-
Search Results
-
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Dory had booked flights to Long Pong with stop-overs at Dubai and Sri Lanka. None of the airlines had heard of Tikfijikoo island, but Dory had a hunch that she would find a connecting link in the Chinese city, and would trust her intuition and impulses upon arrival there.
Becky could hardly sleep for excitement. Finally, she slept, and dreamed of a strange facility in the mountains of Sri Lanka.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Finnley looked appraisingly at her reflection in the mirroor of the staff toiloots. She turned her head, surveying herself from different angles. Sure, her hair was cut very short, but she had always thought it looked quite fetching and stylish, and so easy to care for.
She turned over the empty cleaning bucket so she could stand on it to get a better view of her body in the mirroor. Perhaps the baggy blue cleaning dungaroos she wore were not the most flattering on her slim figure, yet incredibly practical nonetheless, with 6 large pockets. She had bought several pairs on special, so she could alternate them.
That Elizabeth Tattler was clearly just one of the mindblown ones. Mad as Almad.
And getting worse by the day!
Perhaps it was just THAT time of the moonth, but for some reason Elizabeth’s insistence on referring to her as a male had really hurt Finnley today. Ever since she had attempted to help Elizabeth with the Island story by modifying the love scene , just slightly, Elizabeth had been intent on undermining Finnley’s sexooality. Not only that, she appeared to be fabricating Finnley’s involvement with the noovel she was writing. Just yesterday she had overheard Elizabeth telling her publisher, Bronkel, that Finnley was telepoothically implanting evil suggestions in her head.
Finnley shook her head again, this time in bewilderment. For Foocks sake, someone should do something about that woman, before it is too late!
Studying herself in the mirroor again she undid the top 3 buttons of the shirt she was wearing under her dungaroos and made a mental note to buy a poosh-up bra after work today. She mussed her hair up in what she hoped was a sexy look and made her way to clean the computer gooks office.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Fabella had just entered the room. She was chatting noisily, as if someone would answer to her. The sound of her footsteps was playing strange ripples on the wooden floor which were mesmerizing to look at.
“Years ago, I’d have felt obliged to answer her” she was thinking, as she was hovering over her body looking at the freckled nurse.
“I’d felt obliged by some nonsensical politeness to give her the impression that I was, somewhat, paying attention to her as a person —if not to her chatter.”
She laughed wholeheartedly.“Oh, you’re smiling Madam, but that ain’t the whole thing, you know! Would you imagine that Miss Elena, after such an outcry would have become wiser, but no…”
The voice was continuing an endless litany of gossips.
It was obvious that the nurse wasn’t trying to get any answer, much less a conversation from the old body she was giving her daily injection to, she had found out. All the more since that body was so weak and talking was taking more energy than she was willing to give to this action. It was so much more exhilarating to play out of it.
She was proud of herself, having come to a place not only to feel accepting of that bodily condition that had left her riveted to her chair and bed at an early age, but more so, to feel grateful for it.The first steps had been the most difficult: a whole new world so vast it was feeling as wide as a crocodile’s mouth menacing to engulf her. But like the crocodile’s mouth, it was easier to shut it close than one would think, and she had found out that she would snap back to her body each time she was distressed. Quite the opposite of what an adventurous mind like hers would endeavour to conquer. She had no care for her dying body, not with this new-found freedom.
Perhaps it was a mere springboard for her to get accustomed to death. That’s what her brother had told her once. But he was so fully soaking in religious beliefs that she didn’t know how to handle that he had merely said to her as a gift.
All that was important was the exploration, which was real to her. And it was, not only to her, but to others too.For instance, she was now walking, still around Fabella, observing the interplay of the nurse’s energy field with the other people around her, even though Fabella had finished dealing with her minutes ago.
In fact, she knew more about Fabella than she could have learned in years of monologues with her. Things like that Ricardo wasn’t the caring guy he was pretending to be with her. But then, she didn’t know how to tell her (and if she had even the right to). She had the feeling that perhaps Ricardo and Fabella’s stories were just distractions that she had found to limit herself in the familiar of her little explorations.
