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  • #1162
    ÉricÉric
    Keymaster

      Rneyl ba na Bpgbore zbeavat. Gurer vf gur cebzvfr bs urng va gur fxl ohg sbe abj rirelguvat vf pbby naq fgvyy. Fur bcraf gur onpx qbbe bs gur pbggntr naq naq fvgf qbja pnershyyl ba gur jbbqra fgrc. Ure obql uhegf sebz gur avtug.

      V xvyy guvatf, fur guvaxf, fheirlvat gur qel oebja cynagf va gur fznyy tneqra fur unq gevrq gb perngr.

      Fur jbaqref vs gurer vf fbzrguvat gung jnagf gb pbzr gb yvsr vafvqr bs ure, gura uvqrf sebz gur gubhtug. Abg orpnhfr fur qbrf abg jnag vg, ohg orpnhfr fur vf nsenvq. Fur qbrf abg xabj ubj gb oevat guvf guvat gb yvsr. Gur fueviryyrq cynagf orne funec grfgvzbal gb ure snvyher…

      [ encoded in ROT13 ]

      “What is that?” she asks. “It doesn’t come from The Book, does it?”
      “Well, our best team of psychic archaeologists just got it retrieved from purported old discarded bits in the Crypt.”
      “of…? You mean… apocryphal part of The Book? Are you serious?”
      “Quite possible, you see. Do you know what’s the ancient meaning behind that word ‘apocryphal’?”
      “You tell me.”
      ‘those having been hidden away’… But the intricacy of this reality makes it possible for us, in the future of The Book, to re-insert it directly into the past.”
      “So they’re no longer ‘apocryphal’…”
      “You could look them up actually, and perhaps you’ll find even the part where they’re speaking about us finding it even…”

      :fleuron:

      — Aaaaalbert! You’re not ferreting again in my old discarded files, are you?
      — Err… No, of course not Tina.

      Al quickly changed the view on the cyputer and added with a hint of malice in his voice “You don’t have anything to hide from me anyway, isn’t it?”
      “Don’t be silly Al, and you’d better prepare yourself. We’ll be late for the big Hallowe’en party at the Father Chase Memorial Garden. Becky’s supposed to make an apparition at the party, remember.”
      “Becky? You mean… The Becky?”
      “Yeah… You’re so absent-minded sometimes sweetie, good thing you got me, Sumafi as you are. Yes, that old twaddle-speaking silly exotic Becky, the one and unique!”

      #1159

      “You tempestuous fool” Becky cried and slapped Gayesh soundly across the face. “Don’t give me those unspoken looks!”

      Gayesh sighed. “Ah, the infinite pleasure I had in mind is naught but an elusive dream.”

      Elizabeth read the last two lines she’d been working on to her publisher, Godfrey Pig-Littleton.

      Godfrey snorted. “Elizabeth, really! You jest, I hope.”

      “Well, I was just trying to fit each of the four themes into one chapter, they all seemed to fit together so easily” Elizabeth replied. “Why not? Tempestuous, Elusive Dreams, Unspoken Looks, and Pleasure”

      “You seemed to have fit them all into two sentences, never mind a chapter. And your characters sound like characters in a play.”

      “Well they are characters in a play, Godfrey” replied Elizabeth.

      “Ham actors, that’s what I meant. Anyway, Liz” Pig-Littleton said with a slightly mischievous grin, “What if Gayesh doesn’t want his face slapped by Becky?”

      “What do you mean?”

      “What if Becky doesn’t want to slap Gayesh?”

      “Well, she will if I write it into the play, surely!” Elizabeth started to frown. She knew that once she invented her characters that they continued to exist in a reality of their own, being free to create their own realities in whatever probable dimension they found themselves in, but she had never really stopped to think about the ramifications of her continuing to write incidents into their lives.

      “Maybe Becky has moved on from where you left her last time you wrote about her, in a completely different direction” Godfrey continued “And maybe she doesn’t want to play along with your theme word game. I mean really, is it fair to make her? Maybe she was having more fun doing whatever it was she was doing while you weren’t even thinking about what she should do. Quite rude really to interrupt her just so that you could do your word theme games. Bit of a cheek, I’d say.”

