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  • #4231

    It had been many years since Eleri left the service of Lord and Lady Teacake to make a life of her own in the woods, but she continued to visit Lady Jolly from time to time, arranging her visits to coincide with the Lord Mayor’s trips abroad. It was not that Lord Leroway wouldn’t have made her welcome ~ rather the reverse ~ in fact he found it hard to keep his hands off her. Eleri had no reciprocating feelings for the old scoundrel, but a great deal of affinity and affection for the Lady Jolly, a kindred soul despite their seemingly different stations in the life of a small rural township.

    Lord Leroway Teacake had not been born a noble, nor had the Lady Jolly. Leroway had a dream one night that he had been made the Lord Mayor of Trustinghampton in the Wold, and in the dream he was asking his teenage neighbour, Jolly Farmcock, for advice on what to say to the villagers in his inauguration speech. It appeared that the pretty girl with the curious eyes was his partner in the dream, and the dream was so vivid and real that he set his sights upon her and courted her hand in marriage. Jolly was bowled over by his ardent attention, and charmed by his enthusiasm. Before long they were married and Leroway was ready to continue his dream mission.

    Leroway was tall and broad shouldered, and prematurely bald in an arrestingly handsome sort of way. Despite his size, he had a way with intricate mechanisms; he had the manual dexterity of a watchmaker, and a fascination for making new devices with parts from old broken contraptions. Had it not been for the dream, he would have happily spent his life tinkering in the workshop of his parents home.

    But the dream was a driving compulsion, and he and his new bride set off to find Trustinghampton in the Wold, as the feeling within him grew that the villagers were expecting him.

    “Where is it?” Jolly asked.

    “We will know when we find it!” replied Leroway. “Hold on to my coat tails!” he added a trifle theatrically. Jolly smiled up at him, loving his exuberance. And off they set, first deciding at the garden gate whether to turn right or left. And this is what they did at every intersection and fork in the road. They paused and waited for the pulling. Not once did they have a difference of opinion on which direction the drawing energy came from. It was clear.

    They arrived at the newly populated abandoned village just as the sun was setting behind the castle ramparts. Wisps of blue smoke curled from a few chimneys, and the aroma of hot spiced food hastened their steps. A small black and white terrier trotted towards them, yapping.

    “We have arrived!” Leroway announced to the little dog. “And we are quite hungry.”

    The dog turned and trotted up the winding cobbled street, lined with crumbling vacant houses, looking over his shoulder as if to say “follow me”. Leroway and Jolly followed him to the door of a cottage with candle light glowing in the window.

    The dog scratched on the cottage door and yapped. Creaking and scraping the tile floor, the door opened a crack, and a young woman pushed her ragged dreadlocks over her shoulder with a grimy hand, peering out.

    “Ah!” she said, her face breaking into a smile. “Who are you? Well never mind, I have a feeling you are expected. Come in, come in.”

    The door creaked alarmingly and juddered as it scraped the floor. Leroway scowled at the door hinges, suppressing an urge to take the door off the hinges right then and there to fix it.

    “My name is Alexandria,” the woman introduced herself when the travelers had squeezed through the opening. She kissed them on both cheeks and gestured them to sit beside the fireplace. “We haven’t been here long, so please excuse the disarray.”

    Noticing her guests eyes on the bubbling pot on the fire, she exclaimed, “Oh but first you must eat! It’s nothing fancy, but it is mushroom season and I must say I have never had such delicious mushrooms as the ones growing wild here. Let me take your coats ~ I say, what a gorgeous purple! ~ sit, do sit!” she said, pulling a couple of rickety chairs up to the table.

    “You are too kind,” replied Jolly gratefully. “It smells divine, and we are quite hungry.”

    “How many people live here?” asked Leroway.

    “Twenty two now, more are arriving every day,” replied Alexandria. “Eleri and I and Lobbocks were the first to come and we sent word to the others. You see,” she sighed, “It’s really been quite a challenge down in the valleys. Many chose to stay, but some of us, well, we felt an urge to move, to find a place untouched by the lowland dramas.”

    “I see,” said Leroway, although he didn’t really know what she meant by lowland dramas. He had spent his life in the hills.

    He tucked into his bowl of mushroom stew. There was plenty of time to find out. He was here to stay.

