Search Results for 'oil'
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Search Results
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In reply to: The Eights’ Shift, Stories
Jeeze, the little brats have stopped me from getting me beauty sleep looking for the darn eggletons! Shar was seating outside sipping her cup of tea while conversing with her old friend Glor.
I was about to tell you the same Shar!… i need my beauty kip. Yer niece and nephew… Holly Molly…
Niece and nephew… what you on about? The nephewer the merrier if you ask me
As if we not got enough with them prescription drugs from the bathroom cabinet stopping us from sleeping!
Want to see them comin’ near our beds those!
Oh no, not our beds! Glor recoiled in horror.
Stupid drugs… Better for ‘em not come close when I’m ‘ere, or we’ll have to learn how to sleep standing!
Wouldn’t like to see your hump sleeping standing!
Not hump,… haunch, silly! Wouldn’t be so good anyway covered with blankets… Shar lost her trail of thought in remembrance of her past bedroom encounters.
A sudden crack in the nearby potting shed raised the ample bottom of the one named Glor in alarm.
In reply to: Strings of Nines
“Jeeze, the little brats have almost ruined all our naggin plants looking for the darn eggletons!” Shar was seating outside sipping her cup of tea while conversing with her old friend Glor.
“I was about to tell you the same Shar!… Yer niece and nephew… Holly Molly…”
“Niece and nephew… The nephewer the merrier if you ask me”
“As if we not got enough with the does from the forest comin’ for food in our plantations!”
“Want to see them comin’ near our crops those!”
“Oh no, not our crops!” Glor recoiled in horror.
“Stupid does… Better for ‘em not come close when I’m ‘ere, or we’ll have to learn how to cook haunch!”
“Wouldn’t have your hump for dinner!”
“Not hump,… haunch, silly! Wouldn’t be so good anyway stuffed with lead pellets…” Shar lost her trail of thought in remembrance of her past hunting skills.A sudden crack in the nearby potting shed raised the ample bottom of the one named Glor in alarm.
In reply to: Strings of Nines
In the back of the garden, forgotten by the children, lying unsuspectingly still in that place lost between the pine trees leaning against the wall separating the garden from the nearby graveyard was a lost chocolate egg wrapped in lemon chiffon coloured wrapping, its topmost part almost flattened as the toil of the sun had started to melt the delicacy.
It started to jump… and slowly crack open.
In reply to: Strings of Nines
A suspicious thought crossed Yoland’s head… Could it be that this… ‘demon’, for lack of a better word was responsible for that unexpected incursion of a snake which came in through the bathroom window ?
— “Yeah… I’d say, about time you notice!” snickered Sumhellfi (or ‘Sulfi’ for short). “You sometimes get so lost into puzzlement of which of your aspects is responsible for your creation that you don’t even wonder it might be a simple hello with no strings attached…”
— “Saying hello with a venomous snake?… You’ve got strange customs in Dhataland…
And as far as string goes…” Yoland smiled fondly thinking of the spoil of war in the wardrobe she kept in there for long winter nights
“err… I mean, better a string than a sting… well, if you know what I mean…”
— “As a matter of fart, I think I might know just exactly what you mean” Sulfi answered with a wink.In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Leormn was glad to be back in his cave.
The trip with the twins and Irtak had been very interesting for all of them; it had expanded their knowledge of their world, and the young Irtak was allowing his desire to be expressing his playfulness with dragons more and more.Leormn could foresee he would become a great dragon breeder, and the dragons once again would reappear with times of peace.
For now, he and Malvina were packing again. It was time for them to move the rookery, and find another spot where they could alter the stuck energies by simply being there. They were like roots in the ground, they were unseen to most, but they were moving, and changing the quality of the soil, enriching it, bringing lightness to it.
Irtak and the twins would start their own path, they had learned so much. They were heading to the South deserts, the land of the gripshawks, and other less known creatures. Irtak wanted to see the seal-men, too wherever they were, in between the Icy Lands and the Southern shores. He wanted to explore everythere.
