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In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud
A moment later she fell in the pool, slipping on some loose change. The part had been a free for all, and her host had alot to answer for. lots of drinks had been given to the grey goat and mavis didn’t give a shit. she meant during the days that followed to find salome, to be able to find some meaning to the story about leonora. It was a fine day for a plane ride she thought as she waited in line feeling excited until she noticed a red working lamp advertising love, but she never noticed how much easier it was during the news. The finn connection had her smiling as she thought to try creating calm and stay present and breathe as she looked around and noticed her arms were far from normal. suddenly shhe was walking away. the goat forgotten but wrick managed to save the library which was full of fresh air known only to sri who was to sort it all out although he laughed about the wood fire of the 19 planets and she was behind herself all the way
(oops, said Bea, I forgot to indicate which of the words was from the word cloud and which were mine. Oh well, never mind….)
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Tina leaned back on her rocking chair, and ogled with an eye of pity Al who was trimming one of the plants.
— What?
— Oh nothing, Tina sighed… are we gonna eat any fruit from those, or shall I throw them in the bin?
— Oh, there’s good hope we can soon have a cherry tomato wrapped in a leaf of coriander for our dinner sweetie.
— You and your miniature cultures… She finally rolled her eyes. During Al’s trip in the Floridisles, by a strange series of nearly miraculous coincidences, the plants had stayed intact. She hadn’t watered them for the two weeks, but apparently it had not displeased them.Al had told her the funny story of his grand-father watering his wife’s precious flowers during her absence with gallons of water, and literally drowning them in love.
She had not smiled. “Maybe I’m drowning people in my love too, they tend to get soggy these days…”
So perhaps her lack of attention had been a blessing for the tinsy artsy plantsaïs…What did they have for dinner last time? A puny ratatouille made with courgettes the size of her fingers. First time she’d wished she had bigger fingers. Nah… Al, you got to understand, people aren’t ready for nano-biotics…
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
The whole week had been flying over his heads. Last Sunday, they had come back with Sam from their trip on the Floridisles, and though his body was a bit aching from the trip on the still young flight company of Yurailli Airlines, Al’s head was still swimming in the clear blue waters with the dolphins and sea dragons a soft music running in his head like a young unworried boy on the shore.
The return to New Venice was such a difference in energy that it took him a shocking cold to re-adapt. Not that he couldn’t have done without the cold, but he had chosen to allow it, for many reasons. For one, it was very self-centering, and also the more he allowed it, contrary to what people would think, the quicker it healed.
Lots of things had happened in New Venice during their little adventure in the South, and there was lots to do to keep the pace. So much difference with the peaceful silent world of the cetaceans… Not even much time to update the Reality Play which almost had gone into hibernating mode, had it not been Becky’s occasional funny entries and syncs.
Nevertheless, Al could feel that the peace of the dolphins and sea dragons had touched him on more than just the surface level. For once, he wasn’t even worried about Tina now; he could feel her discrete but present energy was strong, even though she was going onto a difficult transitional path of her own.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
“Norm! NORM!!” Sue Flay shouted. “We’re filming the garden scene now, where are you?”But Norm was nowhere to be found. He’d stumbled upon an unexpected problem while filming T’Eggy & Phlynn with Sue Flay ~ a problem too embarrassing to mention, and one he could hardly keep a secret, given the nature of the P Movie. He’d managed to excuse himself during the last scene, feigning illness, but what if it happened again today?
“You’re focusing on what you don’t want again, Norm.” The voice made him jump. He’d thought he was alone in the treehouse, he thought no-one would find him hiding there in the leafy depths of the spinney, high up in the foliage. He looked around, wondering where the voice was coming from.
“You haven’t generated me physical, Norm, but you can if you wish” the voice said.
“How do I do that?” asked Norm.
“Allow, that’s all” the voice replied.
“Oh what rubbish!” Norm said in an agitated whisper. “What stupid advice!”
“Ha ha ha! As you wish, my friend” replied the voice, sounding rather amused.
“If you hadn’t just given me such stupid advice I might have felt more inclined to ask you for some advice about this awful problem” Norm whispered crossly.