    #4104
    AvatarJib
    Participant

      “Is that lamb head on the menu?” asked Connie with a grimace on her face. “I can’t believe it.”

      “It looks like it, dear”, retorted Sophie offhandedly. “Don’t look at me like that, I’ve seen and eaten worse.”

      “Ewh”, said Connie, “I don’t want to know.” She was not quite honest, her reporter blood was thirsty about good and juicy stories. But she was not here to interview the temp, and the menu was leaving her perplexed. “What’s Hrútspungar ?”

      “You don’t want to know”, said Sophie, “Trust me.”

      Connie craved some vegan food and they didn’t seem to have any vegetables in the hotel restaurant. She pouted and finally gave up. “Take whatever you want, I’ll follow.”

      “You like to live dangerously”, said Sophie.
      “Whatever”, retorted Connie with a sigh. She put a hand on her round belly. “It may be an opportunity to begin that diet.”

      Sophie snorted. She never believed in diet. She had tried them all, just for fun, but she eventually found the rules boring and just forgot about the whole diet business.

      “Nice beehive hair Ladies”, said the waiter with an appreciative look at their heads. “What will you order?” he asked opening his small notebook.

      Sophie smiled at the compliment and closed the menu. “I’ve been told you had a special”, she said.

      The man tilted his head and looked at the old woman with a hint of surprise in his eyes. He shrugged as if it wasn’t his problem after all. Connie gulped, expecting the worse.

      “Two Svið with Gellur”, he said scribbling something in his notebook. “May I suggest some Brennivín?”
      “You may”, answered Sophie. “It can help us gulp the whole thingy”, she explained to Connie.

      “The common error is to go for the head and dismiss the eyes”, said the waiter. “They may surprise you”, he added before leaving.

      Connie looked murderously at Sweet Sophie, whom she would have renamed Sour Sophie in that moment. The old woman had an air of satisfaction on her face. “Why on earth would you pick that ?” asked the reporter.

      “Oh! That was part of the instructions in the letter”, answered Sophie with a shrug that made her beehive tremble.

      #4047
      AvatarJib
      Participant

        Back at her desk after a crash course at zumba with the Chinese team, Connie was sorting her e-mails (meaning sending them to trash). Nothing fancy, nothing catchy, nothing to grab her attention span for more than a minute.

        The noise of the open space was making her feel drowsy. Maybe a coffee would help her wake up, or maybe if something could happen to stir the pot. Connie deleted a few more e-mails to show the others that she was a busy reporter before leaving her desk.
        Passing by the desks of her colleagues, Connie looked surreptitiously at their computer screens and saw that everyone was playing the busy game. It was sad to recognize that good news (meaning bad news) were hard to come by nowadays.

        In times like these, she had to resist the tentation to create her own news, it was not that kind of press. But still toying with the idea and making up some outrageous stories with her team was a way to make time fly away more quickly. Once, Hilda had even reused one of the titles for a real stories that sadly happened shortly after she had made it up.
        Rumour had it that Hilda’s great grand mother was a gypsy and could do palm reading. The gran even used palm tree leaves to do her reading when there was nobody, you just had to cut the leave in the shape of the person you wanted to read the future and she would tell you all about them. She was good.
        “It runs in the family,” Hilda had said. “It’s helpful to be at the right place at the right time.” And for sure she was the most prolific reporter of the agency.
        Connie sure would have used some of Hilda’s medium inner sight to know when something would happen.

        She made herself a cappuccino and with the milk drew the face of Al Pacino. Many years at a press agency and you learn a few tricks to impress your friends.
        She heard the slow and uneven pace of sweet old Sophie behind her. She sighed, she didn’t want to have to answer another of her dumb questions about the future. If Hilda could read bits of the future, Sophie was always thirsty about it. Maybe that’s why Hilda was more often in the field and not so often at her desk.

        Connie turned and almost dropped her cappuccino as the old lady handed her a Fedex envelop.
        “Sorry,” said sweet old Sophie, “That just arrived for you. I wonder what it is.”
        “I’m sure you do,” muttered Connie.
        “It’s from Santa Claus,” said the old lady with a conniving smile.
        Connie looked at the old lady, with a forced smile. Was insanity a cause to get rid of one of your employee ? She took the package with one hand. Heavier than she had expected. When she saw the address, she couldn’t believe it was real. The sender’s and city’s names were certainly fake. Jesus Carpenter, Santa Claus, AZ
        Sophie was still there, looking at Connie with a big smile.
        “What are you waiting for ?” the reporter asked.
        “Aren’t you opening it?”

