Search Results for 'must'

SITTING IN THE sun reading THE magic journal AFTER A walk, THE connection TO elikozoe AND CO WAS full IN MY MIND. I FELL Asleep quickly, must BE THE short NIGHTS ON earth. WOKE UP WITH A ParchED feeling AND felt LIKE A bride cleaning UP AFTER THE WEDDING. I noticed IT seemed LIKE A FASTliving week FOR THE sand aspects OF THE DRAGONS, SO I googled IT TO TRY AND sort IT OUT.

Beattie! called Leonora, who had just returned from an early morning walk. She had an envelope in her hand and was looking at it with a distinctly puzzled expression.

Where did you get that? asked Bea. They had no mailbox, as there were no postmen to deliver to all the outlying cottages and smallholdings; they picked snail mail up from the post office in the village.

Post Office isn’t open yet, where did that letter come from? Let’s have a look, Bea said, reaching her hand out. No stamp! It must have been delivered by hand.

No stamp, Bea, but there’s a postmark! How did it ever get past the postmen with no stamp on it?

This doesn’t make sense. It wasn’t delivered by the postman. Where did you find it, anyway?

On the wall along the side of the lane… it was held down with a rock. The rock was a bit funny an’ all, said Leo, Now that I think of it. Didn’t look like any of the rocks round here, it had funny white markings on it.

Bea was rummaging around in her bag for her glasses. She found them and squinted through the fingerprints on the lenses. Glass Hour, she read, 2163. Can’t be the date, 2163… wait! It says Nov 1st 2163!

That’s ridiculous, Bea, lemme see it again. Leo frowned. I’m gonna google this here Glass Hour 2163.

Coffee? asked Bea. But Leo didn’t hear her.

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?

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.

Adorning the enormous wooden door of Chesterhope Mansion was a heavy bronze knocker in the shape of an ornate dragon. The door stood slightly open.

Hello! Anyone there! Franiel called out several times, each time pushing the door open wider.

Only an echoey silence responded.

Franiel mindfully removed his boots. With a growing sense of excitement, as well as some slight trepidation if the truth be told, he entered the massive entrance hall. A black marble statue of a tiger reminded him curiously of his dream. To the left and right were doors, but after knocking gently, he found these to be locked.

In the distance someone began to play the piano, a slow and simple melody. Franiel followed the faint sound to the door at the end of the hallway. He entered a massive dining room, in the center of which stood a very long table with 12 highbacked chairs. The furniture was heavy and dark, but sunlight streaming in through the window mercifully lightened the atmosphere.

Crossing the room he entered the rear parlour from whence came the music. A woman sat with her back to him playing an upright piano. She had long grey hair, worn loose down her back. Franiel noticed how thin she was, and how straight she sat as her long fingers delicately caressed the keys.

Hesitantly he knocked, not wishing to startle her. She stopped playing and turned towards him. Her face was gaunt, and such a pale colour, he found himself wondering if it had been a long time since she had seen the light of day. But her eyes were alive, bright and intense, and she did not seem awfully surprised to see him there.

Hello she said, Who are you? I don’t think I have seen you here before.

I am Franiel. I am sorry to arrive so unexpectedly … he began

Oh no! you mustn’t be sorry, the woman interrupted, jumping up with a speed and agility which surprised Franiel given her otherwise frail appearance. She rushed over to him and then reached out and lightly touched his cheek. A look of wonder crossed her face and she stepped back.

Oh my goodness! You are real! she exclaimed in astonishment. I thought you were one of the others.

By the end of the day, Bea had all but forgotten the strange dream snap-phrase. She climbed into bed and stretched her legs out between the cool crisp sheets with a contented sigh of pleasure. She picked up her dream journal from the bedside table and opened it at random:

Plenty of parking on the coastal regions of the self…

Must have been wild in Jamaica in the fifties….

Eye of Horus, Write it down! ……

One man went to mow a scattered lettuce…..

What! Bea sat up with a frown of consternation. A scattered lettuce! Singular! Not ‘scattered lettuces’, ONE scattered lettuce! I wonder if it matters? I wonder if all the interpretations were all wrong? Sheesh, what a silly mistake! I wonder if it MATTERS?!

IT MATTERS NOT, said the voice in her head, with an amused chuckle.

At the sound of the familiar voice, Bea relaxed, and smiling, fell into the other world of dreams.

“Old Leonard teafed Franiel’s chalice
Though t’was done without any malice
It was nowt but a clue,
Not a chore he must do
And the same thing applied to the phallus”

While Becky shivered in the rain sodden bush waiting for Elvira, the connection to the Kuzhebarian laughing monk was getting stronger, and she amused herself recalling the latest developments in the Reality Play in Limerick form.

