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  • #2624

    In reply to: Strings of Nines

    The newly deceased Shar and Gor

    “Shouldn’t he say something less grim you think?”
    “I definitely agree my dear Shar
    “Something like in-ceased, or up-ceased… We’re ascended after all!”
    “I’m not so sure it sounds better, but…”

    Well, them being up-ceased, involved a new challenge for the writer(s) of this story, as the two blusterously boisterous ladies were in a desperate move to attempt sending communication to the objective world —officially to discover the extent of their influence. Their new-found access to the collective subconscious made them all the more a trouble for the writer(s).

    Anyway, as we speak, Shar and Glor, were… or are actually trying to influence some characters and hence co-authors of this work of fiction to test their own ability to manipulate some of these individuals.

    So far the extent of their experiments had fared tepid results.

    “OK. Let’s try with these two. I’m beaming something down to them!”

    To which, moments and some non-physical sweating on Glor’s brow later, one of the two subjects of this experiment (the blond one) blurted out without knowing from where it came: “Spiggot on the spike freak, Lingenburg Dash

    “What the hell was that Glor?”
    “Good Lord, I don’t have any idea!”
    “What was it supposed to be then!?”
    “I just beamed them ‘Speaking now without mike – leap if you ain’t dead’!”
    “Good grief… Those two might as well be hopeless…”

    Of course, unbeknown to them, in other potential realities, what she really beamed to them was entirely different; something like ‘Speaking now – dead to the living – leap and bound if you catch’… Subsequently, Ann’s catch was in fact an indication of great disposition to tune into more than one probabilities at a time, the benefits of which were lost to the poor dabbling souls.

    But this point notwithstanding, as they were speaking, another potential just appeared at the horizon. A woman named Yoland, with an improbable ability to express strings of thoughts inspired from above (anywhere that ‘above’ might be) without much distortion.

    “Have to tread carefully with that one, Glor
    “Yes, I reckon dear…”
    “We could even manage to fully channel her body, she seems a perfect candidate!” Sharon would have rubbed her hands with glee if she’d had hands still.
    “Innit a bore though that she would ask for such grand truths…”
    “Not to worry, we’ll invent them as we walk. I’ve even got an idea for session one with her: the great cluster of Mamarose of energy essential oils.”


    In reply to: Strings of Nines


      ~ “We are broadcasting today from planet Xavier.”~ wrote Rich Kendall, who was also online having a go at the radio exercise. ~ “The Happiness index on the Xavier stock exchange has gone up 75 points. It seems that a fellow named Morris Fishbaum has decided to stop berating himself for his supposed failures in the past, and has embraced a new self image. This change in Mr. Birnbaum has had a ripple effect automatically lifting up many others who also had been dwelling on past “mistakes.” Mr. Fishbaum’s metamorphosis leads analysts to forecast a new all time high for the Happiness Index within the next month. That’s the story from the Xavier financial markets and have a nice day.” ~

      He continued: ~ “Morris Fishbaum is alive and well and living off the coast of Gibraltar
      And rumor has it Morris has become very good friends with a local celebrity in Gibraltar that shall not be named except for the initials TM” ~

      “Otherwise known as Teleport Moll”, Yoland pointed out.

      ~ “Roy Gilroy was also mentioned in an article as to spending lots of time with Morris Fishbaum but that’s a whole other story.” ~


      In reply to: Strings of Nines


        Santiago, Chile, May 2020

        For the last past years, Becky now a pretty young teenager had been traveling from one school to another to pursue her artistic aspiration, but more so to discover as many places as possible. Schools were a necessary evil, for as long as she was too young to choose without her father’s consent, but at least she could choose which one she wanted to go to.
        Although she barely remembered it now, she already did a fair deal of traveling out of the body when she was younger, helping her to map out the places and order in which she wanted to see them later. All of that subjective programming of sorts was now extremely helpful to her forgetful nature, as all she needed do was to trust her impulses to go here and there.
        She would then magically find a distant relative who had been lost in the far ends of the family tree, or a friend of a friend who would accept to host her or recommend her to a friend. From there, her open nature and smiles did the rest to win them over.

        In a month from now, she would be eighteen, and she wanted to go somewhere else, perhaps settle down for a little while. She had taken a world map and thrown a few coloured pins to let randomness choose for her, as she trusted it was her proper way of essence, so to speak. To her surprise, none of the pins seemed to stick but a single one in the vicinity of New York. America wasn’t her natural choice of predilection, but she knew she could trust the random flow of events. And to top that, she knew her aunt Charmille was living there. It would be easy then.


        Charmille was the elder sister of Sabine Baina N’Diaye, Becky’s mother and first wife of Dan. She was a middle-aged eccentric and cheerful lady, who had never married, proudly saying that it was what had kept her young at heart. She was living in Brooklyn with a dozen birds twittering all day, and a few cats and other creatures the neighbours would give her to care for while they were away.

