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  • #657

    — I wonder, Joselito
    — What Paqui?
    — Do you know if our room will have a view?

    Paquita and Jose Maria had boarded an hour ago, and the plane had just taken off Heathrow airport where they had their connecting flight to Sydney (with a stopover at Tokyo) where they would finally take a tourist plane for the main Pacific island of the Tikfijikoo Archipelago.
    There had been some fuss about a lady who was called to the gate. No wonder she got lost, Jose was thinking, with that strange numbering of gates… Any sane person would lost his or her bearings…
    By a strange coincidence, the lady was seated on their row, and Jose Maria and Paquita had exchanged a surprised look when they had heard the name. At first they had thought that the “Ms Mavis Staples” the air-hostess was calling every minute was the same singer they were very fond of…

    She had finally arrived, a plump sweating embarrassed woman, apologising at every steward, and looking at her sandals in a sheepish look… As soon as she had taken her seat, she’d said “excuse me” to the couple, apologising again that it was her first time in a plane and that she would likely be sleeping through the trip. A few seconds afterwards, she’d been putting on her eyes a huge yellow hand-knitted blindfold drawn from the depths of her behemothic wicker handbag with pink cats and roses decorations, and in a matter of minutes had been snoring loudly.

    Exchanging another look of surprised consternation, Paquita and Jose Maria shrugged and almost burst out giggling.

    — Oh look! whispered Paqui
    — What? mumbled Jose who was starting to doze off
    — A brochure of Tikfijikoo… Here, in her handbag…
    — Oh dear… I guess we’ll be traveling together for another bunch of hours… sighed Jose

    #653

    Mavis had not yet received any news from her friends Sharon and Gloria. She’d hoped she could have some postcard from them before she goes and join them…

    Nearly two months… Two months since they had all received the exciting email from that Dr. Bronklehampton and had decided to take a leap of faith.
    As a matter of fact, they had taken that leap of faith just before, and it was just a… “synchronistic confirmation that they were heading in the right direction”, that’s what old Harry had said… Or was it Joe? No, that was surely Harry.
    Fred wasn’t very pleased.

    Bored by all the variations of dominoes and dices games at their third-age club, the three inseparable ladies had decided, in a bout of delightful unreasonableness, to embrace all that modern technology had to offer. Sharon and Gloria, being the devil-may-care as they were, got their computer first. Mavis had to convince Fred that he could make his horse-racing bets with that computer without having to go to the city, now that the last pub in the village wasn’t taking bets any longer… and even play poker! she’d said, bluffing so vehemently that she’d almost blushed in shame for fear of being wrong. But that last argument had convinced old Fred. And now, she was connected too. A second-hand computer, with a dusty old keyboard, but she’d let it soak a night in a soapy basin, and it was now shiny as a brand-new one. Except that it now kept behaving strangely…

    In their club, they could boast that now they were connected all over the word, and all the old parakeets of the club had almost choked over their tea when they had heard all of what they had discovered.
    Sharon had won most of the glaring bedazzlement. Wearing newly bought sunglasses, she’d said whispering like a conspirator that she had searched her name on a website and she had seen more than 7 million pages talking of her! Imagine! More than seven million people talking of her! And she had not known she was so famous… Hence the sunglasses, she’d added with a wink… there were probably a slew of paparazzi hidden somewhere to discover all that was to know about her… But you can’t fool dear ol’ Sharon Stone.
    Gloria Fowles had been gathering almost 4,000 pages… But well, she had not the charismatic aura of Shah.
    And Mavis Staples had got a hefty 470,000 pages!… Of course, she had not told Fred, who was already so paranoid about all of this stuff. When they had received the machine, he was convinced there were miniature cameras and transponders from the MI6 inside the PC and had spent hours disassembling and reassembling it.

