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  • #645

    As soon as she’d come back from her trip, Dory had planned to travel again very soon.
    Of course, she had enjoyed tremendously being home, being with Dan and young Becky… yes, she had… the first day for sure…
    Well… She was a born wanderer, she couldn’t do against her own nature, no need to beat herself for that, and feel guilty for leaving Dan and Becky periodically. Hopefully, Becky was very understanding, and perhaps that the fact that Dory was her stepmother made things easier for them both, without burdening their relationship with useless obligations towards one another.

    On the other side, many exciting destinations were on her list, and she barely knew where to start. One that had attracted her curiosity was the site of Jiroft in Iran, where the famed lost Kingdom of Aratta had been supposedly found very recently. Artifacts had been discovered on this site, predating our commonly supposed invention date of written language, which had fascinated Dory for a while, before she got lost amidst the wide spectrum of her other interests.

    Well, all of this was of frenzying interest, but there were dogs and back issues…
    Somehow, Dory had been struggling with lots of tensions in her back, and the more she forced herself moving, the worse the pain was. Finally beaten by herself, when no one else, friend, family or doctor could accomplish such a feat, she was stuck to a cushioned armchair for most of the day holding to her pain as to a stuck parasitic hated friend.
    And then, there was the dogs.
    As she was barely able to move, Dan had renounced to have her come with him and Becky to see Sabine, Becky’s mother, in Mallorca, where she had invited them for the Epiphany.
    Secretly, Dory was happy to have to stay at home, and not to have to make pleasing faces to the horrid obsessive woman she could only stand a few minutes without having to go out and empty a whole pack of cigarettes to calm her down.
    The only little drawback was that she had to take care of the dogs… And she was running short of dog’s food…

    Before leaving, Dan had left her a phone number of their new neighbours, a batty couple of Brits who had just rented the farm nearby, and with whom Dan was occasionally playing golf and lending a hand in small DIY work.
    Reluctantly, Dory took the post-it and smiled at the familiar handwriting of Dan

    BEATTIE & LEONORA FLETCHER : 933-157-821

    She composed the number in a deliberate slow motion, which strangely felt very empowering.

    — Hello! a quavering male voice answered
    — Err… Mr Fletcher?
    — Ms Fletcher,… herself, what can I do for you?
    — I’m Dorothy Mc Leane, one of your neighbour, you probably know my…
    — Oh, yes! Dorothy, may I call you Dorothy, Dan spoke of you so much that we were very eager to meet you, weren’t we Leo?

    A ruffling sound behind Beattie Fletcher seemed to approve.

    — And is there anything we could do for you?
    — Well, I’m awfully embarrassed to have to ask you, but I’m stuck at home, and my dogs don’t have much food left…
    — Oh my dear! You did so very well to call us, didn’t she Leo? We’ll be at your home in a few minutes!
    — But…
    — Oh, no need to thank us for that, it’s all natural, after all that your delightful husband did for us! We see you in a moment…

    And with that the line was cut. Dory was a bit disconcerted by the strange couple, but decided to dance with what was coming to her doorstep (wishing it would not be flamenco), seeing that having placed these quaint people in her reality could not entirely be a stroke of wild madness… If only…

    #644

    Back in the depths of the water, Aglaë was thinking of a way for her to move easily on the other world.

    There was a legend of her people, a legend which was told to the children. It promised pain and an accursed half-life to those trying to disown their heritage, and live outside of the life-sustaining element of water.
    For most of the children, such an idea was incongruous at best, and none would have thought of breaching the taboo simply to try something different and potentially lethal.
    But to Aglaë, all that it meant now was that such a thing was possible.
    In that legend she had been told when she was young, there was a prince, who betrayed his people, and was condemned to an exile outside of the oceans. So that he would not die an immediate and atrocious death on the dry surface, but rather suffer even more, by not being able to come back to the depths, he was given a mixture of plants to ingest. A deadly algae which grew in the cemeteries of the Holders of Dreams, on the carcasses of the Wise Ones, mixed with an herb from the lands.

