Search Results for 'labour'

Forums Search Search Results for 'labour'

Viewing 9 results - 21 through 29 (of 29 total)
  • Author
    Search Results
  • #4239

    The mechanical human powered toll booth had been one of Leroway’s brain waves, in his opinion, anyway. In order to protect the rare mushrooms and other endangered species in the forest, he had set his teams of farmbot mechanical outdoor workers to the task of building a fence around it. As they worked day and night, non stop regardless of weather, the task had been completed in a very short time, much to the surprise of anyone who was in the habit of using the paths through it. During the fortnight’s deluge of rain, not many had ventured out of their dwellings, and it was during this time that the fence was completed.

    In order to pass through the toll booths dotted around the perimeter of the forest, a foot traveler was obliged to step onto a treadmill for approximately ten minutes, and the power gained was used to operate the pumps which cleared the low lying areas of flood water, and provide lamp light along the paths for those wishing to travel or simply stroll through the woods at night.

    Leroway, in his enthusiasm and appreciation for the benefits of the recent construction, was not expecting the backlash from the people who misunderstood his intentions, and raged against the restriction and forced labour.

    “I don’t think they like it, Jolly,” Eleri said, who had decided to visit her friend when she learned that Leroway had gone down to the toll booth protest to attempt to deal with the angry mob. “It reminds them of the old days. People don’t like fences anymore.”

    “But he’s never done anything bad for the people, Eleri, everyone knows his intentions are good.”

    “The people here in Trustinghamton know that, dear, but the ones from elsewhere don’t. Perhaps he should confine his inventions to the village? They are seeing it as an infringement on their liberties from an outside force. I know, I know, such old fashioned ideas, but they do linger, especially when people are confronted with a surprise.”

    “Well, you are probably right, but what can we do? He does what he wants!”

    “Yes, he does,” replied Eleri drily, recalling her last encounter with Leroway behind the old mill.

    #4219

    As the crow flies, Glenville is about 100 miles from the Forest of Enchantment.

    “What a pretty town!” tourists to the area would exclaim, delighted by the tree lined streets and quaint houses with thatched roofs and brightly painted exteriors. They didn’t see the dark underside which rippled just below the surface of this exuberant facade. If they stayed for more than a few days, sure enough, they would begin to sense it. “Time to move on, perhaps,” they would say uneasily, although unsure exactly why and often putting it down to their own restless natures.

    Glynis Cotfield was born in one of these houses. Number 4 Leafy Lane. Number 4 had a thatched roof and was painted a vibrant shade of yellow. There were purple trims around each window and a flower box either side of the front door containing orange flowers which each spring escaped their confines to sprawl triumphantly down the side of the house.

    Her father, Kevin Cotfield, was a bespectacled clerk who worked in an office at the local council. He was responsible for building permits and making sure people adhered to very strict requirements to ‘protect the special and unique character of Glenville’.

    And her mother, Annelie … well, her mother was a witch. Annelie Cotfield came from a long line of witches and she had 3 siblings, all of whom practised the magical arts in some form or other.

    Uncle Brettwick could make fire leap from any part of his body. Once, he told Glynis she could put her hand in the fire and it wouldn’t hurt her. Tentatively she did. To her amazement the fire was cold; it felt like the air on a frosty winter’s day. She knew he could also make the fire burning hot, if he wanted. Some people were a little scared of her Uncle Brettwick and there were occasions—such as when Lucy Dickwit told everyone at school they should spit at Glynis because she came from an ‘evil witch family’—when she used this to her advantage.

    “Yes, and I will tell my Uncle to come and burn down your stinking house if you don’t shut your stinking stupid mouth!” she said menacingly, sticking her face close to Lucy’s face. “And give me your bracelet,” she added as an after thought. It had worked. She got her peace and she got the bracelet.

    Aunt Janelle could move objects with her mind. She set up a stall in the local market and visitors to the town would give her money to watch their trinkets move. “Lay it on the table”, she would command them imperiously. “See, I place my hands very far from your coin. I do not touch it. See?” Glynis would giggle because Aunt Janelle put on a funny accent and wore lots of garish makeup and would glare ferociously at the tourists.

    But Aunt Bethell was Glynis’s favourite—she made magic with stories. “I am the Mistress of Illusions,” she would tell people proudly. When Glynis was little, Aunt Bethell would create whole stories for her entertainment. When Glynis tried to touch the story characters, her hand would go right through them. And Aunt Bethell didn’t even have to be in the same room as Glynis to send her a special magical story. Glynis adored Aunt Bethell.