      “Oh Godfrey, that’s easily explained” Elizabeth had remembered Probabilities, which was always a handy excuse in continuity disputes. “Another probable character will do what I write for them to do, there are probably hundreds of probable characters now, all going in different directions.”

      “Is that wise? Really Elizabeth, that sounds outrageously irresponsible. Hundreds of probable characters running amok, and you have absolutely no idea what they’re all getting up to.”

      “Well they’re not my responsibility Godfrey, for heavens sake!”

      “Well if they’re not your responsibility, then who’s responsible for them?”

      “Nobody is responsible for them!”

      “Well that sounds like a recipe for chaos if you ask me” Godfrey said with a sniff. “You’ve unleashed hundreds of probable Becky’s into reality, not to mention Leo’s and Bea’s….”

      “And Pig-Littleton’s” Elizabeth interjected under her breath.

      “… and Sanso’s and Dory’s” Godfrey, who hadn’t heard Elizabeth, continued to reel off the characters names. “I mean how big do you think reality is? The rate you’re filling it up with probable characters there’ll be no space left!”

      Elizabeth started to laugh. “Oh Godfrey, you’re a case. Ahahah! They don’t take up any space at all! Anyway, Godfrey” Elizabeth turned back to her notepad. “Listen to the latest chapter and tell me what you think:

      “You tempestuous fool” Becky cried and slapped Gayesh soundly across the face. “Don’t give me those unspoken looks!”

      Gayesh sighed. “Ah, the infinite pleasure I had in mind is naught but an elusive dream.”

      Godfrey Pig-Littleton was impressed. “Elizabeth, how perfectly you incorporated the four themes into one brilliantly short chapter”

      Elizabeth closed her notebook with a satisfied smile and yawned. Let them all do whatever the bloody hell they all want to, I’m off to bed. Plenty of probable characters available in the morning, waiting in the wings.

      #2029

      In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

      TracyTracy
      Participant

        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….)

        #1155

        Marvin Scrozzezi was thinking he should really start to find a more suitable title for the movie…

        Teri, one of the actresses he had in mind for the much desired role of Finnley, —in fact the actress, that he had almost wrote the part having her in mind— had refused to audition because of the script’s working title with that undignified ‘R—’ word (a hint to the reader, it’s not what you think)…

        He was thinking… French people had romantic and colourful ways of expressing the same thing… sweeping the chimney, leaking the leek… Argh… forget it…
        He wasn’t sure that “T’Eggy Finds a Big Butternut Squash” would be better either.

        He really sucked at finding titles.

        #1150

        Dory was often reminding herself (and anyone within hearing or blogging distance in the process) of one of her favourite catch-phrases: what you are looking for is probably right under your nose.
        It seemed of particular relevance these days, Yurick was noticing, for a variety of reasons.

        First, his glasses needed some dusting… He’d have to finish that monologue later then.

        :fleuron:

        What was he about then? Yes. The tillandsias near the window. Last week-end, they’d been to a crystal store with Yann, and mildly interested by crystals, Yurick had been wondering loudly at the heaps of strange plants in the middle of the paraphernalia of rocks, shells and starfishes. The store owner had proceeded to explain those were aerial plants, known for gathering the elements of their sustenance out of the air.
        The curiosity would probably have ended with those quick answers, had the guy not not given them on an impulse two little specimens just when they were about to go with Yann’s newly acquired amethysts.
        :raw-crystal:

        Cute. New plants to interact with. Yurick had to say he preferred plants to rocks. Yann for his part had found them funny names. “Sha” for the witchy hairy one, and “Glo” for the pineapple-looking one. Why not…

        The tilland… Well, “Sha” and “Glo” (you had to give credit to Yann for granting the reader a good respite from long unpleasant names) had been there in the bathroom for a few days, and only now had Yurick found some interest in investigating more about them.
        The capacity they had to live apparently without any strings attached was very appealing to him, and it was like a symbol of focusing on one’s own vitality, and finding the means to live out of that elusive “new energy”; of not feeding off something outside of self.

