Search Results for 'melodious'

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  • #6206
    TracyTracy
    Participant

    “I’m not ‘aving this treatment, Mavis, I’ve booked meself in for the spirit chew all mender tations session instead. No need to loook at me like that, our Mavis, I aint going all new agey on yer, just thought I’d give it a try and see if it relaxes me a bit.”

    “Relaxes yer? Yer int done a stroke of work in years, whatcher on about?” Sha said, nudging Mavis in the ribs and cackling.

    “It’s not all about the body, y’ know!” Glor replied, feeling the futility of trying to make them understand the importance of it to her, or the significance in the wider picture.

    “I’m listening,” a melodious voice whispered behind her.  Andrew Anderson smiled and looked deep into her squinting eyes as she turned to face him (the sun was going down behind him and it was very hard to see, much to her chagrin).

    “Tell me more, Glor, what’s the score, Glor, I want to know more…”

    Gloria, who knees had momentarily turned to jelly, reeled backwards at this surprising change in the conversation, and lost her balance due to her temporarily affected knees.  Instinctively she reached out and grabbed Mr Anderson’s arm, and managed to avoid falling to the ground.

    She retracted her arm slowly as an increasingly baffled look spread across her face.

    Why did his arm feel so peculiar? It felt like a shop mannequin, unyielding, different somehow.  Creepy somehow. Glor mumbled, “Sure, later,” and quickly caught up with her friends.

    “Hey, You’ll never guess what, wait til I tell yer..” Glor started to tell them about Mr Anderson and then stopped. Would it be futile? Would they understand what she was trying to say?

    “I’m listening,” a melodious voice whispered in her ear.

    “Not bloody you again! You stalking me, or what?”  Visibly rattled, Gloria rushed over to her friends, wondering why every time that weirdo whispered in her ear, she had somehow fallen back and had to catch up again.

    She’d have to inform her friends of the danger, but would they listen? They were falling for him and wouldn’t be easily discouraged.  They’d be lured to the yacht and not want to escape. The fools! What could she do?

    “I’m listening,” the melodious voice whispered.

    #6137

    In reply to: Tart Wreck Repackage

    TracyTracy
    Participant

    “Shut up, Tara!” hissed Star, “And keep him singing while I think. This is a monumental clue!”

    “But I can’t stand bloody opera singing,” Tara whispered back, “It’ll drive me mad.  When they said he had a melodious voice I was expecting something more modern than this ancient caterwauling.”

    “Do you want to solve this case or not?”

    “Oh alright then,” Tara said grudgingly. “But your thinking better be good!”  She clapped loudly and whistled. “More! More!” she shouted, stamping her feet. The assorted middle aged ladies joined in the applause.

    Star leaned over and whispered in Tara’s ear, “Do you remember that client I had at Madame Limonella’s, that nice old man with a penchant for seeing me dressed up as a 13th century Italian peasant?”

    “Yeah, you had to listen to opera with him, poor thing, but he did tip well.”

    “Well, he told me a lot about opera. I thought it was a waste of time knowing all that useless old stuff, but listen: this song what he’s singing now, he’s singing this on purpose. It’s a clue, you see, to Uncle Basil and why Vince wants to find him.”

    “Go on,” whispered Tara.

    “There’s a lot of money involved, and a will that needs to be changed. If Uncle Basil dies while he’s still in the clutches of that cult, then Vince will lose his chance of inheriting Basil’s money.”

    “Wasn’t that obvious from the start?”

    “Well yes, but we got very cleverly sidetracked with all these middle aged ladies and that wardrobe!  This is where the mule comes in.”

    “What mule?”

    “Shh! Keep your voice down! It’s not the same kind of mule as in the opera, these middle aged ladies are trafficking mules!”

    “Oh well that would make sense, they’d be perfect. Nobody suspects middle aged ladies.  But what are they trafficking, and why are they all here?”

    “They’re here to keep us from finding out the truth with all these silly sidetracks and distractions.  And we’ve stupidly let ourselves be led astray from the real case.”