    Aglaë did not know how and where to gather the plants… She was hesitant to do such a thing, for it would surely infuriate her father… But she was willing to do it. She would have to find a naïve ally to help her in her task, because she was seeing her half-brother Pelorus becoming suspicious and she did not want to have him discover her plans before she could realise them.
    Pelorus was very close to their father, who had made him Captain of the Tritonic Guard. Though he was not having a slithery serpentine tail like her own, he was very agile and swift in the waters with his tentacles, and was very respected, as he had a reassuring presence, radiating might and power.

    #1619

    In reply to: Synchronicity

    Jib
    Participant

      Hehehe another synch :D
      I forgot to tell that yesterday morning going to do a presentation I noticed a car with a licence plate like 8283 and I just had the idea that it was 23 with two 8 like bubbles or cushions :-?

      And yesterday evening I was playing with a 3D software about body manipulations, the individuals or animals are already created and you just have to manipulate the bodies to create the attitude or movement you desire… and I had created a man fumbling back and I wanted to add a little fly… I added the fly but it was so huge that the man had his head inside the fly’s body :-O
      I’ll post the pic when I go back home for lunchtime. ;))

      I join my hands to this huge :yahoo_big_hug:

      #643

      A DARK ALEHOUSE ONE NIGHT SOMEWHERE IN LONDON DURING THE REIGN OF QUEEN V

      Blimey O’Riley, you drive a hard bargain. But it looks like you and me got ourselves an arrangement.

      We split it eight ways even as agreed.

      Eight ways. They shook hands. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you Constable Marshall O’Riley.

      #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 —…
        #641

        AN EXCHANGE WHICH TAKES PLACE ON THE STREETS OF LONDON DURING THE REIGN OF QUEEN VICTORIA:

        ‘Ere!, I saw you take that.

        Let go of me, I didn’t do nothing.

        I aint blind and I aint stupid, lad. I saw you put your thieving hand in this ladies handbag. Now what you got?

        Nothing. Just this coin. It’s for me mam, she’s at home poorly, dying, and we aint got no food. ‘Ere, take it. it won’t happen again.

        You’re right it won’t happen again because you’ll be going to the gallows I’ll be bound. I know your face. You’re one of them Magpies. I’ve ‘ad my eye on you for some time. You’re clever at covering tracks I’ll grant you that, but not clever enough it seems.

        Look Mr Constable, I don’t know nothing about no magpies, they thieving birds aint they? It was for me poor old mam, I swear to God, if I be lying may ‘e strike me down dead.

        No more blasphemy from you. I expect the good Lord’s got better things to do than spend his time striking down lying thieves. Thing is you’ve been been caught thieving from this lady and it’s not looking too good for you right now.

        And I will thank you Ma’am for your courageous co-operation. said Constable Marshall O’Riley, turning galantly to the finely dressed woman, clutching her handbag tightly to her person. You have been victim of a heinous crime, and I would wish to trouble your gentle self no more with this matter. But I will thank you for your details and be assured I shall call upon you should we need you to give further evidence.

        No sooner had the lady gone than Constable O’Riley turned to the young thief.

        Now you listen to me carefully, young lad. I have an idea that, if you play your hand right, might save you from hanging.

        I’m listening.

        You and me is not two figures to be seen together, except for somewhere private. I want you to talk to the one what leads your little gang. I have an idea that could be of mutual benefit. I will let you go now, and you be here tomorrow same time, and I will tell you where the meeting will be held. I’ve ‘ad my eyes on your gang for quite some time, all I needed to convict you was to catch you red ‘anded, and I got that now. So If you ain’t here, I know where to find you lot, and I swear I’ll drag you in front of the magistrate. Do as I say though and we could all be laughing.

        #640

        Rafaela stopped her meticulous grazing and smiled, as far as a goat can smile, at the newcomer.
        We were waiting for you… and your other half so to speak.

        Kay looked at the goat suspiciously. He had never seen a goat speaking. And it was not an spirit animal. He automatically began growling.
        Grrrrowl… who are you?
        He looked successively at the lynx, the owl and the rabbit.
        Who are you 4?

