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In reply to: Synchronicity
not very good photos off my phone … a little while ago i went to an exhibition. Funny thing I had been been there about 10mins and a thought crossed my mind how i did not have much in common with the artist’s way of thinking. At that moment I suddenly realised that 90% of the exhibition was ceramic skulls and rabbits images. It was quite odd, I am usually so aware of those connections.
Popplewell exhibition rabbits
skulls
elias who?In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
It had been more than a week now that Claude had broken loose from one captivity to fall into another.
Not that this gang of strange shape-shifting magpie beings seemed to consider him a captive, rather an impromptu host that they felt obliged to take care of. But Claude wasn’t duped one moment.His precedent prison on Tikfijikoo had been relatively easy to break out from, thanks to that unasked for gift of preternatural strength he had gained from the experiments he had be subjected to. Actually, had he not almost been driven mad from pain, he would have been on the loose earlier. Thank the Magpies for his recovered sanity…
Security on the island facility wasn’t the highest and most difficult he had been confronted to. They seemed to consider the relative isolation of the island and its deadly sharp coral reef encircling it their main asset in keeping their experiments clear from outside interferences.Claude snapped back from his thoughts and gazed fixedly at a tender green sprout at his feet while humming a nursery rhyme. An effective trick.
He had to be more cautious… He knew they could read his surface thoughts…
Apparently, he could come and go as pleased him, but as he had tried to find his way back to the island facility, he had discovered that the landscape was changing each time he felt close to it. And soon enough, he was finding himself back to the hidden settlement. He knew enough to suspect his affable alien hosts of playing tricks on his mind to keep him in check. Perhaps they were even bending space around their settlement, as far as he knew…
Not intrusive, and yet not a very different treatment from the inhumane experiments. Except he had no mummy bandages this time…Know thy foe so went the adage, and Claude was determined to know enough about his new captors to escape and complete his mission.
From what he was guessing, as they had not killed him, they probably would release him (if he was lucky) as soon as their mission would be completed —a mission which was most probably the same as his own. Snatching the crystal skull he knew was there somewhere. He could sense they were after it too.
He was wondering who had hired them to retrieve the thing. Obviously they were not from the common lot of thieves, most certainly not even from this planet, and anyone who had hired them must have been in dire need of the thing.
He had been told by the Baron that the crystals were storing ancient vast knowledge and that accessing it had been only possible since a few decades, actually since the discovery of coherent beams of light (laser). But even accessed, the information stored remained vastly incomprehensible, and deciphering it could take another millennium without appropriate knowledge of its holographic proprieties.
The Baron had told humanity was like a child being given a box of books on relativity… And even the mad transvestite doctor was only toying with the tip of an immense iceberg.Those Magpies were far more advanced, Claude could see it clearly, and he wondered how he could outdo them, if that was possible. Quite frankly he didn’t know why they had not yet retrieved it. Perhaps they were having trouble locating it too…
That would mean he still had a head start, however short.
A faint barking sound seemed to echo in his head… It was apparently coming from… the gnarled trunk of an old majestic tree… Whispers seemed to come from it too, like a child talking with an adult, and whispers around them…
The tree seemed wide enough for him to enter into the biggest crack of its bark…
Could it be one of their secret entrances and exits? There had to be coordinate points were they could get out of this warped space… What was he risking to try?In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
How restless that dragon is, thought Arona. Always shifting this or that, always talking in his damn riddles. She thought fondly of Buckberry, and how peaceful and content he seemed by comparison.
She was no longer sure where she was. She had gone over it a few times in her mind, but try as she might she could not make sense of Leormn’s cryptic explanations. Or that Malvina either, although at least she is a bit more pleasant about it.
Anyway, wherever it is, it feels a bit grey, she decided matter-of-factedly. And I am missing the others, even that grumpy Mandrake if the truth be told.
She closed her eyes and began to paint colours over the grey. She was not sure what to paint at first, so she just dabbed bright blobs of colour haphazardly onto her mind’s canvas. The colours began to run into each other and form shapes and it it seemed to her they wanted to take on a life of their own. So she let them, and it was not long before she found herself in a meadow of spring flowers.
That’s much better, she thought, taking a deep breath and lying back in the soft green grass.
As she lay there her mind drifted sleepily, butterfly thoughts every now and then resting on some bright petal in her field of flowers.
Just living is not enough, said the butterfly as it danced by her head, one must have sunshine, freedom and a little flower.