Arona had found her way to the cave, and since Malvina was moving again, she had decided to stay there with her newfound little strange, but delightful family. Ikesy would probably go in a few years to fulfill his own destiny, but for now, the Ugling raised by an Oddling was doing well.
Having seen the interesting properties of her painted door (yes, the “peace off” magic door) she had finally acknowledged her talent, and decided to devote her time to take up her art. Of course, Mandrake was encouraging as ever (refraining to comment at the beginning), but she had no doubt her dedication would conquer his and her own doubts.
After all, her magic was strong; if anything needed to be drawn out of this adventure that was it. And Buckberry her own artist dragon was a remainder of that.In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
“Well, I must say, the random daily quote is rather apt Godfrey” Elizabeth said with a weak smile. “Listen to this:
‘When Rudy the myna had come back crashing on the boat, it all became suddenly a huge uncontrollable chaos.
The hovering menacing clouds that were looming in front of them were coming closer at a dreadful speed, and even more concerning were the rocks that were appearing everywhere now, that they had more and more trouble to avoid in betwixt the turmoils and eddies.So they had finally come to the Great Rift, Bådul was thinking. The back of the legendary water dragon that noone was known to have crossed.’
“What do you think of that, eh?”
“Oh by golly, it is rather isn’t it. Been quite a day hasn’t it, Elizabeth?” Godfrey smiled gently.
“I should say so!” she replied. “Oh, listen to this:
‘But Bådul knew better.
He howled orders to get everybody ready at their posts, and felt reassured when he saw that Austor was maneuvering with dexterity and confidence through the rift.’“Ahahah…..” Elizabeth was starting to sound marginally hysterical. She continued reading the random daily quote.
“‘He ignored the crazy laugh of Razkÿ, the madman who was now shouting with a manic laughter…..’”
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Becky had to sneak out of the facility without Gayesh’s notice. He had been very protective of his favorite clone subject lately and she had been feeling a bit restrained in her movements.
Sam’s invitation was a breath of fresh air, but she wouldn’t have admitted it openly.
She knew perfectly that Sam wasn’t fooled by her hesitation but she had to play her role to the nails.She had asked him to come and get her in that spider cruiser she’d heard of once. It always had that funny feeling to her and secretly she had wished that one day…
The technology used to manufacture that machine had evolved since the first prototype and now it was much faster and didn’t rely on oil. She’d heard that the trip from Le Havre to New-York was only 3 hours now. She wondered how much that would make from Colombo to the City.
Well Sam told her to be on the Galle Face Colombo Beach at noon. She had a couple of hours to make some shopping. Some of the best free-shops of the city were in the vicinity. And she would need some special present as far as she had understood.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Artemesium Absinthium was a very sought-after trance inducing beverage.
Its secret recipe was traced back from as early as the little known Carpathian Sisterhood, and allegedly written on the prophetic toilet paper scrolls of Dildegarde von Bicken.
It was thought to contain a few identifiable ingredients; mainly: leek and watermelon juice, goatweed and cabbage, and possibly either mushroomic pee or toad warts.
(From The Early Lore of the Carpathian Sisterhood, by Henry Gin)
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Following Dory’s example, Yann had subscribe to the daily Universe’s messages. The first time she’d showed him the messages it appeared to be very fun and encouraging, but since he had subscribed, the messages he was receiving were very odd and more like what a spoiled child could tell you.
Yann had been fed up all day long by the last message in which the Universe had apparently told him that He, The Universe was all knowing and had everything but He won’t give a bit to Yann because!Wow! That was a bit rude of Him, Yann thought… better not send anything… maybe he can tell Him next time to go fuck Himself.
All day long the irritation triggered by that simple note was gathering other tensions… it was like each time he was receiving a phone call, the caller’s energy would be scattered and distracting… and most irritating. Yann was feeling like other people had so many expectations for him and he couldn’t order his ideas or find a distraction.
All of the imagery would reflect him the same thing, unexpected answers from the Universe.
“Don’t wait for something particular, because each time it will present itself in a different way.”