        — Oh a dog!!

        Anita got on her feet quickly and began running toward him. That was when a winded Akita choose to appear in the clearing.

        Kay, why the hell did you run after that… What is a little girl doing in the middle of this jungle? he muttered, trying to catch his breathe.

        And he can’t see you guys, apparently thought the spirit dog.

        #1615

        In reply to: Synchronicity

        F LoveF Love
        Participant

          I just read T’s comment in the story: one for sorrow, two for joy (Malvina's Dragon Rookery # 509). As I was out driving along the road a little bit earlier, I noticed the number plates of a couple of cars coming towards me, 157 and then 257. I particularly noticed the “1” and “2” in sequence, and mentally laughed wondering if Tracy was playing a game and what we were counting too. Shortly after that 557 passed me.

          :fleuron:

          These comments really are very funny, the way they are lining up. I was going to write another comment in the story just now, but decided it was too hot, must be the hottest day ever I thought, and then laughed at myself because it is not really that hot ( hottest day this summer though I bet ). Next thing I looked at the daily quote and it is the one where Tina says:

          “Icy” is an exaggeration of course, said Tina, “it just meant I had to put a jacket on again today”. :yahoo_oh_go_on:

          #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

          #633
          ÉricÉric
          Keymaster

            On Channel TV-5, Tobi the ventriloquist’s show was on.

            The usual gang was gathered in Al and Tina’s flat, to enjoy the popular show. Becky, who was a huge aficionado of the show had made it to the flat before everyone, despite her suffering from apparently unexplainable pains in the chest.
            When the show started, Becky felt a little better though she couldn’t really breathe easily. The Yeath Lady, in her ash-blue mummy outfit was making her giggle. It wasn’t very good for her floating ribs, but she couldn’t help, and decided to giggle softly.

            Al was trying his best to munch some pop-corn but one of his tooth was still moving in his mouth, and it wasn’t time to get some pop-corn implanted into his gums…

            #1612

            In reply to: Synchronicity

            TracyTracy
            Participant

              She made her way downstairs to the kitchen, and the headlines in the Reality Times newspaper on the table caught her eye:

              ‘Mysterious Carved Rock Faces Appear in Yorkshire Villages.’

              SYNC! Todays random quote, and I just this minute mentioned to Jan how things keep appearing IN the book before we hear about them OUTSIDE of the book, and I mentioned the Yorkshire stonecarver. We had been discussing previously the ELIZABETH sync. Some of Franci’s descriptions of Elizabeth fit exactly Jan’s impressions of Elizabeth in the movie she just watched.

              The botanist, the woman in mans clothes, and the island all cropped up OUTSIDE the book yesterday……

              #632

              The movements of the marmoset were swifts and effortless. The creature was moving through space and not in the jungle. That Kay was another expression of consciousness. It was not a creature, it was not of essence. They had not recognized its nature as quickly as they could have if it wasn’t merged so intimately with that focus of Blöhmul. The little mass event of this pursuit was tremendously fun, and they were all getting closer to Anita. The aspects of the 4 essences still focused with her were still. She had just awaken from her last dream with her parents. And was telling it to Yuki and Armelle. The Lynx was sleeping on a rock outside, enjoying the warm feeling of the sun on its fur, and the Goat was busy eating the grass around the camp so no creature or human could hide and sneak around without being noticed. Armelle hooted with amusement. They all reintegrated the aspects they had put together to create that marmoset.

              It reached its hand to grasp an borgulm fruit from the upper branch of the borgulm tree. The Snoot was quite fond of these juicy and intermediate fruits. They were always containing alcohol to various degrees, never the same. They were quite colorful also, many shades that you would discover only when opening them. And the Snoot liked to be surprised. The juice was coloring its liquid fur as soon as it had been absorbed. The Snoot had usually no name. They were quite solitary creatures. Expressions of different aspects of consciousness from an ancient civilization, as some would tell you. The Snoot noticed some alteration of the air. Different elements of the whole were coming… they felt quite different from what it was accustomed to. A strong curiosity motivated the Snoot which was altering his liquid fur and becoming translucent, transparent, almost invisible, and it began to focus on these strange arrangements of consciousness that were so noisy.

