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  • #735

    The last words of the stranger were still resonating in his mind. Franiel was feeling a bit drowsy and he had the odd sensation of being looked from the inside. A smile illuminated the face of the man.

    You are the weirdest man I ever saw. he said in a sigh. When he realized what he had told his guest, he blushed with shame. I’m sorry, I wouldn’t mean…
    Hahahahaha. The man was slapping on his legs. Hahahaha, my dear Franiel, you don’t know how close to the truth you are. I appreciate when one speak his heart.

    Franiel couldn’t say anything. He was aware that he should have been feeling shameful, but the laugh of the stranger had dissipated that convention. He was just feeling in harmony with his creation. This last thought surprised him. His creation? He’d been told that the gods created all that is on the Duane, her sister the Murtuane and their ghostly sister the Phrëal.

    What was in the nectar? I’m seeing things. He frowned. Something in the surrounding objects, the mossy rocks and the earthly path, the grass and the insects flying or crawling around. The colors were different. Your eyes… they are… blue…

    The stranger was still smiling, not saying anything, and though Franiel was feeling as if he was communicating him important things.

    Something leapt from behind a tawheowheo, making the nearby dandelion seeds fly away silently.
    The creature was barking and Franiel jumped on his feet, making the chalice fall in the dust. It was similar as a mountain wolf, but smaller. Black and fuzzy. And it was running toward him.

    Don’t be afraid of Moufle, he’s my long life companion, he’s been following me in my exploration for quite some time in a form or another. He makes a lot of noise, but he knows his friends.

    Moufle was trying to lick Franiel’s face. All the love he had felt a second before was shaded by the need to keep the animal away. Not that he was dangerous. The stranger… what was his name? He didn’t tell him his name. Franiel was too shy in his normal state to dare ask directly. But he could at least relax as Moufle was now occupied with his master, who spoke as if he’d read his mind.

    I am not his master, you see. he was fondling his companion. He’s just choosing to come with me.
    He kept silent for a minute, snooting around.

    By the way, my name is Leonard.

    #685

    Dory was bored. She didn’t really know whether to be Dory, or Becky, or even Illi today. Maybe I will be someone new, she thought. Hmmm……

    Elvira, how about that. Well, Elvira was just as bored as Elvira as she would have been as Dory, Becky or anyone else for that matter. What happens when the inspiration goes? Where does it go? One minute the world is full of interesting things, and then Poof! nothing is very interesting at all……

    Elvira had lots of interesting things to do, she had many books, and various artistic projects half started or not even started, just thought about on and off for ages, and she had puppies to play with, and a big drawer full of pens and things to draw with. She had a camera that took little videos that was often a lot of fun…but nothing seemed worth the trouble today, nothing at all…..not even that silly wacom thing, and after all that fuss to buy it, too…it was more fun talking about buying it then the darn thing ever was afterwards…..

    The Internet, how could anyone be bored with an internet! There must be something seriously wrong with her to be bored when she had Internet! But she halfheartedly googled this, googled that…ho hum, tedium, nothing very interesting there….

    Well, what about your imagination then! Elvira sat up a bit straighter, challenging herself. You can surely do something interesting in your imagination, can’t you?

    She slumped back down again, and sighed. Like what? Well, imagine you are out in the sun, going for a walk…..

    Well ok, then, I am on the beach. At first I feel the sun on the top of my head and I squint at the bright sparkles on the sea. Then, my ears are ringing with cold, it’s a windy cold day after all and not much fun on the beach at all. Oh pull yourself together, woman! Pull your scarf round your ears! It’s a great day for driftwood, just look at those waves rolling in.

    I am trudging along, and the sand is hard to walk on and makes my legs ache. My God, I am out of shape! There are soggy oranges and piles of bamboo sticks, and plastic bottles all washed up in curving heaps. A soggy Marlboro carton; my, are they still smuggling fags from Gibraltar, I am so out of the smuggling loop these days….

    Well, was that it? Elvira chastised herself. Not much of a flight of imagination there, was it? Maybe a walk along the river instead…..