At the end of the day, Yann was puzzled and annoyed… and the text messages he had been receiving on his mobile phone started again.
Apparently a girl was waiting for some call or message from a guy called “Did”, and she was persuaded that Yann’s number was that guy’s number. At first, Yann wouldn’t answer any of the messages and play the role of /dev/null/ endpoint of the Universe… After each message though, his irritation was growing accordingly…
He sent a message signed by The Universe and told the girl he was not who she thought he was and that she could as well try another random number to find her “Did”. But well, engrossed as she was in her passion, she answered him by a question : Who was he and why would he use “Did”‘s phone?
Hopefully Yurick was present… Yann as a good soft would have matched the energy of the Bitch but instead he sent he a last message, wishing her good luck in her quest. No need to add to her distress or the polarization in sending her a message like : Apparently your guy didn’t want to see you again if he’d given you this number…
Well, the “truth” still hadn’t made its way to her intellect though, she had sent him another message telling him she’d knew it from the beginning, that Yann was Did’s girlfriend and that she/he was trying to keep him/Did for her/him.
That’s when had some kind of striking revelation… The Universe was called Pedro!
And when he told that to Yurick, he chuckled and told Yann that the Universe was called Michael…
“They’re all angels lately, so it’s the name of an angel…”Why not?
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Siobhan was settling into her new job at the Freakus, fitting like a duck to water into her position as Head Cage Rattler. It wasn’t an easy job to do which was why the rewards were so high; it certainly wasn’t everyones cup of tea, and good Cage Rattlers were hard to find. Oh, there were plenty of Cage Rattlers, true, but not good ones. A good Cage Rattler had to have a certain “je ne say kwah”, an impermeability, much like the oily feathers of a duck, enabling the Cage Rattler to glide easily through troubled waters without sinking ~ without even getting wet, if they were very skilled.
The success of the Freakus show depended on new ideas and inspirations. The audience, as well as the participants of course, wanted something new, something challenging, something inspiring, something ‘out of the box’ for each show, not the same old boring routines. There was nothing entertaining about the same old tricks rehashed over and over again, even if they were well known and easy to perform. True, there were many of the general public who preferred the familiar acts, but they generally weren’t fans of the innovative and forward thinking Freakus show. Freakus was new, exciting, thought provoking and entrancingly different, hence the importance of the Cage Rattlers.
When the performers and cast members of Freakus got too complacent or too boring, it was Siobhan’s job to disturb them, to rattle their cages, yes, to upset them. Clearly it was undeniably important that Siobhan not take their retaliations personally; after all, she was just doing her job. She was shaking things up purposefully for the overall benefit of the show, it was a simple as that. It wasn’t her job to direct or lead those in the rattled cages, simply to disturb them from their boring old routines. Freakus, after all, wasn’t about the old and boring, it was about the new and exciting, and it was up to the individual performers to come up with a new act.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
The two roses of Jericho had almost completely dried up, furled again into a tight ball exhaling a slightly pungent odor.
Yurick was impressed by the genius of this plant, which could die and “resurrect” countless times, while spending most of its time in this dried up state, only waiting for some water to revive it.
Perhaps essence was a Rose of Jericho too; he meant his wider self, he could feel it springing from the moisture of new prospects and challenges, then slowly crawling back to a state of balance. These last past days were a sort of clearing of the rest of the waters of the year. Things were looking a bit shriveled on the outside, but you could feel life and impetus was there, if only dormant…
Funnily, these two didn’t have any names, unlike Sha and Glo the aerial plants, which were still kind of resting on an empty beige egg carton upon the white toilets in the bathroom, where light, moisture (and aerial nutrients) surely never failed to float around.
It was funny, he thought all of a sudden; looks like the little hairy plants are travelers upon a big iceberg… What a funny story this would make.So, the roses didn’t have names… If they were essences of roses, what would be their focuses?