There was so much more that she could do, she could feel it. There were no boundaries to it.
She could will herself to be in any place, unnoticed by most.Perhaps she could try a “jump” to another location. Trusting that she would come back, as she always had. If if she wouldn’t… well, that could well mean an improvement after all.
What about something easy? Like some uncharted paradisaical island in the Pacific…In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
This I Ching business wasn’t very convenient to figure out, Al was thinking.
For Becky’s draw, he had more than a handful:entry 3 (id:1610) #835 entry 2 (id:234) #171 entry 1 (id:1275) #638 All he had to do was relax, and know that the magic would appear by ways of his interpretation of these numbers.
He wanted to get 6 numbers out of these 3 comments. So, for each of the comments, he would make 2 numbers.So, for the original comment IDs:
- 1275: 1 (odd) and 2 (even) gives (odd) ; then 7 and 5 gives (even)
- 234: 2 and 3 gives (odd) ; 3 and 4 (odd)
- 1610: 1 and 6 gives (odd) ; 1 and 0 gives (odd)
odd-even-odd-odd-odd-odd (what a bunch of odds, he thought, though barely surprised remembering the numbers came from Becky)
that’s 1-0-1-1-1-1 or |¦||||From now on, he would spare everyone the maths, and play some interlude music while working out the magic.
(some lalala music)
and for the mutation (835,171,638): 1-0-0-0-1-1 or |¦¦¦||
And the result: ‘Fellowship of Men’ mutating to ‘Increase’
Bah… this is more fun to add more nonsense than try to figure out what it was all about. Al was finding it the moral of the story for today.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Hang on Al!, said Tina, although there was really no need as Al, still pondering, did not seem to be in any particular hurry to enlighten her on all this I-Ching business. I think Becky is trying to telepathically communicate a limerick to me.
Oh well, said Al philosophically, Better to speak nonsense than to be dead or sorry.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Sure aliens… Why not aliens? Becky said with a funny maniac laughter that sent chills through Tina’s back.
After all, we’ve been talking to dead people for so long, we’ve forgotten all about alien lives… I want to believe!Well, Tina shrugged in complete abandon, I suppose that would not be your last eccentricity after all… But now that Al starts to believe such utter nonsense is beyond my understanding. I think I need to get more sleep too.
See you tomorrow, and have fun with your rugrats darling pooh… she said with a sugary smile while closing the videoconf window.Phew… Becky sighed, with an anxious side glance at the silent cradles that may not stay silent much longer.
The rugrats have names you know Tina, she said, more to herself than to the benefit of anyone else.
And hell if I remember what they are now…In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Primary Becky, for the first time in decades, felt completely relaxed. Suddenly free of all responsibilities, she lost all sense of linear time, and lost all sense of meaningfulness. She felt as though she had suddenly burst through the imposing double doors of logic, continuity, and meaning, into a vividly colourful world of meaningless nonsense. With no structure or no meaning, no commitments, no limpet- like others, she felt a liberation that was beyond meaningless words and explanations.
As the doors of meaningfulness flung wide the dazzling light of The Elsespace Arrangement flooded over her, causing a temporary tottering in her frivolous teetering sandals. Whoa! she exclaimed, grabbing the doorframe to steady herself. With a meaningless whoa, an equally pointless wow, and a quick glance back over her shoulder at Meaningwhere (which looked dreadfully constraining and complicated from this new perspective), Becky entered The Elsespace Arrangement.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Becky visited the nursery at The Facility every day, and smiled vaguely at the triplets, relieved that they were thriving and being well cared for. She had spent several happy hours ordering a new wardrobe online, charging it all to The Facility, whose staff were being wonderfully kind and accomodating. She spent the days reading historical novels, lounging on the recliners on the numerous patios and balconies, or strolling through the colourful leafy gardens, or floating in the cool lotus filled pools, without a care in the world.
The past few months had been draining, exhausting. The unexpected break from everything that was familiar was doing her a power of good.
One hot still afternoon, Gayesh, the director of the facility, called her into his large airy office. The antique ceiling fan ruffled the papers on his desk. The papers were part of the antique decor, giving the room a nostalgic 20th century air.