Oh! said Arona excitedly, recognising the words from a far away time, You must be the butterfly of the story! The one my grandmother used to tell me when I was a little girl in the Village.
Perhaps I am! danced the butterfly and it whirled and twirled and swirled in the sky.
Arona rolled her eyes in exasperation. Now you sound a bit like that wriggly dragon. A simple yes or no would suffice.
The butterfly landed on her nose. Now listen here you! Don’t go blaming me. I am YOUR imagination!
Oh good point Butterfly, said Arona graciously. She pondered a moment … Well in that case …
And next moment Mandrake, Vincentius and Yikesy were sitting in the meadow with her.
Oh THERE you are Missy, said Mandrake. Might have known you would be lying around in some spring meadow leaving Vincentius and myself to look after your little sprog. Tsk Tsk, he tutted.
hmmm, thought Arona, that’s not quite what I had in mind ..
I would have said it’s exactly what you had in mind, whispered the butterfly, fluttering by her ear and then off again until it disappeared into the field of colours.
Arona turned her attention to Vincentius and Yikesy, sitting a short distance away in the meadow. She noticed how smooth and golden Vincentius’ skin looked in the morning sunlight, and how deep and melodic his voice was as he told Yikesy one of his seemingly endless repertoire of stories. Imagining a gentle hug and a kiss on his sweet, but it had to be said incredibly ugly face, she sent Yikesy into a peaceful sleep.
Oh great idea, smiled Vincentius with a wink. What I had in mind all along really. Perhaps you could also imagine Mandrake chasing a field mouse or something?
In reply to: Synchronicity
SOME OF TODAY’S SYNCHS:
EGGLETON
reading a magazine in cafe, kept seeing the name Elise Eggleton … a journalist, seems to report mainly on appearance medicine type stuff .. (wonder if she knows about Dr B?)
PINK PIXIES/PIXELS AND EASY
Jib mentioned this morning pink pixies .. pixels? Today a woman emailed with a request for an accommodation gift voucher. I have not done gift vouchers before as the whole thing felt a bit complicated to organise … however decided it would be EASY so said YES we do gift vouchers. I looked at the clock on the computer and it was 1:23 just to confirm this easiness. She emailed straight back and said she wanted to go ahead and could i send her one in electronic format? Well I felt a bit stressed by this and not very creative and under time pressure
so looked up gift voucher templates. There were quite a few, one was called PINK PIXELS. After trying all of them out I decided to use this one, and with some modifications it actually looks really good. 
thank you Jib for your help. (not so easy to post gifts 
)PINK AND POOH AND PANDA SYNCHS:
This afternoon i went to visit my friend Katie. This might not seem momentous but the thing is she is one of my closest friends but i have not seen her for about 2 years. She only lives 10minutes drive away. We did not have a falling out or anything, but I just stopped making contact with people and have been quite introverted. Anyway there was no sense of not having seen each other for ages or anything … just the strange thing for me was that her children seemed to have grown so much. The two youngest ones, Emily and William, both were playing with bright pink balloons
and even though it was a hot day Emily had bright pink tights on. William wanted to show me his book. There were two pictures he loved and pointed out for me .. one was of a Panda which he said was the “cutest picture in the book”. The other one he loved he said was “POOH” and he was quite delighted with this. Well yes it was a picture of pooh believe it or not. It was a design of a castle and showed a big “long drop” and a man shovelling pooh at the bottom of it.RAT SYNCHS
A short while ago I googled rats as pets, not because I wanted one, just out of interest. I found it fascinating all the anecdotes about what good pets they are and how intelligent etc etc.
I found it interesting as they are an animal which is commonly hated by many people. Anyway Katie told me that her other daughter, Ella, came rushing home from Kindy School the other day saying she really REALLY wanted a rat as a pet and is quite determined to get one. Katie was not happy about this. I was able to share all my positive rat information with her and now I think Ella will get her rat. 
NUMBER PLATES
On the way home I thought how wonderful all the synchs were, and as I thought this I saw YES 57. For a short while on the way home i followed ERIC 1. I also saw BEEZ. Also HONEY8, which is another variation of the HONEYB one I saw. I do find it interesting all these bee related number plates within such a small area. Related to this, Sir Ed was on the news tonight as the Queen had a memorial service for him today at St Georges Chapel in Windsor Castle. (sir Ed was the original HONEYB synch on the day he died at the age of 88, he was a HONEY BEE keeper as well as mountain climber – this explanation is for Tracy who finds it hard to remember things)555’S
still seeing lots of these, the last two evenings have logged on at 5:55pmMISC:
Mr X bought me some cookies with hunks of ginger in them. Also I bought myself some passionfruit yoghurt. But I don’t think that was a synch really. I think I bought it because I had been talking about them.oh that’s right, the girl buying the pink pixels gift voucher was also named Emily
F
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
I am here to offer you my services in exchange for board and lodging Madame Chesterhope, said Franiel, deciding to tactfully ignore for now her rather odd remark regarding his reality.