Well, what was imagination telling him? He could easily imagine them as sort of strange mummies who would dry up into balls of dried flesh and sinews and being revived sometimes during the flood seasons. Actually with the news of Venice (and next Rome) being flooded if there were some old mummies suddenly revived from old times and prolonged lyophilization, that could be a place to start. Well, they probably would have a hard time coping with all the changes and the pace of this time.
Alabama or Louisiana would be fun places to have some too… Funny mummies…In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
“Hey! Look at that Bea!”
“What?” Beattie answered distractedly
“A flyer for a friggin’ Christmas Boulder Moving Party ! Bugger if I want to go there and spend euros on stupid gifts! Spoiling the fun on the snowy mount, innit a shame?”
“Mmmm mmm”
“What’re you looking at Bea for Pete’s sake! You’re not even listening to a word I just said!”
“Shhht Leo, that old bat of Barb has found another treasure of a book, it’s full of tattoos designs ; I’d love to get one.”
“You’re kiddin’?!” Leonora was dismayed “And where would you put the fucker? On your hips with all your cellulite, it’ll look like a bloated wrinkled balloon in no time at all!”
“Yeah, been thinkin’ of that for a while… I think I’ve got a good smooth n’ firm place for it though…”
“Don’t tell me…”
“Yes, on my butt!”In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
“Girls! Let’s ‘ave a rest! Akita’s waking up!” Sharon’s powerful voice commanded the caravan of snooter-powered hairy ladies to a halt.
“Wow, I really start to love this place,” Gloria was reeling. “And who knew all this extra hair would come in so handy. Look! Another aurora borealis !”
“Yeah, an’ another crowd of trillion of these darn Adélie penguins shoutin’ like Freddy during those bloody crickets cups…” said Mavis with a sniffle, pointing at the icy coastline blackened by the seemingly boundless flock of little noisy creatures.
“And how the heck you so sure they’re Adultery penguins?” snapped Gloria a bit vexed her sharing of the beauties of the white paradise was left soiled by Mavis “like you’re goin’ to impress us with your botanic knowledge-it-all? Just because you love looking at those stupid nightly animal documentaries?”“Be still girls! Bring those watermelbombs to make a fire, food and water, we’re camping here until Akita’s ready to go.”
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
“Oh no! Last night’s frost has killed all the blibilong plants!” exclaimed Snettie, shivering in the unnatural cold. “Honestly, this global freezing is spoiling everything. If blibilong plants can’t stand this cold, then nothing will grow here anymore, and I am sick to death of eating leopard seal with no greens.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me. What I wouldn’t give for a nice fresh sun warmed bobbit fruit. All the smikkerts have migrated north as well, I haven’t seen one for months” replied Snooter. “I don’t know if I can stick around here for much longer myself.”
“But this is our home, Snooter!” Snettie started to cry, her tears freezing on her cheeks. We’re Sprealians, we’ve always lived here. Where will we go?”
Snooter hugged Snettie. “I suppose we’ll have to go north, like the rest of them.”
Snooter and Snettie gazed around at the deserted city. Alabash had been built around the shores of Lake Flom, in the mild and temperate regions of central Spreal (later, much later, Spreal was referred to as Gondwana, but Snooter and Snettie didn’t know that. And they certainly didn’t know that the remains of their civilization was to disappear under masses of ice for so long that all memory of them was long forgotten, and that anyone mad enough to suggest that they once existed would be considered a bit of a nutter).
“Snettie, I think the time has come” Snooter said solemnly. “I think we have to go north. There’s only old Spagwan left here now besides us, and his daughter Illiofilly. We’ll never survive here with just four of us, even if it didn’t get any colder, and it is getting colder, every day. Why, the first four floors of all our buildings are iced up now for heaven’s sake. What happens when the ice reaches the top floors? Then what?”
“We’ll all be dead by then, Snooter” Snettie sighed “By rights we should probably be dead now. When we run out of furniture to burn to keep warm, then what? All the trees are dead and buried in ice.”
“We’ll come back though, when it warms up again. This can’t last forever, and when it’s over, we’ll come back.” Snooter said optimistically.
