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  • #2676

    In reply to: Strings of Nines

    AvatarJib
    Participant

      Serenity gave her a handkerchief and sighed.

      #2423

      Sadly, Phurt’s couldn’t make any cobwebs other than all wireless —kind of defeated the purpose, when you gave it thought.
      Reception and connection weren’t any of the new dwelling’s forte for now.

      So she wrapped herself in a cozy dark corner of her new cave, tucked in a blanket of great warmth and subtle mucous design, and her nine eyelids being closed one after the other (from right to left, and top to bottom), started to dream of delicate and headless sheep.

      #2350

      Lavender stood up suddenly and hopped around the cafe.

      “You know what? Since that masked man stood on my foot, the feeling seems to have returned!” Lavender hopped joyously over to the stranger and gave him a big hug, cleverly removing his mask at the same time, as if by accident.

      Ann and Lavender stared in shocked surprise at the vision before them.

      #2328

      Ann spent the morning (or a mere half hour, if truth be told) enjoying her physicality in the gentle autumn morning sun before returning indoors. The drop in temperature was still new enough to remember to appreciate fully. She felt at peace with her world, a happy balance of words and sunbeams, that is until she perused the latest additions to the BA (Bash Ann, by the looks of things) group project.

      Ann frowned. Who the heck was Harvey? It was almost the last straw, despite Ann’s sunny mood. The very idea of trawling back through the paperwork to find out who he was, and indeed who everyone else was, was too daunting. “If it’s not fun don’t do it!” That’s what they all said. Over and over again they said “if it’s not fun don’t do it”.

      The writing was fun, and the random reading was fun, but it wasn’t fun ~ in fact, it gave her a headache ~ to try and remember who and when and where everyone was. Perplexed, Ann wondered if she simply wasn’t cut out for working in a group. On the other hand, she simply wasn’t a loner either.

      “Be remebering,” the disembodied voice whispered in her left ear, “That they are all YOU.”

      Oh! Right, yes….herm….well where does that leave me?

      “Right at the centre of it all, as always,” the voice replied.

      Er, so it’s all MY story, then? The whole thing is all me, all mine? All the characters are ME?

      “Quite!”

      So I can do whatever I want, then?

      “Of course!”

      Right then, so I can write whatever I want, which is fun, and not write what I don’t want, which isn’t fun, and that will be quite alright, will it?

      “Correct!” the voice chuckled indulgently. “And it may behoove you” it continued in a conspiratorial tone, “To remember than any flak from the others in the group, is in fact, YOU giving YOURSELF a flakking reflection.”

      Oh. Well Right Ho, then. Toot! Toot!

      #2325

      “Mmm, they can use whatever politically correct word to say Ann isn’t having a serious case of Dissociative Identity Disorder, but frankly her speaking to herself would be really worrisome were it not for that all that Shifting around.” Growdon was discussing with Franny.

      “Yes,” she nodded with a soft and contagious smile, “doesn’t it look like she denies herself her physicality by burrowing inside the meanders of her short-span attention so deeply and carelessly?”
      … “Oh,” she added swiftly covering her fine lips painted purple with her long fingers, seeing the look on Growdon’s face “I’m not suggesting that… No, don’t be silly”

      Growdon was finding Franny so delicately considerate about their friend.

      He gave the thought a time to sift through his perceptive mind, while looking at the red roses of Geroges and Franny’s store, and had to come to the same conclusion. It definitely looked like Ann was always avoiding to flesh out her DID characters, perhaps out of fear of the dreaded lack of continuity or palatable tangible proof (that as much dreaded “P” word) of the reality of her visions. Truth be told, he and Franny and Geroges were finding her bouts of imagination quite fantastic on their own, they didn’t really need any proof whatsoever. But sincerely they all needed to get a grip!

