative spirit at all costs, even if it meant being dishonest? She sighed and tried to backtrack.

                        “Look, Albie, there is some good stuff in here but it needs work … “

                        “It’s okay,” Albie broke in quickly. “It’s fine. I knew I was no good … it’s fine. Thanks.” He gave an embarrassed laugh. “Mum has been on at me to do something since I lost my job so i thought … well, I thought I’d give writing a shot. Better stick to walking the dog, eh!”

                        “Yes, you and Alex are a right pair, walking off the job like that.” Lottie shook her head, causing the thick reading glasses to slip down her long beaky nose. Lottie always wore black and she reminded Albie of a crow. He liked her though, which is why he had asked her to read his play.

                        “Anyway what’s done is done.” Lottie continued. And then she hesitated for a moment, pushing the glasses back up her nose and looking down at the manuscript on the table in front of her as though weighing her words carefully before continuing. “Look, Albie, one thing I did notice in your writing was that there was a recurring theme. Perhaps your subconscious trying to tell you something. It often works like that.

                        “The Doline thing?”

                        “Yes,” said Lottie. “Something to think about anyway.”

                        #4409
                        Jib
                        Participant

                          “Pssst.”

                          Finnley turned to her right, swift as a ninja. She was relieved to see Roberto, full of twigs and hay in his dark bushy hair. He had panda eyes.

                          “What happened to you?” she asked in a hush before realising she only reacted to the way he prompted her. “Is that the new…”

                          “No,” he said, “I just woke up from that strange cave with the moving roots and birth place of new characters,” he said rolling his ‘R’s like only he could. “It took me that long to come back into this thread. I just wanted to tell you the back door is open. I need to take a shower and clean the pool. Half of it is in summer, but the other seems to be stuck in winter.”

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