Oh please, call me Phoebe. Phoebe smiled kindly at Franiel. Have you come a long way? Well really, I forget my manners. Sit down and I will prepare you a drink and some food. Then you can tell me your story and what has bought you here.
And so it was that just a short while later Franiel found himself ensconsed on the settee sipping hot mulled wine from a huge mug. What strange twists and turns life may take, he mused.
And whether it was the wine that loosened his tongue, or the kindly look in Phoebe’s eyes and the attentive way in which she nodded her old head so wisely, but he found himself telling her the most surprising things, as though she were an old friend he had known and trusted all his life.
Thus it was that it had soon been agreed that Franiel’s proposal would be a mutually beneficial arrangement.
It is as though you are an angel, laughed Phoebe, sent by God to help me, for it was weighing heavily upon me that there is much that needs doing. Dear Lydia who you met on the path, well what would I do without her, but she is not getting any younger, and Derwent …. her voice trailed off.
Well you are the second person to call me an angel, for I met Derwent earlier who also mistook me for an angel, but I am afraid I must disappoint you both, for I am a very ordinary mortal.
Oh I am not the slightest bit disappointed, smiled Phoebe. Here, she said, delving into the top drawer of a huge oak dresser, take these keys. I keep most of the rooms locked, for the place is so big and there is no need for all those rooms. Feel free to have a look around as you will. You will find your room prepared for you on the second floor, third room on the right.
Franiel was surprised and it must have showed on his face.
It is the room I keep ready for visitors. She chuckled. Most of the visitors I have here have no need of a place to sleep mind-you.
These are the others you spoke of earlier? asked Franiel,curious. At that moment though Phoebe’s attention was distracted. She looked towards the window, which was wide open though there was a chill in the late afternoon air.
Ah! there you are my lovely one! she cried, her face lighting up in delight as a large and colorful parrot flew in the window and landed on her shoulder.
The bird squawked and cast a steely gaze on Franiel.
Of course I will introduce you, said Phoebe calmly, Franiel, meet Vincentius.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Elioctyl had been trying in vain for years to attract the attention of the museum cleaning lady, Ella Marie Tindale.
Ella Marie had lived in Alabama all her life, and her parents before her. Some of her ancestors were native to this land, some from the distant shores of Africa. She loved the stories of the old ones, passed down through the generations, stories told at family gatherings and celebrations. Ella Marie had never learned to read, but she remembered all the stories word for word, including her own stories. Ah, her own stories! She kept her own stories to herself, she never forgot the horrified silence when, as a child of five, she had voiced one of her stories at a family gathering. A silence had descended like a pall in the dining room that day.
She shivered at the memory as she dusted the glass case covering the mummy, and Elioctyl, seizing upon the moment as a possible chance to get Ella Marie’s attention, whispered loudly.
Ella! It’s me, you silly goose, it’s me, I mean YOU!
Duster suspended in mid-air, Ella Marie quickly looked around to make sure nobody was watching her. All her life she’d been one step away from the funny-farm; she knew she had to be careful.
Are you speaking to ME? she asked the mummy, incredulously. She’d spoken to trees before, and heard them reply, but never a mummy.
Sheesh! exclaimed the mummy, At LAST! Over 3,000 years I’ve been whispering to you, and finally, you heard me.
Ella Marie looked furtively over her shoulder, and then whispered back: Well, what for? What do you want?
I want you to get me the fuck out of here, that’s what!
Ella Marie clamped her work worn hands over her ears. You mind your language! she admonished the mummy. I don’t wonder I wasn’t listening to you all those years, coming out with language like that! Pfft….
Metaphorically speaking, the mummy raised its eyebrows and sighed.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Quite frankly, Midora didn’t know how and where to look for Badul. She had spent lots of time delving into the labyrinth of chapters that composed the book, at first to no avail.
Only after some familiarization with the narrative had she come to roughly understand that the two books where rewriting the pages —or even, rewiring them— so that each time she started over, it was like a similar yet different story. Most of the alternate versions did occur within the same kind of environment, or the same dimensions as the previous ones, but there were always all kinds of small hints that made her get a small hunch that it was not quite the same story she had read before that was taking place now.