        Connie considered opening the package, but the avidity on the old face was making her uncomfortable. “Nope,” she said. With her cappuccino and the package she went back to her desk. Sweet Sophie was still looking at her with that greedy smile on her face. Connie shivered and shook her head. It was obvious, the old tramp was mad.
        She touched the package, trying to guess what was inside. As no convincing guess presented itself in her mind, she stripped it open. There was an iPhone 5 SE with 64Gb memory in it, two plane tickets for Keflavik in Iceland, and a note.
        ‘If you want a good story prepare your suitcase. Bring Sweet Sophie with you. We’ll contact you once you are there.’

        Connie thought of a joke. She checked the package and no matter how many times she looked it was still her name. She looked toward the cafeteria and she shuddered. Sweet Sophie was still looking at Connie with that strange smile, as if she knew. Or as if she had sent the package herself, the reporter thought.
        “Someone knows where Hilda is ? I need to talk to Hilda.”

        #3627

        In reply to: The Hosts of Mars

        EricEric
        Keymaster

          Karthik was feeding some nonsense to the AI, while inspecting the logs of the central intelligence.

          Finnley was listening with great interest to the teleporting stories of Togi Bear in Outlandis that he was spinning.

          Dear Lord, he said after his maintenance routine was over, I wish they had an opening for creative writing, so that someone else can take this silly job. Blathering all this nonsense is exhausting.

          Sadly, it was known to be the only thing that would keep the AI evolving and learning, and operating the mothership.
          New information to sort and sieve through was the AI’s purpose. As much as humans were feeding off food, they fed off information.

          #3531

          In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

          TracyTracy
          Participant

            silence explore connected anywhere
            girls close field usually
            loved form opening sea coast

            #3467

            “Look”, said Arona, “the mist is clearing. It worked.”
            “How exciting”, said Mandrake struggling with a yawn.
            “Let’s go then”, said George.
            Mandrake yawned again.
            “What’s wrong with you ?” asked Arona.
            “There seem to be a slight rise of air pressure which explains the opening”, said the robot.
            “Ah.” She had no idea what the machine was talking about but didn’t want to appear ignorant.
            “Thank you Mr R.” said Irina.
            “You’re most welcome, Madam.”

            They packed their stuff and followed the path. The increase of pressure seemed to mostly affect the cats yawning repeatedly, and Greenie who had a headache. George was helping her go forward, concern showing on his face. Jeremy was carrying Max in his arms protectively.

            When they arrived on the other side of the wall, they saw a heap of feathers, beak and legs which must have been a bird at some point. Jeremy felt Max stiffen in his arms, but he soon relaxed as it was not moving. At last, he had stopped yawning. They moved passed the pillars toward a small rotunda

            “There! That’s the way in”, announced Jeremy. Irina gave him a sidelong glance. The rotunda was build on the lake, no solid base, just water. She didn’t want to get wet.
            “The pyramid is huge”, said George.
            “My sensors indicate that what you see is only the tip of the iceberg, if I may use this comparison, the edifice is going down to the bottom of the lake.

            “Welcome to you all, this day of your time!”
            They jumped like one and turned round to see who had just talked.
            “What’s that… creature ?” asked Arona. She had seen her lot of glukenitch, grizzard and langoat on her journeys, but this time she felt at loss for words.
            “It is a sphinx”, stated Gwinie.
            “It looks like a gay zebra looking for a fix”, said Irina.
            “I’m Rene the unicorn. Are you my friends ?”
            “I think it’s broken”, added the green girl, stretching out her hand. Irina looked at the child, the girl really had a funny way to put things sometimes.
            “Machines get broken”, explained the Russian, “gay junkie zebras… are cracked or maniac.”
            “I think she means it’s the guardian of the threshold”, said Jeremy, “but I don’t know what she means by it’s broken.”
            “There doesn’t seem to be anything or anyone here”, stated Mr R. “Apart from an electromagnetic disturbance.”
            “We are your friends”, said George on an impulse.
            “They are my friends ! They are my friends !” Rene was bouncing around with glee. “Come on, follow me into the labyrinth. Another friend is awaiting us for his bird day party.” The sphinx jumped into the water. A vortex began to form under the rotunda, and soon became a tunnel plunging straight down the bottom of the lake.