    Oh alright, if I have to…..actually I can’t be bothered to do this imaginary walk either, it’s no use….nothing is really very interesting today. I would like someone to amuse me, charmingly, pointlessly, something funny and light, and delightfully meaningless and simple…..

    And god forbid, nothing to do with beliefs, please! Or any of that weird stuff, like other lives and other dimensions, and talking to aliens and all that weirdo stuff….weirdo, weirdo, stuff! UGGHHH Elvira shuddered.

    Well, one thing I am pleased about, she mused almost happily, I can smoke again now my lungs are behaving. I thought I would be gloriously happy forever if I could only breathe without fear, and already I am Ho Hum about breathing….thought for sure I’d remember to focus on every brilliantly wonderful NOW moment, I did, after that fright with the lungs, but no….back to normal, well, worse than normal really, because now I am not even interested in anything……

    I wonder if I should start drinking again…..Oh don’t be silly, Elvira told herself rather sharply. Well, drugs then, maybe that would buck me up. It’d buck you up alright, but for how long? Well when they wore off, I could take some more.

    Yeah, right…..

    Elvira sighed again. Even Bertie Wooster hadn’t even managed to raise a smile this time, and he always used to make her smile. Reading Wodehouse now made her frown, wondering what ever she had used to find so amusing……

    The birds are making a racket out there, she noticed. Whatever do they find to sing about all day? Chirp chirp…jeeze….. maybe I should take up golf, she wondered. Dan seems to always have an interest, something passionately all-consuming……he never has enough hours in the day for all HIS interesting things….

    Where have all my interesting things GONE?

    #682

    Looking at the clearing, where there was seemingly only a little girl on the trunk of a cut down coconut tree, Akita found himself puzzled. A girl, alone, in that dangerous jungle… Might it be a trick from his old enemies? The giant spiders were vicious, and could play some tricks of mind on humans, he’d witnessed before he’d run into Kay, who was granting him some sort of protection. But as far as he knew, they couldn’t do anything that elaborate. They were rather primitive in their projections, and were more inclined to slimy nightmarish visions than cute little dark-skinned girls, however untidy were her clothes…
    Besides, Kay seemed to trust her. And she could see him too. Usually, humans other than partners of spirit dogs couldn’t see them, but at times before they reached puberty, children were able to get glimpses of them, Kay had explained him.

    Apparently either the girl was a simpleton, or she had an impossible chance not having yet encountered the spiders, being as she were, pretty oblivious to what was around her, and speaking to herself or imaginary friends, while fiddling with a small device the like of which Akita never had seen in his life. The thing was making beeping noises much like a radio emitter, and his heart leapt at the idea that she might break some god-sent transponder found in the wreckage from which she surely had been a miraculous survivor…
    Kay, who had been observing and talking to the little girl, came back near Akita in a blink.

    — Don’t worry for that device, it’s just a game…
    — A game? It seems quite sophisticated for a game…
    — It’s my Gamegirl Advanced, said the girl, without detaching her gaze from the tiny screen… But the batteries will soon be dead, she added with a lovely pouting face.
    — Better the batteries than you, retorted Akita. So who are you? You can call me Akita… And I guess you’ve already met Kay.
    — I’m Anita, but everybody calls me Anu.

    She put the tiny thing at her side, and smiled broadly at Akita.

    — Wow, you have such strange clothes, it’s like you’re out of one of those black and white war movies that my father used to watch…
    — No wonder, little girl, we are at war.
    — I’m not a little girl, and I don’t think you’re right. We’re not at war!
    — That was probably well intended of your parents to hide you the truth, but thing is we are. I’ve been stranded on this island for months now with these loathsome creatures, and all I can suppose is that these spiders are secret weapons from the Nazis.
    — Oh, Nazis? Like in Indiana Jones! Anu started to giggle…
    — What do you mean? So you know of Nazis?
    — Sure, my great granddad fought them on the beaches of Normandy, that was many years ago.
    — I don’t understand… Do you have any idea of what’s going on? Akita asked Kay
    — Grwl… All of your human quandaries don’t usually make a great deal of sense to me, if you ask me, but I guess her friends would probably know more…
    — Her friends? You mean, her imaginary friends?
    — Oh they are not imaginary, Anu and Kay chorused.

