Daily Random Quote

  • “Bugger!” bemoaned Fwick. “Blah! The butter is bitter. The butter I bought to go in the batter with the vegemyth. The butter is bitter, but now it’s blended in my batter and my blimmin batter is bitter.” The little spider giggled gleefully to himself. ... · ID #2409 (continued)
    (next in 08h 08min…)

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  • #3062
    F LoveF Love
    Participant

      flower synch! but her mind was dulled with tiredness and she could not explain, although they questioned her relentlessly.

      “Just align with whatever path you are on… it is by far the easiest way” she whispered as she dropped off to sleep.

      She woke to find herself on a path. It was dark and only the ground directly beneath her feet was visible. It was hard to move forward under these conditions and she desperately wanted to see more. She fought with the darkness until, eventually, she realised the darkness was an illusion. With that realisation she took hold of the darkness and it fell away in her hands revealing a stage.

      The stage was bare, other than an old boot and a plain wooden chair. She sat on the chair and looked around.

      “This is a bit gloomy” she said. “I want flowers”. And deep crimson wild sweet peas appeared. “I want lots of flowers! And I want blue sky and sunshine and a few fluffy white clouds and a gentle sun shower for me to dance in and a rainbow to fill the sky with wonder.” And as she wished, the bare stage was transformed to a landscape filled with a vibrant profusion of colour and life.

      #3056
      TracyTracy
      Participant

        Abandoned structures where the wild things grow……not in rows and lines of forced behaviour for maximum controlled output wrapped in neatly positioned plastic, but shredded with tatters blowing in the breeze and sunlight streaming through the rips, saplings bursting through the tears, and brambles twined around the wired enclosures, spilling inside and outside. Jumbles of wild flowers, fresh and juicy amidst thorny dried stalks of last years endeavours, and the year before that, and so on.

        #3054
        TracyTracy
        Participant

          on going in a different direction ~ I went left instead of right (on impulse), walked up the road and turned left, instead of down the road and turning right. The first thing I noticed, well not the first thing, the first thing was the baby mule and the horses, but the next thing (other than the wildflowers) was the contrast between the writhing gnarled tree shapes against the backdrop of severely rigid pylons. Then a bit further down the lane, and I never knew it was there, one of my favourite things: an abandoned shredded plastic green house tunnel, taken over by climbing wild roses.

          #3051
          F LoveF Love
          Participant

            Recovering herself majestically, Tina put on her headphones and played her isotronic creativity tone in order to contribute (and the term “contribute” is used loosely) to the discussion (also used loosely) at hand.

            Tina sat and waited for inspiration. It soon became clear that inspiration had taken a vacation. “Without even sending any casebook notes for perusal. Selfish Inspiration!” thought Tina petulantly.

            Inspiration, telepathically picking up on the Tina’s thoughts, smiled knowingly to herself. Winter, to all intents and purposes, had already arrived, and yet the day was still and rather warm. Picking a particularly vibrant yellow daisy she noticed growing wild among the stones on the side of the path she skipped her way back to the hotel for breakfast.

            #3047
            TracyTracy
            Participant

              Dory was on her way to an local greening event, a sort of garden show and time manipulation in one, where contestants took turns demonstrating their skills in rapid~greening. A hideous concrete relic on the coast had been earmarked, and contestants from all over the world were to take turns covering the monstrosity in flowering greenery in the shortest amount of time possible. The events were usually held on a weekend, because everyone was busy vacationing during the week, so use of time manipulation was permitted, as long as it wasn’t too over the top, in other words, weeks and months were permissable, but not years. Except in special cases, such as in the cases where the contestants refused to follow the rules, which it must be admitted, was unsurprisingly often. Prizes were awarded to everyone who participated, really, there were 3D print your own prize stations scattered around the perimeter of the monstrosity site.
              The half finished abandoned hospital that Dory had participated in the previous month had turned out spectacular, especially the mystical combination of tele ~imported prehistoric tree ferns, cherry trees and solar powered fireflies. The addition of ice cream and cupcake printers in the corridors had been the icing on the cake. Indeed the icing in what used to be the mortuary was rather pretty, especially when one hadn’t seen snow for decades, a cool crisp tundra scene with icicles and blue shadows on the snow covered slabs, with clumps of red spotted mushrooms for a splash of colour, not that the extra colour was needed as the very air was a swirling mass of colours.

