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  • #643

    A DARK ALEHOUSE ONE NIGHT SOMEWHERE IN LONDON DURING THE REIGN OF QUEEN V

    Blimey O’Riley, you drive a hard bargain. But it looks like you and me got ourselves an arrangement.

    We split it eight ways even as agreed.

    Eight ways. They shook hands. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you Constable Marshall O’Riley.

    #641

    AN EXCHANGE WHICH TAKES PLACE ON THE STREETS OF LONDON DURING THE REIGN OF QUEEN VICTORIA:

    ‘Ere!, I saw you take that.

    Let go of me, I didn’t do nothing.

    I aint blind and I aint stupid, lad. I saw you put your thieving hand in this ladies handbag. Now what you got?

    Nothing. Just this coin. It’s for me mam, she’s at home poorly, dying, and we aint got no food. ‘Ere, take it. it won’t happen again.

    You’re right it won’t happen again because you’ll be going to the gallows I’ll be bound. I know your face. You’re one of them Magpies. I’ve ‘ad my eye on you for some time. You’re clever at covering tracks I’ll grant you that, but not clever enough it seems.

    Look Mr Constable, I don’t know nothing about no magpies, they thieving birds aint they? It was for me poor old mam, I swear to God, if I be lying may ‘e strike me down dead.

    No more blasphemy from you. I expect the good Lord’s got better things to do than spend his time striking down lying thieves. Thing is you’ve been been caught thieving from this lady and it’s not looking too good for you right now.

    And I will thank you Ma’am for your courageous co-operation. said Constable Marshall O’Riley, turning galantly to the finely dressed woman, clutching her handbag tightly to her person. You have been victim of a heinous crime, and I would wish to trouble your gentle self no more with this matter. But I will thank you for your details and be assured I shall call upon you should we need you to give further evidence.

    No sooner had the lady gone than Constable O’Riley turned to the young thief.

    Now you listen to me carefully, young lad. I have an idea that, if you play your hand right, might save you from hanging.

    I’m listening.

    You and me is not two figures to be seen together, except for somewhere private. I want you to talk to the one what leads your little gang. I have an idea that could be of mutual benefit. I will let you go now, and you be here tomorrow same time, and I will tell you where the meeting will be held. I’ve ‘ad my eyes on your gang for quite some time, all I needed to convict you was to catch you red ‘anded, and I got that now. So If you ain’t here, I know where to find you lot, and I swear I’ll drag you in front of the magistrate. Do as I say though and we could all be laughing.

    #638

    He did recall his name in a dream. Jarvis.
    A strange dream actually.
    There was that woman… whose name he couldn’t recall though.
    Her face was beautiful but he hadn’t felt any sexual attraction toward her… it was different, like he knew her.
    Well, with his memory loss, he possibly knew her, someone close assuredly.
    She was asking questions about this land he had beached on… and in the dream it appeared he knew many details, again that he couldn’t recall now he was awake.
    It was more like a legend, not facts.
    But now it was quite real to him.
    It’s been 2 days since he opened his eyes on this purple beach, and he’s been busy collecting driftwood to make a fire. He didn’t dare venture into the forest, and if the legends about the inhabitants of Kandulim were true, he wasn’t welcome here.

    Wow he was feeling dizzy. His head was pounding repeatedly like one of the vangor drums. He dropped the twigs he had collected on the sand and took his head in his hands. The pounding was so loud that he began crying.

    :yahoo_at_wits_end:

    A flash, a soft feminine face surrounded by a fiery red hair and blue liquid eyes. She was smiling at him.
    The pounding ceased at once, and he just had the time to see a movement in the forest. All was still now. His mind would suggest it was a hallucination fostered by that head ache… if his thoughts weren’t so scattered.

    Who was in that vision? Who was in the forest?
    Was it the woman in his dream?

    He began to recall the strange vision he had before awakening on this beach.

    #628

    Chris, I demand you tell me what’s going on! What was that … that thing! Nurse Bellamy was visibly upset, her cheeks flushed, her voice tremulous. She had no idea what had just happened, but she suspected that even coconut milk might not make it better this time.

    Are you going to tell her or do I have to do it? asked Veranassessee. Because if you can pull yourself together I have a couple of guests locked in a closet, and now a mummy on the run to deal with! It had been a tiring day and Veranassessee was furious.

    V’ass what’s going on, Chris, will someone please tell me ….!