    Very soon after they had registered for their free email address (the reseller had explained patiently that she couldn’t electrocute herself while licking the envelop), the next day to be precise, at 5:33 —that was the hour when Mavis had finished her routine dusting and breakfast preparing for Fred, and just before taking Gulp, the dog for a news reading (that was what Sha was saying “butt sniffing for dogs, is like news reading for us”), she had granted herself a little peek into the emailbox— she had seen something in the recipe folder.
    She wasn’t sure why they had called that folder “meat” or “ham”… no that wasn’t “ham”… “SPAM” more like it… Anyway, in the recipes folder, she’d received her first email. She’d called eagerly Sha and Glo, and they had received it too, and had even answered it already, as they had spent the all night “surfing” as they said — which was a bit difficult for Sharon with her sunglasses in the dark.

    All three of them had received a free coupon for a massage and therapeutic rejuvenating treatments (and possibly some bonus organ enlargements free of charge) in Tikfijikoo Island!

    Well, now Mavis was ready to go too, now that Fred had been mollified and she’d gathered the money for the trip.
    In a sense, that was good she’d not received anything yet from Sha and Glo, it would allow her to imagine the wildest things!

    #1617

    In reply to: Synchronicity

    ÉricÉric
    Keymaster

      Quite a few syncs here too, highlighted by F & T’s conversations…

      • Eight and insects, …
        8 peoples registered, 880 comments, and 8 posts in the last 24 hours, was wondering about the 8 that I found appearing recently.

      Tracy: Funny sync Eric! Because today, my ear whistled, and I recalled my old Aunt Norah’s little saying
      when your ear whistles, think of a number, I always thought of 8…

      Speaking of ear, Francie dreamt of earwigs, while I was dreaming of a big insect dissection… And Tracy had insects in a Chinese movie she was watching too…

      • … magpies augury

      One for sorrow, two for mirth,
      Three for a wedding, four for a birth,
      Five for silver, six for gold,
      Seven for a secret not to be told.
      Eight for heaven :yahoo_angel: , nine for hell, :yahoo_devil:
      And ten for the devil’s own sel’.

      (see this link or this one for more details)

      • … and children’s stories

      While we were discussing the Finckle Four with Francie and old children books by Enid Blyton, Becky finally found her books: The Magic Faraway Tree ,… by Enid Blyton.
      I remembered I was climbing a tree in a dream tonight… But syncs don’t stop here:

      • The children names are Jo, Bessie, Fanny and Dick (originally). In modern reprints, the names of the children have been changed – from Jo, Bessie and Fanny to Joe, Beth and Frannie. From wikipedia: in the first case to make it clear that Jo is a boy, in the second because Bessie is seldom used as a nickname for Elizabeth anymore (most would go by Beth, Liz or Lizzie), and in the third because Fanny is a slang term for vulva in the United Kingdom, Australia and New Zealand. Cousin Dick, who appears in “The Magic Faraway Tree”, has his name changed to “Rick” in new editions, presumably for similar reasons.

      Wow, we’re in there :face-grin:

      • There is the Angry Pixie, and an owl, who lives near the Angry Pixie’s…
      • And also, In V for Vendetta, V is shown reading the child’s book to Evey, and alludes to “The Land of Do-As-You-Please” and “The Land of Take-What-You-Want” over the course of the book… The sync is that Yurick found the graphic novel in Gustav’s home, and while reading it, found similarities with V and mummy Four , both being subjects of experiments… In the novel, there is a moving letter featured, by a certain Valerie, who is born in 1957 — click —…
      #639
      TracyTracy
      Participant

        One for sorrow, two for joy, when the moon shines bright or not at all…..what WAS that book, Becky wondered. Years and years ago in an adventure book, a children’s book; was it the famous five? The intrepid six? A clue, a magpie silhouette on a loose brick….the treasure hidden behind the brick…..the adventurous seven? The jingle, the magpie jingle….. in a children’s adventure book…..

        Becky, are you alright? asked Sean. You’ve been sitting there staring into space for hours.

        Twenty minutes later Becky replied, Huh? Haha, I seem to be in slow motion today, it’s really rather pleasant.

