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  • #2868

    In reply to: Tales of Tw’Elves

    Jib
    Participant

      The end of Being Veronica’s season four coincided strangely with the end of time day. She had eventually become a channeler. Still full of images and sounds of time travels, space projections and probabilities, Yann decided it was time for him to go fetch some Shanghainese food for the evening. They were going to Taipei for the week end with Yurick, meeting with an artist friend who’d promised to show them around.

      Outside the air was chilly, it almost had that peculiar smell Yann associated with frost. When he first decided to come to Shanghai, it was with the secret hope it would be warmer than Paris, but currently it seemed to be as cold and chilly a city. At least, Taipei would feel a bit warmer, he thought with a misty sigh, the weather forecast announced at least 23°C. What better occasion for the beginning of the new timeline.

      The store was not very far from the house, you just had to turn left at the corner and it was right here after the laundry service. It was a small shop, with only tangerins, oranges, a few apples and bananas. The shopekeeper and his wife greeted him. Yann was still feeling shy with the Chinese, mostly because he couldn’t speak their language yet. He’d begun taking lessons, but there was so much to learn. He smiled and quickly resumed his focus on the fruits. Some bananas were calling him, quite ripe actually. He hesitated, took them and almost put them in a plastic bag, but he noticed they were maybe too ripe, the skin was cracked in some areas and he could see the white flesh of the fruit turning brown. He nonchalently put them back on the stall as the shopekeeper was showing him the strawberries.

      Yann smiled and he couldn’t remember how to say no, so instead he laughed and waved his hand in protest. The man didn’t insist and went back to the counter. He didn’t seem to be concerned by the end of time.

      #2738

      In reply to: Strings of Nines

      TracyTracy
      Participant

        Vincentius was counterparting with his long lost triplet, Detritus, although he hesitated to mention it. “I had better not mention another character” he said wisely.

        #2466

        After his failed attempts to gain control over the Land of Peas, and his being thrown out of the Majorburghouse body first and framed head second by an angry mob of infuriated Peaslanders (which was something to be noted, since Peaslanders were usually quite the happy bunch), the Majorburgmester now bereft of anything but his will, was thinking it was high time for a u-turn in his carreer.

        His dear blubbits had apparently mostly vanished out of sight, some said trapped in a blinking giant spider’s cobweb blinked out of Peasland, some others said suffocated under shiny duct tape, and even some said baked in ashes and almonds — those last obviously were the maddest of the lot.
        It seemed like all the Dimensions had conspired to his defeat.

        Now hardly a Majorburgmester, the title having now been offered by the cheerful crowd to the raucous and unexpected hero (after they hesitated for a good hour if it should be given to the herald of the liberation, that stupid Gandfleur whatever its name of a dog), he was now again known as B. Weazeltweezel (the B. standing for Bartabous, his mother having a fondness for names in “-ous” like Precious, his elder sister, and Pulpous his second sister; a chance his father was a man of more common sense, otherwise he surely would have been named Houmous himself).

        The newfound venture didn’t wait long to manifest. In the not so distant past, he had already suspected something fishy about Lady Fin Min Hoot and now he knew. She was a high member of the Bridge Tarts Order, and though it was a secretive and feminine order, he had always loved a challenge.
        He felt he could muster all the tartiness and bridginess needed to be granted access to their secrets.

        Galvanized as he was, were he to successfully infiltrate the order, he knew he didn’t really stand a chance without something else. By nothing short of a synchronistic chance, Fwick, the saucerer had given him the leftovers of a potion he didn’t know what to make of.

        In a gulp (and a few gargppls) Batabous was rapidly changed into a rather convincing dame matron, with slight mustache and ample bosom.

        Tarty Bridgies, here I come… he said in a falsetto voice that needed work. … soon everybody will know about Lady… Bartaba

        #2278
        F LoveF Love
        Participant

          Arona had no idea what dimension she was in. Or indeed, whether she was where she was at all. Oddly enough, and it was not often now that Arona found anything odd, she was finding the experience rather freeing.

          “Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee Hoooooooooooooooooo” she shouted, and holding her arms wide open, began to whirl joyously around, till dizziness overcame her and she landed in a heap on the ground. She expected to land in a heap on the ground in a soft meadow with pretty spring flowers, but to her consternation realised that she had landed on what felt like polished concrete. She was even more concerned when she realised that she had a large audience watching her with interest, although at that stage all she really took in was a sea of feet around her. On further inspection she appeared to be in what looked like an enormous building full of shops, and, shoppers.