            “Follow the undercurrents”, shouted Jeremy diving in the hole with Max.
            “Shouldn’t we be a bit more cautious ?”, inquired Arona. “That sphinx didn’t look quite normal.”
            “What’s normal here ?” asked George before following in the map dancer’s step with the others.
            “I think we don’t want to stay here alone”, said Mandrake. He bounced out off her arms and trotted to the rotunda hole. “There is a column of air to slow down the fall. Are you coming ?”
            Arona rolled her eyes, picked up the cat and plunged into the dark hole.

            #3400

            If the sabulmantium was to be trusted, the beanstalk was a tangle of many paths, and the main and easiest accesses down its dangling twirly greenish tentacles were all outside of the city walls, in a zone where some lords managed to rule pockets of mass beliefs and a bunch of unattractive mongrel mobsters.

            “Sounds potential adventure material” Mandrake had had the nerve to say when they’d packed.
            “No it isn’t” Arona had said.
            Then with more gusto “NO IT ISN’T” as though to convince all the sleepy tarts of the nymphouse below her rented room.

            More doubts had sunken their claws in her tender heart, and a gulp of whatever astral cup didn’t seem in hindsight a worthy deal for all her troubles. Nonetheless, she was a woman of her word, which was probably why she wasn’t of many. Too much trouble being of all of them, whatever that meant.

            “Honestly Mandrake, keeping you on track is worse than herding… dragons.”
            She would have said sheep, but she wasn’t so rude yet. Mandrake could have taken that too badly, and he would again prove useful to distract the guards of the Southern Post. That’s where she decided to go, as with all the heat, it had to be the one less guarded.

            Indeed, when she arrived, as planned, the gate was badly manned, and sleepy soldiers where reaching for the rare spots of shadow.
            She decided to make a run for it. The soldiers didn’t look very fit. She started to go, thinking about zigzagging between the air bottles littering the plaza, when she felt a tug pulling her back by the cloak, almost sending her flying off her butt.

            FUCK!” she shouted as silently as she could. “You again! I thought I told you not to follow me! Mandrake, attack! Go for the balls!”

            She was in a fury, but Mandrake licked his paw with a disgusted look on his face that meant “Hnhn, not going for that, sweetie. You’re on you own to herd that dragon, my lovely pooh.”

            “Shhht!” the guy said with a bit smile.
            “Don’t shush me, you… ninnyhammer!”
            She didn’t know where the last word came from, but they sure felt good, although not quite rude enough.
            “Oh, the lady is a pirate who knows her insults.” he answered with his cocky smile.
            “Don’t mock me, you mooncalf”
            “You were trying to sneak out, were you?”
            “Why do you care, hobbledehoy?”
            “The guards have aircon chain-mail and armours, see, look at those bottles on their backs… How could you beat them running with your heavy cloak?”
            “Maybe Mr Snollygoster has a better suggestion?”
            “Of course I have, if you care to follow me, Ms Mumpsimus.”

            Arona was almost speechless. Not keen on following any stranger, she asked her guts, and they seemed to have a liking for the handsome fellow. It stirred old remembrance of going with the flow tactics, and when she did actually follow him, it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he and Mandrake were already ahead in one of the alleys.

            “Oh, no, let him have the keys to some secret tunnel, I won’t go for another sewer escape!”
            As if her guardien angel has heard her secret prayer, it happened that the stranger had some strange stone key in his bag, opening a secret wall entrance.

            “Oh.” was all she conceded to the stranger.
            Nonplussed he offered her his hand “George” he presented himself still with the same broad smile.
            She took his hand haughtily, and entered the vaulted tunnel, not telling him yet her name, in case she felt like choosing a sexy and mysterious code name. She could trust no one…

            “Traitor” she hissed at Mandrake who was purringly looking at the strangers’ boots.

            #3369
            AvatarJib
            Participant

              Terry used to arrive early. She was always the first at the bar. She found stability and reassurance in the simple acts of opening the door, turning on the lights, preparing and organizing the tables and the little snacks for the customers.