“How long do you think it’ll be?” Snettie asked her husband.
“Oh, not long, a few years at most. Don’t worry, you’ll be back home before you know it, but for now, let’s go and find some warmth and some decent food, eh?”
“Ok, but first I want to leave something, some message or clue or something, in case anyone comes back here before we do, so they know we’re coming back”
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
“Well, Sanso” said Zhaana a trifle breathlessly, her flushed with wonder. “ The Elsepace Arrangement was certainly an eye opener, if eye opener is the right word. So what next?”
Sanso laughed uproariously. “What next? What next, AHAAAHAA HA HA! What next indeed!”
“What’s so funny?” asked the little girl, her face starting to crumple.
“Oh don’t do the old crumple face, Zhaana, I’m laughing at myself as much as anything” Sanso replied, giving her a quick hug. He couldn’t bear the sight of crumple faced children.
“Well, I still don’t understand why you’re laughing” she replied with a pout.
“It’s actually a very good question, and one I sometimes find I ask myself. Well, I used to ask myself “what next” all the time, as if it was somehow important to know where I was going next, to have a destination or a plan.”
“But if you don’t have a destination, how do you know where to go next?” Zhaana was confused.
Sanso smiled. “It doesn’t matter where you go next, little one, because you’re always at the centre of everything. You can go in any direction you want and you’ll always be at the centre of everything.”
“Well if that’s the case, why not just stay right where I am, then?”
“Do you want to do that? Stay right where you are?”
“No! I …er….no! of course not!”
“Why not?” Sanso asked with a gentle smile.
“Well, if I stay right here, and don’t go in any direction, everything will always be the same” she replied, frowning.
“And what would be wrong with that?”
Zhaana had to think about this. “Well, it wouldn’t be wrong I guess, but it would be boring. There wouldn’t be any surprises…..”
“Ah so you like surprises, then!” Sanso was grinning.
“Yes, I love surprises!”
“Well then why do you want to plan where you’re going next?”
Zhaana opened and closed her mouth like a goldfish. Sanso was confusing her, and she didn’t know what to say.
“OK then, Sanso, you are always wandering around, how do you decide where to go next?” asked Zhaana, rather cleverly responding to the difficult question with a question of her own.
“I get an impulse, or I see a sign, and I follow it.”
“What do you mean, a sign?” Zhaana understood about impulses: after all, she had followed her impulse to leave horrid old Uncle Grishenka and follow Sanso into the cave. She wasn’t sure about signs, though.
“I’m not sure I can describe a sign, really. They just appear, and so I notice them.”
“Well, after you notice them, then what?”
“Well” said Sanso “Then you interpret the sign however you want to, and then you act on it.”
“You can interpret the sign however you want?” asked Zhaana with a hint of disbelief in her voice.
“Yup” replied Sanso. “That’s about the size of it, Sweetpea.”
“Oh Godfrey, I’ve been trying to get the theme word into this entry and I’m just not getting any closer.” Elizabeth sighed, and pushed her keyboard away. Quickly she pulled the keyboard back so that she could write what Godfrey replied.
“Have some more peanuts, Liz” he replied with a laugh.
Elizabeth pushed the keyboard away again and passed Godfrey the peanuts .
A few moments later Elizabeth pulled the keyboard back and wrote:
“Sanso, a word just popped into my head, do you think it might be a sign?” Zhaana asked excitedly. “It just popped in from nowhere!”
“Sure it’ll be a clue, and what was the word?” he replied, trying unsuccessfully to suppress a chuckle. He had heard the word too, and knew exactly where it was coming from, but he wasn’t going to spoil the moment for his little friend.
“Moonbeams!” she announced proudly. “I heard the word moonbeams !”
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
“Dory, there’s no asparagus, can we go and buy some?”
“Asparagus? Whatever for?” replied a frantic looking Dory, almost hidden behind arms full of pillows and quilts.
“For Will Tarkin, Mac said he likes asparagus” young Becky replied.