          “Are you okay?” A kindly gentleman asked her in a concerned voice. At least that is what Arona thought he said. Although the words were familiar, the accent was strange, and not one she had heard before.

          “I am fine, thank you,” replied Arona, trying her best to appear composed and rise gracefully from her sprawled position all at the same time. She must have looked convincing because, after a few more curious looks in her direction, the crowd began to disperse.

          Good Grief, where am I now? she wondered. Determined not to be alarmed and to go with the flow, however rapid that flow may be, the intrepid Arona set off to explore her new surroundings.

          “Wait!”

          Arona looked around. It was the strangely spoken gentleman who had first offered assistance. He was brandishing a book towards her.

          “Take this book. It is no good for me.”

          Arona hesitated. The last time she had heard those words she had ended up with a funny little baby to look after. The man was insistent though, so, thanking him politely Arona accepted the gift.

          “Hmmmm, How to Write Fiction, how very peculiar!” Flipping it open randomly she read:

          [Random Words Epigraph] Step One: Randomly choose 5 entries from your dictionary. Just flip through the pages, close your eyes, and put your finger down on the page. Copy down the word that is closest to your finger. If your finger lands on a word that you don’t know, you can choose the word just above or just below it. For the purposes of this assignment, count paired words as a single entry (for instance, “melting pot” is listed as a single entry). Step Two: Shape your list of dictionary entries into a poem or story, using all of the entries.

          “bugger that,” snorted Arona.

          #1282
          F LoveF Love
          Participant

            Speaking of toomoorroow, Elizabeth,there is something I have been meaning to say to you for some time now. Godfrey cleared his throat nervously. Somehow with all our deep, and incredibly meaningful philosoophising about life, I clean forgot to mention it.

            Clean is hardly the word I would have used whilst anywhere in the vicinity of this ooffice, muttered Finnley, mostly to herself, as she attempted to dislodge a large spooder web from the corner of the ceiling.

            Godfrey hesitated. He looked down and with somewhat unusual preoccupation made spiral patterns in the thick layer of dust on the window ledge.

            Godfrey, what is it? asked Elizabeth starting to feel some alarm. Oh in the name of Floove, you haven’t found another Felicity have you!

            No, nothing like that. The thing is, you see … well …

            Spoot it out! You are driving me Madder than Almad! snapped Elizabeth, losing patience, and craving nicobeck. She knew that meddlesome Finnley would take great delight in reporting her to Mr Arak if she smoked in the ooffice.

            Godfrey sighed and looked up, directly into Elizabeth’s beautiful violet, albeit rather bloodshot, eyes.

            I have been offered a position managing a poonut farm in Noo Zooland. I start immediately. It is a dream come true for me Elizabeth. I had to accept.

            No! screamed Elizabeth.

            Yes, I am afraid so. Goodbye dear Elizabeth. We both knew I was a rubbish pooblisher. Why don’t you see if that chap Bronkel will come back?

            Good riddance I say! said Finnley as Godfrey walked out the door. You two have done nothing but speak noonsense in a hooty tooty accent since that man arrived.

            #993
            F LoveF Love
            Participant

              Tender hearted Tina hesitated momentarily as she remembered poor Prouty’s misery when she left him. Still! she thought, cheering up, it had all worked out for the best in the end.

              She couldn’t help but giggle when she imagined Al’s dismay when he saw how long it had taken her to achieve so little!

              #800

              Pondering the significance of his dream , Franiel set out again. It was the third morning since he had woken to find the chalice missing, and he was no closer to knowing where he was going. Yet he had taken the advice of the BBL and felt all the better for it in his spirit.

              Morning! Franiel called a greeting to an old woman who was passing by, delighted to see signs of life, and wondering if it meant he was near a Village. Might I ask where you are taking that basket of eggs?

              A good morning to you young man. Certainly you may ask, I am taking these into the Village Market to sell.

              And where might that be, it is not the Village of Chard Dam Jarfon by any strange chance? asked Franiel, thinking nothing would surprise him anymore.

              The old woman looked at him in astonishment. The Village of Chard Dam Jarfon! You surely have a very long journey before you if you are heading for the Village of Chard Dam Jarfon. No indeed, I am going to the Village of Chard Dut Jep, an hour or so from here.

              Franiel considered this for a moment. And if I keep heading the way I am going, and from whence you have started, where might I be going?

              The old woman hesitated and looked at Franiel with an odd expression in her dark eyes.