Becky, we have been observing you while you’ve been staying with us, Gayesh said kindly. And we would like to make you an offer.
Observing me? asked Becky, feeling a trifle violated.
Oh, you know, at the essence level, dear, replied Gayesh, with a gentle smile. Your essence did agree, we couldn’t be intrusive, of course, as you know.
Oh well, if my essence agreed that’s ok I guess, answered Becky, mollified. What’s your offer?
Gayesh explained at length the purpose of the Facility, while Becky yawned and studied her new shoes, her mind wandering…
…….and so, in a nutshell, Gayesh was saying, If you give us permission, we can send a cloned Becky back to Galle, and the husband Sean, while you, my dear, do whatever you desire. You can be mother to the essences already lined up to manifest via your, er, the clones, body (and may I point out that none of our undercover clones so far have been uncovered, shall we say), which will facilitate….Gayesh chuckled….your new found freedom! You will be a free Becky that nobody knows exists! Free to wander hither and yon, without any responsibilities…..what do you say?
I accept your offer, sir! Becky said, jumping up to shake Gayesh’s hand.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Phew, said Becky, mopping her brow with her hand, what a great work out!
Tina was very impressed with how diligently Becky was doing her Visualisation Exercises for Pregnancy, and rather surprised to see genuine sweat pouring down her flushed and hot face. She had agreed to do the exercises with Becky, but truth to tell had dozed off after a few minutes. Still, not that I need to do exercises, Tina thought, admiring her toned and slim body. Becky kept complaining about weight gain, and Tina had tried to point out that was what happened when one had a baby. Becky was having none of it.
By the way Tina, what’s up with Al?
Yeah … said Tina hesitantly, torn between loyalty and honesty. Well I don’t really know. He is a bit obsessed …
Obsessed is the word! It’s turning into a monologue. We had better write something soon or who knows what havoc he will wreak on the reality play. You know he killed the spider?
Well, said Tina brightly, always willing to see the bright side, at least it has distracted him from his body modification experiments for a while.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
From one blink to the other, hung betwixt spaces and times in that now where there is no such thing as space or time, Leörmn was considering the wide network of possibilities through the eyes of his friends to assist their movement.
The “blink” was an opportunity for them; an opportunity to rearrange the space, incorporate new physical aspects, or discard others.In truth, all was ever here, at their reach. All was surrounding them in a dance of invisible links of consciousness.
These links were, like the grains of sand of a giant glubolin, constantly vibrating in an arrangement made to accommodate and fit those clumps of grains known as “essences” that were playing for a moment the game of having an identity and being separated from the whole vibration moving through the sand —even playing to the point of identifying themselves with the sand at times.You could see that as a progressive enhanced experience, and while most races he had seen were having fun playing with many filters overlaying the experience of that vibrating scenery of conscious sand, Leörmn was a dragon, and dragons had no need for that many layers.
That was where the energy of Malvina, and Georges, were helpful. In tuning into their filterings, Leörmn could dim the spotlights on the parts of this unbound scenery which was not useful to them. But still retaining this wide awareness of the infinite realm of possibilities, he could also easily spot those most accessible to them.
And even as consummate a traveler Georges was, there were still energy reconfiguration of the overall scenery that were not easily reachable for him.
Tuning into another world or reality was mostly easy. Altering the configuration of the physical reality at a bigger scale was another thing altogether.That tremendous power had made the dragons almost extinct in the past —a better way to put it would be to say that they slipped into other dimensions, exited that of Alienor—, fearsome as it was for the other races.
The seed that was found in that past they had just visited was already germinating. The whole probability trail looked to the dragon like something radiant and warm as the little creature named Leo, curled-up into Malvina’s aura…What would be their next move now?
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
So how do we proceed? asked Armelle a bit weary of the transformergence.