        Now, he was finding even more interesting facts; a picture that Yann had taken of a blooming plant recently was of the same genus of plants, and it reminded Yurick of plants which had fascinated him in a botanical garden, that were also from this species.
        Interestingly, he found out that the plants were named after a Finnish botanist (Elias Tillandz )… He couldn’t help but notice the similarities with another focus of his: Elias Lönnrot.

        The string of clues suddenly filling up the previously empty corridors of his mind were sparkling a renewed interest for focus hunting.

        #1146

        “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?”

        #1140
        TracyTracy
        Participant

          “Well, what ARE you going to do about the door”, Tina asked Becky.

          “Hell if I know, Tina! Have you got any ideas?”

          Tina shook her head. “Maybe Al or Sam will come up with something. Just leave the thread hanging for months, why don’t you, that’s what you usually do.”

          Becky laughed. “Al keeps reminding me about it for some reason, you know what he’s like.”

          “Well, here’s an idea: Let the characters decide for themselves what happens next. Don’t plan it, just watch it, and report back, you know what I mean?” Tina suggested.

          “Hey there’s an idea! Good thinking, Batwoman!” Becky said, hugging Tina. Then she grinned. “Isn’t that what’s been happening all along?”

          #1139

          “Blimey, Leo, that reminds me about The Door” remarked Bea, who had got to the part about the door in the potting shed in T’Eggy Gets A Good Rogering.

          “I don’t know how you can read that trash, Bea, really I don’t” said Leonora, with a sniff.

          “Never mind that, what about The Door? WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO ABOUT THE DOOR?”

          #1135

          — “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.

          #1326

          In reply to: Pictures Pool

          F LoveF Love
          Participant

            Lovely image. It reminds me of the carved waka I saw in my dream.

            #1130
            TracyTracy
            Participant

              “What a shame we didn’t get the 999th comment on the 9th of the 9th month”, Becky remarked to nobody in particular. “Still, never mind, at least I got the 1000th.”

              #1128

              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.

              #1125

              “Pffftt” said Bea. “Lost the bloody connection again.” She turned on the TV instead. She had been researching on the internet the three names that she had woken up mumbling ~ Gabor, Sindy and Swinde ~ and had just found something promising about interdimensional federations when the line went dead. Actually, the three names and the woman behind the desk in her dream had reminded her a bit of Oversoul 7.

              “Honestly, this bloody country! It’s like the dark ages” she muttered under her breath.

              Bea flicked through the news channels: sports on one, that boring election on another, more hurricanes on another channel……Bea paused her surfing when she saw the watermelon on a documentary channel. There was a pile of watermelons, and the narrator was explaining how the chimpanzees were sharing the watermelons with each other.

              Well what a coincidence! Bea thought, that’s a watermelon AND an ape sync. It must be a clue. HHmmm, sharing the watermelons…..

              And just think, if the line hadn’t gone dead at that very moment, that precise moment, I wouldn’t have turned on the TV, and I wouldn’t have seen the apes and the watermelons.

              Bea was momentarily speechless as she contemplated the perfect timing of everything. She was mesmerized and awestruck at the sheer vast intricacy of it all. Whoever is planning and organizing this incredible reality play I find myself in is nothing short of a genius, she thought, and went to wake up Leonora so that she could share the marvellous moment of revelation with her.

              “Oh for god’s sake Bea, you woke me bloody up to tell me that? Bugger off you rude tart” Leo replied crossly when Bea woke her and told her all about the astonishing coincidence. “Things like that are happening all the bloody time, or haven’t you noticed? That’s just Everyday Magic, for Flove’s sake, now piss off and let me get some sleep”

              But Bea had a feeling that this was much more than just Everyday Magic. This felt like something else, something incomprehensibly huge and wonderful. Not that Everyday Magic isn’t incomprehensibly huge and wonderful too, she reminded herself.