              I am not sure if you want to do that, for this is a very long and lonely way you are heading. Unless you are going to the old Chesterhope mansion, and there’s not many who would do be doing that anymore.

              How very interesting, said Franiel, rather intrigued. Is that where you have come from Old Woman?

              The old woman gazed searchingly at Franiel for a moment before answering.

              Aye it is, I work for Madame Chesterhope. I am the only one left now and it has been like that for many a long year, save for old Derwent of course, him who minds the gardens, but he’s not right in the mind that one and Madame keeps him on out of the kindness of her heart, said the Old Woman, and Franiel sensed some deep sadness in her voice, but in the next breath it was gone and he wondered if it was a trick of his mind.

              Why don’t you come to the Village with me? she asked. Are you looking for work? There’s plenty would take on a fine young man such as yourself.

              Would your Madame Chesterhope be looking for someone such as myself by any chance? asked Franiel, For I have nowhere in particular I am headed, and I am in need of some way of keeping myself. And as he spoke the words out loud he found himself wondering at them, yet he felt such an odd sense of anticipation inside himself, as though perhaps there was some new adventure to be had after all.

              Again the old woman looked at Franiel appraisingly for a long time. Eventually she spoke.

              When you get to the crossways turn left and keep heading that way for 2 miles till you see the Chesterhope sign. It’s an up and down path for a ways to get to the mansion from there. When you get there, it would be best to keep in mind all is not as it might seem. I will say no more and bid you farewell, for I have still got a ways to go.

              Perhaps I will see you later then! Franiel called after her.

              She turned and looked back at him. Perhaps.

              #501
              F LoveF Love
              Participant

                Arona finally managed to fall into a restless sleep.

                She dreamt she was walking down a narrow alleyway between a row of old brick houses. A woman hanging multicoloured shawls on a washing line called out to her.

                Where are you going? asked the lady. Are you lost or something? Do you need some co-ordinate points?

                oh no, said Arona, I am just checking out the other side. I heard there is chocolate over there. It is through that gate I think.

                The lady recoiled in horror. The other side! NO, you don’t want to go to the other side. I went to the other side once and I was never the same again. They all say I am mad now. No stay here and help me with the laundry.

                Arona hesitated. A rabbit, a lynx and a toad rushed down the alleyway. Woooooo Hoooooo, they shouted. We are going to the other side toooooooooooooo.

                Mad, said the woman shaking her head, completely bonkers I am afraid, and she threw fairy dust on Arona.

                :fleuron:

                Arona wakened from her strange dream feeling oddly refreshed. It was morning. She started making her way happily back towards the cave, anxious to see her friends again.

                #461

                Jose Maria stood sadly in front of the plate glass window. He avoided looking in mirrors, tried to forget his disfiguring scars, but occasionally he caught sight of his reflection in a window, and it always came as a shock. He avoided leaving the finca as much as possible, but had felt obliged to visit his frail and aged mother in the Residencia old folks home. His uncle Juan had come trundling up the dirt track to the farm in his clapped out old Citroen van, with the news that Josefina was expected to die within the week, and Jose Maria had agreed to make the trip into town.

                A pointless trip really, Josefina hadn’t recognized him, had called him Sally at first, and tried to kiss him; and then later she’d shrunk from him in fear, calling him Pierre.

                *****
                Three days later Josefina was dead. Jose was required to make another trip into town, much to his dismay, to the funeral. He stood quietly at the back during the ceremony, next to his cousin Paquita, who was attempting to hide a bad case of acne behind her long black hair. Jose Maria smiled at her kindly, and she smiled gratefully back.

                Paquita and Jose stayed close to each other for the rest of the day, and Paquita’s family invited Jose to spend the night at their apartment in town. Jose hesitated, but when he noticed Paqui’s hopeful expression, he relented and accepted courteously.

                Long after the rest of the family had gone to bed, Jose and Paqui sat on the balcony overlooking the industrial estate and the superstores, in companiable silence. Jose’s scars, and Paquita’s acne no longer visible in the darkness, they had both relaxed, and wondered vaguely why they’d never really noticed each other before.

                Paqui broke the silence. Well, you’ll have no worries now about money, Joselito.

                What do you mean? asked Jose.

                Well, Josefina won the lottery, and you’re her only child, Jose, it will all be yours.

                Jose’s mouth opened and closed like a goldfish. Lottery? Oh you must be mistaken, my mother doesn’t have any money. WHAT lottery win?