              :fleuron:

              Kay saw the marmoset disappear just before they reached a clearing where a Lynx was sleeping and yet not sleeping, a Goat was eating the grass and esthetically shaping the clearing, and inside a hidden bubble were an Owl and a Rabbit that seemingly were listening to a little girl giggling and babbling.

              #630
              TracyTracy
              Participant

                Becky coughed painfully, and shook her head in confusion. She coughed again, clutching her ribs and wincing as her bruised chest muscles screamed.

                I am so out of the loop I fear I will never catch up, she wailed sadly.

                She coughed again, clutching Chump close to her, as if the wiry little dog could soothe her tormented breathing with his warmth.

                How will I ever catch up, Pork Chump? she moaned, stroking his scruffy scrawny body.

                Chump winked at her and said Catching up and keeping track, don’t you know that is a wild goose chase? You may observe me, when I chase a goose. I chase the goose for fun, for a moment of fun. Do I wonder where the goose came from? Do I wonder where the goose went? Do I worry about the gooses mother, or daughter, or son?

                Becky was momentarily nonplussed; after all, Chump had only winked and laughed at her before, she had never heard him speak.

                #628

                Chris, I demand you tell me what’s going on! What was that … that thing! Nurse Bellamy was visibly upset, her cheeks flushed, her voice tremulous. She had no idea what had just happened, but she suspected that even coconut milk might not make it better this time.

                Are you going to tell her or do I have to do it? asked Veranassessee. Because if you can pull yourself together I have a couple of guests locked in a closet, and now a mummy on the run to deal with! It had been a tiring day and Veranassessee was furious.

                V’ass what’s going on, Chris, will someone please tell me ….!

                I will tell her Veranassessee. Dr Bronkelhampton slumped in his chair and wondered where to start. A plan was beginning to form in his head. V’ass had always said Nurse Bellamy should be told the truth, now it seems that, as usual, she was right. But of course, he smiled to himself, as Dr Lemane, his erudite Professor at medical school had always said, there are many sniggly variations of one truth. Well, it was something along those lines he said anyway.

                :fleuron2:

                Oh this is the bees knees! what do you reckon about this room then Sha? Do you think the treatment has started?

                Perhaps it is special beauty air in here. It smells different don’t it?

                They both breathed deeply. Oh Yes, Yes, YES! giggled Glor

                Sha?

                Yes?

                It’s a bit odd though don’t you think? I mean nothing like what I was thinking.

                :fleuron2:

                The mummy headed towards the dense bush, her brain was foggy but she knew she had to find cover. Her limbs felt heavy. Keep going, just keep going …

                :fleuron2:

                Nurse Bellamy could not stop crying. Oh Chris … oh you poor man. I always thought there was something odd about Veranassessee. Oh what shall we do my darling, she must be stopped!

                Quite right, she must my little poppet, soothed Dr Bronkelhampton, stroking Nurse Bellamy’s hair gently, and thinking quickly. But for now, keep it to yourself. It is a very delicate matter. Can you do that my sweet one? Just for me?

                Oh yes Chris! whatever you think best my my darling.

                #627

                Franiel offered his congratulations to Aum Geog along with the others. He did not mind that he was not himself chosen to succeed Hrih Chokyam, and neither would he have expected it, however he felt the physical absence of the Old One keenly. His powerful presence had cloaked the whole monastery in a sweet warmth, and even though Franiel had only been there a short while, he had felt close to the Old One. Of course his spirit will always be here, but the same time Franiel knew change was inevitable, and he was unsure of his own place within the boundaries of the monastery. Happiness and fun were valued highly by Franiel, they were more important to him than all the spiritual ideals others would speak of, and he had felt a slight greyness of late. He found humility difficult and did not enjoy following rules, neither did he enjoy listening to the wisdom of the other brothers. At times his sense of humor would cause them to frown upon him. He knew the Old One had understood this, but now he was gone he wondered how he would fit. He pulled out the note Jog Lam had given him from Hrih Chokyam, Listen to your heart…. it began. What was his heart telling him?