She had even become quite good at tracking down these flimsy moments where she found herself wondering what felt “different”, at odds, or simply not quite at the same place. Like in her dreams, these were precious cues telling her to pay attention. More than simple cues, of course some of them where howling at her face that something required her attention. The additions made by her distant relative Dory, or later on by her step-daughter Becky were compelling cases of such occurrences. Asynchronous apparitions of mummies sometimes reminded her of stories told by one of her father and where more generally speaking of symbolic death and regeneration, but when all of these cues where as many portals the details of which she could lose herself in…Naasir had told her to find Badul. She knew Badul… Like Midora herself, Badul was a facet of the dreaming dragon who was exploring the many facets of itself in an intricate play, and it felt to her that Badul was stuck somewhere in the process and required some attention. In fact, she remembered that in all the versions of the stories that she had read about, Badul’s history was never ended. Each time, he was on his way to explore the new land he had discovered, and somehow, he just never get there.
When she was trying to get to the rest of the story, as much as she would search for it, there were only blank pages.
Perhaps it was for her to write them, like Indy did after she encountered that mummy decades ago, not necessarily to exorcise the experience, but rather to learn more about her connections.What were her own connections? She wondered.
What did happen to Badul on his way to the clandestine traveling portal of Gralm Tur? And why did it matter? Did he found something about the network, and some link to the skulls which have been an obsession for quite some time for some of the major and most intriguing characters of this inter-dimensional sopoohpera?Truth was, Badul felt a bit like an oddball to her. She didn’t know how to get close to him. Apparently, when she had read the early articles from her great-uncle Cuthbert, she had found out that he had connected quite well to the daunting character. As a matter of fact, most of his comments had helped flesh out the character, while most of the other participants in the books had been only remotely observing his deeds. However priceless these clues were, Midora knew by now that they were not absolute, and would rewrite differently if the story was asking for it. And in fact, perhaps her own addition would change whatever his fate would have been.
Midora could feel Badul differently now… a young boy, whom she is babysitting, in another life.
Bastian is baby Badul’s name and he’s a toddler, a toddler exploring an unknown world made of colourful toys.
Midora (her name’s Ada in that focus) likes to work for little Bastian’s family. The woman, his mother, looks a bit odd like Morticia Addams, or like a Cher just out of her bed, but Ada likes her. She’s busy traveling alot, and doesn’t have much time to care for the baby.Midora thinks she has read about his woman somewhere in the books…
Could it be that? Yes,… there is little doubt about it.
It seems like she’s just run into young Carla…In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
When Franiel got to the crossroads the path turned abruptly to the left and plunged sharply down, past a crumbling and long-deserted stone cottage, to a little bridge built across a gently flowing river. Beyond the bridge there was a short ascent westwards through a thickly wooded area and then the way opened out rather suddenly. Such a pleasant and restful scene welcomed Franiel that for a moment he felt he may have entered a dream. The air was fragrant, the grass was sprinkled with daffodils and shaded by great chestnut trees. Confronting Franiel, at the south-west corner of the green, was a massive stone lych-gate. Beyond the lynch gate, and almost hidden by trees Franiel could see the roof of Chesterhope Manor.
In the day of judgment God be merciful to Derwent a sinner ……hehehehe. Well good riddance to God’s judgement! Begone God’s judgement! We’ve cheated the parson, we’ll cheat him again, for why should the vicar have one in ten ? Oh what’s this now then walking through the gate? A stranger! hehehehehe…tis one of God’s angels methinks, perhaps come to strike old Derwent down for his heathen ways and blasphemous tongue. Well does old Derwent even know what an angel looks like? and he chuckled in delight at the very idea of it.
You there! he shouted as Franiel drew close, Are you the angel Gabriel come as a messenger of God’s wrath? Or a wandering stranger come to pass the time of day with me?
Well neither really, said Franiel, although of the two possibilities I favour the second. I have come to have a word with Madame Chesterhope.
Madame Chesterhope! Does she still live here then? He lowered his voice reverently. A real angel that one, better than those biblical ones by a long shot. So you want a word in her ear. You will have to find it first of course.
Should I try the house? asked Franiel politely.