Franiel awoke, it took him a few moments to get his bearings. He stretched, and slowly adjusted to his waking state. He wondered how long he had slept, it was quiet and dark. Although he couldn’t see much, he could feel that dawn was not far away. The ghost hour.

He must have slept for hours.

Remembering Leonard he looked around and softly called out. There was no reply, and unless Leonard was sleeping, Franiel was alone. “Aye” he sighed, and finding the blanket from his pack, fashioned it into a tent over his head and took shelter in it. It was nearly day, another day.

Thinking of his encounter with Leonard, the strange dancing and especially the sweet taste of the nectar, Franiel reached into his pack again to retrieve the chalice.

It is no longer there

Franiel was not quite sure if he heard a voice utter these words, or if it was just a strange sense of knowing. He still felt around, taking out each item carefully and methodically, emptying the pack, not really wanting to believe the chalice has gone, nor to consider what the implications of this loss might be.

Perhaps he did not put the chalice back in the pack after all? He crawled around his surrounds, squinting into the half light of the morning, feeling the dew damp ground. Deciding to trust what he knew in his heart already he sat back and quietly watched as the sky eventually flushed brilliant crimson.

Red sky in the morning. A warning ….it is only weather words but ….

Reluctant to consider his options, he instead considered some dandelions, how luminous they looked in the morning light.

— “Sha! I think I’ve had one of them bloody brainwaves of mine!”

— “You are the smart one Glor … ‘ang on, I’ll just light my fag then I can listen proper.”

— “Well you know how Vessie has been so good to us and I still feel a bit awful about breaking that bloody door down.”

— “We meant well though Glor. Our hearts were in the right places.”

— “They were Sha … but then her bloke being there and all …. well that dress she was wearing Sha, it barely covered her privates.”

— “She’s a native girl though Glor,” Sharon giggled, “She’d have grown up wearing them little grass skirts and not much else I reckon …. mind she’s ever so nice though ain’t she.”

— “Oh she is …. and there’s nowhere to buy clothes on this bloody island neither, she must have to make do, bless ‘er little ‘eart.”

— “It could do with a mall I reckon Glor,” said Sharon reflectively, “this place would really take off if there was a small mall.”

— “I think you’re onto something there Sha, oh that would be bloody marvellous I reckon, a small mall.”

— “Anyway what’s your brainwave then Sha? I’m all agog with curiousness.”

— “Well I reckon with all the eating and lying around we’ve been doing I’ve gained a bit…. what do you reckon Sha?”

— “You might have done a bit Glor,” said Sharon eyeing her friend thoughtfully, “you can carry a bit extra though, and it goes to all the right places on you, you look right sexy, I reckon our Harry would think so anyway”

— “Oh give over Sha! “ Gloria blushed and giggled. “Anyway back to my brainwave … well that Vessie is quite slim … “

— “A bit on the skinny side really, Glor, needs a bit of meat on them bones of ‘ers to be what you would call proper sexy like us, and very tall with it ain’t she.”

— “Yes athletical, most of them island girls are I reckon. Anyway, listen up Sha, a few of my things ain’t been fitting so well and …and ‘ere’s my master plan Sha …Da da ….” she paused dramatically, “I thought I could hunt out something nice for Vessie!”

— “Oh that’s bloody genius Glor! you’ve got a real kind heart you ‘ave! You’re a bloody saint even … did you ‘ave something special in mind?”

— “Did I what Sha!” Gloria’s eyes were shining with delight at her own generosity. “You remember that pink frock, the one I wore when you and Harry got ‘itched, with the wee roses on it. Well I bought it with me! I thought you daft fool! when I packed it, what you taking that bloody thing for? … I reckon it was my psychic abilities I got ‘anded down from my Aunty Philly, God rest her soul, made me bring it.”

— “Oh you’ve still got that frock! That were bloody gorgeous …. well bless your bloody heart Glor!”

— “Well its got sentimentical value of course,” said Glor looking serious. Her voice lowered, “ Between you and me though Sha, I do feel for that poor girl. I mean she’s pretty enough .. but she’s got no bloody idea how to make the best of what she’s got. It’d be a bit on the short side mind …. but I don’t think she’d mind that, not if that last dress is anything to go by, and I’m right handy with the needle and thread if it needs any fixing” she paused for a moment thinking, “Sha! I think I’ve ‘ad another bloody brainwave! We could give her a full beauty makeover, the bloody works, with all our beauty know-how … that lippy she was wearing ..” her voice trailed off and she shook her head sadly.

