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October 30, 2007 at 1:07 pm #1556
In reply to: Synchronicity
A couple of weeks ago at Rachel’s at Salitre I met a Polish man called Marco (marco polo LOL ). Well, yesterday at Salitre someone was telling me a bit about Marco. He was a salior, and had spent some time in Madagascar. He acquired a lemur which became his good friend, and he continued his travels by boat with the lemur, until eventually he met a lady he wanted to marry in Poland and she said ‘Either the lemur or me’.
Marco sold the lemur to a zoo in Poland, for a phenomenal sum of money, so the story goes, because apparently lemurs don’t travel well and need to sail slowly to the new destination in order to acclimatize…so I was told
Marco divorced the lady and said that, in retrospect, he was sorry he didn’t choose the lemur.
October 29, 2007 at 3:49 pm #410In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
On Mount Elok’ram, the old abbot Hrih Chokyam Lin’potshee was gardening.
Despite his old age, and his being at the head of the Monastery, Hrih Chokyam was always doing his hour of gardening with great application and talent, as was asked to everyone, from the youngest to the oldest monks studying here.
The Monastery was a place of healing and teaching, dedicated to Margilonia, the Elder Goddess thought to have created the Earths. As a matter of fact, gardening was the simplest —yet most effective— way to fully appreciate the grandness and the interconnectedness of the whole of creation.Hrih Chokyam remembered when he was a little child in the vast fertile plateaus in the Eastern part of Dam Adbor, bordering the high mountains. He had always loved the mountains, better than the plains, or the towns where the wars and plots were fomented endlessly. So he was wandering many times in the mountains, to collect herbs and also just for the fun and exhilaration of climbing higher and higher, and seeing the world as a small thing that could be placed into his hands.
His parents had wanted him to become a farmer, but some wealthy neighbours had thought he was showing signs of being able to do much better, and even proposed to have him pursue a career in the administration of Dam Adbor’s capital.
Young Hrih had considered the proposition for some time, and one day, went deep into the mountains to make his decision.
There he’d got this powerful connection with an enveloping warm manifestation of Margilonia, who prompted him to go higher than anyone had ever been on the top of the mountains, were a natural point of great potential magical energy was. Here, she had conveyed to him, he would have a monastery built, a perfectly clear channel for this yet untaped magical energy.Ninety nine years ago that was.
Hrih had been higher than any human had ever been, in the search of this point, knowing he would feel it resonate with him. The mountains, he had learned were not as empty as humans had thought, and there were many other kinds of sentient beings living here, far from the wars below.
Interestingly, assisted by these magical sentient creatures and Margilonia’s energies, building the structure had been easy. He had never thought harnessing magic would be that easy, perhaps just because the traveling magicians coming at times in the village to do some healing or just funfair exhibitions were making that very difficult, and requiring lots of training.The truth was, magic was everywhere, only people had become blind to it, or just lazy to use it. But old Hrih, even if his eyes were not as sharp as they used to be, could see it clear as day. Magic was in everything. Especially in one’s own very existence.
That was the first of the things people coming to learn in the monastery had to understand. Deceptively simple, yet the most difficult lesson for many of them. He had to admit, he had struggled quite a bit with it too, during the endless wandering into the vast mountains. But there had always been a root to eat, or some fresh mushrooms or eggs apparently left here just for him… He laughed now, thinking of it.Hrih’s life had been so fulfilling. He knew he was weak now, and would not see the springing season, and he was thinking he had to choose someone to take care of the monastery. Few people went to stay here, for as they had learned and applied what was to learn, their own passion was coming back to them, and they would not need to stay any longer.
But a few days ago, a young one had come, announced to old Hrih by a singing rosy finch.
As usual, all was provided when things were ready for it.
Hrih had no doubt that the hesitant young man would be the next one to hold the title of Lin’potshee, or “Precious Elder”.October 28, 2007 at 9:07 pm #405In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
The mummy opened her eyes.