Try the house? Derwent rubbed his bearded chin thoughtfully. I tell you what! Try the magic mushrooms first, and when you’ve tried them, try the patience of Saint Derwent. He gave Franiel a kindly pat on the shoulder. Good on you for trying Lad, anyway. I’ll bid you farewell now and if you do find an ear, best keep it, a spare ear can always come in handy.
In reply to: Synchronicity
Last night the guests asked where Lucknow Crescent was as they had friends to visit. I had heard of it, but being really bad with directions just gave them a map.
Today, walking home from the supermarket I started thinking about synchs. At that moment some workmen in a truck pulled up and asked me if I knew where Lucknow Crescent was.
Thinking about this synch … a couple of things struck me … the name is interesting and also that I did not know where it was.
(just as i wrote that i noticed a monarch butterfly out of the corner of my eye fly in front of the window, the association here for me is a quote from Abraham I like about the meaning of butterfly signs .. or synchs )
As a sort of symbolic thing, i am going to find out were Lucknow Crescent is. As soon as I went to look it up i suddenly remembered where it was.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
The room was chilly and silent when she awoke. The transition between her dream and the reality was like a cold shower on her aching body. It was still the middle of the night, even the guards were noiseless. She managed to bring her body close to the wall with the only window far above her head. Her thin clothes weren’t sufficient to keep the warmth into her flesh and she couldn’t restrain a shiver. How painful this could be after such a vivid dream.
She winced when one of her right thigh muscles decided to contract on its own and wouldn’t let go of the tensions. She tried to relax and breathe as deeply as she could, which made her cough repeatedly and that was even more painful. Still she could think. She was with that girl and her dragon again, Lola she was. Though that time the dragon was sleeping rather deeply. She could not blend her mind with her. The other was well shielded and she couldn’t communicate. Even her mind was a prison that she couldn’t communicate with her dream selfs.
There was that woman again, the Warrior Goddess, but they didn’t fight with her pupil as they usually did. She was more like a channel to another realm. Atiara could barely feel the presence of the others. They were too far in a way that she couldn’t comprehend.
Oh! Now she was remembering… hope.
After what had seemed hours of an exhausting fight with ghosts, the vividness of that dream had faded and she had found herself speaking with a young lad. What was his name? He was showing her different symbols, telling her that she had asked him in a dream once and that his friend Ewrick had now finished them. Yann had then showed her this set of symbols.
She had felt a different kind of power along with the smile of a blue man. Had she asked for this? She couldn’t remember. She had said to Yann that they were beautiful though she hadn’t the slightest idea of what they were. He had laughed and just said that she’ll know soon enough. And there was that guy behind Yann, with his mischievous look and his nine-tailed fox…All she could hope was that she would remember the set. It seemed important. Well important enough that she had forgotten her painful body consciousness for a few moments. The coldness of the stone under her bare feet was bringing her back to her gray reality. The storm was now closer but still not ready to release its power. She was waiting for it.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
The cold wind was blowing upon the marshes. The atmosphere was damp and dark with threatening gray clouds. A storm was approaching and Asiir was dreaming.
Her dreams were so strong that they were triggering many emotions in her rider. Since their bonding seven years ago, their link had grown stronger and Lola wouldn’t think of shutting it down even in those uncomfortable moments. They were one.
Lola was feeling a menace, some undefined threat coming with the storm, as if the storm was just the visible counterpart of what was preparing. In those moments, Lola couldn’t help but think of her family and her village… Her fist grasped tightly the grip of the sword she was holding.
Everyone was killed when she was nine. Her dragon wasn’t fully developed at that time and couldn’t help her save her people. All Asiir could do was shield her from them as she was shielding herself, not even thinking of it.
She sighed deeply, releasing the pressure of the storm and of the dreams. She’d learnt not to hold on the powerful emotional responses but to open herself as a channel of her dragon’s dreams. All she could do was let the energy flow through her. Was it Asiir creating the storm or the storm disturbing Asiir’s dreams? She wasn’t aware of the answer yet, but at times it had bothered her to think that her dragon could cause “bad things” to happen.
A chilly breeze and a surge of electricity. She grinned impishly.
It was the time of her lesson.You’re late master. she thought to the shadowy figure behind her. She was feeling something different that day in the presence. You’re not alone. I can feel a different energy with you today…
The dragon growled in her agitated sleep.
Your emotions are dragon drenched again, Lola. I know you consider it a proof of your connection with your beast, but it may be far more damaging than you think.
Lola had felt a twinge at how Samira had called her friend, she was feeling her emotions rise dangerously to the point which she had learned she could not control herself. She had always wondered if Samira was seriously considering dragons as beasts or if she was teasing her, especially since she had let the connection develop in such a way.