    — Let me try something, Kay said.

    And the ghostly dog form contours started to wobble like a poked cube of jelly, becoming a single ball of phosphorescent ectoplastic energy that started to rotate around Akita. Akita’s vision, disturbed by the movements started to blink at a more rapid rate until his peripheral vision started to show some distinct coloured St Elmo’s fires. They were four he could count, at least for the closest ones. At time they overlapped, and when he was focusing on his peripheral vision, he could get more and more stability in these visions.

    Kay had stopped, and was again crouched near Akita.
    — That’s all? Akita asked in dismay…
    — Now you know the trick, answered Kay, almost shrugging…

    — It’s really easy, said Anita, beaming at a disoriented Akita. Also… Yuki told me that apparently time is considerably slowed down on this island. And while a month passes here, ten years pass in the world we come from…

    #1647

    In reply to: Synchronicity

    TracyTracy
    Participant

      111 emails in the inbox this morning, too :yahoo_oh_go_on:
      Rabbits, owls, neptunes and herons….. :cluebox:
      oh and driftwood :fleuron2: (driftwood icon)
      OH! In today’s paper: normal people tell 88,000 lies (that’s either a year or a lifetime, I can’t remember), and that’s not including probable selves. We are not normal, therefore we are an exception :yahoo_winking:

      #604
      Jib
      Participant

        Yann stroke Arona, lost in his thoughts. He’d spent the last few days with Yurick at Gustav’s place. He’d met Gustav a few days ago, when Yurick came to Paris with him. Gustav was a very sympathetic and fun fellow, his energy felt very soft to Yann and quite sensitive though he could appear a bit rough to others. Gustav was kind enough to let Yann sleep one night at his house when he was still there, before his holidays with his parents before Christmas and friends after Christmas. It was the occasion to eventually be with Yurick.

        The life together was a bit different from what he would have normally expected… before. Now it was just a new experience, the interaction was different, and the configuration of energy could be a bit tricky.

        Yann had noticed that in his perception even if an aspect of his attention was focused on the physical place and that he was physically seeing other individuals and objects in the official room, his main attention was elsewhere… he was beginning to be able to let more of this periphery to bleedthrough in his official reality, and he was well aware that the interactions weren’t always what they appeared to be. He first had the reflex to filter it through his usual associations and what he knew of this reality… but often enough he had that twinge about it like it wasn’t really fitting… it wasn’t fitting at all, he was trying to mold it into another shape, a familiar and distorted shape, so to speak. Ok, that was acceptable, and most of the time his attention and his movement was toward Yurick’s energy.

        Yurick was creating some weird stuffs in with his mouth… some itching and uncomfortable pain… it was a bit weird because of the familiar associations with it… associations with pain, illness, preoccupations, caring, even self worth… but most of all it was showing Yann about the automatic movement “outside” of self, and not being present in what himself was doing.

        Yann had noticed that most of the time when he was in what he was doing there was that warm expansion feeling in his belly… but still there was that location association with it… and the association that Yurick was outside and the room was outside and then at times it was fading and there was not much separation within energy.

        And he just noticed that no separation didn’t necessarily mean continuity :-?

        Ok, again this Owl music of the Harry Potter series… the “scum of the universe” connection was a bit hidden by this music now, but it was still in his periphery. And something he wanted to explore. A feeling of space travel and of mercenaries… that reminded him of the video games he was playing when he was a kid. There was always a time when he was fascinated by the “bad guys”, the pirates. Haha, maybe a pie rat would do as a dessert.

        He would soon come back “home”. He had that DVD of the pilots of a series about space travels that he liked a lot… Yurick had told him about it 2 days ago, he had never seen it.

