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Little Jeffrey loved going to the library. It was not far from home and he was allowed to go there on his own.

On his way, there were many treasures.

One of them was a big giant Tesla Coil. His father had told him it was a fake and the real one was in the science museum on the other side of the planet with all Tesla’s inventions up to the electricityairborn car. Nonetheless, there were always many people playing around and at times lights and electric sounds would give you the impressions as if you were near the real one. Little Jeffrey knew exactly when to go to the library to see the lights and he enjoyed seeing the look on people’s face who were passing by for the first time.

But most of all, his favorite was the ship. His father had told him she was a real one and she has been put there because it was the favourite smuggling place of his captain. Little Jeffrey dreamt of her every night. He dreamt he was a pirate, sailing in the oceans with Captain Yang Lang. In his dreams, the ship could even go to the Moon with one of Tesla’s inventions powering her.

The Aqua Luna library was named after her.

Meanwhile, in a not to distant probable reality, Greenflow, the turtle, was hiding in his shell due to the loud racket that started just moments ago.

Bang, sounded his shell once again, an this time even louder than the last one.

“Holly Molly, that one was too close to be anything other than a sign,” said Greenflow.

“I had better pop out and take a look about and see what the dickens is making all this racket!”

Just then a tiny green snout eased out of a house, which was the brilliant green color, and with odd looking symbols etched into its body.

Greenflow immediately noticed a silvery shiny ball just inches from his nose, and it was ever so slightly embedded into the brown mud. “What could that be?” he thought.

The world didn’t end that day.
But maybe it should have, or at least the endless list of senseless rules, silly obligations, half-compromises and clever-yet-too-often-outdone-by-stupidity ploys to defeat them.
Stuck in the middle of his twelfth failed attempt at booking a flight for the Land of the Long Cloud, he found himself dreaming of buying… well, no— buying was sorely overrated nowadays. With all the rules on how you could or could not spend your money, he’d found it impossibly difficult to buy his friend the new camera of his dreams.
So, let’s dream of building something instead: a dream submersible airborne trailer, or maybe just a flying house with giant wheels, to soar above the pettiness of this world, and to go unfettered wherever fancy called.
He knew why the shark tank in the department store had exploded last week, killing only the sharks and turtles. It probably wasn’t being boxed, as much as being forced to look everyday at the headless consumers that killed the creatures. Whatever the reason might have been, in all fairness, they’d managed to boldly go beyond the end of their world.

Notwithstanding the child who was asking questions to his nanny just behind them, the flight to Taipei has been rather quiet. It was a three hours flight, quite short compared to the twelve hours ones Yann had been doing lately between Paris and Shanghai. Fortunately, the seats of the Dragoneer company were big enough, which was another strange element of these Chinese planes. Instead, the French Airways’ ones had narrow seats with so little room for one’s legs. He slept for most of the trip. Awoken merely when the flight attendant brought the food. Some rice dish again.

As soon as they landed, they were welcomed by a troup of taichi dancers, resembling Tahitian dancers with their loincloth. It was hot. The weather of course, not the taichi dancers who seemed unaffected by the temperature. Their slow movements were relaxing and a bit hypnotic. It was a contrast with the rapid dance of Tahiti Yann remembered from their last trip.

A woman in a red coat and sunglasses was walking behind them, looking around suspiciously.

Todd the poodle was in fact a shapeshifter in hiding, monitoring the spread of the Tourette virus the Sh’elves had unleashed upon the marinade.

Sadly he’d noticed the Elves had dispatched a covert squad of Hot Cross Bums, an old alliance of homeless monks, probably to uncover the source of the disease. He’d had to be extremely cautious.
But then, the mass of flesh surrounding his collar started to squeeze horribly.

And the dog took a mouthful of buns, reading the Bun Newspaper. A shiver ran down his back. The evil Loard Koala escaped from the infamous Alkasetzar prison.
He wiggled his tail to relax, though didn’t have the time. A strong grip around his torso. He couldn’t breath, almost had the impression he could die any moment, stuck between two masses of flesh. Then a scratch on his head.
It was his common lot. Couldn’t take his breakfast quietly with the giantess.
After a few seconds he felt the impulse to ran into the pool. He still couldn’t swallow his buns, and was waiting for just the right moment.

“My word, I don’t know who that writer is, but her historical accuracy, not to mention her ability to maintain continuity in the face of such … such … such … “ the voice trailed off, at a loss to find words for such brilliance.

“Now what? T-R-E-X ? To be serious?…” Eliza was patronizing again. “What’s a Trex, by all means? That’s not even in the dictionary, I’m sure!”
“As if you’d started to care” Flinella rolled her eyes, while at the same time managing to discreetly wink in passing at the little reptile whose tail was wrapped around her neck as though it were the latest fashion. “By the way, it spells T-Rex, you dimwit.”
“Well, good for you sweetie, it only scores a measly 21 points.” Eliza bit her lip ignoring the offending remark. Then hit by a sudden realisation, she stopped dead in her tracks, all thoughts of vexation lost in the current wave of thought.
“Wow, I’d never thought of that, but just imagine the size of those dinos’ fleas … Makes me shudder at the thought of it.”

The holes and cracks had awoken ancient creatures from the fabled hollow worlds of myths…
Dragons 🐛, sand worms, giant spiders, T-rexes and some said even mummies… 😱
In fact, the cruise ship’s demise in Adryattic was mostly due to a kraken-on-crack attack.

All welcome to do so, we’ll be watching closely :>

Says the word cloud:

perhaps dolores wondering harvey giant dream herself creature welcome eye books full heads stoll sense blue dragon often needed notes messmeerah

Take this as your first clues if you ever need some

wondered lilac, threads tart finally remarked “suppose entrance nothing?” told giant blubbit voice majorburgmester “ones link orange family case turn random heads”

“I had no idea we had so many characters, Godfrey” remarked Elizabeth, rubbing her eyes. She was just about to say “and who the devil is Mc Tart” when the door burst open by none other than Mc Tart. She was wearing a black dress teamed with a white pith helmet…

“No, I’m not” said Mc Tart. “This Mc Tart is not so black and white, my friend.” The character Mc Tart stood just inside the door looking defiant.

“Wait a minute, whoa, you’re my character, Mc Tart, if I say you’re wearing a black dress and a white pith helmet, then that’s what you’re wearing!” Elizabeth had no intention of being dictated to by one of her own characters.

“Black dress, white pith helmet, black and white, bore ~ ring” yawned Mc Tart. “We’re bored! What happened to your imagination? Who is Mc Tart anyway? Do you know?”

Elizabeth shook her head, tight lipped and uncharacteristically silent.

Mc Tart was wearing a floor length bright yellow garment which had an inbuilt feature of breeze fluttering about the scalloped layered hem, so that indoors or out, regardless of weather or air currents, the fluttering hem effect was maintained.

{from Elizabeth’s Mote Pad}

“Greetings”, said the Alien, via one of his sense tendrils. “I want to install a headless server. I am thinking of just installing a basic Debian Sarge distro and run it at runlevel 3.”

“I think you’re in the wrong dimension, mate” replied Lavender. “This is runlevel 8.”