    “What’s the real case, then?”

    “We need to find Uncle Basil so that Vince can change his will. It wasn’t Vince that was in a coma, as that hatchet faced old butler told us. It was Basil.”

    “How do you know that for sure?” asked Tara.

    “I don’t know for sure, but this is the theory. Once we have a theory, we can prove it.  Now, about that wardrobe. We mustn’t let them take it away. No matter what story they come up with, that wardrobe stays where it is, in our office.”

    “But why? It’s taking up space and it doesn’t go with the clean modern style.  And people keep getting locked inside it, it’s a death trap.”

    “That’s what they want you to think! That it’s just another ghastly old wardrobe!  But it’s how they smuggle the stuff!”

    “What stuff are they smuggling? Drugs?  That doesn’t explain what it’s doing in our office, though.”

    “Well, I had an interesting intuition about that. You know that modified carrot story they tried to palm us off with? Well I reckon it’s vaccines.  They had to come up with a way to vaccinate the anti vaxxers, so they made this batch of vaccines hidden in hallucinogenic carrots.  They’re touting the carrots as a new age spiritual vibration enhancing wake up drug, and the anti vaxxers will flock to it in droves.”

    “Surely if they’re so worried about the ingredients in vaccines, they won’t just take any old illegal drug off the street?”

    Star laughed loudly, quickly putting her hand over her mouth to silence the guffaw.  Thankfully Vince had reached a powerful crescendo and nobody heard her.

    Tara smiled ruefully. “Yeah, I guess that was a silly thing to say.  But now I’m confused.  Whose side are we on? Surely the carrot vaccine is a good idea?  Are we trying to stop them or what?  And what is Vince up to? Falsifying a will?” Tara frowned, puzzled. “Whose side are we on?” she repeated.

    “We’re on the side of the client who pays us, Tara,” Star reminded her.

    “But what if the client is morally bankrupt? What if it goes against our guidelines?”

    “Guidelines don’t come into it when you’re financially bankrupt!” Star snapped.  “Hey, where has everyone gone?”

    “They said they had to pick up a wardrobe,” said the waitress. “Shall I bring you the bill?  They all left without paying, they said you were treating them.”

    “Pay the bill, Tara!” screamed Star, knocking over her chair as she flew out of the door. “And then make haste to the office and help me stop them!”

    #6125

    In reply to: Tart Wreck Repackage

    TracyTracy
    Participant

    Embarrassed at the uncouth behaviour of her staff, or as they preferred to be called, colleagues, Star slipped out of the bar quietly. Nobody noticed her leaving: all eyes were on the mysterious stranger with the melodious voice. She quickly made her way down the street, and ducked into a side street out of sight of the bar entrance.

    Swaying, she caught hold of a lamp post and tried to steady herself.  She sank to her knees, overcome with dizziness.  The last thing she saw before she passed out was a peculiar close up view of Aprils ankles, and a disembodied voice from far above saying something indecipherable but strangely compelling.

    #6124

    In reply to: Tart Wreck Repackage

    FloveFlove
    Participant

    “I’ve been wondering …” Star tightened her lips. “No … perhaps not.”

    “What? Spit it out,” said Rosamund.

    “It’s nothing … just that … I interpreted my remote view as New Zealand but perhaps it wasn’t New Zealand per se, and by that I mean perhaps it was a symbolic representation, a clue if you will, and i was too quick to rush in and give it meaning.”

    Rosamund screwed up her face. “You lost me at Purse Eh.”

    “Me too, dear!” said the middle aged lady. “Does she always go on like this?”

    “Worse usually. Yabba yabba yabba them two. How about I swop you dental floss for some lippy?”

    “Don’t yo mine those rudy poohs,” said Tara, who was starting to sound a little slurred. “What’d ya see, Star, eh?” Star’s remote viewing skills never failed to amaze her, and, to be honest, she’d been surprised when Star made such a horrendous hash of this latest attempt. Once she had sobered up she might feel compelled to apologise for her rude outburst. She snorted into her drink. Not bloody likely!