She had that uncomfortable feeling… hunger that’s it… she was very hungry.
She wondered a moment how to open the sarcophagus and just imagined it open.
She went out slowly… regaining slowly her bodily sensations.
October 27, 2007 at 4:41 pm #401In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
The Yellow Princess Chapter Book — Part I
The singing birds awoke her. She was feeling numb for a few days and was wondering what was happening to her. Princess Atiara, often called the Yellow Princess was 20, a very important age among her people. She was the heir of Landgurdy, the richest of the 7 remaining Warring Kingdoms. Her father, the Yellow King Namiarad Tschãõ, had organised a birthday party for her. Inviting all the warring clans of Landgurdy and some of their allies among the other Warring Kingdoms.
Though she couldn’t calm that waruki, or bad feeling… something was going to happen… and it was not something pleasant.
October 27, 2007 at 2:05 pm #400In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Even with the help of the buntifluën, which translated the foreign expressions between the men of the Seas and him, young Tomkin had some difficulty to explain some concepts to the men.
When the three boats had landed on the warm shores of Golfindely, Tomkin had been a little anxious about the ominous looking men, especially the giant one, with the big ugly baby face who seemed to be in command.
But apparently, Tomkin had found a faithful friend in the black and white myna, and the ugly baby-faced giant had been interested by his unusual talent of being able to understand and communicate with them.I had been two weeks now that the men had arranged a settlement for themselves on these friendly shores, and Tomkin had been quickly adopted by the whole crew.
He soon made friend with Jahiz, Austor and even the wild man in shackles —who had told his name unwillingly in energy, that the buntifluën had helped to translate. Tomkin was finding that the wild man, Cpt. Razkÿ, had been a greatly interesting adventurer and had known many places of the lands from where the men came. In fact, he reminded him of Captain Bone.
The most difficult to deal with was the chief cook Renouane, who was complaining about the lack of some kind of unknown vegetable to do the meals. Jahiz had comforted Tomkin saying they were all fed up with “cabbage” anyway.The villagers around had become slowly aware of the presence of the foreigners on their lands, but they were relatively accustomed to seeing strange people, and upon seeing that these ones were friendly with Tomkin, they returned to their Scotch bonnets harvests, without much more of an afterthought.
Tomkin had helped them to learn basic words of their language, words of greeting (“wallahu”), of thanks (“alami”) etc.
But the ugly baby-faced giant (who had said he was “Badul”) was interested in many other things.
And the concept Tomkin was now struggling with, to clearly explain it to Badul, was that of the traveling portals.Badul had somehow intuited that the strange shift in the environment they had met in the middle of the Rift, was something due to Unseen action. And when he had heard Tomkin speak about these methods for traveling easily, he had been interested in understanding more of them.
Until now, it was a frustrating experience, as the young boy only knew such and such, probably told to him by some others, and not having actually experienced one himself.
But the information was good to learn.Bringing back this technology to his land would probably be more interesting than some decorative glowing egg, he was thinking…
October 27, 2007 at 12:57 pm #1846In reply to: Araili’s Historical and Geographical Musings
The legend of The Weaving Princess
Once upon a time, in the Warring Kingdom of Landgurdy, lived the Yellow Princess Atiara. She was living with her father, the Yellow King of Landgurdy in the Subtle Palace of Aram Ardun, the capital.
The day of Her 20 th birthday was a very special day. As for any normal citizen of the Warring Kindgom, it was the day She fully became an adult. And furthermore, it was the day of Her wedding with the man to whom she was betrothed the day of her 12 th birthday, Prince Shomar At Gurna from the War Clan Gurna Drom.
The Yellow King had organized a sumptuous banquet in the Palace, and although the people of Landgurdy was not invited in the Palace, many banquets had been set all around the country. Only the War Clanners of Landgurdy were to be admitted in Her presence in this most special day.