— Easy peasy, answered Yuki, all we need to do is focus on the aspects we want to bring into alignement
— Wait, wait, wait! the tone of urgency in Rafaela was baa’ing in their ears What did you say?… How do we do?! Why do you say we have to focus, I say, bee, Focus on Fun and reel in nonsense, and with gusto,… and pesto too, if there is! What do we care about facts, it’s all in your head, You Create your Herbality, and Go with the Fawn!… Unless it is “You are Goat Also”… I think I’m lost here! But really, what did you say, speak clearly, it’s awful, I can’t hear you! Loud and clear Cotton-tail, Load and Clean! Oh, bugger the typos, There are No Secretions,… and why are those frigging mottherflies all around my side whiskers when I can’t put them on my Chimera?!
— What? Rafaela said after an awkward instant.
— Err… Nothing, I think we’ll improvise on that one answered Yuki, a bit overwhelmed.
— Good thinking Einski Armelle retorted. That way, we know for sure we will end up something ridiculous and —how do they say?— mentally challenged?
— Yeah, yeah… As they say, Follow Your Passiflora… encouraged Rafaela with glinting eyes, her whiskers now full of perched yellow mottherflies.— Okay… At the count of fifty-seven!
— WHAT!?
— Ahaaha, that’s a joke… at the count of five
— ONE… TWO… THREE… FOUR… FIVE!
Can we go now Yurmaela? Akayli was asking to his new reconfigured friend.
Indeed… answered the great winged big-eyed, long-eared, thick-haired creature that had appeared after the three essences had merged together. We’ll fly Claude and Anita on our back to the wortex, on top of the cleared trail. Akayli, you follow our lead with Anita’s parents, and we can all jump to the other dimension and kiss these spiders bye-bye!
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Blimey O Riley, said Becky when she read what she’d written the previous evening. As she read it over again, though, a picture began to form in her mind, a character was starting to form.
I was connecting to a focus, she surmised, A focus as a simple country washerwoman. A simple person, choosing to experience a life of simple pleasures, not bogged down with deep meaningful thoughts or ideas; not striving for insights or accomplishments, a pure and simple life for a pure and simple soul.
The washerwoman used words differently, she didn’t use words to communicate with anyone, she simply used the bubbling gurgling endless stream of sounds to amuse herself…endlessly babbling, always smiling, infinitely amused with the sheer joyous nonsense of the sounds tumbling from her lips, broadcasting seeds of absurdity in the cornfields and the meadows of the hay hoo down dooly…..
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
START! said Tina.
Becky and Tina were doing a meditation together, and Becky decided to just write whatever popped into her head. She could always delete it afterwards, or edit it, she reasoned.
“Bagpush got out of the washtub”, Becky scribbled, “ And scooted down along the river line to the marks butty big one by the farm. Heavens above, fishly, what’s that brown thing on the water butt? Gawbsmacker said, don’t be talking like that, shekeltons in a hide to ho where and its first light, fair bright and hey ho the wash go. Abbon Ipswich, slaty flats of corncake, hey dee on the wash bucket, spittin in the hole hey down dooly. Margaret Apsworth laying on the white cotton cake spread, fair dooly down the one hooly. Ay and its a hey ho fair fooly down by the wash pooly, drum rolling in the har fool haley, down by the dash darnly. I said, hey ho the brown tooly, hoggin all the raw tooly, stewing in the far fooly for eight pence an hour. Said Mavis of the green sportwear, theres may flowers in the far horse hair, weel butter in the spar for tucker and muck down in the cow butter, said bree in the bird barny, a flying for the far fooly, well its knees up and out your dooly for the green hay beer fair. Its a fine night for a hooly in the row bottom in the far fooly, said mavis of the tom fooly, in the wash bucket down stairs. Once more, sell a nickel farthing, in the morning and in the darning, and say way more is in the star sign than a wash bucket down stairs.”
Good greif, exclaimed Becky, What was all that about?
What a load of twaddle, Becky, said Tina with a laugh.
Well you know what? It was kind of fun and refreshing to just write nonsense
I am sick of things MEANING something, Becky said, and then, warming to her subject:Lets have some good old fashioned MEANINGLESSNESS!