“Who the bloody hell is Will Tarkin? I’ve got enough to cope with trying to get ready for Granny Hill!” Dory sounded uncharacteristically flustered and impatient, and Becky recoiled slightly from the sparky energy.
“Will Tarkin is the mouse, Dory” Becky said in a tone that suggested it was inconceivable to have forgotten who Will Tarkin was.
“Will bloody Tarkin is getting a bit too big for his boots!” snapped Dory. “He’ll be wanting caviar next! I’ve got a time travelling mouse camped up behind my microwave, and Granny Hill’s frightened to death of mice; the room she was going to stay in is full of baby geckos, and you know how scared she is of lizards, not to mention the dead rat that was outside a moment ago, appearing from nowhere, and now I’m trying to get Peppy’s house across the road ready so Granny Hill can stay there instead, and none of the bedding has been washed and it’s still raining, and now you want me to take you shopping for asparagus for a MOUSE! And not only that, there are dead rhino beetles all up Peppy’s driveway, I can’t imagine why, and I’d be willing to bet that Granny Hill is afraid of rhino beetles too, so I suppose I’ll have to sweep up rhino beetles today too, as if I haven’t got enough to do cleaning up dead rats and baby geckos. Granny Hill is afraid of gas heaters too, so I’ll have to take an electric one over to Peppy’s”
“Granny Hill sure is afraid of a lot of things, Dory. Why is she scared of everything?”
“Good question, sweetheart” replied Dory, relaxing her energy as she brought her attention back to the moment. “She’s one of the old ones, from the Victim Mentality Days and the Age of Medical Suggestibility. They’re always afraid of everything, and Granny Hill’s a good example. Afraid of her money in case she can’t keep control of it, afraid of her car for the same reason, afraid of the food she eats in case it contains hidden poisons and afraid of the hospitals in case they’re dirty and dangerous. She’s afraid of strangers in case they have knives and stab her, even though in all her life she’s never seen a person threaten anyone with a knife, she’s even afraid of people in other countries, just in case they come and drop a bomb on her.”
“She must enjoy being scared, then, mustn’t she?” asked Becky. “Otherwise she wouldn’t do it. Doesn’t she realize she’s creating her reality herself?”
“Well, that was the trouble in the old days, honey, they didn’t know that back then. There’s a lot of people who still don’t know it now”
“Wow, really?” Becky said incredulously. “That must be weirdo!”
Dory had to laugh. “Believe it or not, neither did I for years. I keep forgetting it even now! Some of us used to say things like ‘think positive’ which wasn’t far off the mark, or ‘behind every cloud is a silver lining’, or ‘this too will pass’, that was always a good one for when you felt like it was all out of control. Alot of people prayed to gods too, thinking that their life was in the hands of the gods. I never knew much about praying myself though, we didn’t do that in our family, but it was very popular.”
“Maybe they were asking their own essence to help, that would make sense” replied Becky astutely. “Praying probably helped.”
“Yeah it probably did but there was alot of baggage that went along with praying, it wasn’t something you could do on your own in your own way, you had to go to a certain building to do it, and say certain words, even wear certain clothes and eat certain things. It was all very complicated, didn’t really work out in the end. The funny thing was, they were always fighting with people who prayed differently in different special buildings and who ate different special things and wore different special clothes, it was bizarre really.”
“Who is Granny Hill anyway, and why is she coming to stay?” Becky was bored with the way the conversation was going, and curious about Granny Hill who came to stay every so often, and always seemed to rattle Dory. “Whose granny is she?”
“Buggered if I know really, Becky” Dory replied. “Every family has one, I don’t know where they come from, they sort of just appear every so often and want to come and stay for a while.”
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Georges and Salome’s journal
From Salome’s account of her introduction to the Turmak People (Part 2)
Once Cil and I arrived on the Murtuane the most obvious thing to be noticed was that the situation was of great complexity, with far-reaching potential implications.
There was this thing about the Murtuane which was not easily seen with the eyes —but somehow with appropriate shift of one’s attention could be felt to some degree. It was that this part of the dimension (this planet in simpler words) was acting like a form of capacitor which would help regulate the outbursts of energy in various directions of the dimension, namely the Duane —which was more diverse, and more versatile in its types of experimentation.