At the very moment of the blessing by the Priest of Tatasi, the slaughter had already been perpetrated. The treacherous War Clanner Namad Gurdin had made an agreement with the Warring Kingdom of Cromash Tur. One of them had been replaced by the Assassin Varad Romash Karad Din, Master of this infamous Guild. Cromash Tur had sworn that very day would be the end of the Landgurdy. And it was. Many had tried to unfold the mystery of the sudden death of all the War Clanners and the Nobles present at that moment. The fact is that they were all found dead by the servants who were intrigued by the silence following the blessing… No wound, no trace of poison. The death of all these people remains a mystery.
Though, two were missing. The Assassin, and the Yellow Princess.
Cromash Tur’s army invaded the Landgurdy shortly after that… No resistance encountered, no more War Clanners to assure the safety of the land.
Though Cromash Tur’s Warlord always denied having captured the Yellow Princess, she was supposed held captive in an unknown shadowy place of the Marshes of Doom.
The Death Guards were keeping an eye on her, and every cloth, every dish, every book that was given to her was meticulously checked. Nothing was to bear the slightest trace of yellow. According to the legend, her family was famous with their use of this magic color, one of their most powerful talent was the control of the weather pattern, and the King of Cromash Tur feared strongly she would use her power to destroy his Kingdom if She could see a yellow dot.
The Marshes of Doom were so grey and shadowy, she could never see any trace of yellow there.
(to be continued)
October 27, 2007 at 12:50 pm #1845In reply to: Araili’s Historical and Geographical Musings
Set of Maps
Political map of the Warring Kingdoms
- Erpet Mesh (green)
- Ata Meliu (yellow)
- Cromash Tur (red)
- Dam Adbor (purple)
- Portal Network map
blahblah
October 27, 2007 at 11:48 am #396In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
…… as for himself, Al was not displeased that he had followed the good-hearted advice of sweet Tina about his hair loss………
As Becky reviewed the script of the Reality Drama Play she was reminded with a slight pang of guilt that she had meant to apologize to ‘sweet Tina’ (Becky spluttered her coffee a bit) for being perhaps a bit rude to her about her offer of a hair replacement aid. At the time, Becky had been astonished that Tina hadn’t realized that the baldness was deliberate… deliberate, and very attractive and stylish. The bald patch that Tina had noticed was simply Becky’s incomplete experiments with manifesting the baldness ‘mentally’ as opposed to physically with a razor.
Becky had completed the Bald Experiment via the physical means of a razor so that she would be looking her best when Sean arrived.
October 27, 2007 at 11:32 am #395In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Sanso breathed a sigh of relief to find himself once again on his own. He’d found the flighty and changable Arona hard work, if truth be told, and was rather offended that she’d marched off with the baby Yikesy without even so much as a backwards glance at him. Sanso was a bit sad to see Yikesey leaving, (or Zacquer as he chose to think of him) but he knew he’d meet him again…somewhere, someplace, sometime…..
He had to admit he was glad to see the back of that horrid cat, at any rate.
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.
October 27, 2007 at 8:57 am #393In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
ARONA MEETS THE NANNY
Dreamily Arona wandered away from the cave, gently holding the sleeping Yikesy close to her heart. Mandrake the cat followed, elegantly attempting to convey the impression he was there by mere chance, and by some stroke of fortune happened to be heading in the same direction.
Arona had no clear idea where she was going, or what her intentions were even. Still this was nothing new for Arona, who was a bit of an aimless wanderer really herself at heart. She pretended she was looking for magic, but really, she wasn’t so sure anymore what she was looking for.
Wooha!
Arona was momentarily rendered speechless by a vison up ahead. The most beautiful creature she had ever seen sat no more than 5 dragon-lengths up ahead.
.
Mandrake, she eventually whispered when she had regained her composure, What is this miracle ahead? Is this some maiden’s dream? A heavenly creature come to earth perhaps?A miracle sent by God to save you? suggested Mandrake
His near naked body a masterpiece of bronzed skin pulled taut over rippling muscles.
Steady on Arona, said Mandrake
But you know I am no hapless fool Mandrake, to swoon over a handsome stranger.