    I will tell her Veranassessee. Dr Bronkelhampton slumped in his chair and wondered where to start. A plan was beginning to form in his head. V’ass had always said Nurse Bellamy should be told the truth, now it seems that, as usual, she was right. But of course, he smiled to himself, as Dr Lemane, his erudite Professor at medical school had always said, there are many sniggly variations of one truth. Well, it was something along those lines he said anyway.

    :fleuron2:

    Oh this is the bees knees! what do you reckon about this room then Sha? Do you think the treatment has started?

    Perhaps it is special beauty air in here. It smells different don’t it?

    They both breathed deeply. Oh Yes, Yes, YES! giggled Glor

    Sha?

    Yes?

    It’s a bit odd though don’t you think? I mean nothing like what I was thinking.

    :fleuron2:

    The mummy headed towards the dense bush, her brain was foggy but she knew she had to find cover. Her limbs felt heavy. Keep going, just keep going …

    :fleuron2:

    Nurse Bellamy could not stop crying. Oh Chris … oh you poor man. I always thought there was something odd about Veranassessee. Oh what shall we do my darling, she must be stopped!

    Quite right, she must my little poppet, soothed Dr Bronkelhampton, stroking Nurse Bellamy’s hair gently, and thinking quickly. But for now, keep it to yourself. It is a very delicate matter. Can you do that my sweet one? Just for me?

    Oh yes Chris! whatever you think best my my darling.

    #626
    F LoveF Love
    Participant

      There was a tentative knock on the door and Finnley, the weekly cleaner popped her head around.

      Oh Ms Tattler …. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be in here at… she checked the wootch on her wrist, 5:57 am .. but I saw the light on …. A horrified expression passed fleetingly over her face as she took in condition of the office.

      Perhaps I shall come back later Ms Tattler, she said retreating, and making a note to have a word to the building supervisor, Mr Arak, as soon as possible. Mind you this wasn’t the first time she had spoken to Mr Arak about the issue of Ms Tattler living on the premises, to no avail. He was mad as Almad that man. Perhaps I will bloddy resign while I am at it too, she thought. Perhaps I will tell him to bugger his job, shove it where the sun doesn’t shine! Finnly cheered up greatly at the prospect.

      Elizabeth, exhausted, only dimly registered the interruption, looking up for an instant she waved vaguely in the direction of the door, and then returned to her frenzied writing, eager to capture the last remnants of her dream before it faded.

      #622

      Somewhere during the 23 rd century

      “aaa AAAA AAAAA Tcheeeew !”

      “Hiiiiii?! Oh Fracking NOOOoooo!”

      The shriek had been heard in the whole facility.

      Phefia Beryl was the first on the spot where Vinya Grey had been playing so exuberantly with her vocal chords.

      — Vinnie? Are you alright?… What just happened?
      — Oh, Pheffy… I think I made an awful blunder…
      — What do you mean?
      — You know, my last experiment?
      — The g…
      — Yes!
      — What?!
      — They poofed away…
      — Away?… You mean, all of them? Oh bugger…

      :fleuron:

      A few minutes later, Vinya and Phefia were around a white table sucking on straws picked into white and red polystyrenoid balls.

      — Vinnie, you look terrible… That last geomagnetic storm had not done very good on your DNA I’m afraid.
      — And the worse is that each time I sneeze, I blow up wormholes… I thought it would go better very quickly, but last one was big and lasted long enough to let the whole experimental herd wander off in another time/space and/or dimension…
      — Yeah, that’s pretty bad… But wherever they went, they probably will die very soon… Imagine… With their stiff legs anytime they see something frightening, I guess a mere mapgie could easily have them for dinner…
      — Such a pity… I was close to doing something great with them… When we discovered these fossilized blue spiders, I knew it was the first step.
      — Bwah, this rehydrated frogrog is the grossest thing I’ve ever drunk… But yeah you’re right, the first results were very promising. The spiders venom could provoke very random and deep mutations.
      — And all we needed was a little more control on the direction of the mutations.
      — Anyway they’re just goats… You possibly can’t have breached a cosmic law with a handful of GOATS
      — Hope so Pheffy, hope so…

      :fleuron2:

      San Demangelo, 1848

      Elroy was laughing… Hey Joe, Twi! he shouted A letter from Uncle Ernie!