        Three and a half hours later, Becky smiled drowsily and said, It wasn’t the famous five, it was the wandering one……the wandering one, after all….

        #634

        Veranassessee cursed under her breath. Her mind was working swiftly, weighing up her next actions. The Doctor was becoming a liability to the success of the project.

        iko va baba bula makuba she muttered.

        She made her decision.

        :fleuron:

        Agent V, he said. I have been expecting your call.

        Operation Spider is in danger. I need instructions.

        We can’t abort at this stage, it has gone too far. He thought for a moment. Mobilise plan B.

        One more thing you need to know, I have seen evidence of increased Magpie activity in the locality.

        He swore softly. Are you sure?

        Pretty sure, they are keeping undercover, shapeshifting, but I sense their presence.

        Bugger those thieves. I feared they would sniff this out …. keep me posted Agent V

        Will do.

        And Agent V …. good work.

        Veranassessee felt a moment’s pleasure at his unaccustomed praise, quickly fading at the tremendous racket coming from the cupboard behind her.

        :fleuron2:

        This aint bloody right Glor.

        We’ve been here for bloody hours, my lumbago’s playing up something dreadful

        ‘Ark Glor! I thought I ‘eard a noise

        oh let’s shout out, on the count of three

        #618
        F LoveF Love
        Participant

          Felicity, or the “Bridal Goddess” as she called herself, was most encouraging when Becky said she was after something “a bit different” for her wedding day. Weddings had been having a resurgence of popularity in the last few years, obviously it was not the solid institution it was decades ago, but many people still liked to exchange intentions for their relationship. Most regarded marriage fondly as a rather quaint institution from the past.

          I will help you create your dream wedding! Felicity gushed enthusiastically. Most important is that you wear something you absolutely adore and that looks simply stunning on you for your special day. What sort of look did you have in mind?

          oh, um tribal actually, said Becky, vaguely, suddenly remembering she hadn’t mentioned her plans to Sean. He could be a tad on the conservative side at times . In fact, come to think of it, had she even mentioned to him that they were getting married?

          Fantastic! Demure tribal? Revealing tribal? I do all sorts of tribals, whatever you want!

          Hmmm said Becky reflectively, well probably not demure.

          No agreed Tina, not demure.

          :fleuron:

          A few hours later Becky and Tina were recovering from the ordeal, as Tina called it dramatically, over a cup of organic trim alpaca’s milk expresso Lucciato

          Hey what’s this about a soup party? asked Tina. I couldn’t get much sense out of Sam, but he says you are helping with it.

          Yeah it’s going to be great!

          Well, just so long as you aren’t doing the catering, it should be great, thought Tina, shuddering at the memory of stuffed Nasturtium Blossoms and Locust Bisque Becky had served at their last get-together. Not forgetting the garlic icecream for dessert.

          I heard that! It was healthy Tina! retorted Becky defensively.

          Bugger telepathy sighed Tina

          #537
          TracyTracy
          Participant

            ‘Ask DDT’ was becoming so popular that plans were being made to recruit more ‘dead guys’. The online phone-in radio show, featuring channeled Dead Dick Tracy, was swamped with callers lately, and despite increasing the length of the show to an incredible 5 hours, dozens of callers left disappointed, their questions unanswered.

            #473

            Beattie and Leonora ordered another two gin and tonics. The longer they had to wait for Bartolo, the less they minded waiting; the generous measures of gin and the friendly banter with the locals in the venta was warmly pleasant and convivial. Bartolo was the ‘runner’, the man who knew about houses for sale, or available to rent in the valley, and he was several hours late.

            Jose Maria had been eavesdropping on the conversation, and suddenly had an idea.

            #446
            F LoveF Love
            Participant

              About time you woke up, came a familiar grumpy voice from behind a pile of logs. Mandrake emerged. And I don’t have fur balls, he added, haughtily.