      #2059

      In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

      EricEric
      Keymaster

        Cleaning gave lack circle reality
        Under sudden strings essence saying morning soft
        Liked himself baby aspidistra case fine whole dark sha

        #2296

        Monica was asking Pedro about Pr. Moss last assignment. Everybody had been very impressed by his story teller talent and she wanted to know more about it. He was quite secretive though, and maybe it was because he was not a native English speaker, but nonetheless she wanted to know about some details.

        Before he could say anything, she felt an excruciating pain in her belly and the announcing signs of intestine problems…

        — Are you ok, asked Pedro? What was that strange noise?
        — Nothing! she eluded quickly. I need to go to the bathroom, excuse me.

        Another spasm almost made her fall on the ground.

        Damn Pr. Flipswitch! she thought, I shouldn’t have accepted to try the herbs he gave me after his herbal course.

        #2280

        It was a pleasant walk to the Academy from Ann’s student digs, the leafy suburbs of Poubelleville were dappled with sunlight and sweetly scented with lilac blossom. Bird twittered in the trees and miniature zebras nibbled at the grass verges as Ann made her way to class. As she walked past a sidewalk cafe she spotted Monica, or rather Monica spotted Ann, and called her over to join her for a cup of rhubarb tea. Ann had forgotten she was late for class, and gave Monica the customary seven kisses ~ three on each cheek, and a final one on the nose ~ and pulled out a chair.

        True to form ~ for Monica was the Academy’s best known gossip ~ after the inital pleasantries, the conversation soon turned to the latest scandal. Max the janitor, one of the students, and Professor Moose had been caught engaging in a menage a trois in the broom cupboard.

        “All in aid of an assignment, so they said” explained Monica. “Who did you choose for your menage a trois, Ann? You’re in old Moose’s class, aren’t you?”

        “Yeah, but I didn’t translate the assigment that way.” Ann frowned. “Gosh, I wrote a haiku about slobber instead, everyone will think I’m all prim and prunes.”

        “Well, we only need one more” replied Monica with a sly grin.

        “What?” Ann blushed as she cottoned on. “Oh!”

        Monica wriggled about in her chair, revealing an expanse of lean tanned thigh, not altogether accidentally.

        “Mind if I join you?” asked Good God Gordy, calling to the waiter for a cup of Hornygoatweed tea.

        #2057

        In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

        F LoveF Love
        Participant

          indeed
          help herself
          making past assignment
          liked reading
          happened next morning
          in the room
          apparently
          thought done
          gave gift

          #2277
          F LoveF Love
          Participant

            Indeed, Frantic was more than delighted to help out any of her students. It was her desire, her passion even, that they should succeed in her classes. She chastened herself mentally for making the assumption that all her students would be able to find some reference point in their past to assist them with her assignment. However, as she explained to Pedro, it was not essential for a writer to experience everything they wrote about. What was necessary was a willingness to research. Knowing the boy liked to read, she offered him an extensive reading list of appropriate material, plus a few Mills and Boons she just happened to have in her handbag, and sent him on his way.

            She was more surprised than anyone when the janitor came to her the next morning and confessed what had happened in the service room. Apparently he had … well lets not go there, she thought, what is done is done and no harm will come of it if they both keep quiet. The little bouquet of flowers he gave her as an apology gift (GIFTSEE THE GIFT TP) did much to allay her concern. And at least the boy will have something to write about now.

            As she put the flowers in water she pondered her next assignment. She could see she would have to give this much careful thought in order to avoid future embarrassing service room encounters.

            #2276
            AvatarJib
            Participant

              Two students of the Free the Fiction Writer Within evening course were whispering in a corridor of the Academy before it began.

              — Did you hear about prof. Moose?
              — Yes, you mean what happened with Pedro last night?

              They turned their head at the same time to look at Pedro, another student who arrived recently in town. He was sitting on the floor, reading a book and apparently unaware that he was the subject of several discussions.