    Her mother, Annelie, called herself a healer but others called her a witch. She concocted powerful healing potions using recipes from her ’Big Book of Spells’, a book which had belonged to Annelie’s mother and her mother before her. On the first page of the book, in spindly gold writing it said: ‘May we never forget our LOVE of Nature and the Wisdom of Ages’. When Glynis asked what the ‘Wisdom of Ages’ meant, her mother said it was a special knowing that came from the heart and from our connection with All That Is. She said Glynis had the Wisdom of Ages too and then she would ask Glynis to gather herbs from the garden for her potions. Glynis didn’t think she had any particular wisdom and wondered if it was a ploy on her mother’s part to get free labour. She obeyed grudgingly but drew the line at learning any spells. And on this matter her father sided with her. “Don’t fill her mind with all that hocus pocus stuff,” he would say grumpily.

    Despite this, the house was never empty; people came from all over to buy her mother’s potions and often to have their fortunes told as well. Mostly while her father was at work.

    Glynis’s best friend when she was growing up was Tomas. Tomas lived at number 6 Leafy Lane. They both knew instinctively they shared a special bond because Tomas’s father also practised magic. He was a sorcerer. Glynis was a bit scared of Tomas’s Dad who had a funny crooked walk and never spoke directly to her. “Tell your friend you must come home now, Tomas,” he would call over the fence.

    Being the son of a sorcerer, Tomas would also be a sorcerer. “It is my birthright,” he told her seriously one day. Glynis was impressed and wondered if Tomas had the Wisdom of Ages but it seemed a bit rude to ask in case he didn’t.

    When Tomas was 13, his father took him away to begin his sorcery apprenticeship. Sometimes he would be gone for days at a time. Tomas never talked about where he went or what he did there. But he started to change: always a quiet boy, he became increasingly dark and brooding.

    Glynis felt uneasy around this new Tomas and his growing possessiveness towards her. When Paul Ackleworthy asked her to the School Ball, Tomas was so jealous he broke Paul’s leg. Of course, nobody other than Glynis guessed it was Tomas who caused Paul’s bike to suddenly wobble so that he fell in the way of a passing car.

    “You could have fucking killed him!” she had shouted at Tomas.

    Tomas just shrugged. This was when she started to be afraid of him.

    One day he told her he was going for his final initiation into the ‘Sorcerer Fraternity’.

    “I have to go away for quite some time; I am not sure how long, but I want you to wait for me, Glynis.”

    “Wait for you?”

    He looked at her intensely. “It is destined for us to be together and you must promise you will be here for me when I get back.”

    Glynis searched for her childhood friend in his eyes but she could no longer find him there.

    “Look, Tomas, I don’t know,” she stuttered, wary of him, unwilling to tell the truth. “Maybe we shouldn’t make any arrangements like this … after all you might be away for a long time. You might meet someone else even …. some hot Sorceress,” she added, trying not to sound hopeful.

    Suddenly, Glynis found herself flying. A gust of wind from nowhere lifted her from her feet, spun her round and then held her suspended, as though trying to decide what to do next, before letting her go. She landed heavily at Tomas’s feet.

    “Ow!” she said angrily.

    “Promise me.”

    “Okay! I promise!” she said.

    Her mother’s face went white when Glynis told her what Tomas had done.

    That evening there was a gathering of Uncle Brettwick and the Aunts. There was much heated discussion which would cease abruptly when Glynis or her father entered the room. “Alright, dearie?” one of the Aunts would say, smiling way too brightly. And over the following days and weeks there was a flurry of magical activity at 4 Leafy Lane, all accompanied by fervent and hushed whisperings.

    Glynis knew they were trying to help her, and was grateful, but after the initial fear, she became defiant. “Who the hell did he think he was, anyway?” She left Glenville to study architecture at the prestigious College of Mugglebury. It was there she met Conway, who worked in the cafe where she stopped for coffee each morning on her way to class. They fell in love and moved in together, deciding that as soon as Glynis had graduated they would marry. It had been 4 years since she had last seen Tomas and he was now no more than a faint anxious fluttering in her chest.

    It was a Friday when she got the news that Conway had driven in the path of an oncoming truck and was killed instantly. She knew it was Friday because she was in the supermarket buying supplies for a party that weekend to celebrate her exams being over when she got the call. And it was the same day Tomas turned up at her house.

    And it was then she knew.

    “You murderer!” she had screamed through her tears. “Kill me too, if you want to. I will never love you.”

    “You’ve broken my heart,” he said. “And for that you must pay the price. If I can’t have you then I will make sure no-one else wants you either.”

    “You don’t have a heart to break,” she whispered.

    Dragon face,” Tomas hissed as he left.

    Glynis returned to Glenville just long enough to tell her family she was leaving again. “No, she didn’t know where,” she said, her heart feeling like stone. Her mother and her Aunts cried and begged her to reconsider. Her Uncle smouldered in silent fury and let off little puffs of smoke from his ears which he could not contain. Her father was simply bewildered and wanted to know what was all the fuss about and for crying out loud why was she wearing a burka?