        When she learnt that her niece would come here for three months, she first thought that it was a darn long time to be nice to anybody. But then she smiled and went preparing the spare room and brush the cats’ hair off the sheets.


          The transitory times were hectic, to say the least, though it did not always appear as such for everyone involved.

          For focuses, still living at the helm of the Shipft, riding the turbulent waves of change, it was a very delicate period.
          The last wave had propelled them very far in a short time, and they had rejoiced that their promised new land was in sight. Finally.

          But little did they know that the land in question was only still a reflection of the old. They had created it to let themselves rest, and spew out their stress, their anger and frustration, while behind the curtains the activity was intense with the careful and barely noticed moving of props.

          Sometimes, the riders of wave had glimpses of that movement. But it still felt as if they were left on their own. Most of the activity seemed to have shifted to other grounds, and that was a ground they didn’t realize they had access to already.

          Like the rainbow Bifröst leading to Asgard, all these bridges between the realms would soon start to crumble. It wouldn’t be possible to have one foot here and another there, not any longer.
          Choices will be made.
          They are being made.

          And then, the Circle of power, the one Ring will be melt into a burning core of ‘lova’, and the Shite will be healed and shifted. (well, tentatively heehee)


          Yann got the phone call. It was a bit early where they were now living with Yurick, so he inferred that the call was probably coming from France. Looking at the caller ID, the familiar +33 index made him smile; it was indeed from France.


          The clear young voice was unmistakable.

          Hey, Chiara, comment ça va?

          His niece was now a young pretty damsel, and still, Yann still remembered her fondly as the little baby who was dancing with great amusement at the sound of any music.
          It has been long they had talked, and they chatted for awhile.

          “Uncle Yann, can I ask you something?”
          “Sure sweetie, what do you want to know?”
          “I found stuff you wrote some time ago, about Alienor, and dragons, and these stories are fascinating… I want to know more about it; tell me…”


          Finally, sailing on the Orgasmic Sea had not been as difficult as Akita would have thought .

          Occasionally, while they were sleeping on the deck under the starry sky, he could hear a few “Ahs” and “Ohs” (something even some “Oooh” as far as he recalled) coming from the three ladies, but perhaps that was only the effects of their feeling again their skin against the sheets, since all their hair had almost now gone.

          He was wondering if that was a special disposition of the Brits and people coming from the cold areas, that kind of bestial growing of hair, and shedding in spring… Could well be, as his Asian ancestors never had been accustomed to growing much hair themselves, he couldn’t tell for sure.

          Perhaps they were dreaming too… As soon as they had found out about this strange piece of tile, their imagination seemed to have taken to new heights. They were speaking of Spreal, an ancient civilization buried for 570,000 years under the ices, near the Onyx river and had almost manifested the strong desire to come back to investigate.

          Hopefully Kay had given him the perfect excuse to not comply with the sometimes erratic demands of the three Graces: the iceberg was slowly melting in the giant structure of plastic containing the freshwater from the berg, and the heat exchange was also giving the propellant for the trip. They probably wouldn’t be able to get away so easily if they backed-off now.
          Hopefully their shedding had finished to convince them. Any vague desire left to go to the frozen place was long gone with the comfortable hairy insulation.

          Akita had thought for a moment of going back to his homeland, in Arkansas. But now that probably most of his family was dead, or thinking him dead, there wouldn’t be much point in doing that. Instead, he’d decided to trust living in the present. Not worrying about that elusive past from another life, and only focus on what route was open to him now.
          Sharon, Gloria and Mavis were apparently not in a hurry to come back home either, and now that Kay was more and more easily accessible for him, he didn’t feel alone at all. So all was well.


          When he had been hit by the blow of the watermelbombs and the furious lady he had come to rescue, Akita found himself in a strange peaceful place. He was getting bits of what was happening, but the will to resist and fight seemed vanished in a distant scene he was only distantly aware of.
          He was seeing Kay, his spirit dog beside him, beckoning him to another place of white luminous and warm peacefulness.

          “Am I dying” he asked, feeling the answer to the question wasn’t very important.
          “Don’t be silly” the dog said mentally “Just let go for a moment, it’ll make things easier for you to get out of this place to another one you’d prefer”
          “I’m not sure going anywhere is so important, being here reminds me of something long forgotten”
          “Yes, you know this place, you’re drawing to you some memories of others of your focuses, explorers from your time and also ancient dwellers, in a very very distant past. These living memories will help you.”
          “You were there too, configured differently but I remember you from there”
          “Yes” the dog nodded “you had a pack of dogs in one of these explorer focuses. I was the alpha one, see…”

          Some scenes moved in the white foam sprinkled with diamond dust like he was seeing through openings in a crystal cave. All was so clear it was elating.