              Mandrake, thank God! Arona had been a little concerned that , given the amount of time presumably had passed, Mandrake may no longer be with them. Tactfully she kept this to herself, given Mandrake’s especially truculent mood.

              Please tell me what happened now, she said to Vincentius. I think I am ready to hear.

              Vincentius looked uncertain, sighed , but agreed to tell her the tale. Afterwards, Arona was silent for quite some time. She stared thoughtfully at the fire, mesmerised by the dancing flames, gently stroking Mandrakes silky black coat.

              Oh bugger, she said eventually and stood up decisively. I really think I have to go and see that old lizardy croney woman, and without delay.

              I wish you wouldn’t, but I do understand, said Vincentius sadly.

              I don’t understand, said Mandrake crossly, twitching his tail impatiently and narrowing his green eyes

              Arona went over to the sleeping Yikesy and studied him with fond interest. He is not getting any better looking with age is he? She kissed him tenderly on the cheek and whispered in his ear.

              Thank you so much for caring for him, she said to Vincentius and gave him a huge hug.

              On the way out of the cave she ran into Leormn.

              Oh, she said, Vincentius said you allowed us to use the room. Thank you so much. And she kissed Leormn on what she thought would be his cheek, however, a little unsure of Dragon anatomy, it may have been technically a snout or something.

              Arona walked rapidly for several hours, trying to concentrate on the directions given to her by Vincentius and hoping that she was headed in the right direction. Eventually she started to tire and her determination faded. She sat down on a rock and closed her eyes. Her shoulders slumped in weariness and she despondently wished she was back in the cave with the others. She felt deeply sad.

              And is this something you really must face? asked a kindly voice in her head.

              I have no idea really, she answered despairingly. I don’t know. I mean I thought I knew. I thought if I didn’t then I would always be in fear. When I looked into the flames of the fire it all seemed clear. I needed to understand and face it, I thought anyway….

              hmmm, said the voice. Well the best advice I can give you is to trust yourself.

              Arona opened her eyes and saw, to her surprise, a small cottage in the distance. Why, I don’t remember that cottage being there a moment ago, she thought. It looks just as Vincentius described. How remarkable. I was closer than I thought! Her spirits rose.

              Outside the cottage the old crone was bent over, digging in a small vegetable plot. A basket of cabbages sat by her side. She stood up at Arona’s approach, wiping the dirt from her gnarly hands on her apron.

              Hello Arona, she cackled. I have been expecting you. I don’t believe we were properly introduced last time. My name is Lucille. And she held out a hand for Arona to shake.

              I have come to get some answers from you, said Arona, firmly crossing her arms and ignoring the outstretched hand.

              Lucille sighed and dropped her hand. Her pointy chin quivered, and Arona noticed a big wart, with one thick black hair growing out of it, right on the tip of lucille’s chin. She tried not to stare.

              Alright little one, Lucille said soflty. Why don’t you go and wait in the orchard. I will go and fix us a nice, cool drink of lemonade.

              The orchard was full of old fruit trees, their twisted trunks reminded Arona of Lucille herself. From one of the trees hung an old swing. Arona sat on it, holding the rope, and gently rocked herself back and forwards, thinking. She had to admit, she was, quite frankly puzzled. The visit so far wasn’t going as expected.

              She kept rocking, faster now.

              She hit her heels into the hard earth again and again.

              I don’t know. She tried to dig these words into the earth with her heels.

              Then she sidestepped her feet in crab-like movements in diminishing circles. The ropes of the swing twisted tighter and tighter.

              Arona leant backwards and stuck her legs out straight in front of her. The ropes unwound and sent her spinning. weeeeeeeeeeee hoooooooooooooooo!

              She looked up into the sky. Blue sky through the trees with racing spinning clouds. She felt dizzy.

              She stood up and braced herself against the seat of the swing. She held onto the ropes and pushed hard against the seat beneath her. She bent her knees under the swing. She kicked her feet forwards.