You’re going to have a new teacher…
Lola’s heartbeat accelerated slightly, so slightly, but she could feel her mentor’s smile upon her interrogations. Was she leaving? She’d always dreaded such a moment. She felt the wry expression of Samira.
I’m not going away… you need a training that I can’t give you. You need to learn how to ride properly over your bond and not get consumed by it, and Noraam can teach you that.
A strange impression of connection with the new energy flew in her, making her feel quite uneasy. Such an intimacy was unusual with another human energy. Or was he human?
A sudden surge of energy made her wince. She turned to her mentor and was surprised to only see Samira in her stout armor. She could feel the strength of the other energy but she couldn’t give him a form. She was feeling nudged gently from many directions at the same time and realized that she was afraid of loosing her bond with her friend. Wasn’t she trusting her bond? Another chill, and the rain started falling.
You won’t really need all that Samira taught you during these last 4 years
The inner voice was almost inaudible, but still she could feel it was not a voice and that the communication was going through another pathway. The vegetation of the marshes and few rocks were shifting to an unnatural yellow tint, and the faint glow around her teacher was growing in intensity. Actually, all the objects around her was beginning to glow, the limits of their shapes were collapsing.
Lola was sill feeling the link with Asiir but it was thinning down in such an unfamiliar way.
I’m going to help you remove the veils that Samira helped you put on your consciousness when you first met. But first you need to renew the link with yourself.
She heard a vague sound of steel on the ground… had she lost her sword? She couldn’t feel her body. She couldn’t move as she was used to… but was it still something to move? The face of a man was forming in the energy patterns of the glowing clouds. Was he close or far away? Was he huge or of human size? Was she massive?
A pounding sound in the distance of her inner ear… a familiar call but she was still so far.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Pondering the significance of his dream , Franiel set out again. It was the third morning since he had woken to find the chalice missing, and he was no closer to knowing where he was going. Yet he had taken the advice of the BBL and felt all the better for it in his spirit.
Morning! Franiel called a greeting to an old woman who was passing by, delighted to see signs of life, and wondering if it meant he was near a Village. Might I ask where you are taking that basket of eggs?
A good morning to you young man. Certainly you may ask, I am taking these into the Village Market to sell.
And where might that be, it is not the Village of Chard Dam Jarfon by any strange chance? asked Franiel, thinking nothing would surprise him anymore.
The old woman looked at him in astonishment. The Village of Chard Dam Jarfon! You surely have a very long journey before you if you are heading for the Village of Chard Dam Jarfon. No indeed, I am going to the Village of Chard Dut Jep, an hour or so from here.
Franiel considered this for a moment. And if I keep heading the way I am going, and from whence you have started, where might I be going?
The old woman hesitated and looked at Franiel with an odd expression in her dark eyes.
I am not sure if you want to do that, for this is a very long and lonely way you are heading. Unless you are going to the old Chesterhope mansion, and there’s not many who would do be doing that anymore.
How very interesting, said Franiel, rather intrigued. Is that where you have come from Old Woman?
The old woman gazed searchingly at Franiel for a moment before answering.
Aye it is, I work for Madame Chesterhope. I am the only one left now and it has been like that for many a long year, save for old Derwent of course, him who minds the gardens, but he’s not right in the mind that one and Madame keeps him on out of the kindness of her heart, said the Old Woman, and Franiel sensed some deep sadness in her voice, but in the next breath it was gone and he wondered if it was a trick of his mind.
Why don’t you come to the Village with me? she asked. Are you looking for work? There’s plenty would take on a fine young man such as yourself.
Would your Madame Chesterhope be looking for someone such as myself by any chance? asked Franiel, For I have nowhere in particular I am headed, and I am in need of some way of keeping myself. And as he spoke the words out loud he found himself wondering at them, yet he felt such an odd sense of anticipation inside himself, as though perhaps there was some new adventure to be had after all.
Again the old woman looked at Franiel appraisingly for a long time. Eventually she spoke.
When you get to the crossways turn left and keep heading that way for 2 miles till you see the Chesterhope sign. It’s an up and down path for a ways to get to the mansion from there. When you get there, it would be best to keep in mind all is not as it might seem. I will say no more and bid you farewell, for I have still got a ways to go.
Perhaps I will see you later then! Franiel called after her.
She turned and looked back at him. Perhaps.