“Are you asking me for advice or not?”
“Well if you’ve got anything USEFUL to say, then say it!”
“If you go down to the garden today,
You’re sure to have a surprise.
There’s a herb growing there and you don’t have to pay,
It’s growing in front of your eyes.
The magic you see is everywhere
It never runs out of stock
Go down to the garden, if you dare….”“I asked you for advice, not a daft bloody poem!” Norm hissed.
“You wish to be hard as a rock?”
“YES!” spat Norm in frustration, blushing furiously. What’s the friggen garden got to do with it?”
“There’s a herb in the garden called Horny Goat “
“Oh PulEASE…..” Norm rolled his eyes.
“Horny Goat Weed will do the trick.
And straighten up your droopy…”“ENOUGH! Good Grief, I get the message. What am I supposed to DO with it, roll in it? Eat it? Smoke it?”
“It matters not, my friend. That’s the magic of it all. You can choose any method”
“Are you sure about this?” asked Norm, who was willing to try anything at this point. “How do I know I can trust you?”
“Ha ha ha! Trust youSELF, Norm!”
“Who are you anyway?” Norm asked suspiciously.
But the voice chuckled and faded, leaving Norm in a quandary in the treehouse.
“Oh bugger it, I may as well give it a go. I can’t stay here forever, and anyway, I’ve run out of cigarettes.”
Norm climbed down the tree and marched over to the the film crew.
“Oh THERE you are Norm!” Sue came rushing up to him. “What perfect timing, we’re breaking for lunch.” She gave Norm a spontaneous hug. She really was rather nice, Norm thought, smiling at her.
“Would you like some soup? We put lots of fresh herbs in it from the garden.”
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
“Oh My God” exclaimed Bea. “I had a dream about the DOOR!”
“Oh, well done! The question is, did you remember it?” asked Leonora.
“As a matter of fact, Leo, I did!” replied Bea with a happy smile. “As a matter of fact, although I’m not too sure how factual matter really is, but anyway, I did remember the dream, and I wrote it all down.”
“Gosh, up early this morning, weren’t you?” asked Leo, who was sipping coffee at the kitchen table and watching the sun come up over the mountains through the open door.
“Oh I didn’t write it down this morning, silly! I wrote it all down last week.”
Leo placed her cup on the table and rubbed her eyes, frowning. “Wait a minute, let me get this straight…..”
Bea laughed ~ she was in rather a jolly mood, despite the early hour. “I had the dream last week, Leo, but I only just realized this morning that the dream was about THE DOOR”
“So what did you learn about the door, then?”
Bea frowned. “Well I’m not really sure. But it seemed so significant because it was that scary door, you know, the dreams I’ve been having for years about that door in that bedroom that’s too scary to get near, never mind go through….would you like to read it? Maybe you can interpret it for me.”
“If I must” sighed Leonora “You better pour me another cup of coffee then and pass me those cigarettes.”
Leonora read from Bea’s Dream Journal:
I was sorting winter clothes out on an upstairs landing of a cottagey gabled house, and decided to use the upstairs bedroom instead of the downstairs one. The bedroom was a recurring dream one, gabled attic with dormer windows kind of room. Then I saw the door and remembered this was the door I was always too terrified in dreams to open; it was so scary that I always wanted to use this bedroom but never could because of that terrifying door and whatever lay beyond it.“Didn’t you do a waking dream and go through that door?” Leonora asked. “Oh, yes here is is…”
Remembering that I had done a waking dream and gone beyond the door once, I marched up to the door, flung it open and strode through. Suddenly an almost overpowering fear and dread stopped me in my tracks but I carried on anyway.“Oh, bloody well done, Bea! Good for you, girl!” Leonora could be a bit waspish at times, but she was a kind old soul underneath.
It was a bit like a old slightly shabby but once grand hotel foyer, high ceilings (not the same as when I went through in the waking dream, which was then rows of closed doors on either side). The foyer opened out on the left into a large old fashioned restaurant dining room, with one person over on the far side sitting at a table. I carried on straight ahead through opaque etched glass double doors onto an upstairs outdoor terrace. There was a city scene below. On the left was a shallow ornately shaped ornamental pool.“Reminds me a bit of our trip to Barcelona, this does, eh” Leo commented.