              #3038
              TracyTracy
              Participant

                The bright side is only the bright side because there is a shadowed side, soon to be revealed in all it’s mysterious glory and flowery nuances

                #3022
                Jib
                Participant

                  “And now, breathe in, a little bit more… and let it out.”

                  Amanda didn’t think it possible for her chest to expand more than it already had. She swayed her body, hoping that maybe it would allow more air in. It was useless, she had the impression she had lost some air. Perhaps she shouldn’t breath too deeply when Johnette… no, when the goddess speaking through Johnette asks them to breathe in.

                  She had been introduced to Johnette and the Goddess of the Antic Earth by her friend Mona, whom she hadn’t seen in years and when she fall upon her the other day, she convinced Amanda to come to the Earth Circle Group and try the meditation “because it is so fun”. But Mona didn’t come to the circle the first time, and she hadn’t come either this time. Amanda didn’t know why she came back, she hadn’t felt anything the first time. But they had asked her if she was coming to the next meeting, and she couldn’t say no.

                  “Allow the divine breath of the goddess to fill your mind and your body with its pranic power of sustentation. And take another deep breath.”

                  And there, she had been thinking again, she had lost the rythm. She managed to exale silently with a few contortion of her body and caught up the group with shorter and shallower movements of her chest. It was exhausting.
                  “It’s only been the second time”, she reminded herself. No need to tell that she wasn’t feeling at all the effects of the pranic power of sustentation. Her body was more tense after the sessions. And the worst was her disappointment when all the others would talk about the wonderful experiences with the goddess and her angels. Johnette had told her it would come, and that she needn’t worry. She had to be free of her expectations and certainly not compare herself to the others.

                  The group was composed only of women. Except Norman, but he didn’t count. He was with Bianca. Amanda was sure that she had a wonderbra. She couldn’t have such a perfect breast at her age. And she didn’t seem the kind to have her breast reconfigured. She chuckled at the idea.

                  “Ahem.”

                  Amanda winced. Johnette was frowning. Or was it the Goddess. The idea gave Amanda the creeps.

                  “Now; clear your mind, my friends, for the next location will be revealed.”

                  Amanda had no idea what the Goddess was talking about. But according to the loud whispers, the others knew, and were expecting it. She noticed that the Goddess wasn’t frowning and caught a fleeting smile.
                  Johnette’s body began to shake and the most disturbing whale sound filled up the room.

                  “Sorry,” said Bianca, “wrong CD”.

                  #3018

                  Special Detective Bryan Connor of the Third Task Investigative Unit of the Surge Team Force pored desperately over his case notes. He’s been tracking the elusive Wordblade ever since the Wordblade almost wiped an entire Verse civilization off the face of Demonta, where the surge began. He scratched his temple feverishly & clamped his eyes shut. The Wordblade’s latest massacre occurred on Twitter, where he publicly slaughtered the alphabet.

                  “How is it possible that he cannot be caught?” He pondered aloud. “He commits deed after deed of expression & he cannot be accounted for.”

                  Just then, Mari Fei strode through his marble-walled office. Her commanding stride elicited an aura of assurance and regal confidence, & Connor turned around & met it with relief sighing through his breath. “Ah, Professor Fei of the Institute of Spirit/Consciousness. I’m so glad to see you. Perhaps you could-”
                  “Assist you in locating Wordblade?” She chimed in. She laughed heartily at the sight of Connor’s astonished & mildly bewildered expression.
                  “Don’t bother yourself with asking me how I know. I just do.”
                  “Ah, then I have no need to impress the severity of these circumstances. The Wordblade’s elusive deeds are overwhelming: he seems to be intently breaking every rule for the sheer fun of it & he doesn’t care.”
                  Professor Fei slowly walked pass him & climbed up the spiral stairs that led to a balcony overlooking the vastness of the Murtuda Galaxy. The Murtuda was the biggest galaxy in the southern Universe, & by far certainly the biggest, boasting a total of 125 portal-highways that bore the blood of intergalactic travelling.
                  “Bryan,” she sighed. “Don’t concern yourself with catching Wordblade or understanding his motives. That young man is a danger unto himself, so we just let him be.”
                  “But if we let him be then we may never calculate the amount of havoc he could wreak!”
                  “I know that, but the issue still-”
                  “No!” He broke her off. “The Counsel always justifies his deeds as an issue of self-freedom. He’s out there slaughtering alphabets & kicking poets’ butts for being normal & the Counsel embraces that?”
                  He became silent for a moment, contemplating the Professor’s response. He knew he took a bold step but the Surge Team was on the verge of capturing Wordblade & they needed as much help as they could.

