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  • #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.

    #1739

    In reply to: Synchronicity

    F LoveF Love
    Participant

      Yes just reading the link on Full Metal Alchemist, I see many synchs. :yahoo_loser:

      One of the best things for me with the Traveler book was that I am enjoying it … and I have really struggled to find things I enjoy to read lately.

      #1738

      In reply to: Synchronicity

      F LoveF Love
      Participant

        MORE ON ANGELS

        I have been seeing a large number of “444’s”. I googled the number and found that one association with this number is of angels (there were other meanings as well, for me it is about choosing one which resonates with me, or creating a meaning). Well, i sort of liked that interpretation so now whenever i see 444 i think of “beings of light” and the support of the universe.

        Mr X’s friend Kelvin said to him one day recently that Finn would suit driving a “??????” car (some rare and exotic make of car). :yahoo_eyelashes:

        AHEM, okay to be technically accurate I made up “rare” and “exotic” … what i mean is I am not sure what car it was, (perhaps I will ask later and google it and hopefully I won’t be too offended), however that doesn’t mean much as I am one of those people who refer to cars by their colour rather than their make or model.

        At the movies yesterday my attention was caught by a car in the picture, the numberplate was 444. At that moment MrX whispered to me and told me that was the car Kelvin said I should drive. Well I still have no idea what the car was as I was busy noticing the numberplate, but I thought that was such a cool synch, sort of really reminding me to trust in the support of the Universe.

        Also on the way home, while driving home thinking about it i saw the the numberplate ANGILZ. :yahoo_angel:

        #798
        Jib
        Participant

          Sam was back from Australia, and had full of interesting new tricks to show to his friends.
          He smiled remembering the sneaky eyes of the Nanaconda when it offered him his way home.

          #797
          ÉricÉric
          Keymaster

            Oh my Gawd, must be the Devil’s at work! 666 th comment now…

            Becky was appalled at the new re-entry of the thought forever lost mummy.

            #795

            — Sorry for the confusion, the voice of Leörmn said, there may have been some traffic jam along the portal’s tunnel… I think we lost track of time somewhat.
            — But we’re arrived, aren’t we? asked Arona, still a bit grumpy about the cave moving.
            — Mmm, I suppose so. If my calculations are correct, we are. Although…
            — What?!
            Arona was starting to wonder what could possibly go more mind-boggling than it already was…
            Leormn puffed into a small-sized teal-bellied gyucko (a sort a cutie reptipooh) and started to wiggle away…
            — Have honey do’s, see you in a while!

            — Grumpf, always wiggling out this one… grumbled Arona.
            And where did they all go now? It seemed like once again, she had been left alone. Good riddance, better enjoy the calm before they come back.

            :fleuron:

            Malvina was enjoying this new place where she was in. She had felt that, in other Worlds, some of her other attentions had been moving too. Especially one who was having great funnie in her new housie which was harbouring a portal in a very ancient tree. And for most of these attentions, it was also a time of reunion with dear ones, and reactivation of a new kind of power.
            Perhaps the time was now for her too arrived, to reunite with her Sisters.

            Only thing was that, where she was now at this precise moment, her Sisters were not yet born…
            Interestingly, for a reason that only the mind of a century old wise dragon like Leormn knew —if she would trust it not to be a simple stroke of inattention and bad luck as he would try to make it appear— she was undoubtedly right where she had thought to be, a small island in the Eastern coastal area of Lan’Ork in the vicinity of the Marshes of Doom.
            Except that it was the Legendary Past…

            #1737

            In reply to: Synchronicity

            Jib
            Participant

              The traveler’s book is syncing with the anime movie we watched this evening. Full Metal Alchemist is the story of 2 brothers looking for each other. One is called Edward, and the Other Al(phonse). The are from a parallel world in which they can use Alchemy, and it is during the rise of the nazis time framework… and the nazis want to go to Shambhala which is related to Buddhism…
              Well, even if the movie adapted from a series was quite hard to understand because I didn’t have any reference to their world or the story of the series, it was fun and there was quite an interesting subjective communication :))

              #1733

              In reply to: Synchronicity

              TracyTracy
              Participant

                A couple of hours ago I googled eggs in the news and found this

                I was going to post it, couldn’t decide where….

                #793
                TracyTracy
                Participant

                  From Timbuktooh to old Perooh
                  She flooh. Said she: “Tooh much tooh dooh!”
                  T’was trooh, she knooh
                  T’would make her spyooh
                  The Ballyhooh and Bumbledooh

                  Elizabeth chuckled to herself. Wonder if that old fart Barash’ll publish that.

                  #792

                  Elizabeth Tattler gazed at herself in the mirroor and sighed. Of course she was still stunningly bootiful, but since dear Eddie Foosher, her fourth husband, had decided to descend, she had lost the will to really care for herself. Day in and day out she had been focused on her writing, at first to ease the pain and loneliness, however increasingly she was finding real joy in her work. She looked lovingly towards the stoove where she was hardbooling a couple of mongoat oogs in preparation for some more Oogleton exploits.