                Brother Franiel!. He heard the voice of Aba Tane calling him. The Brothers were shortly meeting to hear Aum Geog speak, presumably to announce the new direction for the monastery.

                Brother Franiel, Aum Geog has requested you take this chalice to the Village, so the silversmith may engrave it with these words. Aba Tane handed Franiel a cup, and a piece of paper with a seal. He requested you should go right away and that you should remember that the cup is precious. He requested also that I sprinkle you with some Holy Water to safeguard you on your way. In customary manner, Franiel knelt and Aba Tane sprinkled the precious bottled water on his forehead. Love and Light, Brother Franiel. Blessings for your journey.

                It was several days walking down the mountain to the Village. To be honest though, it was a task Franiel welcomed, perhaps to be away from the monastery at this time would give him a chance to better hear what was in his heart, and to miss the meeting was no loss for him.

                He wondered at the haste, and at what the words might be, however it was not his business to question the directives of Aum Geog. He remembered also his dream of the silver goblet. Many things to ponder, he mused, a feeling of excitement growing within him.

                #625

                The buzzing of the telepooh woke up Elizabeth with a flinch, her heart pounding in fast tremolos.

                She grumbled restlessly, her throat dry and itchy and her limbs still limp from slumber; she was in a dream, and already, she was feeling the unusual distinct clarity of the dream scenario gently fade as her attention was focusing upon the unwelcome sound which had a distorting quality of her yet poorly focused perception of her surroundings.

                The buzzing ceased abruptly. She opened an eye to see the ID of the caller, but it was not displayed. Bugger the caller
                Still feeling groggy, she was hanging to the last images of her dreams. It was telling her a story, a legend… Something full of grandeur, like a galactic opera filled with awe, drama and excitement… A renewed fount of inspiration…

                The voice of the lady who had been telling her that story was still inside her head, all she had to do was to slightly let herself drift into the numb and warm state of mind in which she was some minutes ago…

                You are tapping into a mass event. You are translating but a minute portion of it, though it seems colossal already. It is in fact so wide that it reflects in many other worlds which all live in your imagination. Bound together, they represent more books that you could write in a lifetime, more books that you and any army of ghost-writers could write in a thousand lifetimes…

                The voice was delightfully soothing, and Elizabeth was seeing herself drifting again in the blissful sleep bereft of irate publishers’ diktats. Beaming at her, Elizabeth could envision a light feminine figure with flowing dark hair illuminated by green-blue shimmers. How could she ever remember all that was said… She was plagued with such bad memory…

                Elizabeth had her dictaphoo under her pillow, ready for such sudden strokes of genius, but her mouth dried up from nicobeck wasn’t ready to spew out words that early in the morning.

                What the lady with the teal eyes had shown her was an old book of prophecies, which she had named the Last Gospel, unknown yet but which would be remembered as the mass event would be enacted again.
                The book spoke of a triad of planets, named M’si, B’si and Earth. Just before Elizabeth woke up, she had seen that Earth was in the process of been isolated from the other parts of the cosmos, for untold reason. Suddenly, she had seen one of the planets, the one named B’si, change her quality and become a “gravitational lense” altering the perception of space from the “Earth” standpoint. The planet B’si became transparent and expanded, as though it was an exploding super-nova, but nothing radiated from the planet. Only the quality of the space was modified.

                Elizabeth had the idea of a novel based upon this mass event which could be her next perfect best-seller. She reached out for her typewrooter.

                :fleuron:

                When the World was young, the Powers were roaming in a void full of possibilities.
                Initially, Three Syzygies there were. By two came the Six Powers. Three Syzygies, or couples of Light Beings, each Syzygy blessed with unlimited creative powers.