                  When the Professor turned around, she looked calmly at him.

                  #3017
                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    meanwhile in South Africa, an alphabet slaughtering surge made landfall, scattering the inhabitants, celebrities and everyday heroes alike. Some suspected the elusive Wordblade

                    “Alliteration ascends the assonance of abseiling abstract aspects of anterior antiquities from ancient altars,
                    Bouldering down blocks of brooks that break the boring & bland borders of bondage,
                    And blinking through bleak and black boxes of brisk bravery.
                    Creeping into crops of crooked crocks with crotches of cockroaches cramming into cans of calamity, the crisp cat crackles the calling.
                    Dreaming of damning devils and demons dancing in droplets of dreary darkness drags the drunken diligence from the draught’s damnation,
                    Even the everlasting ethereal elves ebbed and eased into the effervescent eloquent estate of eternal elitism.

                    For the feeble and fumbling fatuous frontiers, the folly frolicked and fornicated with the familiar friend from foes’ fervent fevers;
                    Greater than gradient grand gestures of gestaltic granite grasses,
                    The gruesome grizzle grabbed the gore by the gripped grunting.
                    Higher than homelands of hands in horizons,
                    Heavens and Hells or Hades hazily hear the honing of the horses and horns-
                    In internal infernos of inflicting infringes of institutional insurrections Interrogations instigated imminent innate innovations.
                    Jacknives of jaundiced and jilted jokers jabbed at the jumping jingles of the jesting jackals that jet over jerseys of jeering,
                    For the Killer Krakens kelp the kites from kids who keep kaleidoscopes of kind and keen keepers.

                    Longer than languid lads that laze in lost latitudes the lieutenant lounged behind lines of lingering losses-
                    Maids mellowed around mazes of men and manners of mad moments and made for mates on mattresses on mothered matrimony.
                    Noisy & never-ending neckties on nests of nicked numbers never nominated the nurses that nosed the nuns for nuns’ nihilism
                    Beyond the Oligarchs of overt operations of obligating omnipotence ostracizing the omniscience & omitting its ownership to the omnipresent order.
                    Pilgrims to pentagons by people from poached & palpitated places of placards of propaganda pondered their positions in this power polarity
                    When quivering quills of quavering queens quelled the quarterly quests of the quaint quarrels.

                    Because roving rivers of raging ravines and raving reviews raced to the rest of the ripped rampant ravages and revelled at the rambling randomness
                    Structured subsiding and subsidized societies should string the strongholds of the supreme sultans of seeded senses.
                    Taking the trusty treaty the trussed toppled truants took the trickling ticking of time to the tables of trampled trees of timber,
                    For under the ubiquitous umbilical umbrellas of ultra-sounds from upper-level ulcers underground underworlds underestimated the union.

                    Vivid visions of voracious vampires of vexing vacuum vortexes vilified the vindicated vindictives from the violent vapid vanity
                    While wild & wily whiskers of whispered whisky whisked the wailing widows
                    From the wells of wanting when the wanton warriors walked on waters.
                    Yards of years of yearning the yesterday’s yonder yarns of yellow yolk yawned Into the youth’s yoked yams
                    For zigzags of zapped zebras to zip the zest in zealous zones.”