Usually, Cil had explained, most of the outbursts occurred on the Duane, and they were mitigated by the underlying presence of the balancing energies of the Murtuane.
Most of the inhabitants of the Murtuane were very peaceful beings, mostly due to either their shared telepathic and empathic bond (Children of Turmak), or else to their nurturing societal structure (Zentauras and Children of the Sea).But here, something unprecedented had occurred on the farthest parts of the lands, near the Kandulim shores. A Daughter of the Sea, a representative of the Zentauras had explained, had broken her bond to the Sea to live with someone she had rescued. This in itself which should have been a private matter of the Race of the Sea had become also a thorn in the hoof of the Zentauras, as the couple had not only started to live on the Kandulim, but they also had come to rally more people around themselves, claiming a rightful place to live on their sacred soil.
The disruption didn’t suggest any foul-play from outside forces, yet Cil and I quickly got that feeling that there is more at play that meets the eye…
( Part 3 )
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
— Were are we Anu? , the mother asked her young daughter trotting in front of her. My, it’s awfully dark in there… Are you sure we’ll find the others here?
— Yes Mum. Anu answered in a soft voice.
— Don’t be so anxious, Lily dear; trust our little girl; after all, she did so bravely well on her own after that plane crash.
— You’re right Aaron, but this place is so… I don’t know, it gives me the creeps. It’s like… I couldn’t tell why, but it’s like we’re not remotely close to the Miami… or even the Sarcastic Sea where we’re supposed to be stranded…
— It’s because we’re not, muttered Anita, more to herself than to her mother. But we’ll be soon enough, she added.
— Sometimes I wonder how can Anu know so well were we are when we’re so lost, her mother mumbled…Balbina was following the little group as it was heading to the cave where one of the portal’s entrances was located. She could see the entrance clearly, glowing and sending ripples of energy coils, but that was only because she was travelling in her dream-body. While Anita, who was quite tuned into those things, wasn’t appearing to be lost, the parents seemed more than a little in the dark, and not only figuratively speaking…
Balbina turned to the rabbit who was keeping her company.
— And do you know were they’re going to?
— And do you like the things that life is showing you? giggled Yuki. Well, more seriously, it depends on what they’re choosing. And it could lead them to a place much more different than the one they expect to go to.A funny idea crossed the mind of Balbina, so much so that the elderly lady, who was looking rather youngish in her dreamlike appearance couldn’t help but express it.
— Could they come to my place? They seem so charming people, and they seem to come from the same time as I do…
— I thought you would never ask, Yuki smiled at her mischievously.
— Oh, why?
— Don’t you think it’s a funny coincidence that you are to meet them here and now?
— Well… It’s just a dream, isn’t it?
— And what if you could make that dream reality? Prove to yourself that it’s as real as anything else…
— That sounds exciting indeed.“Here!” Anita was pointing a strange shaped bush of brambles.
Rafaela was standing next to the bushes with Armelle on a tree nearby. “I’ve thought it would be more practical for them than the rock pool”
“Good thinking dear” Yuki answered the goat.— And now? Balbina asked
— I think it’s up to you and Anita, said Yuki.“And where are we going from there?” asked Lily to her daughter.
“Not far from here, to a friend’s home, in Venezuela .” answered Anita with a wink which seemed lost to her parents, but not to the beaming Balbina.In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Today was the commemoration of the fifth anniversary of the first transmutation made on Earth.
Of course, it didn’t take into account previous attempts (or successes), because they were of the domain of science-fiction and dubious history facts. But now, not only was it rock-solid proven feasible, but also it had change people’s lives like the invention of electricity had about two century ago, in the mid 1800s.
At first, people had not grasped the profound implications of that discovery. It was another funny science experiment from researchers, and didn’t seem to have any more practical usage as did goat cloning, and creation of phosphorescent pigs. However, to mark the consciousnesses of the importance of the event, the government hadn’t skimped on the showcase. Not that it was of any importance after what evolution was bound to happen afterward, but still, huge sums of money were spent brilliantly.