              That day, after she opened the door, imagining daylight pouring inside, cleansing the darkest corners with the Love of the Universe, she found an envelope on the counter near the cashier. It was sealed with red wax.

              On it was written : “Terry Amar Bubble, from the Management”.
              She felt her heart sank. Her mind went blank, certainly a way for her not to put words on the unthinkable.

              When Cedric arrived later, he found Amar still in a trance, holding an envelop. He’d always been taught not to wake someone who was sleepwalking, but he’d also always had difficulties to not break rules. So he simply did what came first to his mind.

              “Time to Wake up! Bitch!” He said, slapping Amar on the face with a queen’s grace. Cedric felt deeply satisfied with the sound of his slap. He’d been practicing on his own face in front of a mirror when he was younger.

              “I received a letter”, muttered Amar. He handed the envelop over to Consuela.
              “Hey! That’s for me too.” Her pronunciation of the last word hanging around in the air.
              She showed the words to Terry who felt confused because it was now written “Terry Amar Bubble & Consuela Cedric Winnie, from the Management”.
              “Let’s open it”, said Cedric, “I don’t want Maurana’s name on the envelope”. He tittered and broke the seal. It made a popping sound and released a golden powder.

              “Wow, did you see that, Terry ? It’s like fairy dust.”

              The message let them both confused. It simply said : “Your new intendant,Anna Purrna, arrives today. Be ready.”

              #3368

              “I’m rubbish at meditation!” Irina said, opening her eyes after her tenth session in a row.

              But she stopped surprised. What was Greenie doing here, smiling at her, with her hands pressed against one another, and a sleeping parrot in her lap?

              Something had happened, something different… Prayer or meditation seemed to be the only solution she could come up with. What was happening? She was again in a loop of sorts, but so close to a breakthrough…

              She looked at Greenie’s eyes, and started to remember… The flight above the clouds, the city…

              Gwinie!” Irina’s eyes widened. “That’s your real name, isn’t it?”
              Bits of informations were passing by, like a dream about to slip out of reach, but she relaxed, and like gently untangling a ball of cotton wool, considered the delicate bits of feelings of the dreamlike meditation, yes, the flying, the clouds, the… beanstalk? Something else, more dangerous, shrouded… What had happened to the little girl?

              #3366

              “I’m rubbish at meditation!” Irina said, opening her eyes after her tenth session in a row.

              Mr R, who’d been waiting for her to come back from her inner trip, was, as usual, quick to dispense soothing encouragements
              “Madam doesn’t give herself enough credit. After all, you have managed to… shall I say… appear this quaint bird.”

              What? Irina looked at the direction Mr R was pointing at. That darn parrot again?!
              Indeed, looking quite puzzled to be on one of the bog’s shrubs, Huhu was tilting, or rather bobbing his heard from left to right in a pendulous and rhythmical fashion, while Greenie was jumping around the shrub eager to catch the colourful beast.

              “Then, that only confirms my suspicions…” she said. She had briefly connected to the bird, just about when she was processing the bleedthrough shotgun attack to bring her thoughts back to clarity. You wish… Sometimes the minds works in endless mysteries; she couldn’t tell why the bird came up in her thoughts, but it was apparently all it needed to appear there.

              #3362
              AvatarJib
              Participant

                The bellboy, whose name was Kevinlol, as Linda Pol had found out thanks to her e-zapper, had led the Queen of drags to the fifth floor.

                The short trip down with the main elevator had been most interesting. It was designed to look like a richly decorated wooden door opening to the temple of games. The usual mirror on the walls of the cabin had been replaced by a huge screen which showed hosts or hostesses in sumptuous attires welcoming you like Ulysses sirens. Nobody coming out of the elevator, you were fully submerged by promising images of luxury and endless pleasures, endless wins. Looking at the blush on the customers faces and their fidgeting, it seemed to work well.
                The use of Feng Shui seems to have evolved through time, she thought amused, from simple well being philosophy to overt mental and emotional manipulation.

                A particular scent, she had already smelled in Las Vegas, made her realized that there were also chemicals released to create in anticipation that fleeting euphoria people would desperately try to recreate through the excitement of the games. Knowing it, could help you stay centered, but her heartbeat became faster and she felt the compulsion to get more, she realized it was hard to resist the temptation.