              Maybe is WAS “just” Everyday Magic after all….

              #1112

              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.

              #1110

              Elizabeth Tattler giggled to herself as she recalled her escapades of the night before. Why, it was years since she had been out dancing, and let alone in foom! Surprisingly it had been Finnley’s idea. A bit of a dark horse really that Finnley. Apparently she went to the foom parties regularly, on the pretext of dancing, but in reality to save on her laundry costs.

              Oh what a gloorious feeling! The techtonook music blaring, stroobe lights flashing, wet bubbly foom up to her neck. It wasn’t long before she had cast all her inhibitions aside, along with her cloothing, and was mooving and grooving along with the best of them.

              Who said dirty dancing couldn’t be good clean fun?

              Even Finnley’s rather disparaging sideways glances had not been able to diminish her exooberant joy.

              Elizabeth wondered what Lemone’s “Words of Comfort for the Descending” quotation was for that day. His words were always so appropriate it was almost eerie.

              When it’s too elaborate, it’s too weirdo, and when it’s pure delirium, it’s increasingly rubbish

              Well, perhaps the connection was not straight away obvious, but the sheer genius of the man’s mind never failed to render Elizabeth almost speechless with admiration.

              #1090
              Jib
              Participant

                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.

                #1075

                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?

                #1072

                This door is influenced by the energy you irradiate.

                You have to trust your energy in order for it to lead you to the most fulfilling place.

                Irtak drew his hand closer to the rippling surface of the door. Its aspect was so changing that it was like he was seeing all the tiniest elements that composed the matter, whatever it was. Hesitating, he asked Leormn.

                — Are you trying one of your tricks on me? It’s like I’m hypnotized.

                He’s not trying to lure you in… said Jeckle.
                The vibration you are currently feeling is the resonance of your energy with the one filtering through that door. said Heckle. I suspect it comes from another realm…
                But it is close to this one, Jeckle added. His muzzle quivered with excitement. I feel a friendly energy filtering from the other side.

                The waves of curiosity emitted by his friends were compelling, and Leormn could feel it. He himself was very interested by what he could feel was some kind of counterpart of himself. He was familiar with the energy but it was somewhat different from his own.

                Our strong desire is maintaining the door open. We can go safely through it and return in no time… he suggested in a soft persuasive tone.

                Arona, who was feeling a bit forgotten, grunted and added a tad dubious :
                — I’m not sure we should do it. We should tell the others… Where are they by the way?

                Apparently, the dragons and the boy were more fascinated by what was leaking out of her drawing. She’d been a bit surprised that one of her creations… if one could call the few brushstrokes a creation… that it could produce such an odd reaction. She couldn’t help but notice that the two words were anagrams.

                Leormn looked at her with a renewed interest.

                I’m feeling you are connected to that other realm, dear Arona. We all are in a way, but it’s like your lineage came from that… gate. Would you dare find out about your origin?

                She looked at him dubiously. His gaze was so intense that one moment…

                — Are you serious? she asked.

                He grinned… Who knows… if you don’t go you may never find out ;)) and I’m sure the others can take care of themselves when we are gone.

                Saying that he jumped on the other side like he was acting on a whim.

                The twins looked at each other and followed him… and Irtak was next…
                What was she to do?
                It was almost as if the door was staring at her. Challenging her… and she didn’t really like to be alone in these dark corridors.
                She jumped in and felt completely stretched out for what seemed a few seconds. She almost lost sense of who she was when an image started to form in her mind.

                It expanded until she was surrounded by a warm sensation of well being and lightness. She was completely safe in this place.
                A sudden woosh and a sensation of cold. She fell on the floor, her members suddenly failing her. The light was completely different and she couldn’t hear anything. Panic began to overwhelm her and she realized she couldn’t emit any sound either.

                As suddenly as it was gone, her sense of hearing reappeared.

                Who was shouting like that?

                Arona… Arona!

                The directedness in the tone was enough to make her recover her balance. She stopped shouting and began to notice her other senses… nothing particular at first, but she had the weird impression that it was different. Looking around her, she saw that the dragons were sniffing around like puppies and Irtak was following them like one of them.