      — Uncle Ernie? How’s the old bat doin’? asked Twilight
      — He’s sending his greetings for the new year, and babbling about last dead people in the neighborhood. But there’s something funny. He’s saying that he’d just acquired some funny goats. Like popped in, out of nowhere. At first he’d thought of a joke, but apparently no one’s been claiming them. He’d thought them dead, they were a dozen laying stiff on the ground, but when they started to wake up, they went down again like broken dolls. Apparently the magpies on top of the tree had been scaring them. Ahaha… Where does he get such strange stories…
      — Well, magpies are scarey, Twilight said meaningfully, with a side glance at Joe
      — Whatever… At least he’d been giving us a good laugh. He’s saying he’s gonna breed the horny beasts, and start a Fainting Goat Fair (or FGF) in Marshall County. Perhaps we could get there next Thanksgiving…
      — Depends when the Freak Show’s coming to town, mused Twilight, I hope to see them soon…

      #600

      A feeling of disappointment.
      A feeling of hatred… Sam didn’t really know where it was coming from, but he was feeling it. It was a pooling of energies, not necessarily linked to anyone in particular. Like holding to old habits and old clothes though they needed to be changed.

      Sam decided to create something he hadn’t for quite some time. Some fever and reconfiguration of his digestive process.

      For him, it was a way of expression through his body. It was not a dysfunction as it was expressing freely the energy. Nothing was to be feared or opposed.
      He focused deeply on himself and began to feel this low vibrating sound in his belly. And his body began its shifting.

      :fleuron:

      Lucio was swimming with ease in the marble pool of the villa. His brother was speaking with the trees again and he had no interest in that himself. The water upon his body was offering enough interactions at that moment. In order to swim swiftly this morning he had reshaped his body to a slender and tall body. His short hair was moss green today and quite fitting in the sky blue water. A lemur was swimming alongside with him like it was challenging him in some way.
      He felt his brother’s energy field expand and ripple through the water. A big watery splash was the indication he had joined Lucio in this aquatic amusement.

      Though they were identical twins, they also had the ability to alter their physical shape slightly. Mostly their hair and size, and also their faces. Today they were identical again, except for their size as Lucio had increased it, and their hair. Adrian was bald today, his perfectly round skull was appearing almost shiny in the afternoon sun. He winked at his brother with a big grin and dived under the wavy surface.

      #1595

      In reply to: Synchronicity

      ÉricÉric
      Keymaster

        Interesting sync, speaking of next Indiana Jones due in theaters in 2008, having to deal with crystal skulls; there’s a Frank Marshall in here too ;))

        Lucas stated that he became fascinated with crystal skulls while producing The Young Indiana Jones Chronicles in 1992. He felt the skulls were as strong a plot device as the Ark of the Covenant.

        #547
        TracyTracy
        Participant

          “Of course, as soon as they had stepped into the powerful magnetic field generated inside the T.R.A.P., the reality around them was transphormed as if they all had been into a huge deFørmiñG mirror, that they could shape with their strangest thoughts.

          Obviously, they had all started to hallucinate some funny stuff…

          It was happening so quick, Sam noticed.”

          Hahahah! Becky actually laughed out loud. Sleepily, she hoped she’d remember to make a connection between the sheriffs frog accident and the T.R.A.P. trip when she was feeling more alert.

          #517
          F LoveF Love
          Participant

            oh, well, it should be Jo, without an “e” I guess, said Tina. Hmmmm shall we just delete it then? It’s ages since I have deleted anything, and we can’t have it not making sense, she added, trying to keep a straight face. :face-plain:

            #510

            :multimedia: Marvin Scrozzezi was considering a script that had been sent to him by his friend.
            Betty, his assistant, had insisted that he reads it…

            Seeing his current movie, it couldn’t be any worse in any case.
            The title of the script cracked him up.

            Ogregan, the Origeans

            Marvin giggled, almost spluttering his smoking chai on the script.

            He started to read the first paragraphs.

            FADE IN:
            EXT. WOODS
            A big humphing man plunges into the woods. Twigs slap at him,
            but the sound of gunfires keeps him going. Sheriff Marshall is
            taking the lead, but an auburn haired man plunges into the woods
            before him, followed by one dark-haired one. They are obviously
            brothers. The older one is ELVIN STREWN, he is following his
            younger brother with the lopsided hair, JAY STREWN.
            JAY is shooting at the fugitive, ALDO MC GALLIGAN, a local
            mobster known as the OGREGAN.
            