                    #3015
                    TracyTracy
                    Participant

                      Much to Pearls amazement the celebrity surge mania that had taken hold of the lower ranks of the surge teams assistants was starting to infest the higher ranks as well. In fact it had started to infect the celebrities themselves, as well as the royal families of several European and Middle Eastern countries. Celebrity mania had surged with an unholy vengeance just after lightning struck the Vatican, when the pope was led away in handcuffs the previous month. Royal princesses, not satisfied with the rank of just one position, recklessly started claiming the lives of feckless celebrities as their own. Celebrities started insisiting that they were directing Directors, and informing cameramen that they were a focus of theirs too. The cameramen wondered whether they even knew what P mode was, and who was in charge now anyway. The King of Spain decided to claim Madonna as his own, and refuted Lady Ga Ga’s claim that she was in fact directing him. A Pointless TV quiz contestant claimed to be directing Stephen Fry, which was clearly rubbish; many dismissed the claim as distorted.

                      #3008

                      In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

                      ÉricÉric
                      Keymaster

                        mari impulse towards come attention dead real flowers
                        cornella realized street already dream job square young magic once green fact waiting

                        #3007
                        ÉricÉric
                        Keymaster

                          The impending strategy and budget review was now quickly upon them.

                          The much questioned old new authority of the Surge Team had decided all the countries had to join for that week long first round of strategy plan and as Long Poon was too much of a reminder of work (they said, but many suspected too much of a reminder of Ed Steam’s empire), Madam Li had graciously offered to host the venue in Shangpoon, where they had managed to corner 15,000 floating piglets and her services were still probably needed.

                          All the thirteen chief operatives were busy setting things in order, and delegating current tasks during their business trip. Some of them were still hopelessly fumbling in spreadsheets and slides —a inane exercise in style they thought, but still…

                          “I can’t stand it!” Cornella almost exploded in front of her computer, now returned to decent level of cleanliness since Aqua’s return. She was sick of this old ageing alzheimering authority. Not that she missed Ed too much now. He was a pig —and gawd, this waxed mustache from another epoch… A pig they all liked because they didn’t know better at the time and his charisma covered for all the tiny slips of behaviour or even judgement. She’d seen that same feeling when the ceremony was held for his ashes spreading; most of the tears shed there had looked a bit contrived.

                          The mission to replace the pope with an alien-reconfigured Jesuit was a success, thanks to clever team work and her stellar delicate planning skills. A plan hatched before Ed’s demise, but that the old guys had been glad to call theirs. That was the waking call for her. If they could get rid so easily of the papacy, she would blow that budget convention from inside.
                          That required thorough planning though, and a bit of luck. Most of the chick would gladly be on board with this.
                          That’s when the mysterious vanishing dog legs cabinet came back to her attention.

                          #3006
                          Jib
                          Participant

                            The pond was full of black tadpoles. The creatures were wriggling restlessly, following invisible currents, connecting dark stains packed with thousands of them. Benjamin Goat immersed a small plastic bottle into one of the biggest node, it sucked the little buggers like a fat syringe.
                            “Such a small container won’t reduce their population too much”, he thought. Indeed, he had always wondered why there were so many of them in the early stages and why you would see so few frogs or toads. The remaining tadpoles were beginning to gather around his hand. He repressed a shiver. A new idea for a movie just sprang up from his subconscious. Something to do with man-eater tadpoles. That would certainly hit the box office for months.
                            He smiled. There were enough of them in the bottle.

                            “Yuck!” said a fat pink lady before licking her strawberry ice cream.

                            “It’s for my son”, said Benjamin just before realizing he was justifying again. His psychiatrist had told him there was no need for justifying, it was like apologizing, and he needn’t apologize, he was the great Benjamin Goat after all. He snorted and mimicked drinking from his bottle. This time, she was disgusted. She made the mistake to hold her ice cream too far from herself and one of those Gib’s monkey with the pink ass stole it. She was shouting now, people would pay attention to her instead of him. People always pay attention to what’s more annoying.
                            Paradoxically, he felt a pang of jealousy. He was not used to let go of others’ attention.