                — Where are we? she asked Leormn.
                The sound of her voice was lower-pitched than usual, and Leormn started to laugh at her look of dismay.

                Hahaha! I don’t know yet… but we have all the time to discover.

                — Can’t we come back to the cave now? I don’t feel comfortable here… look at the sand, it’s purple… maybe it’s some kind of bacteria or something, maybe it’s contagious…

                He gave her one of those irritating wink. She was about to retort bluntly when she realized there was no way back.
                The door had disappeared.

                #1065

                The smooke of her pipe was creating interesting shapes flooting away from her.
                Elizabeth had the weird impression that her story was taking an uncontrollable turn.
                She woold have written a torrid sex scene with Phoebe and the yoong Russian on the submarine, but it was as if Finnley’s eyes were constantly reminding her of her own nymphoomaniac behavior. She had to let it unexpressed except in her imagination.

                Looking at the last curls of smooke, it was as if the pook-marked face of Pavel was taking life before her eyes. Thanks to her new croop, her feelings were far far away… She let the smooked face decomposed in a gracious gray whale.

                She giggled thinking of Finnley’s disapproval… maybe she’ll write that scene after all.
                She took a sheet of paper and a pen, but soon realized the words were not foorming as expected. The thud prooduced by the pen rolling on the floor was amusing too.

                Ooh!

                The thud prooduced by her body rolling on the floor was more disturbing… and the last thing she saw before she lost consciousness was Finnley’s disapproving look… maybe she had written that scene after all…

                A smile on her face she began to snoore soundly.

                #1063
                Jib
                Participant

                  The creaking sound of the door reminded her of a young lampürnok during the mating season on the Duane. Loads of lamprunki (plural for lampürnok) near Mount Elok’ram in her little village.

                  The pock-marked face of Pavel appeared at the door.

                  — Pheeeebe! I am sooo glaad we meet again.

                  He entered and sat on what was supposed to be a bed.

                  — I can’t say I’m glad, Pavel.

                  She snorted.

                  — Last time I saw you, you were running away with one of my possessions. And by the Elder gods! Couldn’t you do something about your monstrous face with all that I taught you? Well, Georges was always better than you could be… I wonder where he is currently…

                  She had said that more to herself than to get any answer from him. He didn’t depart from his smile and his apparently joyous mood.

                  — Well, at least I saved you from a cerrrrtain death. And I know how grateful you arrre inside yourrrrself.

                  That horrid accent of his. It had always made her shudder. But she had to cope with it… for now. She needed to know where she was and why he seemed so sure he would find her there at that very moment. What was he looking for, and how was the Baron involved in all this.

                  — You know that I never liked small-talk. Why don’t you tell me what you want and stop pretending to be what you can’t be? All you can do is work for someone else. You’re too stupid and too coward to take any initiative. You’re too numb to use your imagination…

                  She didn’t like the quavering quality of her voice. She had to be dead tired that she was loosing her temper like that.
                  She cowered back in her chair as he started to move closer, his face suddenly twisted in anger. It was obvious he wouldn’t touch her, he still feared her, she could see it in his eyes… but he also knew that she was quite powerless at the moment. She’d almost drowned in that mass of water, it had changed her in a way she couldn’t fathom yet, and she could feel a small ball of anguish deep inside. She thought for a moment he would beat her. Though he managed to compose his fake joyful expression again.

                  — Listen Pheeeebee, I’m not the impulsive lad you knew. And though I’m not as good as the Dandy I can still impress you, I’m sure of it. But we’re not here to speak about parlor tricks or measure our prowess.

                  She couldn’t help but notice that he had lost his accent.

                  — The Baron… yes I work for him now… another old friend of yours… I wonder how old you are

                  As she was frowning he continued.

                  — Nonetheless, he needs your help in Hawaii.

                  A dim light in her mind. So he was after the skulls too. She had to be more cautious about what she could blurt out, especially in her condition.

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