            Gunfire explodes in trees near the STREWN brothers, shot at them
            by MC GALLIGAN, and they dive and roll into hiding under a
            palisade.

            Interesting stuff, wonders Marvin… That mobster looks like a fascinating character…

            Flipping though the script he found page 57 another catching bit of reading…

             DISSOLVE TO:
            EXT. PROSPERITY BANK ; SHOT of a Texan bank on a quiet street.
            INT. PROSPERITY BANK
            There are three customers, male. Enters a MOTHER and her SON.
            TELLER#1: What can I do for you Mrs MC GALLIGAN?
            MRS GALLIGAN to her SON who is drawing on her dress: ALDO, will
            you keep still for a moment, good for nothing!

            Pfff, Marvin sighed, feeling bored.
            Not long after, he was sound asleep, snoring loudly on the comfortable chair.

            #508

            Ted always felt the cold, and the saloon was freezing. He clenched his chattering teeth for as long as he could, and then could stand it no longer. He dashed outside to grab a sweater out of his saddlebag, grimacing with cold.

            The Sheriff, trembling with cold, tugged at the sleeve of his sweater, and inadvertently pulled a small canvas bag out, spilling the contents all over the side of Dervish, his horse.

            Hallucinogenic green frogs boinged and scattered all over the place.

            Yikes! shouted Ted. This is gonna be one helluva f’kin trip now!

            #507

            Ted was quite fond of Ogrean.
            Twilight was a bit sorry for the sheriff, for she had thought him a good guy at first,… whatever that means… but obviously he was a bit blinded by the slickness of the slimy condescending Pompousaur.

            But something interesting had happened this day, and she wondered how it would change things again.
            Apparently, from what she had caught from the scene, Ted had left the saloon in a cold rage, and it was quite obvious that the Pudgeon was a bit distraught… What could have moved the jovial sheriff like that?

            When she and Anna were changing clothes behind the scene after the representation, Anna started to talk quite freely and unexpectedly about the accident.

            — That Marshall guy is not as silly as he seems…

            As she was more talking to herself, Twilight didn’t answer.

            — What d’ya reckon? Anna asked more directly
            — Oh me? I don’t really know what happened…
            — Don’t play dumb with me, girl. You’re smarter than you wanna show.

            Twilight took some time to ponder…
            — I don’t think that Ogrean tried to bribe the sheriff, not as obviously…
            — Yeah…
            — Apparently, he started to explain the sheriff who he was supposed to arrest, and that didn’t please him the least.
            — More likely, yes. Definitely sounds like him…
            Anna?
            — Yes?

            Twilight almost wanted to tell her how she did understand Anna and how it must have been difficult for her with that child from Mc Gaughran, but she couldn’t express all of that.

            Terry is sweet.
            — Yes he is, he’s a lovely boy. I love him so much despite…
            — I know.

            When she came back to their ranch, Twilight felt relieved somewhat about what had occurred. Perhaps that this era of heavy cloaked ruthless order incarnated by Ogrean was coming to an end.
            She was a hopeless dreamer.

            #502

            Madame Butterbutt, the saloon landlady and iconic colourful figure, came back to her room in a fury.
            She was living above the saloon, in a large room tastefully furnished, with some exuberant objects that she had gathered from her many commercial acquaintances.

            She took one of her favourite cigarillos to calm her down.
            That Mc Gaughran was such a… she wasn’t at loss for words. But none of them would have been strong or decent enough for the dork that he was. Ooops she smiled, this last one had almost slipped out unnoticed.

            Unlike many people in that small town of San Demangelo, she wasn’t fearful of the man. Not of the man himself (she was almost a giantess compared to many women), and certainly not of his threats either, even though she knew what the man was capable of.
            She knew well many of his shady tricks, but she also knew things about him that most of the time sufficed to keep him quiet and docile.

            Today, she would have almost laughed at him when he had tried to pressure her by threatening to reveal to sheriff Ted Marshall her little trafficking of hallucinogenic toads. Pathetic of him.
            That was really nothing, a little commerce she had with some remote part of her family in Guatemala, especially the voodoo witch Nana Del Conda. These were regularly brought to her by the old ambulant quack Myrlin who was selling all sorts of hocus pocus remedies, keeping the potent ones for Madame Butterbutt.