No, indeed. And might I enquire why for art we art speaking so oddly? asked Mandrake
Buggered if I know, answered Arona
Despite the bravado she managed to display at times, Arona was very shy, and would never have had the confidence to approach such a godlike creature. However at that moment Yikesy started to cry loudly. The god looked up from his silent reverie and smiled.
Oh a baby, he said in a deep melodic voice. I love babies. He came bounding athletically over and gazed down at Yikesy. My, that is an endearingly ugly baby.
This is Arona, stuttered Arona, I mean I am Arona, and this is Yikesy, and this is .. Arona looked blankly at Mandrake
Mandrake looked unhelpfully back at her, with a rather sarcastic little smile on his face.
I am delighted to meet you. Vincentius at your service. May I hold Arona for a few moments?
Oh I am sure that could be arranged, snorted Mandrake.
Arona glared at Mandrake and decided the time had come to pull herself together. I am so sorry for the misunderstanding, she said charmingly to Vincentius. The baby’s name is Yikesy. And certainly you may hold him for a moment.
Vincentius held Yikesy in his strong arms as though he had been cradling little babies all his life.
Look this is probably a silly question but you aren’t after a nanny by any chance? Oh no of course you aren’t, said Vincentius, apologetically, seeing the amazed expression on Arona’s face. I am so sorry, just wishful thinking on my part. Please forget I said anything and forgive me for my impudence.
Well actually, said Arona, frantically attempting to remain calm, I really have no idea how to look after this baby and I did have a bit of an idea a nanny might be quite useful.
Well this is a fortuitous meeting indeed then!
But I can’t afford to pay you, she said sadly, unconsciously fiddling with her hair and fluttering her long thick eyelashes.
Oh don’t worry about that small detail. I am sure we can come to some sort of mutually beneficial arrangement, and Vincentius winked at her.
Arona drew herself up to her full height, firmly took Yikesy back and said; I will have you know if you are going to wink at me this can’t possibly work. I have no idea what a wink means. You will have to speak clearly if you have something to say to me.
OH bugger bugger bugger! thought Arona. What is it with me and winking. Now I have blown it. BUGGER.
But Vincentius just laughed good naturedly, and musically too of course. Perhaps we will just play it by ear then shall we? I am delighted to be your new Nanny :yahoo_big_hug:.
October 26, 2007 at 8:18 pm #391In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Tina was so happy Becky had sorted her hair problems so creatively. She wondered if she should tell her she had missed a bit at the back of her head. Yes of course she must.
She also wondered if she should get changed before she met the others. Al had said he liked her new dress and then winked at her. What did that mean? Winks always made her a bit uneasy. They were so ambiguous.
Oh that’s right, she could configure it anyway she chose she remembered. So she spent a few happy minutes remembering how fantastic she looked, like a supermodel actually.
She would give the gift voucher to Sam for his birthday now Becky didn’t need it, she decided. No matter his birthday was months ago, she was always late with birthday gifts and preferred to do things on impluse. Not that Sam had any hair issues that she knew of, she just thought he would enjoy meeting Hari.
She thought how great life was. Really it was all just about having fun. She felt so much easier with the play they were writing too, no longer concerned she could not follow the plots, plots? what a funny word to use, of the others, content just to follow her own unique path.
October 26, 2007 at 7:46 pm #1552In reply to: Synchronicity
okay serious synchs now as you guys have clearly lost the plot. Plot? hmmmm, silly me, I thought there was a plot.
Last night I had a LOVELY dream I gave birth to twins, a boy and a girl and we were so happy and I was so proud of myself.
Yesterday, across the road in the park all these cars gathered, funny racing cars, old ones, for some big racing event or other. I was wandering around with a friend, who is more into cars than me, and a bit bored so started thinking of the story. I looked up and on a little yellow car the number plate said “Flynn Hi”.