The symbolic aspect of choosing what object to transmute wasn’t unnoticed. It could be virtually anything physical: garbage, contaminated soil… But it had to mean more.
Someone whose name was forgotten came with a suggestion and it slowly came up as the most natural thing —to close this area and open on the new one.
There had been many people still left to convince, the die-hard fanaticism, but it had to be it. And for good measure, the involvement of other nations was asked.Sept. 4th, 2044, the ceremony opened with the display of what was left of Enola Gay that plane who had dropped the first atomic bomb, which had been almost forgotten in the West, but not completely in the East. And many nations came afterward, each carrying a symbol of what they wanted to recycle, to free themselves off.
Then all of these heterogeneous elements entered the P-Machine, a distant relative of the Z-Machine which had been adapted and enhanced to produce aneutronic fusion at its core —highest temperatures of the universe thought unreachable by human means, harnessed to change the elements at will, and producing no harmful radiations as the atomic towers of the past.
After a silent moment of unbearable expectation, melted gold started to flow out of the machine, making people wonder if that was all of it?Yes, it was merely it. Transmutation could be done, and it was not so impossible as people thought in the past. It meant free resources, recycling of garbage, abundance for all… at people’s grasp.
What people had failed to recognize at the beginning, apart from the immense possibilities that were lying before them was that the machine could only transmute matter. And even if it could virtually free them of greed (because everything from gold to rocks was basically of the same value now), people’s own values were now made prominent, there was no camouflage left: no victims, no shortages, no lack of.Even five years after, it still meant huge challenges, but there was hope.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
As she was sinking to the bottom of the raging sea, Madame Chesterhope first felt like a boiling rage inside her, at all the thwarted attempts, all the unfulfilled promises.
Not a solid thing on which to carve a few runes or symbols to get herself out, not a single living being to use at her profit, she was alone, at the mercy of gravity.
Not unexpectedly, flashes of her life, of her many lives, flickered like incoherent pieces of an unfinished mosaic in her mind.When did it went wrong? she thought… When did she lose touch with her magic.
Not the mundane magic, not the one she used for these parlor tricks devoid of meaning, like that beautiful flying motorbike which was drowning even faster than her… She was speaking of her inner magic, her sense of connection with the elements, with herself, Phoebe.What had become of the frail grey-haired lady the apparency of whom she was so fond of taking years ago?
She was tempted to blame many things; the twenty-first century of her own dimension, for one, which had made her rough and tough, out of need perhaps, and perhaps a bit out of laziness. It was out of tiredness mostly, tiredness to have to constantly justify her appearance to others, that she had chosen a more convenient one; that of the crone with more rotund forms, of whom one would only expect austerity and strength.
You can see where it had led you. she was thinking.A few more miles further down, and perhaps she would meet the mermaids, like the guy said in that Big Blue motion picture…
Maybe there was some purity left in her heart, that would make the inhabitants of the depths greet her wretched soul. Or perhaps they all died before her, from the pollution of this strange world mutating in pangs and spasms of a painful childbirth.And what would you do now, if you have the choice? that sweet voice, like that of a thin grey-haired mermaid, was it her own, testing herself?
The quest for magical artifacts seemed so far away at this moment. It had begun a long time ago, led her to discover new other-dimensional places… new tricks, all of them for what? To gain control over the elements, the others, everything that could threaten her, force her to change. How ironic. That the fear of change made her change so drastically.
She wanted to make peace with all of that. The mermaids weren’t coming, but her own voice was still there for her. Perhaps she could muster the strength. To continue…Mustering all her force, she forcibly expressed the most propelling “prout” she’d ever made. Of course, she’d been learning a few tricks from the legendary Fartiste back in her youth when she went to Paris to perform at the Moulin Rouge… Sweetest time of her life, she had to admit…
On the surface of the waters, bubbles started to form.