                  She turned back to the mirroor. I really do have glorioos eyes she reflected, even if still a tad bloodshot. She remembered the one occasion she had met the philosopher Lemone, many years ago now. What was that little loomerick he had written for her?

                  Slowly it came back to her.

                  There was a Young Lady whose eyes,
                  Were unique as to coloor and size;
                  When she opened them wide,
                  Poople all turned aside,
                  And started away in surprise.

                  She smiled at the memory, how she would love to meet Lemone again! She remembered fondly how his air of kindly wisdom had far outshone his rather odd appearance and garish taste in cloothing.

                  #1731

                  In reply to: Synchronicity

                  ÉricÉric
                  Keymaster

                    <translating Jib’s energy>

                    Ahahah, it’s funny Franci!
                    Today and yesterday, I was in a training session and the guy kept saying stupid jokes and catch-phrases with 53 in them, like it’s the most natural thing to say! He also used a 23 once ;;)

                    And last week-end with Eric, we started to install a server. And to access a distant server, we use a program called PuTTY (pronounced sometimes “pooty”)… And the server kept rebooting on its own, so we ended pouting a bit :D

                    :yahoo_big_hug:

                    </translating Jib’s energy>

                    #790

                    It had been a moonth now that Elizabeth had got her first encounter with Pigoosus, her inner inspirer, on a dirty bench of the public park littered with pigeons droppings.

                    A whole moonth, and yet, it had been so full that she had barely noticed it passing. Even Finnley, the ever grunchy grumpy one, had felt ubiquitously absent (Elizabeth was quite fond of Lemone’s profoond quotes, and his consummate uooze of exquisitively bizarre words; so, “ubiquitously absent”, oxymoronic as it was, for all matter and purposes felt deliciously adequate to her present mood).
                    So, yes, even Finnley… who had felt recently so deeply absorbed by flocks of dust bunnies that went around the corners.

                    As for her, the grandioosa noovelist, she had used the inspiration of that day to take a break from that strange story she was writing, and which had accumulated so many loose ends that she’d grown yucky at the mere sight of a dish of spooghetti.
                    Instead, she had written a small unpretentious (as far as she could, that is) novelette, or children book as her publisher said. Of course, everything a little bit out of the ordinary was only good for children, and in fact, she couldn’t care less. She had tremendoose fun writing the Extra-vagrant Illustrated Tales of The Oogletoon Twins. Not only writing in fact, but also illustrating that intermission work (which was a first, as she had mostly the habit of doing coollages of various pictures teafed around, hence her fondness for Robert the robber magpie).

                    Notwithstanding, this was an interesting adventure for Elizabeth. Life was full of surprises, and she wouldn’t have thought that in becoming more “down to Oorth”, as her parents would have exhorted her to do, so to spook, she would have indeed be really, really closer to Oorth, but nonetheless, still in fairy land. Ahaha, that was putting her in the greatest of moods.
                    She smiled a broad smile to a fidgeting Finnley who was under the glowing neon light of the dark copy machine room, apparently in great conversation with some invisible being, as she went past the room, on her way to her office.

                    :fleuron2:

                    Checking on her compooter (her gorgeous iPear) she noticed an email from Barash… Another publisher that she was considering working with, when her current one had felt hesitant at publishing her illustrated book.
                    Decidedly, everything was going well for her these days.

                    #787
                    ÉricÉric
                    Keymaster

                      A draft suddenly went through the open window, rattling a pile of previously disarrayed papers that Finnley had neatly put on the desk, catching the office cleaner by surprise.
                      (Albert is wondering now what is the gender of Finnley, but probably that has to do with his new exploration and isn’t very important. Al is agreeing with himself on using handy ellipsis)

                      Finnley, perplexed by the thoughts having went in accompanying the rogue wind, closed the opened window. The air was decidedly more breathable, now the emanations of nicobeck were dispersed. Not to mention the trails of that magpie’s droppings. Finnley would gladly do with a bootle to roll them into a big ball.

                      What was with the third-person talking anyway? Finnley was wondering… And who is Al? Finnley knew of a Haley, but no Al for sure…
                      Surely that Tattler’s madness was contagious…

                      Putting the papers back onto the desk of Mrs Tattler (yes, I think she’s a she this one), Finnley notices something that catches Finnley’s eye (“stop messing with my thoughts!” thinks Finnley)…

                      … They were thus one of the first sentient races created by the Powers with limited awareness to populate the lands of Dooane (note: replace all previous occurrences of “Earth” with Dooane, and M’si with Moortuane). Uglings were dwarfish, a bit stout and let’s say plain ugly for most of them. But they inherited a keen mind and greatest forging skills.
                      Uglings revered the Power known to them as the Goddess of the Earths, Margiloonia, as their resemblance with raw clay and unpolished rocks were for them the evidence of such lineage. Combining their craft, they created an exquisite cup in dedication to the Goddess. Huriol, the First Ugling King in these times of Legend was given the cup to care for.
                      The Power known as Margiloonia upon seeing this offering of acknowledgment to her was very pleased and imbued the cup with transmootation powers which could be used by its true owner for healing, and some said, even to resurrect the flesh…

                      A loud knock at the door drew Finnley out of the contemplation.