Of course this must be Tracy I thought because she has said several times now she likes the name Finn, and then she always adds “and the name Flynn”. Then I looked and saw another number plate and it was ‘TTTTTT”
October 26, 2007 at 6:41 pm #1383In reply to: Join me for a gourd of langoat milk……
she’s rolling on the floor following the floor.. err the flow
October 26, 2007 at 6:20 pm #1380In reply to: Join me for a gourd of langoat milk……
“Fuck it” said Tracy, collapsing in a tangled heap. “It’s Friday” and she proceeded to roll a fuck-off big splifferoony. “From now on I’m going to just roll with the flow”
October 26, 2007 at 4:28 pm #381In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Sam kissed Tina… a French kiss as usual. She had always love his way of kissing and as with the shift this kind mark of affection wasn’t much considered as belonging to bonded couples, Sam who loved kissing was really having a lot of fun.
He didn’t do that with everybody though, it had to come harmoniously, and with Tina it was always sparklingly funnily attractive.
She told him she loved the little pooh on his neck, and as he was explaining her it was a just burnt phoenix, the bird just rebirthed himself again in an atomic blow… the effects on Sam’s skin was a bit weird, flowing shadows and shades of greys and greens making him appear like a
for a few seconds.
Sean arrived in a bang at that moment, and Sam kissed him on the forehead… no mischievous kiss with him, his energy was directed subtly to another member of the T’mmm.
Adding his own playful energy to this Fairy Nuffy event, he went to talk with Tina and Al about Tina’s new nails cut.
October 26, 2007 at 4:12 pm #380In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
When Al met the others, he was rather nonplussed by the profusion of capillar effects. Hairs colours were now a bit out of fashion, but he had to admit that Sam’s colours were radiant… Well, had it been for himself, he would have preferred something a tad bluer.
When Becky had made her appearance, he was really impressed. He found Becky had made a “bald” move that was suiting her dark complexion to a T.
(Becky was indeed sporting her African ancestry, coming from her mother Sabine Baina N’Diaye, with as much pride as her expensive boots).As for himself, Al was not displeased that he had followed the good-hearted advice of sweet Tina about his hair loss. But, as he had discovered along with Hari Amgic, it all boiled down to the fact that was he was finding the tonsure rather elegantly distinguished, and giving him the looks of a wise old monk.
That had made Tina laugh of course, as she was finding him looking more like a monkeythan anything else. Well, fine then, a Capuchin and that’ll make us agree on something at least, he had retorted a bit vexed.
The truth was that now, with the help of Hari, he was growing hair so fast that he had to shave them in the morning, and they would be knee-long and thick in the evening… But that was fun.
He was laughing now; he couldn’t have the monk look, but at least he had the sadhu look.He said to Tina with a mischievous wink that he really loved her hot pink dress with the little white kitty cats patterns on it. Perfect Goldilocks look.
October 25, 2007 at 11:38 am #371In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Dublin, November 2057
Hallowe’en had always been associated with fond memories with Sean. After all, back in 2033, it was the inauguration date of the first T.R.A.P. entertainment park, where he and Becky had been falling madly in love with each other.
There had been lots of things for Sean to put aside, especially considering how quick it all had been for them, especially considering the death of his wife, and this too short period of grieving by all standards, but well, bugger off the others.
He had not wanted to give any explanation, and Becky and him were sure of what they did.
And all had changed that year, even Becky had suddenly wished for lots of children. And they’ve had got children…2035, the triplets: Oliver, Léan and Illana
2037 the quintuplets: Flora, Finn, Frank, Fanny and Fergie
and finally, in 2038, quadruplets: Vivian, Eve, Kevin and MavieHe was thinking of his father, and how they had almost ceased to communicate. The children now, were almost all grown-ups and this would be the first Christmas they would have together with Becky without the children. Sean was feeling a bit nostalgic.
Perhaps he should phone his father, the upright Lord Hilarion Wrick…October 24, 2007 at 6:16 pm #370In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
— The legend of Mævel — (Part III)
When the blue fox had disappeared, deep into the woods, Mævel was left wondering if all of that had only been a dream. Perhaps it was just a dream, and something that would make her parents raise their shoulders in dismay.