        #575
        ÉricÉric
        Keymaster

          Georges and Salome’s journal

          From Salome’s account of their first journey to the Alienor star system

          The Jorid has spotted what will be the destination for our first joined adventure.
          It’s a dimension which seems unexplored yet, and rather fascinating. Georges, as he is, would already have jumped right in, but I preferred to get a little more background information before moving into it. It’s still a little awkward to move into these realms where the laws of physics as we’ve known them are different, sometimes dramatically so. These would not be too much of a difficulty as the adaptation of the physical body usually goes quite fast, as Georges has shown me when we trained in more familiar dimensions, but the most delicate part is when we barely know the relationships at play.
          Georges will laugh because he’s more confident that everything is perfect, but somehow, I tend to believe that things can be a little more perfect when we know how to avoid making faux-pas.
          So we’ve spent a few days gathering some basic informations on this dimension we call Alienor. The most part of the activity seems to revolve around a cluster of planetoids. At this moment, it’s forming a system of three planets revolving on the same orbit around their sun. We call them Duane, Murtuane, and Phrëal.
          They seem to form a complex web of relationships, and cover such a wide range of aspects that we have decided on a mutual agreement to split our exploration to cover more ground for a beginning.
          Georges is exploring the Duane, and I took the Murtuane, both planetoids seeming to come from the same core of matter, in a manner of speaking. The feeling around the Phrëal is more ambivalent, as though it is undergoing some deep change, not unlike to the Shift that will be (or has been) occurring on our Earth. So, we’ve decided not to interfere with it right now. It may take a dozen of years (as we understand them) for them to undergo that process, but it’s not like we care of time issues in any case.

          Here are my first observations concerning the Murtuane. Obviously, it ties into the Duane, but I am not completely aware of all of these ties yet.
          The first connection I had to the Murtuane was with some ancient beings living here. I saw myself riding one of these sentient beings, gliding through the sky in a mountainous land. The colours are vivid, even if the atmosphere seems very light, and filtering the sun’s ray in a spectrum slightly more indigo than our sky on Earth. These beings, whose name I can’t yet translate accurately (it’s something close to Nirgual) are powerful winged focuses of essence, though I suspect this to be a mere convenient form that they use. They somewhat remind me of the Rokhs (or Rocs) that the sultan’s wifes were telling us about in their legends. Apparently, they are respected, perhaps feared by the people inhabiting the lands, though I can feel they are for the most part benevolent.
          These people, those that I could spot, seem to have a slightly green skin, but overall humanoid form (within my translation of them).

          I will probably have more to connections once we gather our impressions with Georges.

          #484

          A swirling motion emerged from nothing in the hatching room. Irtak was feeling a bit dizzy and his link with Heckle and Jeckle flinched a bit. He was in constant communication with them since their hatching and he had felt his thought process merge with theirs… He’d been feeling weird for some time and had seen images of things that had already happen (normal), or things that had not yet happen (a bit weirdo), and things that could have happen or had happened in another timeline, and things that may appear in this timeline or that were related to another… he had had difficulties juggling with that and if he had been alone he thought he would have kill himself or just loose every bit of control he had thought he had… WTM

          He was learning quickly what Malvina already knew and what had been her own path so to speak when she had bonded with Leörmn. Another weird thing is that since his own bonding with the twins, he was feeling their “father” more and was understanding him better. He was connected to him strongly through them. He was then aware of the arrival of “strangers” and was aware also that the man was connected to him. He could not feel the link yet or understand it. He felt different but so similar to himself. And in a way Irtak was associating this dizziness to the man. What was his name again? The Georges?

          The woman he could see through the twins awareness of their father’s awareness was awesome, he felt strongly attracted to her. He couldn’t understand, but was sure they also were connected. His heart was beating faster, as if meeting an old friend he hadn’t seen for so many years.

          Wodd! he thought.

          He was placing the new eggs in the Hatching Room, it was crowded. He had never seen that. So many dragon eggs.

          :recycle:

          Wodd! Another energy surge, like some aspects switching swiftly and smoothly. His perception had shifted again. He felt the reassuring presence of his friends, in the background so to speak, but so close. They knew he had to go through it alone and were just here supportive energies. They were playing and shape-shifting so swiftly, as to facilitate his own movement. At one time they were like a blond girl dancing and a filthy heavy man burping. At another they were like a scrawny horse and a man with a strange hat on his head. At another again, they were just blurred and smelly cherry alcohol… Trying to focus on all those changes was making him dizzier. But he was also feeling the easiness in his own movement if he didn’t oppose the process.