          “But we’re never going to get out of this place, not without a boat, a plane, not without a compass… and not without a brain!” he was being drawn back to where his body was, wrapped in the warm snet, jumping on the back of the snow scooter. “These women will lead us to a sure death, and pretty fast!”
          “Just relax, even if they don’t give that impression, they know what they are doing. They focus on what they want, and they trust. They can’t see the dead-ends you are seeing. Sometimes you get caught up in those other memories of yours. You’ve read adventures of Antarctica explorers, most of them were drama, but it doesn’t have to be the same broken record now, you’re going to love that time if you choose to…”
          “They’re so focused on themselves it’s hard to believe you. They wouldn’t see a leopard seal as a threat even if it was at their throats!”
          “But they wouldn’t even draw the predator to them in the first place.” Kay was saying warmly “Have a little faith in them, there is a surprise coming along that’ll show you beyond a shred of doubt that their allowing for miracles is fairly titanic.”
          “Titanic, yes… Now tell me I shouldn’t worry with all those icebergs!”
          “Indeed” Kay said with a hint of mischief in its ethereal voice “Now, let’s wake up and have some fun!”


            Georges and Salome’s journal

            From Salome’s account of her introduction to the Turmak People (Part 4)

            Legends of the past can tell you a lot more on the present than what sometimes is actually revealed by present events. I discovered the truth of this statement when we arrived with Cil at the capital of Tùrmk. As Cil was discussing with officials of the Turmaki Gatherings, I was offered to go to their House of Remembrance. It was, I gathered, a sort of physical repository of the knowledge of the Turmaki that would allow me to bridge the gap of my abysmal ignorance of their history.

            I was only barely starting to understand the odds of the physical configurations of space in this dimension, and I was nonetheless more than eager to add history to my previous geography lessons.
            Turmaki are living in a sort of interesting land forming a sort of circle at the centre of which lies the most beautiful sea I have ever seen, with a very subtle and vivid shade of deep indigo blue. Most of Turmakis’ activity was directed inward of the circle, and the outer sea wasn’t a matter of interest to them. Later at the House of Remembrance, I learned that there had been an agreement in the past with the other sentient races to not mingle, so even if there was not physical barrier, all they focused their attention upon was their land, and theirs only.
            Their Capital City, Tùrmk, may probably be seen as a very rudimentary city by all Earth-biased accounts. However, at that time, I had not really seen much of the Earth to be blasée anyway, so I was quite receptive to the beauty of its simplicity. It was located at the foremost point of an inner peninsula known as the Nirgual’s Head, facing twelve beautiful islands on which sacred temples had been erected.

            My fascination for the beauty of these islands led me to discover more about their significance. In the House of Remembrance, a similar structure of twelve doors led me to learn that the twelve families held significance even here and throughout Alienor as well. Representatives of the families were chosen among the Guardians, as I remembered Georges had discovered and interestingly some of them had had quite an influence upon the history of the various people of Alienor. I couldn’t really trace it back to tangible proofs, but as I said, some legends are quite telling — thus corroborating Cil’s earlier statements.

            I have not much time left to start telling them now, but I will probably tell more about the Legends of the Six ‘Fudjàhs’ —or Power Objects.

            (Part 3)


            “So we’ll be moving as soon as the others come back from their trip. Very well, that will be a great opportunity to see new environments for YikesVincentius acknowledged the news with his usual composure.

            “Very well then, I hope you are not too worried about Arona, but she…”
            “Not at all” Vincentius answered with a smile.
            “Oh… Okay then. Perfect!”

            Malvina added as if to make sure he had understood everything properly “So, I’ll be at my friend’s den for a few days. Georges and Salome will be here in case you need anything, and of course Buckie, though he might be a bit unpredictable…”

            “Have a safe voyage” so Vincentius, who was not of many words when it wasn’t about saying something meaningful, ended the conversation.


            To go to see her friend Yimho, Malvina wanted to look pretty —not dashing, but not looking like a country girl either. She reached for the linen embroidered dress with the zynder patterns. She loved it, it would be perfect.

            Yimho was a guy living nearby she had known briefly from her days of Sorcery training, who had a rejuvenating cave situated just under a hot spring, so that water was running almost everywhere inside the cave. On the walls, the floor, little pools everywhere. Yimho had this uncanny interest in golfindels and was telling all sorts of stuff to entertain people with; stuff that he got from tuning himself to the consciousness of the creatures.
            Malvina was thinking she would have a nice time there, though the echoes of clicking sounds throughout Yimho’s dwelling were a bit disturbing…


            In reply to: The Story So Far


              Tikfijikoo Island (continued)

              (see this comment for previous part)

              Mahiliki comes crashing down the island (with the pilot) having Veranassessee dumbfounded and speechless.