Especially since she had lost their gift carelessly they would say, the little pearl white ribbon…She picked up the clothes that were left hanging to dry up in the wind, and came back to the little house.
Of course, her father Jorg noticed that she was not wearing the ribbon, but he was not much of a question asker, and things were or were not, and analyzing them was unnecessary for him. But of course, Ilga noticed it too, and she felt sad for poor Jorg who had endured so many sacrifices to buy the little ribbon that Mævel was no longer wearing. She wanted an explanation! Was it no longer to Mævel’s tastes, had Mævel lost it?
So Mævel, who could not lie to anybody, told them her encounter with Blohmrik, the cursed god in the woods, in the shape of a wounded blue fox… and at each of her words, was seeing their faces more and more disconcerted.
Their poor girl, who was already so different, had completely lost it,… ribbon and all that was left of common sense in her.So they locked her up in the bedroom, that she was now occupying alone, as all of her brothers and sisters had left. Just to save her from herself, and see if that would help her gain some more solid sense of reality.
Mævel understood her parents, but she was deeply contrite that they could not understand what she had lived. Mævel was still doubting the reality of her meeting the blue fox, so she asked for some sign from the Gods before going to sleep, to see clearly.
That night, Mævel dreamt of a dark-haired young man with a white diadem1 around his head, dressed in a cerulean blue tunic and wearing a sword. He was enshrouded in a warm light and as she took the hand he was extending, they were carried away by a springing scented wind into a meadow of multicoloured flowers, some of which she had not even known could exist. She had felt at home.
When she woke up, in the middle of the night, Mævel was transfixed by the beautiful soothing dream. She could not remember much more, but he had told her something. That there was deep magic in her, and it would help her find her true home, but that she would have to gain back her true name from the Elder God who had took it from her.She quickly took her decision. She knew she had to search for the blue fox in the forest. But how could she escape the locked bedroom? She was starting to feel desperate again, but she remembered that there was some magic in her, and how she had felt it deeply true in her dream.
As she was focusing on the warm expanding feeling of her dream, an old rusty key materialized in her hand.—
1 diadem: [ ˈdī-ə-ˌdem (dəm) ] from Greek diadēma, from diadein to bind around; akin to Sanskrit dāman rope — was originally a white ribbon, ending in a knot and two strips that were placed often on the shoulders, that surrounded the head of the king to denote his authority.
October 24, 2007 at 9:14 am #367In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Becky had been wondering whether the baby Tina had introduced into the reality drama play was a boy or a girl, and had been tempted to look, so to speak, but had felt a reluctance. The thought that the baby was a hermaphrodite had crossed her mind, but she dismissed it, and decided to think about it later…go with the flow, see how things turned out…..
October 23, 2007 at 10:38 pm #1311In reply to: Yuki’s Livrary
October 23 rd
“I may express to you that each of these chapters basically, so to speak, are not necessarily identified by one particular action, or that they are accomplishing one particular direction, in a manner of speaking. But that they all incorporate actions and movements that create a contribution to your awareness in this focus.
“They all lend, in a manner of speaking, energy through experiences to you within THIS focus that benefits your movement in allowing yourselves to widen your awareness and insert this shift in consciousness into your actual objective reality.
“As I have stated, this shift in consciousness, in a manner of speaking, is an enormous undertaking. It is a Source Event. And as you are aware, Source Events are so immense within consciousness that they may not be entirely inserted into your physical dimension. They are, in your terms physically speaking, larger than your dimension incorporates the capacity to express.
“Therefore, in recognizing this immensity of this movement and this creation within your reality, one focus, one time framework would be overwhelmed in attempting to create this type of movement singularly, and independent of other energy and other focuses that may be creating experiences that shall offer you as essence the type of opening within this physical experience that shall allow for this insertion of this shift into your actual objective reality.” [Elias, March 02, 2001]
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