“Yeah, I’m sure that had something to do with the gargoyle imagery” replied Bea.
A woman squeezed past me holding a small thick book and I knew she was going to jump off the terrace which was several storeys up. She collapsed into the pool, writhing backwards, baring a flat white breast and dropping the book.“Flat breast, hahah Bea, that weren’t you then, obviously, was it!”
Bea chuckled. “Not bloody likely! I reckon that bit slipped in the dream because I can’t find a comfortable bra lately”
“You and me both” replied Leo. She continued reading from the journal.
I picked up the book, and somehow ended up with two books, which seemed like guide books. I couldn’t hold onto the two books with the creature in my hand, which was weird, like a very heavy small furry grey reptile, or gargoyle.
“Maybe it was a baby dragon?”
“Don’t say that!” retorted Bea, who had a horror of dragons. “The thought did cross my mind too, though” she admitted.
I was holding it with one hand round its middle and the fat grey belly of it was bulging out under my fingers. It was unbelievably heavy for such a small creature and I didn't want to hold it, so I passed it to a boy. (Twice I was holding the creature, and twice I passed it to the boy, but I can't recall the other time)Back inside the building, I followed the boy down a big wide staircase that curved round to the right at a landing below. I started to fall down the stairs and knew it was because of the book that I was holding that the woman had been holding when she collapsed into the pool, so I threw the book down the stairs to save myself, and felt the tumbling down from the books perspective, although I stayed in the same place, clutching the banister.“Well I am amazed that you remembered so much, Bea! Going through the doors and finding the books reminds me of Jane’s Library you know”. Leo was starting to go into an altered state.
“Are you going into an altered state, Leo?” asked Bea. “Are you channeling Juani Ramirez again?”
“The creature, the gargoyle, was representing ‘a different species of awareness, of consciousness’” continued Leonora, as Bea hastily started taking notes. Leo wouldn’t remember what she’d said while she was channeling Juani, so it was essential that Bea record what was said.
“The weight was a marker to help you recall the creature, as well as being symbolic of denseness”
Bea couldn’t help making a snirking noise. Dense eh, she said under her breath.
“The door” continued Leonora “Is a signpost, a marker.”
Just then the phone rang, snapping Leonora out of the trance. Bea picked up the telephone, but there was nobody there.
“Pffft” said Bea.
“More coffee?”
In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud
Indeed Jib, as usual, as usual:
Follow THE call OF THE WILDE,
THAT WHICH especially ASK YOU TO hold STILL AT home.
YOU KNOW, IT DOESN’T TAKE lots OF walking
TO let YOUR arms HAVE SOME EXERCISING:
SOME WOULD SAY “perhaps”;
BUT NO NEED TO SAY “I knew THAT!”LET’S EXPLORE A stone idea:
OF dragons starting watermelons story, flying AROUND
AND smiling, DIVING IN THE flove…In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
— “Dory?”
— “What, hon’?” a distracted Dory answered to young Becky
— “You’d better remove the magnets from the iron, or you’ll ruin another one…”
— “What are you talking about?!” Dory was perplexed, trying to find her way through the airport to Gate 57-¾, but only to find nothing but benches in between Gate 57 and 58.
— “Oh, never mind… It’s only a dream and you probably won’t remember it anyway.”“There!” the suspicious bag lady of the Heathrow terminal had reappeared briefly just for Dory to spot her entering the restrooms.
Becky was already rolling the heavy bumper-stickers patched suitcase to follow her without question.— “But why are you taking the suitcase to go to the bathroom, Beck’?”
— “What are you talking about Dory!” Becky was sometimes losing patience. “Can’t you see it’s the entrance for Gate 57-¾?!”
— “Uh?” A moment of clueless mystery on Dory’s face. “Oh…” Another mini-black hole on her face.“Oh. Okay then. Let’s go…”
If there was something that her exotic life had taught Dory, it was to never question the moment. If the circumstances are here, if the impulse is there, then go for it. Explanations will follow. And in case they don’t, make them up as you roll and rock!