In reply to: Synchronicity
MORE ON ANGELS
I have been seeing a large number of “444’s”. I googled the number and found that one association with this number is of angels (there were other meanings as well, for me it is about choosing one which resonates with me, or creating a meaning). Well, i sort of liked that interpretation so now whenever i see 444 i think of “beings of light” and the support of the universe.
Mr X’s friend Kelvin said to him one day recently that Finn would suit driving a “??????” car (some rare and exotic make of car).
AHEM, okay to be technically accurate I made up “rare” and “exotic” … what i mean is I am not sure what car it was, (perhaps I will ask later and google it and hopefully I won’t be too offended), however that doesn’t mean much as I am one of those people who refer to cars by their colour rather than their make or model.
At the movies yesterday my attention was caught by a car in the picture, the numberplate was 444. At that moment MrX whispered to me and told me that was the car Kelvin said I should drive. Well I still have no idea what the car was as I was busy noticing the numberplate, but I thought that was such a cool synch, sort of really reminding me to trust in the support of the Universe.
Also on the way home, while driving home thinking about it i saw the the numberplate ANGILZ.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
— Sorry for the confusion, the voice of Leörmn said, there may have been some traffic jam along the portal’s tunnel… I think we lost track of time somewhat.
— But we’re arrived, aren’t we? asked Arona, still a bit grumpy about the cave moving.
— Mmm, I suppose so. If my calculations are correct, we are. Although…
— What?!
Arona was starting to wonder what could possibly go more mind-boggling than it already was…
Leormn puffed into a small-sized teal-bellied gyucko (a sort a cutie reptipooh) and started to wiggle away…
— Have honey do’s, see you in a while!— Grumpf, always wiggling out this one… grumbled Arona.
And where did they all go now? It seemed like once again, she had been left alone. Good riddance, better enjoy the calm before they come back. Malvina was enjoying this new place where she was in. She had felt that, in other Worlds, some of her other attentions had been moving too. Especially one who was having great funnie in her new housie which was harbouring a portal in a very ancient tree. And for most of these attentions, it was also a time of reunion with dear ones, and reactivation of a new kind of power.
Perhaps the time was now for her too arrived, to reunite with her Sisters.Only thing was that, where she was now at this precise moment, her Sisters were not yet born…
Interestingly, for a reason that only the mind of a century old wise dragon like Leormn knew —if she would trust it not to be a simple stroke of inattention and bad luck as he would try to make it appear— she was undoubtedly right where she had thought to be, a small island in the Eastern coastal area of Lan’Ork in the vicinity of the Marshes of Doom.
Except that it was the Legendary Past…In reply to: Synchronicity
Two funny number plate interactions this morning on my walk .. my mind drifts all over the place when i am walking, I started thinking about the story and the latest entry from Eric on the Ooh dimension. I looked up and noticed a car going past at that moment .. numberplate POOTY
The numberplate thing intrigues me, sometimes they seem so specific to my thoughts and often they seem to reflect interactions happening in the story and with you guys. On my trip to Auckland there were periods I felt this connection strongly, TEENA1, EGG555, numerous 57s, 23’s and 53’s etc …. although again it was the timing and interaction with my thoughts which felt the significant things. Three cafes in a row I was given the number “12”, the fourth I was not given a number but I noticed the lady at the table next to me had the ’12”.
The next numberplate which jumped out at me this morning was ALQ823, this was following POOTY
While I was away I had found myself in a big book barn with sale books. I had just a few moments and decided on impulse it would be good to have a book. I picked up two books at random and skimmed the back covers. One of the books had main characters Gabriel and Maya. I relate to Maya as being another form of the name May and Gabriel of course being the Arch-Agent introduced on Tikijkoo (sp?) Island recently. All the other books seemed to be reduced to $9.99, this one was reduced to $5 (fun), well i thought i could not go far wrong at that price.
some more on this soon … i have to get dinner
In reply to: Synchronicity
this one is a synch because it suddenly popped into my head “big synch” then next second on the news was this story
and i sort of thought about posting it then thought “oh bit stupid don’t need to post every damn thing” .. then i noticed a lady surname Finn wrote the article so i decided i would …. synch or no synch .. pretty cool anyway, biggest building in the world and like a dragon too.
I am noticing that often … thought …. then synch … for example today in cafe i saw man who was in my dream again … i didn’t see him at first and then when I did, and thought “dream” … his friend at that moment said “I had a dream blah blah blah” (the conversation sounded quite weirdo, a bit like i would imagine us sounding if we were talking in a cafe and someone was eavesdropping)
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Inspired by Tina’s last additions to the Reality Play’s taxonomy, Al decided to do some changes into the Reality Play as well.