              Rafaela leads Paquita and Jose through their dreams into acceptance of their facial conditions, and out of the island’s experiments through a secret passageway underground.
              As well, Anita leads her parents away from the island, through a tunnel, thanks to the intervention of her favourite team of “invisible” essence friends. She bids Akita goodbye as he’s drawn to the impromptu fiesta by Mavis and tells him he shall see his spirit dog again.

              Meanwhile, Sha and Glo discover some strange hairiness side-effects to their absorption of honeycomb.

              [Fast forward a few weeks later.]

              Apparently Dory and young Becky who were going to Tikfijikoo discover the island is placed under quarantine.
              All clues indicate the vortex activities, cyclones, and mad spider experiments have put the international security at risk.

              Veranassessee is reporting the situation at the local headquarters of the Confregation (likely to be fired), while Mahiliki and the pilot are under scrutiny to check their stories…

              We find the three divas, Sharon, Gloria and Mavis with a little more hair, but not less slickness, in a military hospital on nearby Antarctica. Akita was brought there too, in solitary confinement because he pretends to be a WWII soldier and to be guided by a speaking dog (which is all real of course, but you never know). They soon plan to escape.

              Madame Chesterhope, who was unwillingly rescued on the submarine of captain Pavel is placed in some sort of detention.
              Meanwhile, Claude has visibly gotten back to Jarvis who had managed to get the crystal skull amidst the island’s confusion. They now both are on the submarine, toasting on the success of the operation of crystal skull’s retrieval.

              Balbina, an old lady living in the future timeline in Venezuela (same timeline as Anita and her parents) is moved to her son’s home, nearby old caves were she expects Anita and her parents may soon resurface.


              “Hey, Leo, look at this here in the newspaper ~ my book’s being made into a movie!”

              “What book’s that then, Bea? Not that dreadful ‘T’eggy Gets a Good Rogering’, surely.” Leonora replied dismissively.

              “Oh they’re not calling it that for the movie…..”

              “Bloody good job if you ask me” Leo interrupted, and then exclaimed “OH!”


              “Book sync!”

              “Book sync? What book sync?”

              “I forgot to tell you, Baked Bean Barb called…”


              “You remember, we met her in that bar down on the coast awhile back, remember? We got talking over a few tapas ~ found we had some mutual friends back home and all…”

              “Funny how that happens, eh ~ small world, innit? So what did she call for then?”

              “Well, it’s the funniest thing, she said when she was rummaging around on the rubbish tip….”

              “Oh now I remember, you mean Baked Bean Barb! The one that’s lived in her Ford Fiesta for 15 years, and finds food in dustbins? That one? On the run, wasn’t she?”

              “That’s the one! On the run for 30 years because of that Baked Bean Incident that was in all the papers”

              “You meet all sorts down here, eh. So what did she call for?”

              “Well” continued Leonora “It’s the strangest thing! She said she found a book on the rubbish tip, which was in English, so she says she took the book ~ she reads alot you know, Barb does, even though she’s only got one eye. Dunno how she manages it really, her glasses are always so dirty…”

              “Will you get to the point?”

              “Hang on, hang on, I’m getting there….she found this book, right, so she goes back to wherever she’s camped up, you know, with the other travellers, all them old hippies on their way to Morocco for the winter I expect….”

              “We should go with them next winter Leo, might be fun”

              “I reckon it would Bea ~ well with Jose coming back soon from that island, we’ll have to go somewhere ~ anyway, as I was saying, Barb starts reading this book, she says it’s the most peculiar book she’s ever read, never read anything like it, she says, but she can’t put it down she says ~ well, you’ll never guess what!”

              “I can’t guess, Leo, I’m waiting for you to tell me.”

              Barb says we’re in the book!”

              “What do you mean, we’re in the book?”

              “We’re in the book! ‘Leonora and Beattie’ are in the book! Renting a finca from a ‘Jose’ and living in the mountains in Andalucia!”

              “You’re having me on!” exclaimed Bea. “I’ve gotta see this to believe it.”


                Sam wanted to see by himself. He had suddenly remembered what Becky had told them once about a pet shop with a nine-tailed glowing fox. He hadn’t paid attention at the moment, but this was somewhat reappearing in his dreams lately. One of his focuses was the link, and he was seeing his face more and more looking directly at him.
                He usually wasn’t speaking with his other selves, he was rather directly exchanging energy with them. At first it had been a bit awkward, practicing with telepathy and conversing with his friends was his main focus of interest. But once he was aware of how he could do that more easily and more efficiently, his attention wandered to other means of communication.
                Eschraiel was currently nudging him, and his animal form was quite intriguing. Especially since there were those kind of animals living now!
                He had arrived at the shop without really paying attention. He was following his guts to lead him exactly where he wanted.
                Being soft, in the kind of mode of processing he was in currently, the people around were like objects around merged with his environment, nothing standing out. Except maybe that woman in front of the big parrot cage… no, not the woman but the color of her gown, a deep indigo, vibrant and shiny. She turned her smiling face in his direction, but it was like Eschraiel’s energy superimposed on hers. He smiled back at her and continued to the rear of the shop.