Becky meanwhile was rather surprised at how people, even her own step-mother, as tuned in ghostly stuff as she was, most of the time failed to see the things for what they really are. And if these big painted letters on the door “GATE 57 ¾” weren’t obvious enough, and people preferred to interpret them as restrooms, then… what else could be done? She sighed.
Later on, she would learn that it was a common, well documented trait in human consciousness; that people were sometimes psychologically (but not physically) blind to stuff outside of their current focus of attention, or simply blind to things too far off their beliefs; in other terms, it was a matter of energy reconfiguration. As long as it worked…“Oh look at that… Yukailli Airlines counter is here! What bloody stupid idea to put a closet door at the entrance…”
After having made the departure arrangements at the counter, Dory came back to Becky who was looking outside at the planes.
— “Ain’t them beautiful?”
— “Yeah, and I suppose you’re seeing planes, aren’t you?”
— “Err, yes of course, what else, silly… Though now you ask me, they seem a bit weird… foggy or something”.In fact, what Becky was seeing wasn’t conventional planes. It was more like “fly-boats”. Some sorts of hybrid ships made to fly with huge wings transparent and shiny like those of flies.
— “I hope they have crunchy coleslaw for meal, I’m starving” a contented and tired Dory said, when she collapsed into the comfortable seats.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Georges and Salome’s journal
From Salome’s account of her introduction to the Turmak People (Part 1)
Georges being involved more and more within the Quorum of Jokans, it has enabled me, if only by proxy, to get more acquainted with the personality of each of them.
The Guardians are an ancient and very distinctive race which is, in many aspects, surprisingly similar to our Dream Walkers. One of these points of similarity is their aptitude at morphing their environment, and altering much of the physical properties of it within their dimension of operation.
I suspect that, similarly to our Dream Walkers being responsible for the creation of physical focus as we currently experiment it in our Earth dimension, they are also for a great part responsible for the creation of many a species in the neighbouring noospheres —note that I shall occasionally use “Noosphere” as a word more apt to convey certain notions rather than the word “planet” which is loaded with certain beliefs.I will not enter into the social details of the race of the Guardians in this note, as it would be too long for this place, and Georges will probably explain it in more details later.
However, I shall use this as an opportunity to introduce a character who soon became a close ally in our explorations of this universe.
As a matter of fact, I came as a surprise to both of us when she started to pierce through Georges disguise, flawless as it may have been. We found out that they shared a connection which probably was the cause for their allowance of connection through the veils of their disguises in time and space.
A rather elegant member of the Quorum of Twelve, Cil —as she is named, pronounced See’l — intuitively found out that we were not really who we claimed to be, especially that we were not from her known universe at all. But what could have been a difficult situation turned out for the best, as she was equally eager to discover about us, as we were about her people and universe.The recent reports of uprisings of the Zentauras was the matter which was seriously discussed, and it was decided as a favour from Noraam to Cil to allow her to go for an investigation on the Murtuane, to find out the reasons for this matter, if not the culprits among their kin.
Needless to say that I was very much enthusiastic at the idea of having a guide to explain me more on the relationships at play…(Part 2)
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Dory finished the puzzle, yawned and glanced at her watch. There was no sign of the flight to Long Pong leaving any time soon, so she made her flightbag into a pillow and settled herself along the plastic seating for a nap.
She dreamed first of her grandparents in their old house in Slurbridge. The house was the same, but her grandparents, Florence and Samuel, were much younger than she had ever known them during her lifetime. They were preparing for guests, and Florence was rearranging the bedding in the upstairs bedrooms. Apparently one more guest was expected than previously arranged, and she had squeezed in a single camp bed next to a double bed. Dory had an idea the camp bed was for Dan’s niece, Aurelia. Funny that, as Florence and Samuel had never known Aurelia ~ or Dan for that matter.