It was not so much Malvina-centric now, and deserved some more appropriate name.
Of course, they already had the author’s pseudonym: Yurara Fameliki .Let it be that way for the moment. Circle of Eights, Stories by Yurara Fameliki .
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
The glowing light was showing a familiar face…
— So the boy is wavering?
— Yes. He is uncertain of the path… Does seem to have difficulty to trust his calling and take responsibilities being the owner of…
— He’ll do that. We can’t let him run away from it, nor afford the time of little vacationing. Did you secure the item?
— Yes. But you know it is worthless unless willingly handed over by the previous owner, right?
— Certainly. But I feel he’ll soon wish it back.
— I have words of cankerous corruption, endemic to where he was sent.
— Precisely. Glasgow, Scotland, February 25 th 2068, Wrick Fundation
— So Cuthbert has refused?
— Yes. With his sister busy with her first-born, she can’t take on that much responsibility either.
— This is most regrettable. Lord Wrick’s will was perfectly clear though. Should none of the twins accept running his empire, all of its wealth would be used for humanitarian projects of the Fundation. A week before, Orkney Islands
— Cuthbert, you must accept.
— Please, don’t wear yourself out Pope. Your body is weak.Cuthbert’s face was drenched by emotion. Despite his small frame and his scrawny body, Lord Hilarion Wrick’s strong will was still present, as if etched on his face by all the years of reign. He wouldn’t take a “no” for answer, even now he was dying, just as he had never accepted it in his nearly 120 years of existence.
— Cuthbert, listen to me. All this time you and your sister have spent at the Manor, all of the time I spent with you, this was not meant for naught, you know that. I was not some old decrepit rag of an elder waiting for his death cushioned between the laughters of his great-grand children. I noticed how you and your sister handled at an early age what I have been showing to you. The books,… the mummy even. This was only a test. What I had not found in Sean, nor in his son, I found out in you and your sister. Mind you, it took me that long, but it was worth the wait, and I know how to be patient.
— You’re repeating yourself Pope, I know this story. I am very grateful for all that you did, all the knowledge I owe to you, but I can’t accept. It’s just… too much! I just want to spend these moments with you.
— You just cannot whine throughout all of your existence Cuthbert. You chose to be born here, at this moment, in that family. There is no point in refusing what you have placed on your path.
— I’m not whining! It’s just that… I just want a normal life! answered Cuthbert vehemently
— Very well then. The face on the Lord was resolute despite his writhing in pain. You will have to see how much life is nothing meant to be normal. In the meantime, I would appreciate your letting me die alone.In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
So then, said Franiel sitting down beside a small mound of earth, what now?
The top of the mound of earth was smoothed flat, and with a twig Franiel began to form small spiral patterns abstractedly in the earth. He felt no desire to go back to the monastery and face Aum Geog with the news of the loss.
He held the twig high, and then released it to fall to the ground. It fell without sound, landed unharmed on the mound of earth. He closed his eyes and in the dark at the back of his mind, he heard the voice of his grandmother whisper; Spirals make more sense than crosses Franiel my boy, joys more than sorrows.
Spirals make more sense than crosses….
None of it made much sense to Franiel. The feeling of freedom he felt momentarily slipped away. He was left looking at the space where it had been, feeling empty. The task given him by Aum Geog had given him a feeling of purpose, for a short time had allowed him to forget how lost he felt. Yet now the task had been taken from him, and he was in no hurry to retrieve it, he saw it for the illusion it had been.
What would it feel like to want to go somewhere? Or to want to be something, to want to be a monk, to want to be a teacher, to want to be the father of a family? To be able to arrange oneself neatly in a box and say I belong here?
Spirals make more sense than crosses …. day becomes night becomes day, lives come into being, and go out of being … there is always new life coming into being …… around and around
He began to walk along the path, away from where he had already been …. towards something new? He caught sight of a dead blackbird lying in the long grass to the side of the track and knelt down to look at it.
It is quiet and still.
He dug a hole, scraping in the dirt with his fingers and then using a stone to lever the lifeless body into the hole. The bird’s brown eyes are still open. Franiel covered it with dirt, looking deep into it’s eyes, until there is no sign of it, just a mound of earth.
He traced a spiral in the dirt.
Joys more than sorrows…
He sat back on his heels, and keeping his mind empty, he sang to the dead bird.