              She wanted to go higher. She bent her legs back under the swing. Then kicked them outwards. She stretched her body backwards and arched her back.

              I don’t know, she whispered.

              She sat upright. She bent her legs back under the swing. Then kicked them as hard as she could. She leant her body backwards. She stretched as far as she could. On the rebound her heels hit the ground hard, but still she wanted to keep going higher and higher.

              I DON’T KNOW! she shouted, as loudly as she could.

              :fleuron:

              Lucille returned with the lemonade.

              How do I know if it is safe to drink this? Arona asked. You have cast one spell on me, how am I to know this is not another?

              Lucille cackled. Dear little Arona, she said, if I wanted to cast a spell on you I would have done it before now.

              Okay, well that makes good sense, thought Arona, gratefully drinking the lemonade.

              #399

              Young Becky shouted to Dan, Dory’s coming back! She sent an email saying she arrives in Malaga tomorrow night!

              In actuality, Becky had already known that Dory would be coming back soon. Despite being only a child, she was what would later be known as a Shiftikid, and her telepathic prowess was already well-developed. Well, in point of fact, all children had been born with telepathic skills, all throughout the ages, but the customs of the times had eradicated these gifts usually before the children reached puberty.

              The young Becky had been in communication with ‘the dead guys’ as they were currently affectionately known, since before her birth. Thanks to all the links on Dory’s computer, Becky had quickly assessed that she herself was Sumari belonging, and Ilda aligned; of an intermediate orientation, and a political focus. She recalled from before her actual physical birth that she had chosen ‘Exploring Connections’ as her intent for this physical focus.

              Becky had purposefully chosen Dory as a step-mother, as her intention had been to grow up in an environment conducive to her explorations. Dory was also Ilda aligned, and her passion for anthropology, archeology and other cultures and times was naturally a great help to Becky and her favourite game of ‘Focus Hunting’.

              Becky started to make long lists of all the other focus connections she found, although she had a habit of forgetting where she had started a list, and often started a new list somewhere else. (Dan sometimes commented jokingly that it was almost as if Becky had inherited the ‘forgetful gene’ from her step-mother Dory…..Dan, like most people in those days, believed that genetic characteristics were ‘handed down’ from physical parents).

              Becky spent many happy hours playing the focus hunting game, and at times had some difficulty in separating the various other focuses from the current focus she was interacting with. This wasn’t a problem with Dory, or with some of her contemporaries, but often caused some misunderstanding with people who were unaware of their other focuses.

              Becky was delighted that Dory was coming home soon. She was looking forward to hearing about all of Dory’s adventures, and she wanted to share her own funny stories about the current ‘Perception Wave’ they were all experiencing.

              #323

              — The legend of Mævel — (Part II)

              The young fairy princess, whose secret name had been forgotten, and thus her very existence to whoever had known her, grew up as a beautiful child.
              Mævel she was, and the youngest of the clan too. Her delicate features stood out of the many children that Jorg and Ilga, her human parents already had, and they first saw her as probably their most useless child, being frail and unfit to the works of the woods. But she’d been saved from a sure death, and that had proved to them that the child was some odd gift from the Gods.

              Mævel looking at her brothers and sisters, was constantly reminded of how different she was, as small and fair and fragile as a sparfly’s egg. She helped her mother Ilga as much as she could in the kitchen, preparing meals for the clan. Her parents did not know how she could ever get a husband, as she would never be much of a great cook either.
              So, she was feeling not fulfilled by what she was doing. She loved her parents, and sisters, and brothers, but there was something else that she did not know how to express.
              During the springing and sunny seasons, and even the rainy and icy one, she would go after her works had been done to the little meadow brook, and watch for hours the little rosy trouts dancing in the clear waters.

              And much of her young years passed, and she learned how to cook, how to sew and how to wash clothes and many other tasks that could help the family. She had improved much in her skills and could do wonderful adornments to her sisters and brothers clothes. But noone cared about the adornments, which would be useless for them. But they loved their little sister nonetheless, though they did not understand.
              Soon, all the elder brothers left the house, one by one, and the sisters too. And as Mævel turned twenty one, she was left alone with old Jorg and old Ilga.