                #310
                TracyTracy
                Participant

                  Allow me to explain, George said kindly. But first, come with me. We’ll have our chat somewhere bright and sunny, we’ve spent long enough in this dark cave. Waiting for who knows what, he added with a wink. If you hold my hand and allow me to guide you, we’ll have a picnic on the banks of the Little Brook.

                  Dory hesitated. After all, it was George who had given her that drugged coleslaw. The thought of the Little brook and the sunshine was appealing though, and Dory decided to take her chances and go with George.

                  She held his hand and closed her eyes, and sank herself back to the back of her mind and relaxed. She felt her body buzz a bit and a ‘falling into a vortex’ kind of feeling, not at all unpleasant, and in no time at all felt the sun warm on the top of her head and the bright sunlight lighting up the back of her eyelids. When she opned her eyes she was surrounded by ferny bracken and dappled silver birch trees and sheep nibbling the close cropped carpet of grass.

                  #239
                  F LoveF Love
                  Participant

                    As soon as Arona said “sand” she noticed an object sitting at the base of the coatstand.

                    Funny I did not see that at first.

                    It was very beautiful, a glass globe, with coloured sand in it.

                    Yet she found herself stepping back, hesitant, wondering if it was some sort of a trick the dragon might be playing on her.

                    Someone else joined her in the tunnel, it was the older lady who had soothed her to sleep and told her to use her magic. Her energy felt very beautiful to Arona, it was gentle and yet powerful, and it also had the feeling of laughter.

                    Hello Arona, how is your hand?

                    Oh, my hand is fine thank you, said Arona, feeling the pain in her left hand throbbing.

                    The lady smiled. And how is the magic going?

                    Oh good .. I have learned it is easy and I just have to believe in it. She hesitated ….. mind you the truth is I am still wandering around in these dark tunnels….but I do feel much better about it.

                    What were you thinking about when you fell and hurt your hand?

                    I was thinking about magic, and then when I fell I had a terrible feeling of doubt as to whether there was such a thing.

                    Your hand holds a clue for you Arona, the answer to a riddle.

                    Oh could you just tell me? I have been answering riddles ever since I got here.

                    #237
                    F LoveF Love
                    Participant

                      Magic is easy peasy
                      My hand is sore
                      This poem is rubbish
                      So I won’t say any more

                      Well we must thank the Gods for small mercies said Mandrake, sighing heavily. Arona laughed. Her mood felt so light again, as though something had really, really, REALLY fallen into place for her.

                      Up ahead the tunnel widened. Arona gave a small gasp as she saw what appeared to be a coatstand with a black cape standing in the middle of the path.

                      My Cloak, she cried, astonished, and feeling sure that the crafty dragon was behind its unexpected appearance. Hmmm, what a mouldy old thing, she thought, as though seeing it for the first time.

                      There was a note pinned to the cape:

                      I build up castles. I tear down mountains. I make some men blind, I help others to see. What am I?

                      Arona hesitated only for a moment. Sand! She said, delighted with herself.

                      #163

                      Hells Bells muttered Arona to herself , this had better not be some sort of a test that dragon is putting me through

                      As she stepped forward into the darkness of the chosen path, she had a sudden sense she was walking off the edge of a cliff.

                      Arona had been practising quietness for a long time. The journey had been lonely at times and offered her many opportunities to practise her skills. There were so many parts of her wanting to have a say, discuss, analyse her every move, so that she would become paralysed and unable to move at all. In desperation almost she had learned to still the voices and find that part of herself she most believed herself to be. The part which believed in the existence of magic.

                      Well done, and shall you fly?

                      Arona hesitated. It was that voice again. She was not sure if this new voice came from her own thoughts, but she felt not.

                      Great, she thought, perfect time to finally lose it. Stuck in a dark cave with a troublesome dragon.

                      Shrugging her shoulders she went still inside and moved her body forward.

                      Leormn (with two little dots above the “o”) felt deeply humbled when he saw the extraordinary bravery of Arona.

                      It was hard for the proud dragon to consider, but he did wonder if sometimes he went too far with his joking. After all for him the cave was a playground, clay he could mould at will, or at a whim. Perhaps one could even call it a work of art, he thought proudly.

                      But he did realise that for the girl, who was newer to the ways of magic (although showed the most tremendous potential he grudgingly had to admit), he realised it represented something far deeper, a dual potential, the hope of light, but also the possibility of the deepest darkness.

                      For a moment he even considered revealing his whereabouts.

                      She is fine , Malvina answered his thoughts, she loves the challenge. It is what drew her here.

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