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  • #2957

    The aftershock of the surge at the Three Kings’ Parade started to hit full blast at the portals initial location, thus effectively linking old mummies energy to the bodies there that were hit by Mari Fe, and for he most part still lying unconscious.
    The combination of energies started to make them arise and walk like mindless zombies, intoning old guttural sounds in cadence in a language that sounded like Italian poetry.
    There you had the Balthazar, Rogelio, Dru and alter-Ed who all woke up at once, and even Sanso who had been hit (while impersonating a Portal Worker) started to feel oddly strange.

    Noticing the atypical occurrence, Arona, whom Janet seemed to have had taken a sudden liking to (blame it on her Yankee side), started to look at her brood and rally them for a safe and prompt exit.
    “What is it Arona dearie?” Janet didn’t seem worried. She was a Surge Team member after all, and a zombilic epidemic (zombies energy coming from wormholes) wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle.
    “I fear that although your presence is most delightful, we shall be on our way.” Arona’s old sabulmantium had shown persistent and remarkable hints of dragon energy in this dimension that, although a bit different and looking in her mind’s eye like red flying snakes bearing impossibly long mustache, resonated quite well —not to mention she was eager to part with such bizarre company.
    “Alrighty, let’s keep in touch dearie,” Janet added, covering their escape, not without winking at Sanso as he was the last one to leave through the map portal, leaving her to look for her missing flushed friends, Mari Fe and Pearl.
    Unbeknownst to everyone, the picture-taking lady had camouflaged herself to look like a red sofa nearby the hot pink leather chaise lounge in the corner of the room, and was documenting silently the promising epic battle of Janet and Riff Raff against the zombies.
    And for sure, Janet was still ready to make good use of the pocket-sized forklift to move away all cumbersome bodies,… as there was bound to be casualties.

    #2938
    AvatarJib
    Participant

      In all that chaos, noboty noticed a strange woman in a red coat wearing sunglasses, and taking pictures of everything. She had just come through the portal, which she cleverly put in the Mary Poppins pocket of her coat.
      Not even the cat had noticed her.

      #2751

      In reply to: Tales of Tw’Elves

      TracyTracy
      Participant

        “It’s mother earth crying because humans are destroying the planet” ventured Kerry. “And before you ask, I don’t know how I got here. I was doing the remote view practice, and I got a direct hit, it was a picture of a kraken. Then I heard this rumbling noise in my head, and well, here I am…”

        “Well you’re all wrong” said the guy with the blonde hair. “It’s the Galactic Federation of Light, and they’ve come to arrest all the criminals that are preventing the shift.”

        Flinella slipped behind Eliza, surruptitiously looking to see where she could hide. What did he mean by criminals?

        “What do you mean by criminals, my good man?” asked Eliza, sensing Flinella’s alarm.

        “He means anarchists and protesters” said the politician.

        “No he doesn’t, he means big pharma” interjected Kerry.

        “Where the bloody hell did all these people come from?” Flinella looked around wildly, and then “Oh now really this is too much!”

        The grey squishy guy just laughed, his thin shoulders jumping up and down with mirth.

        #1510
        EricEric
        Keymaster

          picture code embedding:

          place the image link between exclamation points :

          !http://link.to/picture.jpg!

          Place p=. at the beginning of a paragraph to center your paragraph

          and to link to a page from the picture, just use :

          !http://picture.jpg!:http://link.to/the/page 
          #2809

          In reply to: Snowflakes of Tens

          EricEric
          Keymaster

            “Or maybe we can use pictures simply, to hop from one to another.” still a bit obsessed by links and connections.

            Speaking of plants he had something in mind looking at the garden and the flowers swarming with life.