The dream landscape changed then to an island. The “Others” were coming and she and her friends had to hide. “Let’s hide in the pyramid” one of them had said, but Dory replied “No, we must hide somewhere less obvious, until we know what the “Others” are like.” They weren’t afraid, but they were taking precautions. Someone had been looking after the dogs and cats, but when Dory went to check on them, they had been ‘kept safe’ in a freezer. As Dory opened the door, a half frozen black cat emerged and ran off. “I reckon she’s better off taking her chances out there than in the freezer!” said Dory. At the bottom of the freezer were some frozen parts of Tom, Captain Bone. There was no sign of the others, but strangely, Dory wasn’t worried.
Next to the freezer was a cupboard, and Dory grabbed a handful of magnetic fridge letters, thinking that they would come in handy as clues while they were hiding from the “Others”.
“Yukailli Airlines direct flight leaving for Tikfijikoo Island at Gate 57 and three quarters” the bag lady prodded Dory, amidst a shower of electric blue sparks. “Wake up!”
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
When Balbina woke up from that which had been her longest and strangest projection out of her body ever, all the memories of this fantastic adventure were oddly still fresh and crystal clear in her mind.
She doubted that it may have been as real as she has perceived it to be; but the funny rabbit, before they all entered the long dark tunnel, had winked at her and told her there would be signs for her.
Outside the window, the sunlight was starting to show on the Cordillera de la Costa, the nearby mountains.
She was feeling strangely rejuvenated by this unexpected night spent in far-away travels, and it was almost as if her whole body was feeling better than it ever was.
But of course, it was more of the same. Fabella, the nurse would soon enter and great her with a…“Did Madam sleep well?”
“Quite, yes”… Her voice was quivering. Hardly the youthful voice she had during her projections out of the body.So, there she was again, in that old people house, and no way out of this mis…
“What?!” she made the nurse busy cleaning her instruments repeat —to which she was far too pleased to comply.
“Yes, Madam, your son phoned this morning and told he would come for you…”Her son? That was most unexpected.
What did the rabbit said already? Help would come from the most unexpected corners… Well, she had almost forgotten that this corner still existed!
“Did he say something else?”
“Oh, I’m not really allowed to tell, M’am…”
“But of course, you can’t really resist (little goose)” simpered the old wincing lady in a whisper to herself.
Fabella was indeed continuing, unstoppable “… but he seems to consider it’s too expensive to have you here, and would love to have you home with him”Well, of course, you can’t really expect him to be so generous for no reason Balbina was thinking… But anything would probably be better than this old fools’ home. Even her son’s home.
Besides, it was located outside Caracas, near the mountains… And if the funny rabbit’s directions were correct, it was very, very close from where her hosts (provided they existed of course) were to re-emerge.
She’d never imagined that falling into the abyss of sweet madness would be so exciting.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Upon hearing Malvina’s thoughts, Arona smiled to herself.
If only she knew the truth!
( If I put big spaces in-between, it will make it look as though I have written more, decided Tina rather cleverly, still feeling a bit creatively uninspired.)
Tempted though she was, Arona knew she must not give anything away. It was easier to stay in character if she did not allow herself to remember too often, at least until this cave mission was complete. Occasionally she allowed herself the luxury of remembering, yet to do so was to feel a yearning for home.
It was a pity about the outfit of course, the mouldy cloak…
( hmmm was it mouldy though or just a bit on the musty side? )
… which the Oddlings had decided she would wear for much of this assignment was not her favourite look. Even though she had managed eventually to lose it in the darkness of the cave, her current clothes were now almost in tatters. Arona sighed wistfully, remembering the beautiful silks, chiffons and organzas some of her previous assignments.
Moments later she brightened again thinking of Vincentius and her other friends.
There were certainly compensations, she decided philosophically.
Arona was a little concerned about the meddling of Malvina and the others, although of course she realised they were doing it with the best of intentions to fulfill their own purposes. Arona understood all this, and sometimes regretted she could not tell them who she really was. The powerful thought shields she had been trained in by the Oddlings meant that her disguise had not so far been penetrated.
Yet she hated to deceive.
Not to worry. For now she must just focus on the completion of her own mission here.
She called to Buckberry softly in her thoughts and felt a little thrill of excitement when she heard his response. She knew she would have need of the little dragon for the task which lay ahead.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
“Sanso didn’t really have a plan at that point, so he just started walking, walking along the cave tunnels, trusting that he would find another portal/cave entrance soon to another adventure.
