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In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
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…
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Yann found that strange article while surfing the internet. It was about a whole bunch of Italian tourists that had disappeared around the Smoo Cave in Scotland… wasn’t that the cave he visited when he was in Scotland?
The article was continuing with the number of tourists : 57!!!! all they had found until now were their 16 vans. Apparently some people said the cave was haunted and that at times they see the bushes around move in weird ways or some green glowing energy during storms.
Yann wondered about the tourists… where could they have possibly gone?
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
The silent humid inky darkness closed in on Arona as she chose her path. She could not see the way but it did not matter. She trusted the darkness and the silence. She knew the way and yet could not have explained that even to herself..
She felt the music before she heard it. She did not know where it came from but the sound grew in intensity until it filled the whole space. She heard voices singing and could not understand the words and yet she felt her spirit soar and fly though her body did not move. The music was achingly beautiful and Arona felt her face wet with tears of happiness that something so beautiful existed.
Arona did not know how long she stood like that listening, but even after it ended she could still hear the music softly in her mind.
As she moved forward on her journey Arona saw a faint glimmer of light up ahead and moved towards it. The source of light was a burning candle, valiantly offering some respite from the darkness, and illuminating a door at the end of the tunnel.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Leörmn had been moving along very swiftly, shapeshifting into a tiny weaszchilla so as to move around unnoticed by Arona.
He had laughed a tiny squeak when he had heard her gasp “Rats”, but it had been muffled down by the flight of the schpurniatz. That was another test for the girl’s endurance, and she had brilliantly passed.
Of course, as he could change the cave’s tunnels into his mind, he would not have let Avona fall into a pit… Well now that he thought of it, that could have been interesting and quite funny, but she probably wouldn’t have appreciated that kind of humour.
But the dragon also was not really giving her clues as to how she could perceive the tunnels, because after all, she was also choosing her way, in a sense.
You are so wicked! laughed the delightful vibrant voice of Malvina in his head.
Oh yes, he answered mentally, and I see that you enjoy it too…
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
As Arona put her map carefully away she suddenly realised she was not alone. An odd looking creature was sitting on a rock a short distance away. Arona’s eyesight was not that strong, and she found it hard to make out clearly what sort of a creature it was, but she was amused to notice how it seemed to be talking and laughing to itself, nodding it’s head and sniffing the air. Perhaps it has been taking some of the hallucinogenic plants which grow so abundantly in this terrain, she thought to herself. The creature was now looking to the sky, as though rain were falling, and the sniffing was becoming more intense. How odd, thought Arona, and so convincing was the creature that she looked upwards herself, yet saw only the brilliant blue sky she knew to be there. Poor little fellow, she thought, it has really lost the plot.