    Before Star could answer, there was an excited scream from the waitress.

    “Look, who’s here!” she shouted. “Look everybody! It’s only Vincentius come to join us!!”

    “Why, thank you. What a welcome!” said Vincentius in a deep melodious voice. He sauntered casually over to the bar, seemingly oblivious to the effect he was having.

    “Oh. My. God,” said Star.

    Rosamund who was using the lipstick to write her number on the burly bouncer’s bicep gave him a shove. “Get lost, Loser!” she hissed.

    “Over here, Vincentush! Whover yo are!” shouted Tara before falling off her bar stool.

    #6109

    In reply to: Tart Wreck Repackage

    TracyTracy
    Participant

    Star stopped in her tracks for a moment, staring vacantly at April.  When she snapped out of it, she beamed at her long lost relative and begged her to continue singing in her sweetly melodious voice.

    While April was noisily distracted, Star cleared her throat meaningfully and nudged Tara. “Something has occurred to me,” she whispered in Tara’s ear.  “April doesn’t have a husband, never married. She was a professional nanny or something…oh now I remember!  She worked at the ..,” but she was loudly interrupted by Rosamund asking what they were whispering about and hadn’t they been rude enough already for one day.

    April stopped singing so Tara and Star quickly starting clapping and making complimentary remarks.

    Dimpling girlishly, April thanked them very much and asked, did they know who she used to sing with? Vince French, the most…

    VINCE FRENCH?” the others shouted in unison.

    #5997

    In reply to: Story Bored

    TracyTracy
    Participant

    Board 6, Story 1

    When Lizette came round from her lapse into unconsciousness in the medical bay, she found herself in a strangely alien earthly setting. Prune was looking for her hamsters and Finnley-8 was at a loss as to how to proceed in the unfamiliar environment.

    Aubrey Stripling Bryson was beginning to wish he’d never unblocked the entrance to the tunnels. Two long years and he still hadn’t found Evelyn. Or the book.

    Vincentius, in a deeply melodious voice,  reminds Arona that Yikesy is still wearing an invisibility cloak and will be difficult to find. Unperturbed, Mandrake cleans the glukenitch poo from his paws.

    #5790

    In reply to: Tart Wreck Repackage

    FloveFlove
    Participant

    Rosamund’s Aunt Joanie is a vegan anti-vaxxer,” said Tara, frowning at the large piece of pizza being shovelled into Rosamund’s mouth.

    “That’s right,” Rosamund nodded enthusiastically. “Anti-vegan vaxxer and she don’t eat nothing with no eyes either. She drives Mum bloody mental going on about how the animals have got souls while Mum’s trying to enjoy a nice baccy fry up. Mum calls her Aunt Moanie.”

    Tara shuddered and turned her attention firmly to the laptop. “This is very strange,” she muttered. “Star, what exactly do we know about Mr Vince French?”

    Star smirked. “Other than his obvious attributes?”

    “Which are?” Tara’s voice was sharp and Star sighed. Tara could be a mardy cow sometimes.

    “You mean the fella with the voice like a bloody angel?” asked Rosamund, spitting an olive onto Tara’s sleeve. Tara swore under her breath as the olive bounced to the floor. Fortunately there was no mark; it was a new blouse and had cost Tara an arm and a leg. Worth the investment, she had reasoned at the time. One must look the part. And clearly, her Moulin Rouge ensemble wasn’t a good look for a Professional Investigator, even with fishnets and a feather boa.

    “He cancelled his appointment but he paid the, quite frankly exorbitant, deposit we asked for,” said Star. “He’s going to email us the rest of the details. Do we need to know more that that?”

    “Well, I’ve been doing a search and there is nothing anywhere online about him, or his world famous melodious voice. I suggest we pay this Mr French a visit.”