                When the doors actually opened to the second floor below earth, more than half the contingent of people got out towards the casino. The sirens were here to drag you down with their smiles. Linda Pol looked at the customers, they were more than willingly sucked into the gaming world of cards and chips, ready to open their pockets and their souls to the conniving croupier.
                Beware of the number you choose, she thought, the bank may not like them.

                A quick look at Kevinlol showed he was totally oblivious to the sirens. His poker face was as smooth and young as ever, his pupils looked normal, and his skin tone hadn’t changed despite the chemicals.
                Robot? She couldn’t help the thought.
                The third floor was restaurants and bars, huge spiraling automatic stairs seemed to connect it directly with the casino, certainly to help people find their way up when they were finished refueling. The dozing effect of digestion was certainly good for business.

                Then they arrived at the fifth floor. She wondered briefly what had happened to the first and fourth floors. But the doors opened to another kind of sirens, her attention shifted completely, more surely than any substance could have done. It was the kind of butts she couldn’t resist, promising firmness and endurance, set into a Imperio Dareme pair of jeans. Linda Pol had always thought that braces had the same effect on a man’s butt as a wonderbra on a woman’s breast. She blushed like a young girl discovering boys were interested in her mythical virginity.

                The butt turned around and, mother f*ck*r, the face was gorgeous. Two days beard on a square jaw, the adventurer.

                #3350

                “I think we should get out of here now,” said Sanso, opening Fanella’s bedroom door.
                “Where are you going?” she asked in surprise, not expecting such a mundane exit. “Aren’t we teleporting?”
                “My dear child!” laughed Sanso, “Why teleport for coffee when there’s a kitchen just down the hall?”
                Fanella accompanied Sanso to Lisa’s kitchen, wondering how she would explain his presence, but she need not have worried. As soon as Lisa saw him her previously disgruntled countenance shifted, and beamed in welcome recognition. “Sanso! How marvelous to see you again!”
                It wasn’t until later that Lisa realized that she had never met Sanso in person, not until that moment.

                #3332
                EricEric
                Keymaster

                  The bell rang twice. Nobody was giving any sign of opening, until a lanky lad came at the door to open it, in long slow dragging strides on the carpeted floor.

                  “We’re here for the audition” an excited face pressed on the glass door, staining it with purple lipsticky marks.

                  The lad discreetly rolled his eyes, looked right and left, as if checking for some unseen danger, then released the magnetic lock. It was stuck, so he gave a yank and the door flung open, almost propelling the woman, and a child inside.

                  “This way” the lad showed them, guiding them in unnerving slow motion towards a room on the higher floor of the loft. A dozen of people were already waiting here. The lad showed them the ticket dispenser, and the child with the woman understood before her they had to pick one. 39.

                  The woman brushed the hair of the child compulsively and fought against invisible specks of dust on his coat, before they would sit.

                  “Twenty two.”
                  “Twenty. Two.”

                  At the seat next to them, a child raised from his place, his mother pushing him towards the voice. This was as far as she could go with him.

                  After the child had disappeared in the next room, the purple lipstick woman leaned towards the lonely mother and started to talk to her in brisk hushed voice.
                  “You must be so proud… I’m proud too.”
                  Noticing reproaching looks from the others, she lowered her voice more.
                  “I was so excited when I heard about it… So many years and now. Imagine that, my son could become his disciple, imagine, his one and only disciple in years…”

                  The other woman, who’d been patiently hearing the other one’s cackling suddenly turned red and replied in a voice that bore the certainty of a death sentence:
                  “Oh, but make no mistake M’am, I have nothing against your son, but no one will beat my Paul to it.”

                  #3287

                  When the Whales had learnt from Belen that the Conch ritual would not be enacted, it set the tone of the Ceremony.
                  Less ceremonious, and opening the Gates for a new Era of new learning based on trust and self-discoveries.

                  The Dances started, and enthralling gyrations flowed, enhancing the visions induced by the pulverized red algae floating around the seabed. Octopi were drumming in cadence, the Whales solemnly turning, undisturbed by the dolphins high on the algae who were tittering stupidly.

                  In the middle of the cycle, the gorgeous crystal was pulsating and glowing.