    The day she left her mother gave her the ‘Book of Spells”. Glynis knew how precious this book was to her mother but could only think how heavy it would be to lug around with her on her journey.

    “Remember, Glynis,” her mother said as she hugged Glynis tightly to her, “the sorcerers have powerful magic but it is a mere drop in the ocean in comparison to the magic of All That Is. You have that great power within you and no sorcerer can take take that from you. You have the power to transform this into something beautiful.”

    #2970
    TracyTracy
    Participant

      The blizzard mircaulously stopped as soon as the fountain erupted, and the icicles on the trees in the square twinkled, casting long blue shadows on the snow. Mari Fe and Pearl had just finished a second helping of cake, and were feeling optimistic and relaxed in the warm cafe.

      Mari Fe sighed in contentment. “You know what Pearl? I’m considering retiring early. Because quite frankly, I prefer eating cake.”

      “Can’t you eat cake and carry on? You’re eating cake now, and you haven’t retired yet.”

      “Well I suppose that’s true enough. And shopping for flying carpets is hardly grueling labour. But all the sudden portalings, and the problem of weather, and clothes…it does get tedious. The evenly temperate global climate is a long time coming!”

      “It’ll come alot quicker if we do well at our job!”

      “I suppose there is that…”

      “Take a look out there, Mari Fe ~ look at the weather in the square now! Sun’s shining, birds are singing, children are coming out to play…but it’s still snowing in Moscow.. Come on, let’s go and see about the carpets, and make tracks for Moscow.”

      “What’s the cake like there?”

      “Sweet, beautiful, as light as air, just like the famous Russian ballerina Anna Pavlova?”

      #2551

      In reply to: Strings of Nines

      F LoveF Love
      Participant

        Bitch, muttered Ann to herself after Franlise left the room. How could any one person be endowed with such outward beautiy and inward loveliness in such an unsubtle way?

        Perhaps I will call my next chapter “The Subtlety of the Tarty Cleaner”. Not really having any idea what this meant, the thought still managed to lift Ann’s spirits considerably. She felt particularly vindicated when she saw the title of the the great philospher Leemoon’s latest book:

        Belabouring Fools of the Continuity Paradigm

        Exactly! stupid tarty belabouring fool of a cleaner!

        #1286

        It wasn’t just the twins that were outraged, there were alot of outraged people that day. Becky, Sanso, Illi, Bea and Leo, Elizabeth and Zhaana ~ all of them were utterly outraged at the monstrous display of dictatorship. They were devastated because they had been labouring under what was clearly a misconception that it was a group project.

        Godfrey, I am inscensed!” declared Elizabeth. “And don’t you dare correct that spelling! I will write my own story somewhere else. If you think you’ve snatched my characters from right under my nose you’ve got another think coming, old chap.”

        Elizabeth snatched up the papers on her desk and crammed them into a carpet bag.

        “I’m going out for a walk. Alone.”

        And off she went, clutching her bag under arm and muttering under her breath, angrily wiping the tears that dribbled down her cheeks.

        #1216
        EricEric
        Keymaster

          “Jeeze, I can’t help to be continuously amazed by BeckyAl said more to himself than to Tina who was reading silently in the room next to his.
          “She struggles so hard at times, when all she needs is a little attention…” he continued in his breath.

          “What are you moaning about again?” Tina said, who unlike Becky was paying much attention even when she didn’t look like it.
          “Moonbeams! Did you see that last entry? There was as close as moon and beams as you could get in the previous entries in the Reality Play… I really wonder why we make things so hard for ourselves at times…”

          — Well, because it’s fun, I suppose she’ll tell you… Come on, you know how she is, you don’t need to play your sumafreak labouring it to the bitter end…
          — I suspect you’re right… And who cares about randomness anyway; it doesn’t look much fun these past few days, does it?
          — Sure…
          — Like I say. Look, you don’t even barely write yourself; if I didn’t know you’re here, I would probably do with the Play like the tomatoes plant; uproot it and cut it in pieces in a plastic bag for recycling.
          — Oh, but you have to admit the bedroom looks so much better without all these creepers around the place… All for what, twenty one tiniest tomatoes?
          — Plus the last two still ripening on the cupboard, Al retorted in a sullen manner.