— “Wrong shade of red weren’t it,” Sharon nodded understandingly. “She’s going to have to make a bit more effort if she’s to keep that bloke of hers.”

— “Well I’ll ‘ave him any day,” giggled Gloria

— “Oh you’re bloody wicked, you are Glor! If your Joe could ‘ear you now! …. ‘ere you’ll ‘ave to fight me for ‘im though! … ere,” she said looking around and lowering her voice conspiratorily, “maybe we could have one of them threesomes!”

— “Oh stop Sha, you’re too bloody much you are!” spluttered Gloria, barely able to control her mirth. “Serious now though Sha, that Vessie might be a bit overcome and shy like, with all our generousness and kindheartedness, we have to make sure she knows we ain’t taking NO for a bloody answer!”

A small sync that hits me now I re-read it…
In Francie’s comment about Elizabeth of the Ooh-dimension a reference is made of the “clooh-box”.

Funny thing was that yesterday, we were talking with Tracy of one of the tiles which she felt linked to Francie, with the sense of natural magic it conveys. It reminded me that Jib told me it made him think of a magical girl scepter.
During spring in New-Zealand, so that must have been around October, we discussed cherry blossom (or さくら sakura in Japanese) with Francie, and had some syncs with Sakura, who is a “magical girl” with a winged scepter.

And, as I explained a bit the concept to Tracy, I told her about the Clow cards (here’s my entry for a sync ).

Tracy found Dash interesting (its form is a blue, fox-like creature with long rabbit ears) —even more as it appears in episode 53

Leonard stood up, stretched, and began to make strange movements with his body, much to the delight of Mouffle who leapt around him joyously barking.

Are you alright, Leonard? asked Franiel, a little concerned by Leonard’s gyrations. His voice sounded odd to his own ears, as though it came from a spot somewhere behind him. He was even unsure if he had spoken the words out loud.

Leonard chuckled, and Franiel joined in, though why he did so he was not sure.

I am very well indeed, thank you, Franiel. I am performing the motional practices of Ancient Kuzhebar aborigines. It is an excellent technique for straightening the mind. Perhaps you would like to join me?

Although I am sure my mind would benefit from straightening, perhaps I will just watch for now, said Franiel, feeling a persuasive tiredness sweep over his body. It must be the nectar, he mused. He lay back on the grassy verge, and though he tried his hardest, he found it impossible to keep his eyes open. I will close them just for a moment, he thought.

Finnley, you let me in right this mooment! commanded Elizabeth Tattler imperatively.

I am sorry, Ms Tattler, I am under strict instructions from Mr Arak that I am under no circumstances to let you in until this office has been cleaned. I will lose my job if I let you in.

Now there’s an idea! she thought, toying with the idea momentarily

Why that pompous, arrogant, supercilious proot ….. Elizabeth paused midflow to admire her vocabulary.

Finnley was quite enjoying the change of routine, and Ms Tattler’s office really was a treasure trove of interesting bits and pieces. The thick layer of dust, and were those magpie droppings? were a little off-putting mind-you. She plucked a book randomly from the shelf, and lifting the visor of her protective faceshield in order to see better, gently wiped the title clean. “I am Perfect Indeed” The author was some fellow named Erwin P Lemone who Finnley had never heard of. She picked another one, “Basic Flying Massage Techniques of the Ancient Kuzhebar, Book One for Beginners” by Jibberish E Shrale

Finnley, Elizabeth’s voice had taken on a wheedling tone from the other side of the door. Be a sweetie-pooh will you and put this note in my clooh-box. Finnley watched intrigued as a piece of paper inched its way under the locked door.

Sure Ms Tattler, where is the clooh-box?

On my office desk, next to the daily quotes. Don’t mess anything up Finnley dear, you be careful, I have very precious things in my office.

Finnley could not resist a peek but the scribbled words made no sense to her

Amanita muscaria intoxication typically produces macroopsia – Beckipooh?
13th gate and the 13th skull FEBRUPOOH 20TH 2008
The Snoot – who is he really?
supercilious proot! Arak Dr Bronkelhampton? ? ? ? WHAT IS PLAN B?????????

Her eyes fell on the daily quote for the day, that Lemone chappie again!

rainy wedding, merry marriage

She snorted derisively, He must be madder than Almad that Lemone, how silly! No wonder poor Ms Tattler seemed a bit mindblown sometimes if she reads stuff like that

THIS IS THE sort OF fact THAT means ENERGY sent must BE FROM Tracy AND HER creatures TO Eschraiel, THAT MUCH IS clear. SO often THE answer FOR THE boy suddenly APPEARS IN energy, once THE goat AND THE Russian mouse AND THE bride fly IN.