                  #3229

                  It was said long ago that the role of the parrot is that of opening communication centers. When this totem appears, one should look to see if one needs assistance in understanding views that are different from one’s own.
                  Huhu didn’t care about any of these human assigned meanings to its existence.

                  When the grip of Irina’s mind over Huhu the parrot was suddenly released, it found itself out of sight of the floating balloon and struggled to glide over the oceans’ air currents without losing too much altitude as well as precious degrees.

                  The air was cold and the ocean had no end in sight, and if a parrot knew despair, Huhu would have succumbed to it already. But it was a brave parrot, as though inhabited by some divine spark, and it continued bravely, only guided by his senses.

                  When it was about to faint from exhaustion, and dive dangerously close to the sea, was the precise moment when it noticed fumes swirling around in strange vortices erupting from the sea.
                  A strange boat appeared at the surface with a shining light.

                  Little did Huhu know, but it was the ghost galleon Santa Rosa which had a special thing for birds in distress, and would appear at times of need, a haven of luxuriant foliage and birds cackle, a benediction of safety in the turmoil of the seas.

                  Nobody knew clearly when the galleon sunk, one of the last of his kinds in the Old Continent, probably around the early 1111s, but one thing was sure, it was a ghost ship long before Huhu was born and brought to Versailles in 1757.

                  A ghostly form picked his soft body from the ground, delicately removing the key entangled on its foot, then placed the bird with great care on a bed of moss.

                  We can go now Belen said the man to the whale captain of the ghost ship.
                  Whale that! came the answer.

                  #3010
                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    Cornella wondered if the Shangpoon pig incident was a red herring, and if the real story was another successful surge team diversion of pig flooh into a surge of snilk, just in time for the opening of the new cooperative time travel party yurt factory inauguration in Adelaide.

                    #2996
                    EricEric
                    Keymaster

                      “Blimey! The Pope, eh? Are you teasing me again?”
                      Vera didn’t answer.
                      “Oh come on! Don’t give me that need-to-know-basis treatment, as much as I love a good riddle, I hate secrets! Are we going to look for the reincarnation of a famous Pope à la Little Buddha? Tell me, tell me!” Bouncing with excitement on the rolling Eggsway made her almost fall head over wheels into a flangeway carved into the muddy track that went deeper into the forest.

                      Regaining her balance, she looked ahead to see Vera was already a few meters ahead — and navigating the Eggsway was becoming difficult. She knew she should have opted for the 4×4 model…
                      So… Vera wasn’t really paying attention, she would have to try another approach to worm answers out of her. What was so special about this place anyway? Lost continent of Mu, ancient architecture, maybe underwater tunnels… Nothing that would lead directly to the Vatican she surmised… Unless…

                      They arrived at a clearing in the forest, where blue glow sticks had been placed in a round pattern. Vera was standing there, after having carefully placed a glowing green rote at the center, staring at the middle of the light circle, and without turning her head to look at her, told Lulla “Here’s your answer coming.”

                      A huge buzzing throb started to fill the air, sounding to concentrate at a focal point not higher than 10 inches above the ground, at the exact center of the blue circle. It begun sparkling and * BooM *, in all its slimy tentaculeous glory, a spaceship was there.

                      “Special delivery from our alien friends” Vera said, finally deigning to look at Lulla.

                      The rather small spaceship started to slowly expand, becoming larger, until an opening appeared, letting a form emerge from the membranous appearance of the hull. The form which looked like some person was suddenly dropped unceremoniously with a * Plop! * while the spacecraft elastically recovered its initial shape.
                      Moments later, it was gone, and with it the buzzing sound.
                      The green rote payment was gone too. Greedy aliens.

                      “Come on, let’s bag this guy and bring him home for phase 2. A red convertible SUV is waiting for us at the portal’s entrance.”
                      So, that’s where I come in… Lulla was starting to wonder what was the use of her being here, since Vera was so bossy and secretive. But now,… Of course she was better at hatting, but she could call herself without bragging a real bagging specialist.

                      #2822

                      In reply to: Snowflakes of Tens

                      F LoveF Love
                      Participant

                        Just in case there are any mindful readers, and for further clarification and continuation, let it be noted that Alfred eventually realised he was not trapped at all. An old tunnel, once used by members of the Distortium for clandestine purposes, had an opening in Alfred’s yard. He was able to use this tunnel make his way out of his yard and continue his journey to the library.