                Elizabeth pondered for a moment… She wanted to say many things at the same time, and couldn’t write them fast enough. She started to write notes haphazardly as they came to her mind.

                — Two planets for themselves to play; a planet for themselves to dwell. The planets gravitate around a sun on the same orbit. Each of the Powers possess a symbolic scepter power artifact, and each couple generates a crystal or a kind of light seed which allows them to create new sentient beings… When parted, that crystal kind of light is deactivated.
                — One planet is home of dragons, created by one of the syzygies, another is home of giant eagles; they all are lesser Powers… The third one have giant-like Light beings…

                — What made the planet B’si change its quality? What became of the Powers? (I can sense them desiring to become part of their creations, willing to forget about themselves and their powers… Punishment? Mere playfulness? Perhaps there was a coup organized by the Lesser Powers?)

                Phew… Elizabeth yawned. All she could think of now was that she wanted to go back to sleep…

                #1316

                In reply to: Yuki’s Livrary

                ÉricÉric
                Keymaster

                  January 4 th, 2008

                  A communication about legends, to complement what Yurick had connected to during his sleep, with ties with the dimension of Alienor, and possibly counterparts within his dimension

                  Starry sky, eternal and boundless waft of dreams and legends…

                  Many if not all of the physical dimensions possess legends. Legends of their beginnings, and legends of their ends.
                  The language which legends speak is a language of symbols, and though many of the receivers of legends are prone to erect them as absolute and faithful accounts of historical soundness, they are much more mutable and protean than what may be commonly thought of them.
                  They are connections, bridges from a locus (point in time/space) drawn as a frontier between what is known of the now, in which civilizations of these worlds are thriving, and a locus which is forgotten, or beyond the commonly perceived world.
                  As such, they essentially represent boundaries.

                  And of course, boundaries are only boundaries because they serve a purpose. Much like boundaries drawn on maps are not necessarily representing actual obstacles which cannot be physically crossed. These are mere perceptive frontiers, which tie in the various developments of history and societal relationships.
                  When the civilizations, or species, as you understand them, come close to one of these perceptive boundaries, there is an interaction with the very nature of the boundary, which is receptive to the inception of volition to cross the perceptive limitation.
                  And a process of reshaping and expending the borders takes place, by means of insertion of new legends.

                  Legends, in that way of seeing things, are not necessarily old dusty accounts sung by blind bards with jovian white beards. Not quite. They are much alive. They are created and recreated in the instant where boundaries of perceptions are being tempered with. Which makes it important to notice that they are translations of much wider movements in consciousness, spanning more than the physical dimension in which they manifest.
                  Many of the legends that humanity is aware of are very similar accounts, throughout your globe. And they are also projected in other dimensional areas vibrationally close to your manifestations.

                  You are currently fiddling with the legends of your ends of times, and that is the reason why at the same time, you are starting to create new legends. Legends of new beginnings.
                  In actuality, this is done oftentimes; each time a perceptual limit is crossed and seen beyond. The only difference here would be the unprecedented span of the process which is occurring now. The point where you are standing, prodding into the interactive frontier you have come across is not a single mere frontier, but a converging point of many of tinier, shorter ones. This also creates a singularity which makes the frontier respond with a sort of inertia. In fact, it is like a wide net of fine threads, which possess altogether a high absorbing potential for small energy bumps. Nonetheless, it will give way to a vastly expanded perception, as soon as the collective energy is focused upon, and steadily moving into the direction of pushing that protective envelop.

                  That process never ends, and during that process, new legends are being remembered. For the lands beyond the frontiers exists when you are aware of it, which in retrospect also means, it is created, or inserted as you are prodding the frontier.
                  In fact, you are, as you stand before that specific nexus point, being creating new legends, in that you are evaluating the potentials that you see fluctuating as a shadow world through the layer of a soap bubble, and have them blend with legends that you know of.
                  Your very lives become the legends of these potential worlds, and thus is the importance of your being at that locus of transition. You indeed come at that point, as much for making it possible but more so, to experience the transition and alteration of the legendary landscape. You are the bridges between a future which you are creating as you remember it, and a past which contains the clues that will be seeds for your new discoveries.
                  And that is a most rewarding travel, as you will come to see…

                  #624

                  Instantly Elizabeth regretted her spikey, voodish behaviour and scrambled to retrieve the telepooh. Her mother was Vood by nature, a particularly dysfunctional personality type, and Elizabeth had struggled all her life to avoid similar behavioural patterns. Her friends, and certainly her ex-husbands, would say perhaps with only partial success.