              — Well, yes. Max the janitor was passing by one of the service room when he heard some odd noise. I don’t know if it’s out of curiosity or because it was a service room, but he opened the door and found them half naked between brooms and mops.
              — What I heard was that she told him bluntly that she was busy helping one of her students with the assignment she gave her students last time…
              — No! she told that?
              — Yes, apparently Pedro never had sex before and he went after the class to see her and asked her if she could help him. And after what Max said she was more than happy to help him out.

              #2273
              TracyTracy
              Participant

                The bell rang, and Ann made her way to her next class. Professor Amy Less was a new teacher at the Academy, and she was one of Ann’s favourites. Prof Less’s philosophy was that everything was perfect just as it was, which of great benefit to her students. Top marks for everything was such an encouragement to their creative urges. Even if they failed to attend class, or they were late with an assignment, she gave them full credit for going with the flow.

                “Good afternoon class!” Professor Less beamed brightly at the assembled students. “Today’s assignment will be to make up a story about an surprise gift that you receive unexpectedly. Part of the assignment is to send an unexpected gift to someone else. You may use this class time to go shopping if you wish.” Prof Less smiled and added “And as always, have fun!”

                #2051

                In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

                TracyTracy
                Participant

                  nonsense real making write
                  gave seen girl heliptrope
                  known latest beautiful news
                  sense lilac waiting
                  attention ladies
                  tell ann

                  :creating_magic:

                  #2048

                  In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    Gave large,
                    Easily.

                    Bed leave:
                    Remember world forgotten?
                    Heard building events?
                    Book?

                    Against stories,
                    Future…

                    Whatever!

                    #2604

                    In reply to: Strings of Nines

                    EricEric
                    Keymaster

                      “Well, it’s a fiction, she could be anywhere. That and if you stopped changing the facts and names for a moment, you’d be able to knit them together into new understandings.”

                      Charmille was knitting while answering to impatient young Becky who for all of the birds’ chatter in the apartment couldn’t really concentrate on her schoolwork, and had only one thought in mind (more insistent than the fleeting thousands other ones that is): she wanted to go outside immerse herself in the helter skelter of New York City.

                      “And why should I care!” Becky was about to start another tirade of self-righteous indignation at the failure to recognize her brilliance when she stopped herself in her tracks. She was suddenly amazed at the intricacy of the pattern Charmille was creating with two simple sticks and the many colourful threads in her black and white box. That was an art in itself, and Becky wasn’t impervious to art, quite the contrary. She could spot art in the slightest and singlest stroke of graffiti on the walls of the City. She could even see them dancing endless farandoles in front of her eyes. She was perhaps the only one she knew who was able to see that, but what her aunt was doing was very much like it.
                      Sometimes, she’d had people laugh at her when she was younger. She was telling them about her vivid dreams, that she’d spent hours in one dream looking at a single napkin, how soft it was, how superbly almost real it was —even if that was just a dream napkin— while, according to others, she could have done more “lofty” things instead —like go and see ascended masters.

                      “But I like movement! I don’t want to be stuck in slimy facts!”
                      “Well dear, you should know that… wherever you are, there you are. Even if wherever is elsewhere.”

                      The cryptic statement made by the poised lady somehow struck a cord. She wanted to disguise facts into fictions, or fiction as facts, but any way she was going, she was still struggling with herself, the essence at her core. It didn’t matter if she wanted to have the needle jump to another loop (and get out of that particular loop) because it was all part of the same cloth she was creating. It suddenly gave her much to ponder…

                      #2046

                      In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

                      EricEric
                      Keymaster

                        :face-surprise:

                        jane moment felicity pig cleaner
                        dogs watermelon shouted
                        sam given thread wait
                        popped gave great dick future mouth job close zhaana

                        #2577

                        In reply to: Strings of Nines

                        TracyTracy
                        Participant

                          It had been rather a bold move on Tajine’s part, especially as she was a new member of the staff at Little Big Hopeswell, but an ingenious one, or so she thought. Tajine always aimed to please; nothing gave her more pleasure than to arrange wonderful little surprises for people based on her assumptions of what would please them. In her few short weeks with Ann, she couldn’t help but notice the disparaging remarks her publisher, Pig Littleon, habitually made about Ann’s work. The last straw for Tajine had been when Godfrey referrred to Ann’s streams of thought as ‘incoherent’, and it was at that point that the plan began to form in her mind.