            So nothing extraordinary about that… No,… what had brought her in that terrible mood was when the hoity-toity, pompous, arrogant, full of himself f*ckhead, oops she bit her lip again… When that jelly belly mugger had tried to coerce her into pushing the little Twi into his bed.
            Repugnant.

            When that foolhardy brother El Disperso is storming again into the bar to try to find quarrel and provoke the jelly pig into a brawl, she would perhaps let him have it his own way after all.
            Last time her loath of firearms had been directed strongly against the young boy, perhaps also to protect him too… Anyway, he was perhaps right, allowing himself to “float downstream”, from the hate to the anger… and perhaps to hope and joy again.
            She started to sound like dear ol’ Abe…

            #485
            TracyTracy
            Participant

              Fleur reluctantly put her book down. The new arrivals would be here soon, and she hadn’t made any preparations for their welcome dinner. Perpetually engrossed in Balzac books, Fleur did as little as possible in the kitchen.

              What shall I cook? HHMMM. Olive and chocolate pasta bake? Pineapple Anchovy cake? No, too much trouble. I know! Fleur had an idea. A big omelette, that would be easy, with a few jelly beans for colour.

              Oy! Raster! She called for the kitchen boy. Go and fetch those funny big eggs you found down in the caves.

              #476

              Ted Marshall swaggered into the saloon and ordered a tequila. He adopted a casual pose against the bar, tipped his pith helmet back with one casual finger, and surveyed the scene. He cast a disninterested glance over the dancers, and tut tutted under his breath when he recognized Twilight. That girl was too big for her scuffed boots!

              A charismatic character caught Ted’s eye, a handsome man in a stylishly crumpled white linen suit, stretched taut against his bulging biceps. Success, drive and determination seemed to exude from his very pores, the slick sheen of raw power.

              Ted edged himself closer to the larger than life character, and glared at the tall lean man who had just walked in.

              #475

              It had been real hard since Momma and Poppa weren’t around no more. Twilight was four when they got shot dead, and she could hardly remember their faces now. Sometimes she had memories come to mind, this real pretty woman, brushing her hair at night. One hundred strokes, she would say, make your hair real pretty. It made her feel sad because she wished it were true.

              Her brother Jo, he was only ten when they got killed. He was the one found them. They’d been shot. Jo, he took it real hard. Sometimes he’d get this far away and sad look and Twilight knew he was remembering. She wanted to hug him, but he’d be all shut off.

              Anyways it was real hard to keep the ranch going after that. Her brother Elroy, he was the oldest. He was fifteen when Momma and Poppa died. So he took on being the man of the house. Sometimes he would try and boss Jo and her round, and Twilight would give him a real hard time. She was just jesting though, she knew he was just doing his best to keep the El Disperso Ranch running and she was real proud of him.

              It was real hard though. Winter had been hard. They all were fearing they might have to sell the blue bull just to keep the wolves from the door next winter. Elroy, he was right pig headed though about that bull. Jo would say to Elroy “we have to sell that bull, Elroy and Elroy would get mad and say “no ways we selling that bull Jo”. One day they nearly came to blows over that bull.

              It was the only time Twilight seen Elroy get real mad with Jo. They were real close those two. They were all close really. They had to keep together when Momma and Poppa died. Uncle Bart turned up at the news of their folks dying, wanted to take the ranch, but Elroy , well he got Poppa’s rifle and chased Uncle Bart away. Elroy said he would have shot Uncle Bart had he tried any harder to take the ranch. Twilight would look in his eyes when he told the story and she knew he weren’t jesting. A few others tried to interfere also. Somehow they all stayed together and kept the ranch.

              Elroy won that blue bull. It was real rare and very fine and people would pay plenty for a bull like that bull. Elroy said he won it anyhow. He turned up with it one day, and he was real quiet. Twilight saw him whispering to Jo, and Jo looked real concerned. She thought it best not to ask too many questions and so she kept what she seen to herself. But she couldn’t help but be wondering.

              Twilight wanted to help take the load off her brothers so she got herself a job dancing in the saloon in town. She liked to call it performing though. Sounded more high class. She watched the other dancers till she taught herself to do it. She would hide in the saloon and watch them. That was one good thing about not having a Momma and a Poppa. She could pretty well do what she wanted. She liked dancing and she knew she were real good at it and pretty soon she was the dancer everyone wanted to see. She’d rather have a Momma and Poppa though, truth be told.