                        {link Distortium}

                        #2628

                        In reply to: Strings of Nines

                        “There!” announced Sharon triumphantly. “‘Ow was that, then?”

                        “‘Ow was what, Sha?” asked Gloria, frowning.

                        “I inspired ‘er, I got the message through!”

                        “That aint proper inspired channeling, you daft cow, that’s nonsense! Yeah, you got a message through, but talk about distortion! Blimey, Sha, that aint enlightened channeling, that’s just more rubbish!” Gloria said, disparagingly.

                        “I ‘ate to tell you this, our Glor, but it’s YOU what aint enlightened. That was me new Distraction Tactics, and if I do say so myself, it worked a treat.”

                        “Distraction Tactics? Aint she scattered enough already? It’s direction and focus what she wants, not more blimmen distractions!”

                        “You just aint getting it, are you, our Glor?” Sharon replied. “Answer me this, you enlightened tart, how’s she supposed to find any focus or direction if she’s pushing her energy in a hundred directions at once looking for meaning? Wait a minute, I tripped meself up there,” Sharon corrected herself, “What I meant to say was, why would she need a direction in the first place? She’s going where she’s going, and that’s direction enough.”

                        “Well you answer me this then, if the direction she’s going in is enough, why did she wake up disgruntled?” Gloria retorted, adding “Rude tart” under her breath.

                        “I ‘eard that!”

                        “Well? What’s yer answer to that then, eh?”

                        “‘Ang on a minute, lemme see if I can channel God’s Flounder fer some answers.” replied Sharon, closing her eyes, and starting to breathe noisily and purposefully.

                        “Oh fer Gawds sake, Sha, not that bloody breathing again. We all knows ‘ow to breathe already, honestly, it’s as if breathing’s just been invented or something. And not only that” she added “You’re dead, why are you breathing anyway?”

                        “Eh, good point, our Glor” said Sharon opening her eyes. “I’m wondering now if the dead are supposed to channel for answers, aren’t we supposed to HAVE all the answers?” Sharon was confused.

                        “Well I dunno about HAVING all the answers, Sha, but we’re supposed to be able to access them, aren’t we? Then pass ‘em on to the living ~ those what’ll listen, that is.”

                        “I think we’re making a mistake here, Gloria, but I can’t put my finger on it. Who’s our Oversoul anyway? Aint they supposed to be guiding us here?”

                        “I think we’re both focuses of the Great Flounder, our Sha.”

                        “Oh blimey” her freind replied. “P’raps we aint been dead long enough yet, to know what we’re doing, like.”

                        “How can you be ‘long enough’ if there aint no time anyway, that’s what I want to know.”

                        “Well there’s one thing I do know about being dead” said Sharon, brightening up, “We can ‘think’ ourselves anywhere at all. So whatddya say we go somewhere else and forget all this floundering?”

                        “Bloody good idea, where shall we go?”

                        “Oh dear, unlimited choices are so difficult, aren’t they? I don’t know where I want to go!”

                        “Follow me then, Sha!” Gloria suggested, and in an instant the pair of them were standing in a field in Dyffryn .

                        #2579

                        In reply to: Strings of Nines

                        When she opened her plastic bag with the pink fish pattern on it to count how much money she had left to pay for that trip to the Cayman Islands, Jane could have sworn that there was anything else altogether than the last time she’d checked.

                        Was her amnesia playing tricks on her? There was now a credit card instead of the wet stack of dollar bills, and a paper with a few numbers jotted down on it in place of the previous account number —maybe a PIN number?…

                        Puzzled for a moment, she wondered if that was a sign. After all that thinking she’d had the past night, about what to do, and how she didn’t feel like moving already, there was a new set of possibilities opening for her.
                        She was almost done distractedly packing the few personal belongings she had gathered during her weeks of convalescence when somebody knocked lightly on the door.
                        Even if she’d not already recognized the footsteps, she knew who it was and blushed spotting in the wall mirror a few wild hair in her otherwise perfect blond hairdo.
                        Mark Devoiteur was the man who had found her stranded on the beach, and had taken her to the hospital. He’d been checking on her every day since, and was visibly attracted by her.

                        She folded the plastic bag in her handbag and closed the little suitcase. She was ready to go.

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