          All the eggs were shining and changing colors, he knew it was their different forms and colors in different timelines and also in different probable lines… He saw for a moment like a big airy fish, translucent and wow so big. It was straddling dimensions and it had a strange shrimpy companion always gravitating around.

          The eggs were all put together, not too close, and not to far away to create some resonance between them… Who would be here for the hatching? Who would bond with them? He was feeling odd as if it will all be taken care of in time.

          — OK! it’s over, now we can join Malvina and welcome our guests.

          He heard himself speaking with so many voices, some young, some older, and some even feminine voices.

          :face-crying:

          The dragons were wearing their blond wig again, like twin dancers… laughing and having so much fun.

          #1846
          Jib
          Participant

            The legend of The Weaving Princess

            Once upon a time, in the Warring Kingdom of Landgurdy, lived the Yellow Princess Atiara. She was living with her father, the Yellow King of Landgurdy in the Subtle Palace of Aram Ardun, the capital.

            The day of Her 20 th birthday was a very special day. As for any normal citizen of the Warring Kindgom, it was the day She fully became an adult. And furthermore, it was the day of Her wedding with the man to whom she was betrothed the day of her 12 th birthday, Prince Shomar At Gurna from the War Clan Gurna Drom.

            The Yellow King had organized a sumptuous banquet in the Palace, and although the people of Landgurdy was not invited in the Palace, many banquets had been set all around the country. Only the War Clanners of Landgurdy were to be admitted in Her presence in this most special day.

            At the very moment of the blessing by the Priest of Tatasi, the slaughter had already been perpetrated. The treacherous War Clanner Namad Gurdin had made an agreement with the Warring Kingdom of Cromash Tur. One of them had been replaced by the Assassin Varad Romash Karad Din, Master of this infamous Guild. Cromash Tur had sworn that very day would be the end of the Landgurdy. And it was. Many had tried to unfold the mystery of the sudden death of all the War Clanners and the Nobles present at that moment. The fact is that they were all found dead by the servants who were intrigued by the silence following the blessing… No wound, no trace of poison. The death of all these people remains a mystery.

            Though, two were missing. The Assassin, and the Yellow Princess.

            Cromash Tur’s army invaded the Landgurdy shortly after that… No resistance encountered, no more War Clanners to assure the safety of the land.

            Though Cromash Tur’s Warlord always denied having captured the Yellow Princess, she was supposed held captive in an unknown shadowy place of the Marshes of Doom.

            The Death Guards were keeping an eye on her, and every cloth, every dish, every book that was given to her was meticulously checked. Nothing was to bear the slightest trace of yellow. According to the legend, her family was famous with their use of this magic color, one of their most powerful talent was the control of the weather pattern, and the King of Cromash Tur feared strongly she would use her power to destroy his Kingdom if She could see a yellow dot.

            The Marshes of Doom were so grey and shadowy, she could never see any trace of yellow there.

            (to be continued)

            #1311

            In reply to: Yuki’s Livrary

            ÉricÉric
            Keymaster

              October 23 rd

              “I may express to you that each of these chapters basically, so to speak, are not necessarily identified by one particular action, or that they are accomplishing one particular direction, in a manner of speaking. But that they all incorporate actions and movements that create a contribution to your awareness in this focus.

              “They all lend, in a manner of speaking, energy through experiences to you within THIS focus that benefits your movement in allowing yourselves to widen your awareness and insert this shift in consciousness into your actual objective reality.

              “As I have stated, this shift in consciousness, in a manner of speaking, is an enormous undertaking. It is a Source Event. And as you are aware, Source Events are so immense within consciousness that they may not be entirely inserted into your physical dimension. They are, in your terms physically speaking, larger than your dimension incorporates the capacity to express.