                          “Compliments to the new cook! I must say, that was the most delicious bacon sandwich I have ever tasted,” remarked Arthur, wiping his lips with a napkin. “You must ask Tajine where she buys her bacon, it has an enticingly subtle hint of peanut, quite delicious!”

                          :yahoo_loser:

                          #2571

                          In reply to: Strings of Nines

                          Glor…”
                          “What dear?”
                          Glor, ain’t you bored silly in that cottage?”
                          “Well Sha, now that our Joe and ‘arry are gone fishin’ all day… and thinking of our glorious days on that island…”
                          “Tell no more! I was thinking of that too… Would be good to have another beauty treatment for sure…”
                          “Any idea where that doctor might be now Shar?”
                          “As a matter of fact, I do…”
                          “You’re kidding me Shar!”
                          “I’ve got a cousin in Spain, ya know…”
                          “Who? Barb?”
                          “Yeah, Barbie. I’ve got news from her from time to time, when she’s squatting in those tourists houses in Spain while they’re empty in the low season.”
                          “And what? Tell me all, I’m dying Shar!”
                          “I’ll tell you if you bloddy stop interrupting! Now, last week, she mentioned she heard from a woman in Spain that they saw a doctor during a silly nut-age conference, he was talking of rejuvenating cures, and she even got a sample.”
                          “A sample?”
                          “Yeah, a bloody sample. She told me those silly twats gave them to their dogs! Can you believe it Glor’?”
                          “The silly buggers! Throwing away precious reejoo-whatever samples!”
                          “Anyway, the doctor was speaking with whales too. Every year he told them (Barbie told me) going upside down in the sea to upgrade his whale speech.”
                          “Whale speech you say Shar…”
                          “Kind of rings a bell init?”
                          “Hell yeah! I remember Vessie told us about those funny swimming suits for the Doctor. Could be him!”
                          “You know what?”
                          “What Shar?”
                          “I’m having a funny brainwave now… I’m thinking we need some vacation in Spain…”
                          “And leave Gustav to cook the bloody fish for the boys ! You’re brilliant Shar!”

                          #2548

                          In reply to: Strings of Nines

                          TracyTracy
                          Participant

                            Franlise, your words gave hope where once there was despair” Ann said to her cleaning lady. “Thank you.”

                            “Oh don’t mention it, Ann” Franlise replied modestly.

                            “You are so humble, Franlise, as well as outwardly beautiful” replied Ann. “And inwardly lovely” she added.

                            #2540

                            In reply to: Strings of Nines

                            F LoveF Love
                            Participant

                              Franlise had an outward beauty which matched the sweet loveliness of her inner being. Yes, she was a vision of pure loveliness, and many gallant knight had attempted to woo her away from her cleaning job. But Franlise knew that it was here, amongst the filth and dust of Ann’s office, that her true work was done. By day a cleaner, by night she toiled endlessly weaving Anne’s words into works of beauty. Words which would then go out into the world and give solace to many a despondent and lonely reader. To know that her words gave hope where once there was despair was all the thanks that Franlise needed.

                              Of course no one must know it was Franlise who was the true author. The Fellowship had insisted when they gave Franlise her mission that her part be kept hidden. Being humble, as well as outwardly beautiful and inwardly lovely, Franlise was happy to obey the wishes of the Fellowship in this matter. Besides, she knew that if Ann were to find out the truth, the pour deranged creature would probably be driven to place of complete madness.

                              Franlise shuddered at the thought.

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