                The creatures were in a dark room, their fur glowing with rusty and fiery shades. Apparently very engrossed in chasing each others tails… they had quite a lot to keep them busy. The little ones especially were jumping heartily on the older ones. Challenging them to retaliate… but getting apparently no response from them except a few grunts.


                No particular feeling at first.


                One of the little ones, maybe…


                This one. One of the older ones. A male. He was looking at him now, as aware of Sam’s energy as Sam was aware of his.
                He yelped a few times, standing like an Egyptian Sphinx.


                In no time, Sam was out with his nine-tailed glowing fox
                He’s so still, thought Sam.
                How would I name you? he thought, directing the energy to the creature.

                He opened his mouth and let his tongue out in such a way, it was like he was grinning and challenging him. Sam laughed and thought to the fox : So I have to play the impression game with you then.
                Maybe… I can call you Sam actually :))
                One bark was enough of an answer.
                So Sam it is!
                Another bark.
                I have to introduce you to my friends now… I don’t know why, but I have the feeling Al will love you


                As she was sinking to the bottom of the raging sea, Madame Chesterhope first felt like a boiling rage inside her, at all the thwarted attempts, all the unfulfilled promises.
                Not a solid thing on which to carve a few runes or symbols to get herself out, not a single living being to use at her profit, she was alone, at the mercy of gravity.
                Not unexpectedly, flashes of her life, of her many lives, flickered like incoherent pieces of an unfinished mosaic in her mind.

                When did it went wrong? she thought… When did she lose touch with her magic.
                Not the mundane magic, not the one she used for these parlor tricks devoid of meaning, like that beautiful flying motorbike which was drowning even faster than her… She was speaking of her inner magic, her sense of connection with the elements, with herself, Phoebe.

                What had become of the frail grey-haired lady the apparency of whom she was so fond of taking years ago?
                She was tempted to blame many things; the twenty-first century of her own dimension, for one, which had made her rough and tough, out of need perhaps, and perhaps a bit out of laziness. It was out of tiredness mostly, tiredness to have to constantly justify her appearance to others, that she had chosen a more convenient one; that of the crone with more rotund forms, of whom one would only expect austerity and strength.
                You can see where it had led you. she was thinking.

                A few more miles further down, and perhaps she would meet the mermaids, like the guy said in that Big Blue motion picture
                Maybe there was some purity left in her heart, that would make the inhabitants of the depths greet her wretched soul. Or perhaps they all died before her, from the pollution of this strange world mutating in pangs and spasms of a painful childbirth.

                And what would you do now, if you have the choice? that sweet voice, like that of a thin grey-haired mermaid, was it her own, testing herself?
                The quest for magical artifacts seemed so far away at this moment. It had begun a long time ago, led her to discover new other-dimensional places… new tricks, all of them for what? To gain control over the elements, the others, everything that could threaten her, force her to change. How ironic. That the fear of change made her change so drastically.
                She wanted to make peace with all of that. The mermaids weren’t coming, but her own voice was still there for her. Perhaps she could muster the strength. To continue…

                Mustering all her force, she forcibly expressed the most propelling “prout” she’d ever made. Of course, she’d been learning a few tricks from the legendary Fartiste back in her youth when she went to Paris to perform at the Moulin Rouge… Sweetest time of her life, she had to admit…


                On the surface of the waters, bubbles started to form.


                  “I thought Tobi told not to open any door this month” Becky Tooh said to Tina, who was waiting patiently on the doorsteps.
                  JUST open the BLOODY door!” an exerted Tina finally managed to blurt out, remembering Mehmot Lung’s teachings

                  Tina had decided against all common sense to go to Becky Tooh (or BeckyT) and Sean’s house, not so much to happily gargle ga-bla-blu-blooes with the little crying and smelling babies, but to see if the clone’s health was really a concerning matter.
                  Al’s lack of attention on the subject had not very comforting. To say the truth, he’d been horrible as usual, and hadn’t told her he was going with Sam on a trip in the Floridisles.

                  Since New York’s flooding, and after a series of calamitous tropical cyclones, all was left of Florida was a thread of big islands, not as densely populated as it once was. However, a few of their friends were still living here, managing a dolphin ranch, and organizing on occasion some excursions with the dolphins in the lagoons.
                  Of course, she had remote-viewed it all, but it was horrible enough from Al to have assumed she would figure on her own.

                  But back to the subject, she couldn’t really decide if Beckitee’s state was alarming or not. Her lack of attention was surely running down the genes pool, she wasn’t expert enough to tell, but as far as her body was concerned, Beckitee looked absolutely perfect —though she still got hints of that little balding problem left, and so little (but noticeable, still) wrinkles on her arms, she thought.