              “Therefore, in recognizing this immensity of this movement and this creation within your reality, one focus, one time framework would be overwhelmed in attempting to create this type of movement singularly, and independent of other energy and other focuses that may be creating experiences that shall offer you as essence the type of opening within this physical experience that shall allow for this insertion of this shift into your actual objective reality.” [Elias, March 02, 2001]

              #1534

              In reply to: Synchronicity

              ÉricÉric
              Keymaster

                About Yurara Fameliki (comment # 220)

                Yurara (ゆらら の月 Yurara no Tsuki)

                Yurara Tsukinowa is a quiet girl who can see spirits and sense their emotions. Not wanting to seem abnormal, she hides her secret until she meets Mei Tendo and Yako Hoshino, two guys who use their spiritual powers to ward off vengeful spirits. The dormant guardian spirit in Yurara arises and a strong-willed beauty with the power to release souls emerges.

                #336

                Hi Torsten, said Tina, giving her old friend a hug. Thanks for calling and saying you had some time to chat, hope I didn’t sound odd when I answered the phone, Becky was there, and I didn’t want to tell her. I am trying to pretend I am normal you see, she laughed wryly.

                I really need someone who isn’t involved with the play to talk to though, I feel like I am going a bit weirdo, bottling everything up. And it is affecting the play and my relationship with the others.

                I can’t find my place in the play the others are writing. See it is the play “the others are writing”. I feel as though I am drifting through it, trying to find my way amidst the structure, if you can call it structure, they give it. And that is the way I am feeling about life, I can’t find my place in it

                At the moment I claim to believe in magic, and that I create my own reality, but I certainly don’t feel it the last few days. She thought for a moment. Well other days recently have been golden, it is all magic. I find it everywhere. Yes, I have had days like that, but the last week or so I can’t find it.

                What changed?

                I felt as though I couldn’t create what I wanted to.

                What if you could?

                All of it? It would be a miracle though. My rational mind tells me it is not possible. And in that lies the source of this pain.

                So you don’t believe what you claim to believe

                Tina thought for a moment. I keep feeling the eyes of that Blue Mule character I told you we created on me. That’s not his name, but I keep getting stuck on the spelling . Well actually I didn’t create him. The others keep creating new characters, every time someone does a typo, it is “hey! new character!” Anyway this was ages ago. And in the play there was a picture that one of the characters, Quintin, did, and whenever I say “I can’t”, then I feel these eyes of Blue Mule challenging me, and it’s like he’s saying, “ well what DO you believe then?” and it is like a real challenge in these eyes.

                #318
                TracyTracy
                Participant

                  Let me show you something, Dory. George reached into a big red and orange and purple kilim carpet bag ( Dory wondered where it had appeared from; she certainly didn’t recall seeing there when they arrived) and pulled out a large sheaf of printed papers. He passed it to Dory.

                  Dory read on the first page:
                  Chapter 343,482,927,457,299,209,2819,298,357,008,557,057: ‘REMEMBERING
                  Blimey, said Dory, Long book!

                  George grinned enigmatically and said, Indeed.

                  Dory flicked through the pages, reading a bit here and a bit there. Glancing up at George she said, I guess you couldn’t possibly carry the whole book round with you all the time in your carpet bag, the whole book must be enormous!

                  Oh, the whole book is always in my bag, he said.

                  Really? Dory asked in a disbelieving tone.

                  Why yes, of course. ‘It’s all in there somewhere’ he said, and laughed heartily, and a trifle rudely, Dory thought. Yes Dory, the whole book is always in there.

                  With a hmpf, Dory returned to scanning the pages. Before long she was overcome with waves of nostalgia and familiarity and deja vu, even a sort of backwards deja vu…a vuja de…Dory snickered to herself…

                  Why is this chapter called remembering, George? If I had written this chapter I’d have called it forgetting.

                  #1448
                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    http://www.north-of-africa.com/article.php3?id_article=418

                    This might be a better link for the comment about the connection between Egypt and Tuaregs :) :weather-clear:

                    as well as the Egypt connection :

                    At Jabbaren, he found a city with alleys, cross-roads and squares. The walls were covered with hundreds of paintings. Jabbaren is a Tuareg word meaning “giants” and the name refers to the paintings found inside the city, some of which depict human figures that are indeed gigantic in size. One of them measured up to eighteen feet high. Several of these paintings depicted “Martians” and for Lhote, it was the first time he discovered paintings of hundreds of oxen. Jabbaren was soon labelled one of the oldest sites of the Tassili.