              That day, her parents had offered her a pearl white ribbon, for her to tie her hair, and they had thought it would probably please her, as it was as useless a thing as their mind could imagine. And indeed she was delighted by the gift, and to please her parents, she had danced and sung in the night, barefooted on the floorboard, her shiny golden hair swirling around her, as they both loved her to do.

              The next day, Mævel went to the brook to wash some clothes, when she noticed a reddish bluish spark of light coming from the forest nearby. How strange she thought. Perhaps it is only my imagination. But soon, a plaintiff cry came from the same direction, and she was deeply moved by the cry.
              Leaving her clothes to dry up, she went to the forest, knowing she could trust her instincts and that no wild beast would harm her. Calling to see if someone was there, a voice called her, crying “here, here!”

              Behind some fern trees, she was surprised as she saw a wounded blue fox. Was it the fox that had spoken?
              — Yes, that was me, answered the blue fox
              — Oh, a talking fox! You are wounded, aren’t you? asked Mævel
              — Yes, a stupid arrow from a stupid hunter… I can’t extract it, would you help me?
              — Of course, answered Mævel, hold on a second.

              And she leaned forward to draw the arrow from the fox’s leg, holding fast so that it would not hurt the creature. She was just knowing what to do, as if she had done it many times already. Then she drew out her white handkerchief, and bandaged the bleeding wound, tying it tightly with her pearl white ribbon.

              — I must leave now, said the fox, I am greatly indebted to you, young lady
              — Will you tell me your name?
              — I am called Blohmrik. And may I inquire as to your name?
              — I’m called Mævel, but you can call me Mæ
              — Such a lovely name…
              — How come you are a talking fox?
              — I was not always in the form that you see now. This form is due to a curse from the God of the Forgotten, from which I foolishly tried to stole secrets when I was a young god learning magic.
              Ooh, so you are a god? Mævel was amazed
              — Oh, smiled sadly the fox, as you are also, though you probably don’t realize. Gods are not so different than what you think…
              — Oh, really? So there isn’t anything I can do for you, is there?
              — You have already done much for today Mæ
              Mævel was blushing… She dared ask to her new friend
              — And will I see you again?
              — Perhaps sooner than you know.

              #308
              TracyTracy
              Participant

                When Dory finally woke up from her coleslaw induced stupour, she felt quite befuddled. What a peculiar trip it had been! I’ve taken some recreational drugs in my time, Dory thought, but I’ve never had a trip quite like that one. She wondered what on earth George had drugged the coleslaw with. Dory closed her eyes again, recalling snatches of the hallucinations.

                Being chased by bandits on hairpin mountain roads with a small baby girl in the car; being held at gunpoint by Idi Amin in an Afrian court; running, running, gasping with terror, chased by old fashioned Bobbies on pushbikes, and dough faced bowler hatted debt collectors…..

                Dory’s heart was pounding again as she recalled the images that rolled along like a crazy movie montage, a psycho thriller, a horror movie…..

                ……being held down under the bathwater as a baby with a vicious scowling face looming above her; fighting with a witch in the garden shed for tense petrifying hours; monstrous demons snaking blacky out of ouija boards, and madness and asylums; a man lying in a double bed dying from self inflicted stab wounds and she was shouting and calling and nobody hearing; running, running and gasping, shouting for help and no-one was there…..

                Well, Dory pulled herself together, No point in dwelling on it, it was just a freaky bad trip.

                Coffee? George asked.

                Dory’s head snapped round. Huh? Oh! Gosh, YES please! You’re still here are you? Dory rubbed her eyes and shook herself a bit. Just the mention of coffee had already started to snap her out of her unpleasant reverie.