              One of the other girls, Anna, she was real pretty too, got jealous and tried to get Twilight kicked out, said she was too young to be dancing . Anyhow Anna had a soft spot for Jo and so he soon sweet talked her round. Jo and Elroy were real good looking boys, and plenty of girls liked them so Twilight was pretty lucky to have them look out for her. ( Elroy said she should wear a blond wig for her dancing, like a disguise, and Twilight thought this was real funny. But she wore it anyway.) Anna got pregnant, and she said Jo was the daddy, but everyone in town knew she slept with plenty of fellows, and Jo weren’t having a bar of it. Anna got real fat with the baby and had to stop dancing and now she lived with some old fellow who was always drunk and would eye up Twilight when she was dancing. Sometimes Twilight would tease Jo about the baby and call him “daddio” and he would get real mad with her. But could be his, that’s the truth. Poor little baby but she were glad Jo weren’t stuck with that Anna.

              Twilight knew the men looked at her. She knew what they were thinking and she didn’t mind. She weren’t no fool though. She had plans. She was going to be somebody, not laid up with some damn sprog like that Anna. Some of the money she earned she’d give to Elroy, some of it she put in a tin can she kept hidden.

              Last night some fellow from out of town came in. A sheriff. She heard the girls whispering and giggling about him. Sheriff Ted Marshall was his name. He was real fine looking and all the girls were in a flutter hoping he would look at them. Twilight wondered what he was doing in town. She hoped it were nothing to do with that bull of Elroys.

              #449

              All that farting had been quite exhausting, but the mummy felt that she was reincorporating vigor more quickly now, as the old fartesque energy was giving way.
              This was a quicker process than birthing, but also more disturbing.

              She slowly started to unwrap her bandages.
              She smiled as she saw her peach smooth skin on her hands.

              :fleuron:

              Malvina had clapped her hands and made the food and drinks and decorations disappear in the reception hall of the cave, feeling the time was not to big parties right now. The guest had moved again, and she had not been in the mood for party either.
              She had not yet managed to reestablish contact with her sisters and that was a more pressing matter.

              Leörmn had been retreating into his seasonal slumber, and would not be of great help at the moment, so she knew it was also time for her to get back to simple things and not worry about what was not yet here. Probabilities had simply moved, they would come back.

              The silgreen tree had bloomed, and she wanted to brew some potions with its flowers. She would then go with Irtak to the village sell some vials of potion, and perhaps they would take the opportunity to see Huÿgens too, as he sometimes needed such potions for his langoats.

              :fleuron:

              For Illi the cat, that cave filled with slimey scaly beasts was now out of her way.
              Good riddance.

              This dead Illi experience had been so intense she had almost believed there indeed was a pink indigo dragon right were she was at the entrance of the cave. But the impression had vanished all of a sudden, and she had found herself with her mind again her own only, without the echoing thoughts of that deranged other.
              She had found a tree nearby, and comfortably seated on some high branches had been mediating with the help of trance inducing betel catkins that she carried with her as she traveled.

              She had seen some weird stuff, like farting bandage wrapped people putting cobblestones to make a way to the sky, but that was enjoyable. As nothing really could make sense that night, she decided to go to sleep on her tree.

              In the morning, a snorting sound made her raise her pointy ears. Just below her tree, a man was eating and singing, looking at some map, obviously planning some interesting adventure…

              :fleuron:

              In the cave, where Vincentius was left with the Ugling boy and Mandrake, the latter finally decided to break the ice.

              — How pitiful we left that sabulmantium to the snorting man… Mandrake said, we could have had a peek into Arona’s adventure… Not that I am concerned, she is so brave, but you know, she’ll always be my little… What am I saying? mumbled Mandrake temporarily confused.
              — Oh, you mean, Arona had a sabulmantium?
              — Mmm, well, of course… We projected hairy cows and stuff… (I’m really saying the stupidest things today, might be that herbal tea, shivered Mandrake, licking his paw and combing with it the unkempt hair on his head)
              — Interesting… But you know if you want to have a look, we can do otherwise. Let me see…
              — (trying to make yourself important, huh) thought Mandrake

              Vincentius took a little blue bag tied to his belt, and threw a pinch of a smelly mossy powder on the smoldering embers.
              A thick greenish smoke started to rise making Mandrake retreat carefully (or tactfully he would say) in his favourite place behind the pile of logs to look at the discomfiture of poor Vincentius without having to overwhelm him too much with his own superior sharp intuitive senses.
              But to Mandrake’s surprise, the smoke steadied like a moving wall, and images started to foarm.