          After a moment of silence, Tina laid her book down, and came closer
          — Yeah, you’re right, I don’t find it very funny for the moment, especially with that shift of vowellness in the Ooh dimension,…
          — Hehe, you mean, that nasty habit of telling ‘peanut’ instead of ‘poonut’?
          — Oh yes, but not only that,… Well, it looks like all my characters are eluding me, becoming alien… if you see what I mean… :yahoo_alien:
          — Yes, I see; and I must say you’re doing great with that; Becky would faint at the mere mention of something becoming alien, Al couldn’t help but laugh. :yahoo_oh_go_on:
          — No, but seriously…
          — I know. I think what we need is some more of your inimitable talent at creating syncs. You’ve always been the connector my dear with those “magifestations” of yours.
          :creating_magic:

          She smiled. :yahoo_happy:

          — Now, speaking of random syncs, what have you got to say about that; we could create a music band :bounce: :yahoo_whistling:
          — What?
          — Hang on, here’s the band’s name: 57th Ward of New Orleans and we could call our first album… Mmm… That’s it: The Cup To Overflowing … What do you think? :agreed:

          Mmmm… that may sound weirdo, but it seems very feisty all of a sudden ! :yahoo_clown: :buffoon: :yahoo_party:

          #1186

          Arona was fretting.

          “Now, what is this all about? Can someone explain me? The purple sand is pretty, the green sky too, however it looks just like an insane dream from a deranged mind having abused smoke of robjane leaves.”

          Framing Irtak —who was having a funny pout on his face— the dragons Heckle and Jeckle were too busy considering with an amused attention the new form and energy field that their progenitor had taken.

          No words were spoken to answer Arona’s plea for answers, but answers were starting to come to them in the form of a bundle of energy which would be difficult to translate in a linear manner.

          They started to understand a few things. That for one, N’meôrl the Nirgual was not here by chance, at this place and time. Again, they had travelled far in the past of the history of their dimension, and events of great importance were in motion, that they were given to witness.

          At first, the flow of information they were having was like a stream they thought they had no control of, but as questions were forming they noticed that it was altering the flow which was then encompassing the answers to those questions.

          Like when Jeckle wondered if he and his twin had big birdies counterparts like this one to merge with, and got the following answer “No. For you are quite new essences fragments, and thus do not yet hold focuses in similar extent to your progenitor.”

          Arona was quite pleased by this new mode of getting answers, especially as she could visibly get the answers she was genuinely looking for, not those coming from questions she was only remotely interested in.

          N’meôrl was showing them also, that unlike him, they were not quite physically focused into that environment, and were not noticed by the small surrounding creatures like the little red scrabs crawling in the sand. They were mainly there to observe and draw their own conclusions, as soon some events would occur.

          As they’d finished absorbing the information, they started to notice a feeling of expectation in the air. N’meôrl conveyed to them that they would have to stay quiet in his peripheral awareness for “they” were coming, and he was on a delicate mission.

          :fleuron:

          Footsteps on the beach.
          A man approaching. He looks like Irtak and Arona, as if he had just come into this alien world from the same door they had taken. But he fails to notice them.

          He stays, facing the deep green waters of the ocean brushing the shore, as if expecting someone.

          A strange buzz starts to fill the space. A point of focused light the size of a pinhole appears in front of him, expands quickly with an elastic quality, and pops with a soft sound, revealing an improbably tall figure under a cloak.

          The man greets the new-comer with deference
          “Master Sinadron
          Jarvis, my good friend.”

          They start to walk on the beach at the unspoken invitation of the one with the smooth voice named Sinadron.

          “So, I’ve been told our little matter is going very well.”
          “Yes, very well, Master; I am deeply grateful for your intervention; without your help I’ve been told, my dear would not have been allowed to…”
          “Let’s not talk of such things any longer; it was such a delight to help two sweet young souls so deeply in love”

          Somehow, despite the words of kindness which are slithering with ease, the invisible witness got the uncanny feeling that they are but a deceptive fragment of the truth.

          “Now. Tell me”, the one named Sinadron continues in a mellifluous voice “Why have you called me for?”
          “The settlement you have suggested us to start on this land…”
          “Yes, I am aware, please go to the point instead of labouring things I am well aware of.” The voice had sharpened a bit.
          “I am sorry Master.”
          “Continue”
          “There is a growing dissent that…”
          “And from who that shall come?”
          “Err… I hear Pelorus has spoken to the Zentauras…”
          “Pelorus is but a nuisance.” The voice wasn’t asking for contradiction, though an imperceptible grin was floating on the half-hidden face.
          He continued “But I shall help you, once again
          “Master, you are too generous…”
          “Let me finish. I will provide you with more men and women, willing to start a new life under your command, to help you grow your settlement. There are a few slaves on the Duane, that place from where you come who will do great.”
          “Master…”
          “They will be there in an hexade. Make sure you stand your ground until then, even if that means confronting those nasty Zentauras.”

          And without waiting for the confused thanks, he disappeared, grinning widely.

          #431

          Ooops… All that farting was as exhausting as being in labour, thought the mummy.

          (What!? no farting mummy icon :yahoo_rolling_eyes: )

          #430
          TracyTracy
          Participant

            Becky was in labour. Well, I don’t know why they call it ‘labour’ she said, this is easy. Moments later a bonny blue eyed baby boy slipped effortlessly into the physical world.

          Viewing 9 results - 21 through 29 (of 29 total)