            [link:sunflower, buzz]

            #1839

            In reply to: Synchronicity

            EricEric
            Keymaster
              #2652

              In reply to: Strings of Nines

              TracyTracy
              Participant

                “We walk, Ia’eh and Minkah, Desher and I,” Elizabeth read the email from Hypatia, “ towards the dark ridge of stone where the books lie hidden, awaiting the day they should be found again…..When Cleopatra ruled, the books numbered 400,000…and this, I think, is true. By the time of Theon of Alexandria, an age in which the books were no loner in the Great Library of the Palace of the Ptolemies, which was also no longer, but housed instead the “daughter” library of the Serapeum, they numbered 360,000. Those lost to the Bishop of Theophilus amounted to a tenth of these. But no matter if full half were lost, that Minkah brought out from Alexandria so many amazed me then; it amazes me still. He not only carried them here, but brought back an account of where each cave was sited, and which jars were placed in which cave.”

                Godfrey, didn’t we know a Minky once, who was a sort of a servant?”

                “We did indeed, Liz, you were the one who inserted him into the story, surely you remember?”

                “Well, the name rings a bell, Godfrey, but where did we meet him?”

                Godfrey snapped his fingers and as if by magic, an excerpt from the Reality Play appeared:

                “Just then a funny little man with a huge cheeky grin appeared and held out a tray. Smoothies! Coconut and berry smoothies, and pink cakes, croissants”

                “Croissants!” interrupted Elizabeth.

                “… and oranges, and a box of cadbury’s chocolates…”

                “Don’t remind me about Cadbury’s” groaned Elizabeth. “I simply can’t bear it that they’ve blinked into another dimension”

                Godfrey continued: “ Dory slurped and munched and gobbled and slurped some more, and underneath where the chocolate was, she saw a brochure.
                On the front cover was a picture of a cave. OOHH A CAVE! Dory loved caves! Let’s go to the cave today, Minky! she said to the funny fellow with the impish grin. Minky winked.”

                “He was going to take Dory to the caves!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “Why didn’t I finish that story thread!”

                “There’s no need to wring your hands like that, Liz” said Godfrey soothingly. “You can continue it now!”

                #2344
                TracyTracy
                Participant

                  “Allow me to explain about loom weights,” said the man in the elaborate blue turban. “You create a type of pattern, so to speak, a tapestry. The picture of the tapestry is created in the style, so to speak, of the qualities of the family that you align with. The details and the background threads of the tapestry are the expressions of qualities of the family that you are belonging to.”

                  “I knew this tapestry and weaving stuff would fit in somewhere” interrupted LizAnn.

                  “Shh!” said Finnley.

                  “In this” the man in the blue turban continued, “You may notice certain qualities and expressions throughout your focus that appear to underlie all of your directions that you choose within your particular focus. This is the influence of the family that you are belonging to – in this situation, that of Sumafi.” He looked pointedly at Godfrey. “You shall notice throughout your focus what may be expressed as an attention to detail in the qualities of the Sumafi family, and at times this may be associated within your societal beliefs and definitions as a type of perfectionism.

                  “This is counterbalanced by the Sumari” he said with a glance at LizAnn, “Who do not concern their movement with tremendous attention to detail.”

                  “Tell me about it” remarked Godfrey drily.

                  The man in the blue turban grinned and continued, “The expression and qualities of the Sumari are merely to be creating new directions and offering challenging information which shall spark new explorations of your reality. But the attention of the Sumari does not concern itself with outcomes or endings or detail.”

                  “Yes, we had noticed” interjected Finnley, who stuck her tongue out at LizAnn. LizAnn made a rude gesture to Finnley and said “See, I told you I couldn’t help it.”

                  Godfrey sighed in resignation and reached for the peanuts. “I suppose the point of all that is that there’s no point in fighting your warp. Or is it weft?”

                  #2547

                  In reply to: Strings of Nines

                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    Ann wasn’t altogether sure what Godfrey meant when he referred to her new interest in continuity. Ann had always been interested in connecting links, yes, of that there was no doubt, but with so very many connecting links, and so many possible strings of connecting links, with so many possible divergences into yet more strings of connecting links, Ann really couldn’t fathom how anyone could possibly keep track of all those threads of continuity. Even a seemingly discontinuous assortment of unconnected links, once connected into a nonsense thread, became another continuity string. Furthermore, Ann continued ~ in a continuous fashion ~ to ponder, if everything is connected, then what, in actuality, was all the fuss about continuity? What exactly then WAS this concept of continuity? It seemed to Ann to be more like a string of barbed wire, or one of those flimsy but effective electric wire fences, boxing in the free flow of continuity, so that the objectively perceived continuity stayed rigidly within the confines of the preconceived tale. The inner landscape knew no such boundaries, although admittedly the inner landscape was far too vast to map.