                  Apologies Bronkel, I was engrossed in my writing. How can I help you?

                  Bronkel appeared to be covered in bandages from what she could see of his upper torso, giving him the appearance of a rather odd mummy like creature. He was constantly searching for new beauty treatments to extend his youthful goodlooks, however at 167 years more and more desperate measures were being called for.

                  Elizabeth! Thank God, Where in Flork’s name have you been? he shouted at her. His pudgy, prouty little face was scrunched in peevish vexation. I can’t talk for long, I am on the Island for a month and the connection is flork. Where in the name of Fock is the story you promised me?

                  She could not find the words to reply to Bronkel. I wonder if I am mindblown? she mused. She had read of this horrible phenomenon, and seen the sad pictures of those thus afflicted. Poor wandering creatures, strange erratic behaviour, always travelling, always seeking. But for what? Hell on Dearth indeed. She shuddered.

                  It is getting urgent you know, spluttered Bronkel. Every day I am reading of new treatment centers opening for those undergoing crisis due to the prolonged absence of the Fickle Four in their lives.

                  She sighed, Pull yourself together Elizabeth, her bloodshot and tired eyes were drawn to the planetary horrorscope on the monthly calendar. Todays “Words of Comfort for the Descending” quotation was from the famous philosopher Lemone. She particularly loved Lemone’s ideas. Many considered him a nutter, a few thought he was a genius ahead of his time. For herself, she did not really know, only that his profoundly beautiful words offered a kind of solace or balm to her tortured soul at times such as this :

                  Sometimes it takes a single sniggly thorny path to go through to reach Elysian avenues much more efficiently ~ Lemone

                  Absolutely fantastic Bronkel, I think this is going to be the best novel yet! My God what an effort it took to say that, but for some reason Bronkel appeared to believe her and began to calm. Thank you Lemone, I could kiss you! she breathed an inward sigh of relief.

                  Poke its eyes out! screeched Robert X exuberantly.

                  A sniggly thorny path indeed, she thought, hanging up on Bronkel. She had fun using him and his island getaway for inspiration in her last novel. Fun, what happened to the fun? Is this what descended beings do, sit around in a dank, dusty office writing trashy novels?

                  She began nervously smoothing out pieces of paper and tried to decipher the scribbled notes; …big soup party …..pointy teeth like cannibals…..tribal wedding ….

                  Elizabeth put her head in her hands and groaned in abject despair. Twelve of the twenty mongoats fainted at the fearful sound.

                  #623
                  F LoveF Love
                  Participant

                    Elizabeth Tattler stared morosely at her screen. Her long hair, formerly her crowning glory was wild and matted, small bald patches had formed where she had begun to habitually pull at it. Her beautiful violet eyes for which she was famous were bloodshot from weariness.

                    Ms Tattler was known planet wide for her series of children’s books “The Fickle Four”. The exploits of Almad, Tinigrump, Samnuf and Bekipo were beloved by children of all ages and planetary connections, although perhaps most endearing to those of the Fumari dimension who had a natural disposition for exploits of such fickleness. The catchprase “Bit rude Tinigrump”, and “Madder than Almad” had become part of the national vocabulary in recent years.

                    Formerly Ms Tattler had written, with limited success, novels of a more adult nature, drawing on her numerous marriages for creative inspiration. However her publisher had asked her to create a series about four friends who were on a mission to create other worlds, the focus being on “providing positive and fun role models” for children growing up in these difficult times of planetary upheaval. The works were in the science freakshow genre of writing and the popularity of the original novel had been unprecedented, taking Elizabeth and her publisher by surprise and leading for the demand for many more.