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Tina sat for some time in the cafe after Becky had left, pondering the implications of Becky’s secret. Becky was right, it was quite exciting in a way, however the repercussions left her reeling … honestly you would think a time traveler would have more sense …
She scratched her head absentmindedly, her scalp had been very itchy lately. She wondered if she had better stop using her homemade egg hair shampoo. Well that was a bugger. She had been planning on marketing it through her business… HEGG FIRST SHAMPOO, with cute little egg people wearing shiny glossy wigs on the label … and, as a special limited time offer, she had been going to give away free Holy Water Conditioning Rinse as well. Sam had kindly agreed to bless it for her with this didjereedoo.
She looked up just as a female entered the cafe, straight jet black hair, large dark sunglasses, fishnet tights and knee high boots. A black trench coat completed the stunning ensemble. Wow! thought Tina, She looks amazing, so eneggmatic and sexy. As though she had heard her thoughts the woman turned, and upon catching Tina’s eye, hurriedly looked away and walked quickly out of the cafe.
How odd, thought Tina.
Later, as she was researching black wigs on the internet … of course she could change the colour and structure of her hair through mind techniques, but that was still a bit slow for Tina, Al entered the room.
Tina, are you busy?
Uh Oh! Tina knew that tone of voice. She braced herself. Could Al have heard about Becky’s news ??? She told Becky there were no secrets!
Your latest comments in the reality play are really really great. Most entertaining and unusual.
Uh, thanks …. Tina said cautiously.
I was just wondering however whether you had considered the time frame of your characters?
Oh yeah course … you know .. give or take a few years .. or so …
There are a few discrepancies I noticed, he went on, and it really does become rather problematic, some might say “messy” even.
Tina rolled her eyes and grunted non-commitedly.
Thanks Sweetie, I knew you wouldn’t mind sorting it out, said Al.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Keeping in mind the cluster of probabilities they were exploring with Salome, and blending it with Malvina’s and Irtak’s energy, Georges was building a subjective pathway to their destination. They were all sending their energy toward that time and place.
Innerly connected with Irtak, they were both resonating with the twins who were already there in a way and helping them to create the connection.
It was some kind of cyclone creating process, when the sky and the sea are joining together in a big swirl.
The vibration was accelerating as Malvina was increasing the rhythm of her melody, matching the inner drone Georges was creating.
Salome was blurring as she was going through a passage of her own, maybe she would pay a visit to another place and join them later, but her energy was helping them nonetheless.
It was a moment of letting go of their focus, a moment of letting themselves reconfigure.In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
“Actually, Sam said, you are already pregnant. I don’t know if you had realized it, but it is clear in your energy. You are creating a vortex entry point in your womb.”
He winked mischievously.
“It all seems to be about influence and suggestion these days, he added with a wink. Remember, you are playing with these probabilities not because you are a victim of them, but because they present an interest to you. And remember also that they would be all actualized by one of your probable selves nonetheless.”
Becky did the rolling eyes, and it seemed she wouldn’t stop when Sam burst into laughter and hugged her. He kissed her swiftly and said :
“You can call Sean now, he understands more about it than you realize.”
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Another probable Becky hit send on her computer, and grinned wickedly. She had amused herself greatly writing her new storyline for the Reality Play, it had taken her mind off her cold.
Becky wandered into the kitchen where Sean was clearing up after dinner and gave him a kiss. That rhubarb crumble was delicious darling, wherever did you learn to cook like that!
Aha, replied Sean, It’s a secret recipe of Manon’s, she made me swear not to tell anyone. The secret, he continued, and dropped his voice to an enigmatic whisper, The secret is the groiselles.
Sean picked up the empty crumble dish to put it in the dishwasher, revealing a handwritten note that had been underneath it.
Sean recognized Becky’s handwriting, and smiled fondly at her. Oh, what have we here! he said, and started to read. Becky was frowning, perplexed. She hadn’t written a note to Sean in THIS probability!
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Anita was playing with her new friend.
The Snoot, it had told her was its name. The Snoot was very ancient, very curious tooo.
The Snoot was asking loads of question, though they weren’t formulated with words, because the Snoot wasn’t speaking. It was too slow for the Snoot.Nonetheless she was giggling, distracted from the preoccupations of Akita and the others.