    “Oh bloody awesome!” Rosamund leapt to her feet and pizza boxes went flying. “Oops, sorry about that. I’ll clean it soon as we get back.”

    “You’re not coming!” shouted Tara and Star simultaneously.

    #5638

    In reply to: Tart Wreck Repackage

    TracyTracy
    Participant

    “Cartwright and Wrexham Private Investigators, can I help you?”

    “Do you do missing persons?” Vince asked, getting straight to the point.  “Good, well then can I speak to a detective; it’s a very confidential matter.”

    “Speaking!” replied Star, elated to receive a business inquiry, but simultaneously feeling a spasm of irritation at the mans attitude.  “Star Wrexham, what can I do for you, Mr…?”

    “French, Vince French.”  Smoothing his hair and glancing in the wall mirror, Vince added, “You will have heard of me and my world famous melodious voice.”

    Star had not, but replied encouraging, “Oh, I see.  You can be sure of the utmost confidentiality and discretion, Mr French.  Our credentials are unimpeachable.  The missing person is..?”

    “My uncle Basil, he’s gone. He got in with that cult, and now he’s gone. They’ve seduced him with all that mumbo jumbo and hype and parlour tricks, I could see it coming, I tell you, I knew they’d take him.” Vince was becoming emotional. “And now he’s left me.”

    “Well if it’s your uncle, he must be, how old?  So what if he wants to join a cult?” said Star, wondering why he was being so melodramatic.  “What?” she whispered to Tara who was pulling faces and shaking her head. “Oh, right!” she replied, getting the message.

    “Now then Mr French, I’m confident that we can find your uncle. We have some experience with cults and know how they operate.  If you’d like to make an appointment with our secretary to pop in to the office as soon as possible..”

    Star handed the phone to Tara. “Ms Cartwright, if you wouldn’t mind? The gentleman caller would like to make an appointment.”

    “I’m a senior partner, not a secretary!” Tara hissed, taking the phone.  Her anger subsided when she heard his voice. Where had she heard that voice before?

    #4662
    EricEric
    Keymaster

    “I have to say,” Miss Bossy Pants took a dramatic pause for maximum effect “that you all have been incredulously industrious.”

    “Is she insulting us again?” Hilda hissed at Connie.
    “Shht! There’s no tellin’ with her…” Connie replied, as baffled as the other by the impromptu award ceremony.

    “Ahem-hem-hm!” Miss Pants melodiously hummed and cleared her voice making sure she had everyone’s attention, which was quite a challenge, if you’d asked her. Of course, she relished a challenge.
    “As I was saying, you all have been busy, and delivered well…”

    “Aaah, that’s what she meant!” whispered Connie
    “She should have said so, why all the confusing pistache?”
    “You mean panache?”
    “No, although I’d fancy a nice beer and lemonade.”

    Once they had finished their sideways discussion, Miss Bossy had already gone to explain the first award category : “Most Stylistic Synchronistic Article”.

    “It’s going to take a while” Ricardo winked at them, “considering all the articles you’ve produced this week only. But I wouldn’t discard the possibility of Sophie winning one yet.”

    Both Connie and Hilda’s faces turned woebegone.

    #4649
    AvatarJib
    Participant

    Maeve had left only taking with her the wrapping of the package and had been glad to leave Shawn Paul with its content, especially when she had seen what it was.

    The mysterious thing was heavy, brown and looked a tad like a dry turd. It could hold in Shawn Paul’s hand and it seemed shaped to fit in his closed fist, but the young man hesitated to keep it too long because of the way it looked.
    A note from his mother accompanied it. Who else could have sent a parcel this way? he thought, meaning not through the post office and delivered by a decrepit old man.
    So the thing had been put on top of a pile of his latest scribblings, which was on top of his not so latest scribblings. Before putting it there, he almost saw the interest of a clean desktop or table, but it got lost in the immediacy of the moment and the tiredness caused by his recent fever.