                            His cell phone vibrated, three long vibrations and seven short ones. The code for his secret society. It was a great idea to put it in his last movie, unfortunately it hadn’t had the desired effect. People were so gullible that they would believe everything that came out in a fiction movie.
                            “The Jesuit is in the place”, said a vocoded voice. That was all. It could only mean one thing. It was all going according to the plan. He smiled and handed out the bottle to a kid. He wouldn’t need that after all.

                            #3003
                            ÉricÉric
                            Keymaster

                              The fourth-age interim authority of the Team had given new directives. They were clear enough. The new wave was in full bloom and required utmost attention, so all the operatives in action had to temporarily suspend their missions pending review.
                              Madame Li, for instance, was again in the middle of a food and water scare surge in Shangpoon, where bloated floating glowing gloating piglets were found roaming freely in the river of the city’s main water supply. And that was the least of those she had to corner these days in the most populous city of the country.
                              Simply enough, they were required to pay attention to what they paid attention and gave importance to… Which wouldn’t solve most of the surges, most of them had sniggered when they heard the speech.
                              “Or are they suggesting we are the ones creating the surges to get a rush of adrenaline, maybe?” Skye sighed.
                              A bit of unwanted leave in all this craziness wasn’t something they all were used to, especially under the previous management, but for all that was worth, they seemed to all relish a bit of pressure release.
                              “Relish that, old horseradish,” Pearl said “now I’m pretty sure they did overdo that religious stuff…”

                              #3001
                              ÉricÉric
                              Keymaster

                                Ed Steam’s brilliant plan was simple enough. He had dreamt about it a while ago and the idea had grown on him ever since. Now, he had all he needed to make it happen. The land, the materials, and the artefacts and rotes needed to manipulate the bulk of it around.

                                It was simple, actually and yet every detail had to be perfect. There were matters of perspective and proportions that were delicate to manage.
                                And of course he had to be careful using the artefacts with finesse, to be undetected by the Surge team’s monitoring systems. He had designed most of them, so he wasn’t too concerned, although Cornella’s upgrades may be more efficient.
                                He had calculated the project would probably take him years to complete, but he was fine with it, it was a fun adventure, creating your own palace so to speak.

                                First, the grounds. That of a glorious castle, with French gardens on a large lightly sloped tumulus. His armoured bears could stay in the surrounding forest where beehives were strategically placed.
                                On top of the tumulus, instead of a castle, there was a large mill, a cross between a windmill, castle and lighthouse maybe, with walls white and round, many entrances, rooms and stairs leading to the upper levels. That was where most of the work was to be organized. The whole roof was actually like a city, with narrow streets even.
                                Except the buildings where made from entire stacks of full-sized caravans, making living units, each with its own interior and decoration.

                                He didn’t know why the stacks of caravans were so appealing to him. Frankly, said like this it could seem like a hill of rubbish dump. However, he had visited this dream place when it was full of people, a fellowship of people living in the caravans and enjoying this particular place. He’d figured, this seems so great and I have the means to create it, so if not me, who else?

                                #2997

                                After a few months travelling from Spain to France in their quest for the dragons, with already two visa applications for China rejected, endless unkind mocking laughs or condescending looks from strangers, and having had to pawn temporarily the sabulmantium to buy Vincentius a shirt, Arona and her motley family were thinking it was time for a turn of fate.

                                It didn’t take them too long hopefully.
                                Of course, the sabulmantium was recovered as soon as they had realized it was actually more lucrative in this dimension to have Vincentius take off his shirt in shady bars at night for a few meals and lodging, and some little extras. Mandrake had been kind to provide ample squeaking mice supplements, which Arona had politely declined, for which Mandrake faked each time the saddest of disappointments. All in all, so far their life on the roads had been easier than she would have thought.
                                Of course, they’d lost Sanso a few times as he couldn’t stay at one place for too long, and keeping track of his movements was near impossible. So they relied on trust that he would always find his way, which surprisingly enough, he did every single time.

                                He had been the one to provide them with the way to the island actually. One day, after weeks without news, he’d reappeared, hammering at the door of their little room at the top of their 9 storey hotel in Paris, near the St Honoré Market Place. He was wearing the quaintest bright violet velvet surplice, and was carrying a bottle of glowing green liquor.