Such was his trust and superb state of allowing,that no sooner had he thought of finding a portal and a new adventure, as he rounded the very next corner, a blaze of sunshine streamed into the cave and a gust of hot desert wind.”
Becky had to admit there were some gems in amongst all these bloopers.
“Such was his trust and superb state of allowing, that no sooner had he thought of finding a portal and a new adventure, as he rounded the very next corner….”
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
The corridors were unusually long and Malvina was thinking of urging Leormn back to the cave, but she pulled herself together and began to sing a well known song of her friends’ world.
Mandrake was trying desperately to relax, but apparently Yikesy wasn’t seeing it that way. Vincentius was so patient that it wasn’t human… well he wasn’t human after all, and Mandrake was beginning to doubt the baby could be human too, his dark rocky face notwithstanding.
After all he had done to amuse him, the baby’s responses were quite disappointing. His subtle puns, his witticisms and his elaborate jokes all overlooked… And worse, that devilish baby dared pull his tail! Mandrake couldn’t help a disgraceful meow before he ran away from the scoundrel.
Vincentius had told him the baby was a bit young, but the cat was suspecting a particularly mischievous tendency.The baby stopped crying and shouting. That’s when Mandrake realized someone was coming.
Strange song really, he had never heard that language before… maybe it was just jibberish. He sprang on his feet and sidestepped skillfully another attempt of the little one to catch his tail. It was the occasion he was waiting for. Focused on her 100th kilometer, Malvina hadn’t notice she was arrived. Vincentius was attending to the child’s need and she had just the time to notice the cat who had just snaked under her petticoat.
— Mandrake, be careful! I almost walked on your tail…
— Meow! (that one was quite elegant and he was proud of it) Well, he said ironically, I was trained by the boy…
She laughed at the idea of Mandrake tormented by Yikesy.
— He’s Yike a cyclone, not resting until complete exhaustion.
The trace of bitterness in his tone surprised him, though he began to relax under her smile. That was a long time since he hadn’t purred like that… he really liked her presence and energy, and it seemed to influence the kid also.— Are you going to make him sleep? he asked eagerly.
— Oh no, I’ve merely soothed your energy and the baby is responding quite readily to the newborn calmness of the room.
— That was rude, he said as if offended, but he was grateful for it. Vincentius, my dear fellow companion in this godforsaken place, he called to divert attention from him. Look at who’s here.
The semi-god turn quickly his head and bowed it slightly before returning to his main preoccupation.
— He’s a bit rude too. He had barely welcomed you…
— Well he’s quite aware I’m not here for him or the baby.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Inside the cave, the presence of Leormn, though not completely gone, had diminished strongly. Most of the creatures inside the cave were thriving on his presence and his continuous reshaping of the corridors or the chambers. His presence was fading out gradually, and some of the more sensitive creatures were beginning to feel a discomfort, a kind of emptiness or a sensation of cold.
Malvina was not alarmed yet, it was a good thing he had allowed himself that little escapade. In a subtle way, he was reconciling some aspects of himself that he had been unaware of yet, and it was also a surprise to Malvina that the gates would reopen in that particular time frame, to the long lost sister of the Duane. Her awareness of what her dragon was doing was dim, and it had been so since the door had shut after the passage of Arona. This young girl had more than one trick up her mouldy cloak, and though she was unaware of most of them, she had an innate sense of using them wittingly.
Malvina smiled at the thought that she was quite similar to the girl when she was young… a long time ago.
But for now, she had other processes to set in motion. She focused on herself and adjusted her energy to match the signature of her friends Georges and Salome. It didn’t took long. Their presence was quite strong. As they were busy at the moment, she decided to go for a walk and meet them on her way.
Georges and Salome were in the pool chamber that Leormn had kindly created for them inside the cave. It was continuously provided in hot water by a spring located on the ceiling and several families of glukenitch had furnished the place with the perfect amount of light…
Georges was following her progression from a ledge made of a rock similar to granite. He’d always been fascinated by her way of expressing her grace and technical mastery in any domain. When they had met, she couldn’t swim… and she wouldn’t. It’d been years later, when she had got rid of her wariness of water that she had considered the idea.