                  Surely Beckitee was beautiful… Not sure she was as funny as Beckipoo though.


                  In reply to: The Story So Far


                    The Wrick Saga

                    We become involved in the Wrick saga with the great-grand children of Lord (Hilarion) Wrick, living currently in Orkney Islands in 2057: India Louise and Cuthbert.
                    The family has a long intricate story, but roughly we know:

                    • Margaret, first wife of Sean Wrick (unique son of Lord Wrick) died in a tragic accident somewhere in the past, and now Sean can talk to her most of the times.
                    • Sean has a penchant for strong spirits, but in an interesting twist of fate happens to meet and fall madly in love with older Becky (Vane), step-daughter of Dory, during the inauguration of the T.R.A.P. (transfocal reality attraction parc or something) in flooded New York (New Venice). They wed in a hurry (insert connection to Russia and old friends in the business of frozen reindeer meat) and plan a trip to Sri Lanka. Becky who has become pregnant from a “time-traveler” (Chris Robin) gives birth to her three first children, and seems to get cloned in a secret facility to pursue more noble ideals.
                    • Lord Wrick dies after getting reconciliated with his son Sean. His fortune is inherited by Cuthbert who seems reluctant to bear the charge. His sister India Louise is pregnant with a son from the traveling painter Bill Jobsworth who was painting the family portraits and was involved in some unusual experiences during his stay at the castle (mummies and stone heads)
                    • Later in the Wrick Saga, is born Midora, who gets the books from Cuthbert and India Louise and investigates them.

                    The books are thought to be energy deposits of this story, initially started in our timeline by Dory, Finn, Yann and Yurick. The story then was rediscovered by Becky, who initiated a Reality Play with her friends Tina, Sam and Al.


                    In reply to: The Story So Far


                      The Alienor Dimension, Georges and Salome

                      Dory (in our current timeline/space reality) meets Georges in a cave in Madagascar during her trip.
                      Georges doesn’t explain much, but we get the feeling that, though human, he’s a Traveler, crossing bridges through dimensional veils.
                      Sanso, who we happen to meet at times, is supposedly another type of Traveler too, but apparently happier to cross earth-bound space veils rather than time or other-dimensional ones.

                      Georges is closely linked to Salome. They are involved in the Alienor Dimension, another parallel universe, which was initially used as the set of the first story bits and in which they are involved at some historical points of importance.

                      The Alienor dimension is composed (as we know now) of a central sun named Alienor, and a few planets.

                      One of these planets is the Duane, which is a planet similar to Earth, except having easier access to magic, and having dragons, where the characters of Malvina, Arona, Leörmn, Irtak, Badul, Tomkin etc. are supposedly living. A map of parts of that planet was drawn somewhere in the archives.

                      There are two major historical plots occurring; one in a time parallel to our own, with Malvina, Arona, Badul’s explorations etc. And another, occurring what we would call centuries earlier, with Lola and her dragon, and the Yellow Princess Atiara story-arc (see Araili’s notes).
                      Somewhere in between, many years before Arona’s timeline, there is a subplot with Franiel, the monastery succession, the chalice and other magical artifacts. As far as we know, it ties to the other epochs thanks to Madame Chesterhope and Vincentius’ story.
                      Madame Chesterhope is, we found out, known to Georges in his youth, when he first met Salome. Madame Chesterhope is originally from our dimension (Earth, around 1800s something?) but has learned how to travel and is thus able to move through dimensions, and has a few special powers, presumably thanks to artifacts she gathered along her trips.

                      Another twin planet is the Murtuane, where there are giant eagles (counterparts of dragons), “mermaids”, zentauras (zebra-centaurs), green-skinned people, and purple beaches. This planet remains to be explored more in depth.

                      The third planet, the Phreal, is rarely spoken of, as its vibration was changed before even the first epoch, and is no longer ‘seen’. Guardians, a special race of this Alienor Dimension with great mastery of the energy manipulation powers are involved within most of the historical changes, and in this one in particular.

                      Malvina’s explorations are linked to those of her two “sisters”, each paired with a dragon. Initially she’s a healer, but recent developments have made her change locations a few times in space/time, and those alterations have inserted probabilities in the “past”. She has known Leonard, who is also a Traveler and who is linked to Franiel’s subplot.


                        When Becky had made her unexpected trip to Marseille just before her honeymoon, she warmly recommended Al to contact Leah’s brother, the renowned psychiatrist Dr. Lee Muir, who appeared to be living almost next door to them, in New Venice…
                        Their fields of study weren’t exactly similar, but they probably could mutually benefit from each other’s knowledge: for one of the mind, and the other of the body (all the more since Lee Muir was trans-gendered, and was now a woman by all means, which certainly was within Al’s field of studies).
                        Dr. Lee Muir was using what (s)he called “Fairly Graphical Fluid therapy” (or FGF therapy for short) as her preferred technique to help re-balance the mind of the most insane patients. It was a type of extreme reportage to the confines of the mind, as she would say.