                    I think the mummy may be 6 meters tall………(Rahim told me that the tombs there were extraordinarily long….and we did have a giant enter the story ….) :yahoo_thinking:

                    ~~~~~~~~~

                    AND: The Tassili n’Ajjer

                    …..the Hoggar Mountains and the Tassili n’Ajjer, one of the most enchanting mountain ranges on this planet……

                    There were largely two forms of rock paintings, distinguishable by the location in which they were found. Some were found in rock shelters, such as at Aouanrhet. These sites were where the shaman performed his divination, as the face of a rock was often seen as a doorway to another dimension (another parallel with the paintings in the French caves).

                    (this reminds me of Oversoul Seven! # book by Jane Roberts)

                    Though one could interpret their location as the work of a nomadic people, Lhote’s team also found several urban settlements.
                    He found small concentrations of human activity around Tan-Zoumiatak in the Tin Abou Teka massif. It was a little rocky citadel that dominated the gorge below. The citadel was cut through with a number of narrow alleys. Lhote described the art he found here as: “There were life-size figures painted in red ochre, archers with muscular arms and legs, enormous ‘cats’, many scenes with cattle, war-chariots and so forth. Up to this time I had never seen figures of this sort in the Tassili and the mass of paintings that I managed to view that day quite put into the shade all those I had seen up to then.”

                    more:

                    http://www.philipcoppens.com/tassili.html

                    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                    ENORMOUS CATS?????? :yahoo_surprise:

                    #1467
                    ÉricÉric
                    Keymaster

                      Blue quote thingy

                      The blue quote thingy is made with bq. (blockquote) at the beginning of a new line.

                      bq. will give that

                      will give that

                      If it extends to many paragraphs, then use

                      bq.. my long quote
                      continued
                      p.  *back to normal paragraph again*

                      my long quote

                      continued

                      back to normal paragraph again

                      You can have more details in the Textile help file for other more complex designs…

                      Searching

                      :face-glasses: I tried in both the search tab, and the “quicksearch”, and it seems OK.

                      Only trick is in the search tab, when you look up, say… “Arona”… you have to click on the highlighted extract, and not on the title, if you want to be brought directly to the one of the many comments where Arona appears ;))

                      #255
                      TracyTracy
                      Participant

                        Cuthbert woke up with a start, and called for Nanny Gibbon. What a horrible nightmare he was having!

                        CURSED HAND, YOU HAVE GIVEN ME NOTHING BUT GRIEF. I WOULD RATHER NOT HAVE A HAND THAN HAVE SUCH A WICKED, EVIL APPENDAGE ATTACHED TO MY BODY.

                        Cuthbert trembled and checked his hands. Phew! they looked normal.

                        GOOD RIDDANCE HAND. MAY YOU ROT IN THE BOTTOM OF THIS RIVER AND NEVER AGAIN INFLICT YOUR EVIL ON ANY OTHER POOR UNSUSPECTING SOUL.

                        Nanny I just had an awful dream! Cuthbert clutched Nanny Gibbon’s dressing gown, and shuddered. There was this madman, Nanny, by a river, and he kept shouting about an evil hand….

                        There, there, Bertie, it was only a dream. How about a nice piece of Manon’s Yorkshire parkin and a cup of cocoa?

                        #186
                        F LoveF Love
                        Participant

                          Arona eventually woke from her sleep, still tangled in the images from her dreams. Unable to remember these images she was left feeling as though she were adrift in a boat on the ocean, not caring where the wind and waves may take her.

                          She had no feeling that morning. It was as though a door had closed in her mind, shutting out the part that could feel. She did not know, nor care, whether she was shutting out joy or sorrow, only that some part of her wanted to be alone.

                          She remembered the words of the older woman who had sat with her and soothed her to sleep. Or was she already asleep? Was the woman a dream?

                          Use your magic, she had said.

                          When she was young, in the Village, magic had come easily to Arona. When did it end?. She screwed up her eyes trying to concentrate. It hadn’t ended all at once. Did it start to end with the cloak her parents had given her?

                          Arona shook her head briskly and thoughts, like leaves in the wind, lifted and fell back to earth again in new formations.