Now she was as comfortable inside and outside water, as well as in many different environments.Being continuously connected, their energy field mingled in such an intimate way, he could easily turn his attention on her physical sensations; all the tiniest movements of the water upon her skin and also all of the adjustments she was making to her body inside and outside to improve the efficiency of her movements.
He dived off his observation point to play with her.
Alerted by his movement, she went deeper into the pool. He knew that she hadn’t modified her body to the point of incorporating gills, because it was usually difficult for her to get rid of them afterward. She had a soft spot for apnea, though and she was quite able of staying under water for lengthy amount of time.Still focused on his swimming, he began to redirect certain aspects of his body consciousness. Some were unnecessary for his purpose, so he got rid of them; and he needed to give some other qualities to his skin. It took him a few seconds to shape-shift and he focused on his new physical senses to indicate him where she was.
When she realized what Georges was doing, she resisted the impulse to go to the surface.
What is he up to? she thought. When he’s in the process of shape-shifting his attention is so oriented inside that I can’t usually get any impression about his new shape, but…A flash of light illuminated the water around him, and the rhythm of the blinking cells of his new skin was creating a time related pattern with an hypnotic effect. Salome was feeling drowsy and she had to maintain her attention on herself or she’d better get back to the surface soon. If she wanted to play with him now, she would have to change form too.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
The island had never felt as populated as these past hours. Veranassesee didn’t know really which way to turn, really.
“Gather your wits, V” she told herself.
Obviously, it was a bit difficult, she had a terrible time to concentrate. The past few hours felt like they were stretching on forever in time, for no reason at all?
Take that mmm… wanton memory of the night with Agent Gabriele ; it was still fresh on her mind, and yet, she could hardly tell whether Gabriele was still around in his bungalow, or whether he had left… Feelings of guilt on her part perhaps. Well, it had taken her no less than forty pages… what was she saying? It had taken her no less than forty minutes to come back to him and fall with blissful abandon in his hairy manly arms, and that could as well have been happening two, three months ago for all matter and purpose.
Perhaps that was the work of evil aliens tampering with her mind and memories. Hardly an excuse, she had been trained for far worse occurrences. She had to list her priorities.
Gabriele.
Well, her mission of course. What were you thinking? Now that plan B seemed to have failed miserably, Operation Spider seemed likely to be a total fiasco.
She had apparently lost the item in a purple blood trail, and there was that fishy Jarvis she had to take care of too.
But somehow, if she could get that item back, perhaps she could redeem herself. Or else, dreary Fukitupi and Mahiliki would be waiting for her. Hardly a consolation.Of course, as if to add to the total disarray of her plans and desire to have things neatly organized, the Higloshama gang (that’s how she liked to call the three atomic divas — Mavis, Sharon and Gloria) had once again disappeared from their pods, probably to gaze at the moon in-between a few cyclones… Well, in any case, they would find a way to get back. If pigeons do, why not them?
As for the other patients, the door was closed, and they probably were asleep. Oh, and in any case, ugly-faced as they were, they probably couldn’t get far without triggering a trail of fear howling. She had to admit, she was sourer than usual. Anyway… down the list of problems.
Ah, the doctor of course. Well, he could go to hell, but that would be doing her too big a favour.
The sound of the plane coming to the island drew her out of her calculations. As she was adjusting her holster to greet the untimely airborne visitors, she sent a brief mental note as a leitmotiv to herself so that she wouldn’t forget “find the bee-man, Jarvis, Jarvis, Jarvis…”
And she did right.