              — Hey, this is my little girl, Arona! Mandrake couldn’t help but say.
              A-lo-na, the slow voice of Yikes/Zacquer said.

              #1938
              ÉricÉric
              Keymaster

                Yurick wondered for a moment what action was required behind “floating downstream”, the motto that his friend Finn was brandishing with renewed fervor at each of their encounters.

                Perhaps it was actually a “non action”, and that reminded him of all the Taoist texts he had loved to read when he was younger. One of the tenets of the philosophy of Taoists was wu wei 無為 or “non action”, but this was not meant as being lazy and passive, quite the contrary… A bit of a mind-stretching concept:

                WU WEI (from the 道德经 Dao de jing, attributed to Lao Zi)

                The Sage is occupied with the unspoken
                and acts without effort.

                Teaching without verbosity,
                producing without possessing,
                creating without regard to result,
                claiming nothing,
                the Sage has nothing to lose.

                When he had asked his friend Elias about this, Yurick got that answer,

                “We have spoken previously of how you each have divorced yourselves from essence, and subsequently have forgotten your own native language. You now incorporate a desire to be connecting with essence, to be dissolving of the veils that exist between the focus and the entirety of the whole. In this, it communicates to you, but you have forgotten your language! Therefore, be not in distress; and allow yourself the opportunity to be assimilating a new language, and not pressing yourself to be attempting to interpret within your present language.” [session 100, June 16, 1996]

                and that completed nicely another thing he had previously heard from him, speaking about our natural language in essence:

                “Be listening to your impressions and be recognizing of your impulses, and DO NOT be denying of your impulses! This is your language to yourself from essence, and it is not harmful to you. It naturally moves you into the most efficient directions, but you are taught within your belief systems to be discounting of your impulses and to be suspect of your impulses, for they are bad. They are not! They are your natural language to yourself. Therefore, be listening to this language.” [session 294, July 01, 1998]

                So basically, floating downstream, or being in the wu wei state of mind required only one thing, to be focusing and acting upon our impulses, and not judging or denying them… Probably the most challenging thing we are learning to do now…

                #1313

                In reply to: Yuki’s Livrary

                ÉricÉric
                Keymaster

                  November 9 th

                  For Yurick, or perhaps shall we say, The Artist Formerly Known As Quintin this sequence of sequence of 911 has the signification of a reminder to be paying attention to self, and being present to himself.
                  The last few days have been, in appearance, quite devoid of exciting new installments of the story, yet, we nudge him not to judge this lack of activity on his part as categorically as he has been used to do. It was a time of self-retreat, a time we have shared with many other essences, as all is connected.
                  A very fine point which has been brought forth by Elias a few days ago (in Yurick’s perception of time) has been that you want to appreciate the process. His illustration was that of a beautiful flower bud that you hold, and that you don’t want to tear open, but rather let itself reveal its splendor, and also, its surprises.

                  It has prompted Yurick to remember something, which had lots of meaning to him.
                  Some years ago, when he was in Kyoto’s forests, he picked up an acorn, as he liked to have seeds or tree corns in his pockets. Back from his trip, in his home, there was this big pot of earth were an old plant had died from the summer heat, and he planted the acorn in it.
                  And he waited. Till he had to move, some months later, having renounced to have the acorn grow at all, as the soil’s surface was remaining desperately flat. Perhaps it had rotten altogether. Before leaving the apartment, Yurick started to rummage with his bare hands into the soil, to look for the remains of the acorn he believed had rotten, only to find it perfectly healthy. And even more, it had grown lots of long roots.
                  So he took it back home, where it was planted and still continues to grow at a rapid rate.

                  Looking at the now big sapling reminds Yurick how that process of growing roots was important for the plant, as they were essential for the oak to be able to survive the winters colds and the summers heats.

                  Such is the importance of these moments were inspiration seem to be scarce, or away. It is ever present, growing its roots very carefully inside the soil of your being, and expanding your connexions, redefining some, bringing new nourishments to yourself… The effects are not always immediately visible, but things never cease to move.

                  Be prepared to be amazed by the colors of the flowers and leaves your seed produces, for as Yurick’s oak was an unusual kind of oak (a chestnut oak ), the very seeds that are in your pockets or waiting in the soils of your dream gardens may reveal their own surprises…

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