                                To settle in a lovely island of the Ocean they called Pacific… It didn’t take too much convincing: Paris was starting to get boring, and far too cold. Arona missed the moist glowing warmth of Leormn’s cave, that was so good for her skin. She didn’t miss the riddles though.

                                The entry point of the tunnel was inside the catacombs, and they’d almost got lost a few times, she could have sworn, although Sanso was ever confident they were on track, even when a few dead-ends were staring at him in the face with toothless skulls grins. But after a few hours, the tunnel actually broadened, and glowed a lovely shade of orange.

                                It was funny, traveling through the Earth’s crust, made her almost feel at home. If all the dragons of this realm had left, and were hidden somewhere, she was certain it had to be to such a place. It gave her hopes again to meet one in this strange land which had forgotten magic.

                                #2996
                                ÉricÉric
                                Keymaster

                                  “Blimey! The Pope, eh? Are you teasing me again?”
                                  Vera didn’t answer.
                                  “Oh come on! Don’t give me that need-to-know-basis treatment, as much as I love a good riddle, I hate secrets! Are we going to look for the reincarnation of a famous Pope à la Little Buddha? Tell me, tell me!” Bouncing with excitement on the rolling Eggsway made her almost fall head over wheels into a flangeway carved into the muddy track that went deeper into the forest.

                                  Regaining her balance, she looked ahead to see Vera was already a few meters ahead — and navigating the Eggsway was becoming difficult. She knew she should have opted for the 4×4 model…
                                  So… Vera wasn’t really paying attention, she would have to try another approach to worm answers out of her. What was so special about this place anyway? Lost continent of Mu, ancient architecture, maybe underwater tunnels… Nothing that would lead directly to the Vatican she surmised… Unless…

                                  They arrived at a clearing in the forest, where blue glow sticks had been placed in a round pattern. Vera was standing there, after having carefully placed a glowing green rote at the center, staring at the middle of the light circle, and without turning her head to look at her, told Lulla “Here’s your answer coming.”

                                  A huge buzzing throb started to fill the air, sounding to concentrate at a focal point not higher than 10 inches above the ground, at the exact center of the blue circle. It begun sparkling and * BooM *, in all its slimy tentaculeous glory, a spaceship was there.

                                  “Special delivery from our alien friends” Vera said, finally deigning to look at Lulla.

                                  The rather small spaceship started to slowly expand, becoming larger, until an opening appeared, letting a form emerge from the membranous appearance of the hull. The form which looked like some person was suddenly dropped unceremoniously with a * Plop! * while the spacecraft elastically recovered its initial shape.
                                  Moments later, it was gone, and with it the buzzing sound.
                                  The green rote payment was gone too. Greedy aliens.

                                  “Come on, let’s bag this guy and bring him home for phase 2. A red convertible SUV is waiting for us at the portal’s entrance.”
                                  So, that’s where I come in… Lulla was starting to wonder what was the use of her being here, since Vera was so bossy and secretive. But now,… Of course she was better at hatting, but she could call herself without bragging a real bagging specialist.

                                  #2994
                                  ÉricÉric
                                  Keymaster

                                    “You’ve fattened.” She had not yet set foot on land that Vera’s first comment to Lulla set the tone.
                                    Lulla threw the rest of the skewer in the bin, and managed a genial laughter. She was not one to take umbrage, much less to hold grudges. And although technically Vera was not right (she had managed to lose a stone since Fat Tuesday), she was still weighing a whooping 23 stone. Far from her 57 kg ideal weight. She laughed to herself at the thought that she was weighing more than two of her ideal self. That had to account for something.
                                    Relocating from the coast of Guyana where she was born to São Paulo had not been easy on her silhouette, as she liked to blame the greasy fast-food here. But at some point she had ceased to care, although such snarky remarks sometimes still managed to push her buttons.

                                    “Yes, I know, look at those leggings, the stripes have that effect on me.” she simpered with a wink that she was sure would annoy Vera no end. “So what are we doing here small Pohnpei, micro-Micronesia of all places anyway?” She asked, pushing her pocket-size folding Eggsway ahead of the curb, while Vera was strolling at her side, in long strides of her fine endless legs.
                                    “To do some cleaning, what else?”