                          :fleuron: :fleuron: :fleuron:

                          The candle still burned brightly and her attention was drawn to the heavy wooden door, knowing she could not put it off any longer. In her bag of treasures was a key. It had been given to her at the beginning of her 21 st year, as was custom in the Village. It was no surprise to her that it fitted the lock perfectly.

                          Thank you for having me room, she said as she left.

                          No, thank YOU, replied the sleepy glukenitch.

                          :fleuron: :fleuron: :fleuron:

                          The door led directly into another space, larger, brighter. She could sense someone there, but not in solid form. It was a beautiful woman who Arona felt an immediate affinity with, and then a strange sadness came unbidden.

                          Why sad?

                          I have no clue answered Arona briskly, quickly shutting the door back on these pesky emotions.

                          You always know, just feel it

                          So Arona closed her eyes tightly and allowed herself to feel the answer.

                          Because you know who you are, and it made me realise I have no idea who I am.

                          Mmmmmmm, said the woman, maybe you would care to look at my new paintings. Actually they are some of yours.

                          Intrigued, Arona felt this would be a suitable distraction and she looked with much interest.

                          The first painting was of a child, in a beautiful meadow of flowers. The child appeared to be completely absorbed, concentrating on a small blue butterfly which had lighted on her finger.
                          The picture itself moved and changed shape as though it were a portal to another living, breathing world. In the corner of the picture were some other children who seemed to be playing happily together.

                          Arona, who had felt immediately connected with the young child frowned.

                          Doesn’t the little girl feel left out?

                          Go in, said the woman, Go inside the picture and feel the answer.

                          Oh, and you might want to leave your cloak behind.

                          So Arona did, and she became the child, but also stayed herself, observing the scene. She felt the child’s happy fascination in her connection with the butterfly. Not just the butterfly. She could feel her connected with the earth, and the gentle breezes and the beautiful flowers … The child was deeply contented, absorbed in the moment, moving happily with the flow of her interest.
                          I remember feeling like that, thought Arona, before the magic went.
                          She gently drew the child’s attention to the other children and felt the flow of energy between them. The child was so sure of who she was and where she wanted to be, and Arona could feel the loving acceptance of her playmates.
                          As the child’s attention went to the others, one of the children looked up and came running over. They sat together and laughed at some funny rabbits which had appeared in the meadow.

                          :fleuron: :fleuron: :fleuron:

                          Arona returned to the cave.

                          You look troubled

                          Well, Arona felt a little perplexed. It’s all very well playing with butterflies and rabbits in a meadow, but it is not terribly practical.

                          On the contrary, perhaps it is very practical. Would you like to see another of your paintings?

                          Suspended gracefully between two posts was a beautiful, glistening spider web. Little drops of rain hung like jewels on a chain. An enormous spider waited patiently in the shadows. As Arona watched a small insect happened at that moment to be caught, and the spider began to creep along the delicate lines.

                          Arona shuddered a little. I might not jump into that one .

                          The woman laughed, Use your magic Arona. Weave your magic web and let it all come to you.

                          Oh you are the second person to tell me to use my magic. An old lady came to me in my dreams, I think.

                          Well I gave her the same advice, years ago.

                          More damn riddles, Arona thought to herself, and the woman laughed.

                          One final painting of yours I would like to show you. It is beautiful is it not?

                          Arona stared mesmerised for a moment, and then leapt right in.

                          She sat among an audience, captivated by the dancers on the stage ahead. Beautiful music played and it reminded Arona of the music she had heard earlier. The dancers leapt and twirled and Arona was enraptured.

                          Dance Arona, she heard the woman’s voice

                          I can’t dance like that, I’m not good enough.

                          It doesn’t matter

                          And Arona could not hold back any longer and entered the body of one of the dancers. She did not know the dance so she made up her own steps, and strangely this seemed to fit perfectly with the other dancers.

                          :fleuron: :fleuron: :fleuron:

                          Back in the cave the woman seemed to be listening to something Arona did not think she could hear.

                          Things are shifting she said

                          Oh lordy, are they said Arona, What should I do now?

                          Feel the answer

                          Arona felt. I am very hungry, eggceptionally so.

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