    “I’m sure you’re wondering what this marvellous object is.” the note started. Shawn Paul looked at the thing. It looked like a turd more than ever on all that white paper, so he made his yuck face. What he was wondering was rather why did she send me anything? She lives in an apartment on the upper floor. She could have brought it herself.

    “I found it in a car boot sale,” she continued, her sharp and melodious voice chirping in her son’s head while he read the rest. “I met that old man, Patrick, who will deliver it to you. He’s a dear nice fellow never frugal with his words, and he told me it had been given to him by an Inuit shaman. It’s a fossil bone of the inner ear of a whale when they escaped Lemuria. Can you imagine that? Apparently it will help you develop your psychic abilities. You know how I’ve always known you had such a great potential in that area…”

    Shawn Paul snorted and put down the paper. There was no use keeping up reading. His mother and her crazy ideas. He looked at the pile of papers.
    It’ll do for a nice paperweight, he thought.

    But Granola had not lost a crumble of what the mother had told in the rest of the note. She was lurking at the inner bone and she wondered if she could make herself heard if she merged with it.

    #2934
    AvatarJib
    Participant

    Arona, look at that old parchment”, whispered Vincentius with his melodious voice, “I think it can be of help, it looks like a map. I grabbed it when we went out of that portal.”

    #2925
    FloveFlove
    Participant

    Sanso rubbed his sore head.

    “Oh well, just one of the hazards of the job, I suppose.” he said philosophically.

    “Okay, coast is clear,” he whispered into the portal.

    One by one, Arona, Vincentius and Yikesy piled into the small bathroom.

    “Don’t forget me!” hissed Mandrake.

    “You know,” Mandrake continued, snootily, “there are some who will say we should not be here. There will be some who will be tsk tsking for all they are worth.”

    “Positive energy, please Mandrake.” smiled Arona. Mandrake rolled his eyes.

    “It will be fine, just remember: nobody must know who we are or why we are here, and positive intentions at all times.” Sanso was tremendously excited. It was a long time since he had had such an exciting mission.

    “Why are we here, again?” asked Vincentius, in his deep melodious voice.

    #2656

    In reply to: Strings of Nines

    TracyTracy
    Participant

    Sanso had been channeling singers for centuries as he wandered in and out of caves and labyrinths, experimenting with echos and energy deposits. He’d been particulary drawn to the melodious tones of Vincentius of late.

    #2394
    EricEric
    Keymaster

    The poor Peaslanders were utterly disoriented by the blatant lack of sense in the Eighth Dimension. It was such a blessing they had for most of them already lost their head, kept safe by a dear member of the family.

    Once in front of them, the glowing figure uttered ominously:

    “opened everyone eye ball,
    Worserversity nonsense portal deep
    sheila Elizabeth bird gone surprise
    come speak thread
    face cat Godfrey later create”

    And then the figure disappeared in a fit of oink oink’s.

    “I think it’s her shoes that make the strange sucking sounds in the mud” aptly remarked little Pickel.
    “How come you know it was a ‘her’, it could have been a cloud as far as I know…” retorted Autie Toot who never got a chance to get a good look, with her head upside down in her arms.

    “Silence!” ordered Pee Stoll more raucously than he had wished to “We need to concentrate! This riddle may be the clue to the plague of blubbits, can’t you see?!”
    “Well… It’s not that easy, you know” Auntie Looh objected sheepishly, while still struggling with her garments as well as with her head.

    “I think it’s fairly simple” ventured S’illy (whom nobody ever listened to, probably owing to her tender age as well as her melodious voice) “We got to find the Worseversity, they probably have worked on a cure; our contacts there will be a sheila called Elizabeth… and a Godfrey will provide a cat to eat the bird and put us back to our dimension…”

    “Darn riddle!” sweared Pee furiously who hadn’t paid any attention “It’s probably just another bunch of nonsense!”
    “I guess we’ll just go anywhere then!” merrily suggested the Aunts each going in opposite directions while the bird rolled its eyes.

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