                Of course I’m still here, Dory, George said kindly. I am always here. I was with you during you trip, every step of the way, but you were not focused on me.

                You WERE? Dory was momentarily non-plussed. And then, Well why did you let all that awful stuff happen then? Why didn’t you help me? You just stood there and watched?

                #291
                F LoveF Love
                Participant

                  Oh yes, it is all perfect, interjected Tina, in her new soft and gentle voice. Thank you so much for helping me to understand.

                  AHAHAHAAHAH, laughed Becky, nearly snorting, Tina are you okay today?

                  Well no actually, my head has been pounding for the last 24 hours. I think I have been taken over by those pesky aliens again. They tell me that the only way to get rid of them is to revert back to my own true self.

                  Hope you do it soon muttered Becky, all this niceness is quite unnerving.

                  #273

                  On the shores of Golfindely, a young boy was playing in the carmine fields of ripe Scotch bonnets.

                  Since the captain Bone had left, Tomkin Sharple was feeling a bit sad.

                  The old captain always had fascinating stories to tell him, and he would indulge the endlessly curious little boy in telling him for hours all about what he had discovered in all the parts of the Worlds he had been traveling to.

                  Now, all he had to do was to take care of the herd of grakes of his parents, and while they were eating the weeds of the crops, he would sat on the cliff, looking at the sea, glimmering in the sunlight.

                  Grakes were funny to play with, as they were big birds, with a slender neck as geese, colourful patterns as mandarin ducks, and Tomkin always had fun jumping on the back of the alpha one, and ride it, leading the whole herd to the crops where they helped the farmers by eating all kinds of nuisances.

                  But after Captain Bone’s departure, it was no longer fun.

                  Tomkin was contemplating a strange thing that the captain had given him before he’d left. It was a sort of knot, shaped as a eight, and the captain had told him it was magic and meant that all was connected, but that he had to discover that magic for himself.

                  Tomkin had asked the captain to tell him about this object, but all he had told him was a legend which did not reveal much about the circumstances in which the old sea dog had acquired it. Perhaps the captain had fooled him about the magic…

                  Stuffing the thing again in his pocket, Tomkin let his mind wander on the sea waves, dreaming of being a cabin boy on a big boat, when he saw something on the horizon.

                  At first he thought that it was a group of swimming golfindels, but golfindels were more brilliant and smaller than the shapes he was seeing, and moving less heavily too…

                  #226

                  Jadra Iamamad stared intently at his left hand. He had been looking closely at it now for nigh on 2 hours since awakening that morning. He held it up and compared it with his right hand. He shook his head, a mixture of astonishment and disbelief, however there could be no doubt about it. A rather extraordinary thing had occurred whilst he had slept. It was truly momentous. He wanted to dance and shout and raise his voice to the heavens and praise the mighty Gods who had bestowed such an honor upon him.

                  Ha! They call Jadra Iamamad a fool, a madman, but it is the God’s who have spoken now. Who are the fools now? It is the God’s who have chosen!. And he fell prostrate upon the earth.

                  Not for long though, for Jadra knew what he had to do. He had been entrusted with this mighty honor and he must guard it carefully. He ripped off his shirt and tied it carefully around his left hand in order to protect it from spying, prying eyes. And there were many such eyes in Jadra’s world. He could feel them upon him even now. He knew full well there would be many who would wish to deprive him of the special privilege the Gods had bestowed upon him.

                  He had to take his hand to the cave.

                  Jadra could not restrain himself from doing a small dance.

                  Carefully, carefully now Jadra, he whispered gleefully.

                  #199

                  When Dorothy Mc Leane, the imperviously impetuous and buoyant archaeologist, temporarily reduced to dust shawls in a small antique boutique of the coast of Madagascar, had been finally coming to her mind, she had felt so out of place.

                  She had been in many places at once, and these have hardly been vacations at all. Well, all she had wanted at first was to follow that funny lemur winking on a placard, which was hinting at a funny expedition in a cave.