                    Ann smiled to herself as she imagined trying to push pins into various inner landscape locations, tying strings from one to another, in an effort to map and label the inner continuity connections. Of course she was imagining it in a visual manner, because it was hard to imagine all those connections and strings being invisible and not taking up any space, and before long Ann’s inner map of pins and strings quickly resembled a tangle of overcooked spaghetti, perilously speckled with sharp pointy pins.

                    The image of the glutinous tangle dotted with sharp shiny pointers led Ann off on another tangent, but it was a tangent that soon became utter nonsense. Or was it, she mused. Perhaps it was those symbolically sharp pointy bits that in fact pointed out the immense variety of potential other continuity threads to choose from. Indeed, it could easily be said that having one of her characters dumped in Siberia in the previous story, painful though it was, was not unlike being pricked by a pin amidst the tangle of sticky pasta, a brilliantly effective pointer towards unlimited new directions.

                    Whichever way she looked at it (and Ann was aware that she might have gone down a side string) she simply couldn’t comprehend how anyone on this side of the veil could possibly even begin to understand the ramifications of the concept of continuity at all. Or how there could ever conceivably be a lack of it.

                    What was really intriguing Ann at this particular juncture of the experimental exploration of the story was the concept of the World View Library. This wasn’t unconnected to the continuity issue, far from it, it was all tied in (Ann sniggered at the unintentional pun) and connected. There were any infinite amount of potential continuity threads leading from, say, one persons desire or intent, to a particular world view in the library.

                    AHA shouted Ann, who at that moment had an ‘aha’ moment. Pfft, it’s gone, she sighed moments later.

                    Ann tried to catch the wisp of an idea that had flitted through her awareness. She had a visual impression of the library, endlessly vast and marvellously grand, with countless blindfolded characters dashing through, grabbing random pages or sentences, bumping into each other, snatching at phrases willy nilly, dropping notes along the way, and racing back out again into the ether. A stray thought here, a picture there, a name or a date, all on separate bits of crumbled paper clutched in the sweaty palms of the blindfolded characters as they rushed headlong back to their own realities to proudly share the new clues. Like magpies they were, snatching at anything that glittered brightly enough.

                    :magpie: :magpie: :magpie: :magpie: :magpie: :magpie:

                    “I thought you said they were blindfolded?” interrupted Franlise.

                    Ann ignored the interruption, and continued ~ in a continuous fashion ~ to ponder the imagery of the library.

                    What the undisciplined purloiners of random snatches didn’t notice on their pell-mell excursions into the library were the characters in the library who weren’t wearing blindfolds. They smiled down from the galleries, calmly watching from above the mayhem that the news of the unlimited library access had occasioned, chortling at the scenes of chaos below. They smiled indulgently, for they too had first visited the library blindfolded, snatching at this and that, and racing home again to inspect the booty; they too had fretted and pondered over the enigmas of the incomplete snippets. Eventually (or not, it was after all a choice), they had bravely removed the blindfolds, slowed the mad race into a sedate stroll through the library, opened their eyes and looked around, sure of the way back home now, and not in a desperate hurry to blast in, snatch anything, and run back home.

                    After awhile, they began to realize that all the enchanting glittering jewels scattered around to catch their eye would still be there later, there was no urgency to grab them all at once ~ although, as Ann reminded herself, that too was a choice ~ some may well choose to be eternally snatching at glittering jewels.

                    Ann frowned slightly and wondered if she’d lost the thread altogether, and then decided that it didn’t matter if she had.