                      Isn’t that vacooming done yet? I have a book to write! The stridulent voice of Elizabeth Tattler was asking behind the still closed door.

                      #785
                      TracyTracy
                      Participant

                        Are you messing with that Gortex again, Al? Becky asked.

                        Al’s skin was starting to take on a greenish tinge.

                        I read something about Gortex in an old history book yesterday Al, hang on, Becky said as she rummaged through the piles of books on her desk.

                        Here is it: “The first commercial consumer product using GORE-TEX® was a tent called the Light Dimension”

                        #784
                        TracyTracy
                        Participant

                          I think it’s you that gets confused with genders , Al, Becky said gently. Leo and Bea are both old dears, they’ve always been female. Of course, Becky mused, With so many probable realities, are there ever any ‘correct and right and true’ facts at all? Everything seems so much more fluid and changable these days, everything morphs along the way it will. It will what it will, I am what I am……

                          Al rolled his eyes at Becky. You may well morph along happily, Morph Becky Pooh, but some of us need to keep track.

                          Oh, it’s always on track, Al! How can anything ever really be off it? A wonderful glorious meandering labyrinth of a track, admittedly, but with so many splendid intersections, like spaghetti junctions….Come on, let’s go out and play in the sun! Let’s play Follow My Thread in the park.

                          Pffft, Al replied.

                          #779

                          When Leonora finished writing her blog posts and reading the latest Yurara Fameliki story updates, she strolled out onto the patio. Bea was talking in her sleep again, sprawled out on the sunbed.

                          One hundred and eighty years hence,
                          They sat and conversed on the fence.
                          “We searched far and wide
                          For what was inside.
                          I am forced to admit we are dense.”

                          Blimey, she’s connecting to that laughing monk again, Leonora noted, rolling her eyes. She sat down in an old wicker chair, and sipped her Rioja wine.

                          #778
                          TracyTracy
                          Participant

                            Meanwhile, Becky was still connecting strongly to the Laughing Monk, Schnortz, from ancient Kuzhebar. Reciting another limerick to herself, she made her way across the flooded street, attracted to a warm and cozy looking cafe on the other side.

                            “The goat floating secret is this”
                            Nanaconda butts in with a hiss.
                            “Stretch out in the sun!
                            Relax and have fun;
                            Now come here and give me a kiss”

                            The flood water rushed past Becky’s ankles, causing her to stagger. Unidentified floating debris bumped the back of her legs and she almost buckled.

                            “Well then, what shall we do now, Deliria?”
                            Asked a white faced and trembling Wisteria.
                            “Go for the kiss?
                            Or give it a miss?”
                            Replied she, “Let’s consult Wikipedia.”

                            Becky reached the other side of the street relatively unscathed and headed towards the Wisteria Garden Internet Cafe.

                            #776

                            Bea was drifting off to sleep on the patio, the gentle spring warm on her face. A stork glided past, and she noticed the first amethyst wisteria blossom against the blue sky. Dreamily, she heard a limerick forming in her mind:

                            There was an old crone called Wisteria
                            Who was prone to bouts of hysteria.
                            She fretted and flapped
                            Til her energy sapped,
                            And then she made friends with Deliria.

                            The crone called Deliria hailed from
                            The unsettled realms of the maelstrom;
                            But she learned how to float
                            With the help of a goat
                            And considered it was quite a brainstorm.

                            When Wisteria met with Deliria
                            She said “My! but you seem so familiar!
                            I admire your hat
                            So let’s have a chat
                            About goat floating maelstrom criteria”

                            #1908
                            TracyTracy
                            Participant
                              #773

                              On his way to work, Yann was singing. These last few days had been harsh to his self appreciation process, he had lots of judgments against everything he was doing. He had found it quite exhausting and quite detrimental to his relationships with his friends.

                              Well, despite the fact that Archibald puppet had told him about his bucket… or his garbage he couldn’t remember, and not to forget to empty it regularly, he had been submerged with stimuli from everywhere and from everybody, to the point that he wouldn’t allow a single smile inside himself.

                              Yesterday, they had received their furniture with Yurick, and in the process of assembling them and putting them into place, rearranging the configuration of the apartment, he found himself appreciating of his new home.
                              When he woke up that night, it was 5:12am. He couldn’t sleep, and he wouldn’t wake Yurick up. He had noticed several times that he had many associations with this hour of the day… like a burden, a new day of work soon approaching all that crap again and so on…

                              All he had to do was just… yes like that, he was appreciating his own being. Himself lying in the bed, the breathing movement of his friend beside him, still and relaxed.

                              When the alarm clock was about to ring himself out of the bed, he was already awoken and he cut it off before it could awake his beloved. It was 7:57am.
                              On his way to the bathroom, Arona the cat was quite demanding of caresses… he took some time and appreciated deeply the contact of her soft fur, long and warm silky hairs.

                              Thus, Yann was singing, and when he arrived at the crossroad just before his workplace, there was that man… and their gaze met surreptitiously. And the man started singing. Yann smiled.

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