                                    Lulla stopped her Eggsway to look with bewilderment at the stoical Vera.
                                    “Madam Vera Pappaloosa,” she said slowly, with a hint of concern in her voice. “I hope it’s not one of those messy jobs again that require to dress in funny smelly hot pink outfits that make us look like hot pink plastic bag ladies, and swim in it until you’ve lost two pants sizes by sweating them off?”
                                    “Oh, stop it Lulla. You guessed right, I suppose. But don’t worry, you can keep your hat on.”

                                    Lulla was ready to turn her heels, or rather her Eggsway’s wheels around, when she was surprised by Vera’s crystalline laughter. She was all the more surprised that she didn’t even know Vera was capable of laughter, being so expert at concealing her emotions.
                                    “I was just pulling your leg, we’re on a mission to find the next Pope.”

                                    #2990
                                    ÉricÉric
                                    Keymaster

                                      Looking at the city illuminated by endless fireworks, Madame Li was almost glad to be back in Shanghai for the Chinese New Year. The vibrations, explosions and sparkling lights sent shivers of pleasure down her spine, reminding her of childhood excitement and of times before her awareness of such things as surges.
                                      She wasn’t back for leisure however. A new snow surge had followed the air pollution surge. This was most unnerving, and she’d heard from Anita Charmpatti, her counterpart in India that a fog of pollution had hit New Dalhi as well.

                                      At the Long Poon Headquarters, against all expectations, a certain Lord Lemon had taken over the head of operations, flanked with two even older museum-worth pieces of antiquities (names Hyphen and Dash). All that had left Cornella utterly disappointed after her last past weeks of brilliant interim. Truth be told, without her scrupulous continuation in the footsteps of Steam, the Surge Team could have been no more. She’d managed to rally back Skye after her taking unnoticed leave of absence in Wales that could well have been an attempt at an early retirement. She also had talked back (and not without a fight) Pearl and Mari Fe in line of duty, and after the looting of the artefact chamber, the collection of rotes gathered after the past weeks contained surges made it look as if they were all back to business.

                                      That Lord Lemon was an old bastard from the early ages of the Team. Usually, in that risky business, you weren’t expected to grow very old, much less to be able to retire. That one having been able to do both surely meant one thing. He wasn’t here to fool around with,… even though he looked capable of little less than managing his early bouts of Alzeihmer’s.

                                      #2986
                                      Jib
                                      Participant

                                        Aqua Luna had difficulties understanding what the voice was telling her. The words made perfect sense, separately. They were like bubbles floating around her, she could almost see them. Each had a different hue and some where even shining a bit.
                                        “What am I experiencing ?” she asked.
                                        At least it was her thoughts, but she wasn’t sure the voice would understand as each bubble seemed to follow its separate route once out of her mouth.
                                        When more bubbles appeared in the room, it seemed they were coming from all around her, and not from a specific location. She wondered if she was in some kind of whale ship, in its stomach.
                                        When more bubbles came, she began to feel a bit irritated. She smashed one with her left hand and got startled by the booming “SHAKE”. She retreated on the spongy stomach which was emitting bubbles now. She tried to shoo them away and their explosion was more like a squishy sound.
                                        A bigger bubble was coming toward her. It was with shades of pink and blue, very vibrant. She put her hands on her ears before it blew out, but the sound seemed to come from her skin now.

                                        HAHAHAHA

                                        When more bubbles came to her, the words she heard were the following

                                        quickly full days told moscow
                                        dragon sounds face earth itself
                                        pin often middle herself under light
                                        katarina warm asked further turned

                                        It made no sense at all, but she was beginning to find it fun.

                                      Viewing 20 results - 981 through 1,000 (of 1,660 total)

                                      Daily Random Quote

                                      • “Bugger!” bemoaned Fwick. “Blah! The butter is bitter. The butter I bought to go in the batter with the vegemyth. The butter is bitter, but now it’s blended in my batter and my blimmin batter is bitter.” The little spider giggled gleefully to himself. ... · ID #2409 (continued)
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