                        Al had emailed the Doctor, and send her a copy of funny doodles in jest, to see what would come out of this.

                        This morning, Dr Lee Muir called him to schedule an appointment. Al could discern some anxiety in her manly voice… Could it be linked to this stupid doodle ?


                          The afternoon was hot, a bit moist and sticky too. Yurick and Yann were enjoying the freshness of Dory’s patio.
                          Cold lemon drink in cocktail glasses, the radio playing some sun related song.
                          Dan was out playing golf with friends and would be here for dinner.
                          Dory, dozing on her rocking chair had told Yurick and Yann that they could use their computers, they had 2 of them, so Yurick could take Dory’s and Yann could take Dan’s. Yurick was busy checking his mails and answering all those who had submitted some article for the next issue of their e-zine, and Yann wanted some distraction. He was just looking at some pictures on Gurgle, some movies on Yootune. Some of them were cracking him up, and he had difficulties keeping his :-| face serious.
                          At the same time he was browsing through Dan’s pictures folders. Some of them were really amazing. Pictures of Dory on the field, with her pith helmet and her brushes, her shovels or even her pick. She was very funny looking when she was finding something seemingly out of nowhere, having dug all day long with no result and then finally some treasure! Often, Yann thought, it was only some fragment of a vase or some broken tool, but she always had this awe-inspired gaze ;))

                          What is the name of this singer again?, asked Yurick.
                          You ask me?

                          The grin on Yurick’s face was all that Yann was waiting for. Yann had no memory of names of singers or actors. Their face, once he had seen it were recorded in his mind, but their name was like a summer breeze, refreshing, but soon forgotten. He knew that Yurick was more asking that to himself.

                          Dunno me luv. You can ask the mummy in the living room if you want…
                          Hahaha, graowl

                          Hehehe. Funny that, thought Yann. Coming back to the computer screen, his eyes fall on a strange folder name.
                          Patate? What’s that!?
                          Just a few files. Videos mainly. The names weren’t very evocative…
                          Yann picked one and waited for the movie to begin.
                          It was kind of black and white movie… the grain was gross and old fashioned. There was no audio.
                          Yann had an old memory of a similar movie seen on the comodor computer of his cousin’s parents… his cousin had told him about some weird movie he had found in a floppy disk of his father…
                          So, there was a man, maybe in his 60’s, he was wearing a gray bathing suit and was a bit hairy. Drinking some kind of grey cocktail.
                          A girl came in… with an amazing leopard baby-doll!!! from what Yann could see, she was blond and fleshy. Oh! and she had some friends. All of them with a leo-part on them :-?

                          Ahem! Yurick? Wanna see what I found?
                          I’m sure you’ll find some interest :)) hahaha! Oh my Flove! She’s really doing it!?

                          Seeing his friend hilarious picked the curiosity of Yurick and he eventually came to see. The look on his face when he saw what was happening was too much for Yann who burst into laughter. That was enough to wake Dory who almost fell off her rocked chair.

                          What is that? Where did you find that… thing? Dory looked offended, but soon she was blushing.
                          Oh! no… don’t look at that. It was a youthful mistake…


                          She was feeling blank. It was as if she had no memories of what had happened before. At least she had still the notion that she was a she… wasn’t she? It wasn’t really clear, as she had mixed up feelings. There weren’t any physical sensation in the place she was. Indeed, she was having difficulties finding herself. She began to wonder what was this feeling of her she was aware of. To what was it connected? And thus, she realized she was too focused on the question itself to get any answer.
                          The letting go released a dam of sensations and informations. She was overwhelmed by all that she was and all that seemed to be thrust upon her senses. But the resistance was what could create pain, she knew that from another time where she was living the same thing. Resisting the communication was like wanting to resist a herd of fleeing raghlors.
                          She was feeling a presence in all this mess, something familiar :-?
                          Was that herself looking at herself looking at herself looking at herself looking…
                          Her memory of what she was trying to do came as lightning. The sudden realization of her numerous tentatives at this exercise made her cry… would she fail again?
                          She had to find these other aspects of her, put them into a common direction… but there were so many of hers! which ones should she call to follow her? Which ones would follow her, if any? She felt sudden despair coming from everywhen. Despairs that she was aware did not belong to her, but they were powerful, almost annihilating her will. Images of massacres of people she knew, of people that her other selves knew, massacre that she had perpetrated herself or that she was perpetrating… any sensation of time could fit.