There was a tantalizing scent of wildflowers and meadowgrass in the still cool air of the cave, and as Sanso rounded a bend in tunnel a gentle breeze ruffled the folds of his robes. He quickened his pace, gladdened by the welcome promise of an adventure outside of the endless labyrinth. The air felt cool and warm at the same time, and deliciously fresh and clean as it wafted towards him, and with a feeling of immense joy, he heard a snatch of birdsong.

It seemed like many long years that he’d been trudging around in the gloom and the stale air of the caves, although he suspected it wasn’t as long as that. Time played tricks on him, he knew that, while he was wandering around in the darkness. He’d missed Arona, and that strange baby, when he’d first set off alone again, but not for long. He knew when it was time to move on, and so he’d left them. From time to time he wondered if he’d encounter them again, and knew he would.

A shaft of sunlight spilled into the tunnel and Sanso stepped out into the light. The breeze was fluttering the birch leaves high above him, as he squinted up at the pale blue sky. Grinning happily, Sanso took his time adjusting to the light. He sat cross legged on the soft green grass, feeling it springy beneath his hands. Hundreds and thousands of red and yellow spotted toadstools stretched out as far as he could see, carpeting the forrest floor with polkadots of colour.

Sanso looked down at his hands. The creases of his skin and under his nails were engrained with reddish dust, and he wanted water more than anything, gurgling bubbling fresh clean water. He stood up, and shook his robes a bit, and set off into the woods.

Intuition told him which way to go to find water. He marvelled at tiny flowers, and scampering insects along the way, squashing fungi beneath his bare feet which oozed up through his toes with little squeaky noises.

A rabbit ran accross his path and stopped momentarily to stare at him and Sanso laughed out loud.

Oh! Who’s there?

A girl in bright flowered skirts was sitting on the grass in a clearing just ahead, rubbing her eyes.

Whoa, I must be dreaming, she said, and rubbed her eyes again. She peered at the apparition in indigo robes, with skin the colour of tobacco and wild matted hair. Am I dreaming? she asked Sanso.

Perhaps, perhaps not, replied Sanso, who wasn’t really sure. I may be dreaming myself. My name is Sanso, anyway, what’s yours?

Zhana, the girl replied, Well, Uncle Grishenka calls me Zhanochka, but I…but I….I hate him, and I’m not going back! And much to her surprise, she burst into tears.

Sanso was momentarily non-plussed, and wondered what to do next.

Well, dear, if you don’t want to go back, why, then don’t go back! He wasn’t quite sure what the problem was; after all, he’d been wandering for so many years on impulse and whim he hardly knew any other way to go about it.

I don’t know where to go instead though, Zhana said tearfully. The long dark cold will be here again soon, and I must have shelter somewhere…..who will have me, besides Uncle Grishenka?

What long dark cold? asked Sanso. It seemed light enough and warm enough here.

Oh, my! Zhana was astonished. You ask me what long dark cold? Where have you come from? How is it you don’t know of the long dark cold? Oh! Are you from Nishanti’s place?

Zhana stood up in some considerable excitement. Can you take me to Nishanti’s place? Oh please say yes!

Well, I, er, um…..well, I suppose so. Well, yes! Sanso didn’t want to let the girl down, although he wasn’t altogether sure he knew where Nishanti’s place was. But he was game to give it a try, and the company of the girl would be a welcome change.

Tell me about Nishanti, then, Zhana, and what her place is like. Sanso was hoping a few clues might ring a bell, perhaps.

Nishanti has been my friend for as long as I can remember, Zhana said. We dream together mostly, well, Zhana blushed, Uncle Grishenka says it’s all in my head…he say’s it’s nonsense….

Zhana squared her shoulders and carried on. Sanso had a kind look, and nodded encouragingly.

She hardly wears any clothes, and her skin is warm and brown. The sun always shines and the sky is always deep blue in her place and we play outside all year long. There’s always warm ripe fruits to eat, not turnips and noodles, colourful juicy berries and plump pink fishy things, and there are flowers all year long, and the water isn’t frozen, we can play in the water and it doesn’t turn our hands blue…..

Ah, the other side of the world…hhhmmm…..Sanso rubbed his whiskery chin thoughtfully.

Ok, I can’t promise we can find Nishanti, but I think we can find the other side of the world. But first, I’d like to find some water, and perhaps a little fresh food?

Zhana whooped with delight, and flung her arms around Sanso. Yes, yes!