She almost lost her composure when she recognized Mahiliki on the plane.In reply to: Rafaela’s Random Ramblings
Q: Okay. What happens to things we create, like with
characters? Are they merely thought-forms, being extensions of
ourselves? Or do they … CAN they move on and become more?ELIAS: This is dependent upon your choices and how you are
manipulating energy.Now; in this, let us view what you in physical focus term to be
artistic expressions, in the area of musical composition and of
painting expressions. These are two obvious examples within your
physical creations that you may view certain qualities of the
expressions.Now; in this, some expressions, within either musical compositions
or expressions of illustrations or paintings, may appear to be
merely an expression of the individual and hold the energy signature
of that individual, but they appear or seem to not extend any
farther, so to speak; this is figuratively speaking.In other terms, you may encounter other types of musical
compositions or illustrated or painted compositions, and they appear
quite differently. They appear not merely to hold the energy
signature of the individual that has created them, but they also
seem to hold an energy of their own, as if they have been created
into an entity of their own.Now; the reason that you connect with this recognition of these
types of expressions is that the composition does hold the energy
signature of the individual that has created it, but what it also
may hold is an aspect of that individual focus which has been
allowed to be projected outwardly and has been allowed to continue
independently of the focus.This is a similar action to fragmentation, but in very physical,
figurative terms, a much, much smaller scale.This would be likened to any individual, any focus, any essence
projecting an aspect of itself into any other element within its
physical creation – a creature, a plant, a rock. It matters not. You
hold the ability within essence to be projecting an aspect of
essence or of a particular focus into any of these elements to be
experiencing the creations of that element of your reality, such as
a creature or any vegetation, an ocean, a mountain, a rock. It
matters not.In similar manner, you may project an aspect of yourself into one of
your creations or all of your creations or several of your
creations, and in this, not merely you shall recognize that this
creation appears to take on, so to speak, a life of its own, in your
terms, but other individuals shall recognize this quality also, for
you have allowed yourself to project an aspect of yourself into your
physical creation, therefore breathing into it its own
manifestation, allowing it to be continuing within its own element,
so to speak, within its own right, in a manner of speaking. Are you
understanding?Therefore, this be your choice of how you shall be creating
within your creativity and what you shall project within it. Appear
it not strange to you that certain individuals may be deemed as
great masters and they shall be revered for their creations and
their creations shall be enduring throughout your linear physical
time, and other individuals may be creating and their expressions of
creativity do not hold this quality? This is the reason…”In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Hector suddenly felt outside of his body and became only a spectator of his own life.
It was like he was a master in karate (whatever that was) and he took care of Finnley in the library in no time.He realized Finnley had a real breast, and quite generous… A surge of adrenaline overflowed his mind and all he remembered after that was the feeling of the carpet on his naked knees and the generous forms of Finnleys in his hands.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Finnley was momentarily non-plussed. Sir Hector had seen through his disguise almost immediately. Finnley had assumed that Sir Coon’s notorious reputation as a rampant ladies man, unable to resist anything in a skirt and stockings, would ensure that he would follow Finessa (aka Finnley) into the library “toot sweet”.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
As soon as Finnley was out of sight of the potting shed, he ran like the wind towards the servants quarters below stairs. There wasn’t a moment to lose. Hector Coon would be arriving soon at Pilston and Plan 57 was about to be launched. Quickly Finnley unbuttoned his butlers jacket, dropped his sober grey trousers and inched himself into the pink tutu. Now all he had to do was lure the unsuspecting Sir Coon into the library….
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Lady Theresa Eaglestone, know as T’Eggy to her friends, waited in the potting shed at Pilston Manor (which was how the locals pronounced Pillaughpiffleston).
“There” said Becky with a grim smile “Much easier. As if I would remember how to spell that!” Not for the first time, Becky wondered if it might be a good deal easier to write her own Reality Play and forget all this collaborative nonsense. It was hard enough to remember her own story lines, never mind trying to keep track of all the other bizarre additions as well. “Now who the devil is Hector Coon?” Thankfully this Pillaughpiffleston thread was a new one, and Becky had a fairly free rein with it: nothing was yet decided regarding the location and time frame, so if she was quick about it, and made her entry before the others, the ball was in her court.
T’Eggy (Becky continued to write) shivered in the cool breeze that was blowing into the draughty old potting shed. She turned the the carved watermelon rind over and over in her hands, puzzling over what possible significance it may have. Surely it was a clue, or at the very least a symbol of some aspect of inner reality, but what? And what did Hector know that she didn’t know?