                  But that may just have been phoney gooey advertisement, as she was now stranded in that shoppe with a stupid parrot. No-name parrot…

                  That’d make Fiona laugh for sure… she thought; she would say that she wasn’t doing things in halves. Can’t even think if I can find a postcard big enough to tell her everything, she had laughed.

                  Well, you don’t have a name by chance? she suddenly asked the bright bird.

                  Archibaaaaald howled the parrot joyfully.

                  Bugger this, I knew that… Dory couldn’t help but thinking.

                  Aaaaaarchibaaaaald

                  Oh!, she had started to feel exasperated. Archibald would take care of the key anyway, no need to stay here any much longer.

                  And right after the parrot had flown through the window, as she was leaving the shoppe and heading to the mini-van where the distraught guide had been obviously looking for her since hours, she couldn’t help but wonder at the number of noisy Italian tourists who had just seemed to pop in, crowding the tiny shawl shoppe…

                  Wow… She could have bet they could have been as many as fifty seven…

                  #191
                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    The singing in the next room was getting louder. As Dory started to sing along, she felt better. Bugger this! she shouted, and leapt off the musty sofa. The trip to the cave! She felt around the floor with her feet for her shoes, and wasn’t altogether surprised to find her magic flying sandals. Perfect, how perfect is that! She looked around the cluttered shop store room as she buckled the sandals straps. She grabbed a bright blue energy blanket off a pile of coloured shawls, a pith helmet off a hatstand, a mini magic tool kit in a terracotta patterned kilim bag, and on impulse, a glass egg timer with bright fuchsia pink sand.

                    As she ran out of the back door a parrot in an elaborate wrought iron cage squalked ‘Don’t forget the key, dear, don’t forget the key’.

                    Key? What key?

                    ‘Don’t forget the key dear don’t forget the key dear don’t forget the key…’

                    WHAT bloody key dear! Dory was really anxious to get to the cave now, but something held her back.

                    The key, the key… There was something she couldn’t quite remember about a key. She looked around the room in a panic, It could take me HOURS to find the key in here, she ranted. Ok, ok, I tell you what, she said to the bird, I’ll let you out of that cage, you find the key, and catch me up. Meet me at the cave with the key, OK?

                    #171

                    The life I lead is mere hours or less
                    I serve all my time by being consumed
                    I am quickest when thin, slowest when fat
                    And wind is the bane of the gift that I bring

                    Dragon, is that you?, Arona looked around, peering into the half light, but she could not see the crafty dragon, who had once again taken the form of a tiny weaszchilla. He had however retained his own voice, for a weaszchilla cannot be heard easily by human ears

                    Why should you care, do you want to see my stupid dragon face now?

                    I said silly, not stupid, and perhaps your face is not really so silly for a dragon, however your personality is certainly not that endearing, grumbled Arona

                    It doesn’t bark
                    It doesn’t bite
                    But still won’t let you in the house

                    Arona thought for a moment, a lock

                    Well I suggest you turn your attention to it then, because it is the only way out now.

                    Arona was alarmed, What do you mean?

                    The dragon laughed and as Arona turned around again in search of him, she discovered to her horror that the tunnel she had just traversed had disappeared, and was now a wall.

                    What’s the matter? Were you thinking of turning back? Leormn grinned to himself. He was enjoying this, but perhaps it was time to return to his other business and let the girl get on with her adventure.

                    Oh well, perhaps just time for one more for riddle before I go, the dragon thought, he was having so much fun.

                    The more that there is
                    The less that you see
                    Squint all you like
                    When surrounded by me

                    Oh that is too easy Dragon. The answer is darkness said Arona in a quiet voice.

                    The dragon had to hand it to her, she wasn’t stupid.

                    By the way, he called as he disappeared down a weaszchilla sized tunnel he had created for himself, aren’t you rather hot with that cape on?

                    The life I lead is mere hours or less … oh he means the candle said Arona to herself, and pulling her cloak around her, turned to face the door.

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