                    Ah, she sighed, and then spluttered as she inhaled the dusty, smoky air, but what a noose this has created. Her yellow nicobeck stained fingers touched her neck and then ran agitatedly through her hair. For at some point, when did it start? the story had begun to take a life of its own. She no longer felt in control as plots became more and more bizarre. She felt unable to follow anything through, creating endless threads which seemed to lead nowhere. She looked around her small office, everywhere was the evidence of stories started and discarded, screwed up pieces of paper covered in frenetic doodles littering the floor.

                    The telepooh began to buzz. She knew it was Bronkel her publisher before his face came up on the screen.

                    I know you are there Elizabeth. Will you pick up please!

                    In a fit of rage Elizabeth picked up the telepooh and threw it across the room, where it narrowly missed Lana, one of her 20 fainting Mongoats she kept as pets. Lana fainted for a few seconds in fear and Robert X, her pet Magpie, hopped around delightedly, Bugger the telepooh, Bugger the telepooh! he screeched. Poke its eyes out! Poke its eyes out.

                    #622

                    Somewhere during the 23 rd century

                    “aaa AAAA AAAAA Tcheeeew !”

                    “Hiiiiii?! Oh Fracking NOOOoooo!”

                    The shriek had been heard in the whole facility.

                    Phefia Beryl was the first on the spot where Vinya Grey had been playing so exuberantly with her vocal chords.

                    — Vinnie? Are you alright?… What just happened?
                    — Oh, Pheffy… I think I made an awful blunder…
                    — What do you mean?
                    — You know, my last experiment?
                    — The g…
                    — Yes!
                    — What?!
                    — They poofed away…
                    — Away?… You mean, all of them? Oh bugger…

                    :fleuron:

                    A few minutes later, Vinya and Phefia were around a white table sucking on straws picked into white and red polystyrenoid balls.

                    — Vinnie, you look terrible… That last geomagnetic storm had not done very good on your DNA I’m afraid.
                    — And the worse is that each time I sneeze, I blow up wormholes… I thought it would go better very quickly, but last one was big and lasted long enough to let the whole experimental herd wander off in another time/space and/or dimension…
                    — Yeah, that’s pretty bad… But wherever they went, they probably will die very soon… Imagine… With their stiff legs anytime they see something frightening, I guess a mere mapgie could easily have them for dinner…
                    — Such a pity… I was close to doing something great with them… When we discovered these fossilized blue spiders, I knew it was the first step.
                    — Bwah, this rehydrated frogrog is the grossest thing I’ve ever drunk… But yeah you’re right, the first results were very promising. The spiders venom could provoke very random and deep mutations.
                    — And all we needed was a little more control on the direction of the mutations.
                    — Anyway they’re just goats… You possibly can’t have breached a cosmic law with a handful of GOATS
                    — Hope so Pheffy, hope so…

                    :fleuron2:

                    San Demangelo, 1848

                    Elroy was laughing… Hey Joe, Twi! he shouted A letter from Uncle Ernie!

                    — Uncle Ernie? How’s the old bat doin’? asked Twilight
                    — He’s sending his greetings for the new year, and babbling about last dead people in the neighborhood. But there’s something funny. He’s saying that he’d just acquired some funny goats. Like popped in, out of nowhere. At first he’d thought of a joke, but apparently no one’s been claiming them. He’d thought them dead, they were a dozen laying stiff on the ground, but when they started to wake up, they went down again like broken dolls. Apparently the magpies on top of the tree had been scaring them. Ahaha… Where does he get such strange stories…
                    — Well, magpies are scarey, Twilight said meaningfully, with a side glance at Joe
                    — Whatever… At least he’d been giving us a good laugh. He’s saying he’s gonna breed the horny beasts, and start a Fainting Goat Fair (or FGF) in Marshall County. Perhaps we could get there next Thanksgiving…
                    — Depends when the Freak Show’s coming to town, mused Twilight, I hope to see them soon…

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