                          :yahoo_at_wits_end: :yahoo_doh: :yahoo_crying: :yahoo_cow: :yahoo_whew: :yahoo_skull:

                          Despair was imprisoning her and she knew she already had failed because of that. It was shadowing her motivation, giving her that hollow sense of herself, shielding her from…


                          Asiir, is that you? The energy was familiar and the name was a translation in her mind. It was an anchor point in all these mess of hers.
                          Asiir, help me!

                          The feeling was faint, so far away. But as she was focusing more on it, she noticed her different selves were intrigued and gathering around it. And there they were together. A feeling of ecstasy filled her up… and out of her body herself was huge. The presence was gaining in intensity and it was as if it was her who was allowing Asiir’s energy to be expressed toward herself.

                          HAHAHAHAHA a thunderous laugh.
                          Startled for a moment she almost lost contact with Asiir. But their bond was stronger this time. She was filled with joy and self-assurance.

                          At last, you are beginning to understand, Lola. We can go on and take the next step now.

                          She was truly riding her dragon, :face-grin: , it was wondrous.

                          Well, technically you are lying on the floor of the marshes of doooom, but…

                          All of a sudden, everything was gone, she was back to her body, Asiir looking at her and nudging her left arm with her snout.
                          WOW, what a crippled body! How many times did she tried? Would he kill her with that, bloody bastard… a feeling of anger was infuriating her, and filling her body up, heating it up. How could he possibly be so inhuman?

                          May I recall you I’m a dead guy? and furthermore, my focus wasn’t human… I just appear human to your eyes because you want me to appear like that. You have no representation of how my species could look like, but I may show you…
                          … soon.


                          The woman’s voice raised softly in the dark, like a velvet caress, or the sound of a purring cat.

                          Life was long before I met Georges. Not unbearable, but so long and lifeless. Days would pass, and nothing new would happen but the same matter the previous days were made of.
                          Though I no longer align to these limitations, I was once human, born to Earth, as Georges was, in a not so distant past. Like most of my people, I was not feeling special. But my will was strong and my desire to survive too. I survived poverty, lust and violence. In the crucible of these emotions I’ve melted my fears, and it was there I found Georges too.

                          A curtain raises in the dark. A palace in an exotic tropical place. Brunei? Al doesn’t know this place…
                          A young dark haired woman in a small room, around sixteen, perhaps a bit less, disheveled. She looks wildly around her, her rags stained with dust and dirt.

                          Enters a tall woman. She doesn’t seem local. British perhaps. She’s elegantly dressed, thin mouth, high cheekbones, apparently in charge. A maid follows her. She can speak the girl’s language.

                          Where is my mother? Let me out of here! she starts to cry
                          I’m afraid this is not possible, Salome. For your safety,…
                          What do you care about my safety!
                          For your safety, Salome, hear me, try to behave. The Sultan is not a man without a heart. He loves beautiful women, and that is what probably saved your neck, considering what all what your mother did wrong to him refusing to pay taxes and her obstinate and bare-faced smuggling. Listen Salome, this might save you, and might save your mother as well.

                          The curtain falls on the scene, where Salome hopes to have found a friend of captivity with this woman.

                          A few years later, still in the golden cage of the harem, occasionally asked to service the lustful and violent Sultan, I start to go explore the depths of my misery. My inner world was a safe sanctuary, a haven from the pit of hell where I was now living, after my childhood years of hard work in the forest. There, where no one was given the key to enter, I became aware of him. I first thought he was an imaginary friend, a messenger from the other world, greeting me to a sure death. But he was real. He started to talk to me. About what I could do, like him, be a Traveler, if I wanted to.

                          The curtain raises again. Young Salome is lying on her straw mat, in a seeming delirium. She moans, whispers, weeps, laughs. No one in the harem seem to care any longer. She is probably possessed, but the Sultan still find her suitable, she can’t be touched.

                          A roar can be heard in the palace. The big black-bearded Sultan Ojylam the Second, ogre look on his face, summons his guard.

                          — Don’t worry Salome, the voice of Georges whispers in the dark. The Sultan is mad at Madame Chesterhope. She has just fled with his precious crystal skull, but he won’t find her. She’s a skilled Traveler too, as soon you will be dear Salome, once you have learnt my last tricks, and we soon will be united.
                          — Why that stupid crystal skull?
                          — Don’t worry about it… This one is the Birds Skull. It carries lots of information and magic in relation to the Birds Realm, but it should be the least of your concerns. We’ll find Madame Chesterhope even if she’s clever at hiding between dimensions. Only concern for you must be to get out of here.
                          — The Sultan will know I told her about it… I should have known, he was so proud of this object, and so protective too… And she was so curious…
                          — That’s why we must hurry now.

                          And so we were united for the first time. Lots of other lives have occurred afterwards, different paths at times, but always we have found each other again. Eternally bound, in a most sacred bound…

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