                    It was a choice, therefore, to remove ones blindfold, and stroll through the library ~ a choice to perhaps choose a book, sit down at a polished oak table and open it, a choice to stay and read the book, rather than ripping out a page and dashing back home. That would be one choice of continuity, a coming together of strings.

                    Ann wondered whether that would then be called a cable, or a rope ~ well perhaps not a rope, she decided, that had other associations entirely ~ but a cable, yes, that had associations of reliable and regular communications. There were always strings of continuity, then, strings of connecting links, between anything and everything, but when one stopped dashing about clutching at the sparkley bits, one might form a cable.

                    Or not, of course. Thin strings of continuity and connections were not ‘less than’ thick cables of reliable and regular communications. It has to be said though, Ann reluctantly admitted, that thick cables often made more sense.

                    She decided to hit send before embarking on a pondering of the meaning of Sense.

                    #2525

                    In reply to: Strings of Nines

                    TracyTracy
                    Participant

                      The fact of the matter was that Ann had been intending to write about Cordella’s twin sister Flagella, but had been hopelessly side tracked when Godfrey had thrown that curve ball. Flagella had been wanting to slap herself rather badly and Ann was more than willing to oblige her by entering a scenario into the Play. The way things had panned out highlighted some interesting parallels with Yoland’s current state of affairs too. Obviously Flagella had chosen not to slap herself after all, although she appeared to have chosen to effect that in a somewhat convoluted manner. It was the unknown factors that were baffling Ann, the missing links in the convoluted manners; she felt painfully aware that she simply wasn’t seeing the whole picture.

                      Unsure of her footing, that’s what it was, at least that’s what Yoland had noticed. With the puppy always climbing over her feet or somewhere underfoot, she hadn’t been able to take a normal step in a fortnight. It was making her tense and tired, and jittery. Every step she took was halted, mid step, which made her feel permanently off balance.

                      Flagella had wanted to slap herself for being irritated, which was becoming immensely irritating in itself. Being irritated wasn’t fun at all, it was irritating! The most irritating thing of all was that she didn’t know why she’d started getting irritated in the first place.

                      Ann wanted to butt in and tell Flagella a thing or two about how dense she was being, but didn’t think there was much point. It wasn’t as if Flagella hadn’t already heard whatever Ann might have to tell her a thousand times or more, so it was doubtful that more words would be any help.

                      She doesn’t need any help, full stop, Ann reminded herself, and neither does Yoland.

                      #2514

                      In reply to: Strings of Nines

                      TracyTracy
                      Participant

                        The Le Hoot triplets had just arrived from the Nest Dimension and were quietly aclimatizing to the new environment. They were well camoflaged against the pine tree branch, Sprack had done a good job as usual with the expedition planning, his noteworthy attention to detail and vast knowledge of Pulmonia was second to none.

                        Sprack unfortunately hadn’t forseen the lungquake occuring so soon after the Hoot’s arrival, however. When the pine branch first started to tremble, F’Loot, who was perched on the outermost position, almost lost her footing. Luckily K’Yoot managed to hold onto F’Loot, while M’Yoot maintaineed a firm hold on the pine trunk, saving them all from an embarrassing and potentially disastrous fall.

                        The Le Hoot’s had been sent to Pulmonia to locate all the Lost Eggletons and return them to Ovadonia for debriefing and eventual retirement, with instructions to locate all missing Eggletons, whether they be dead, alive, melted or cooked, or miscellaneous parts thereof.

                        As the ground started to shake for a second time, M’Yoot spotted the terrified yellow Eggleton clinging desperately onto a gravestone, beads of chocolatey sweat spattering the cold grey stone.

                        M’Yoot tugged K’Yoot’s wing in alarm, pointing wordlessly at Amarilla. K’Yoot in turn nudged F’Loot, who almost lost her footing again. There was an almighty roar as the ground heaved and split.

                        As the Lost Eggleton screamed and disappeared into the heaving bubbling goo, the Le Hoot triplets sprang into action.

                        #2505

                        In reply to: Strings of Nines

                        AvatarJib
                        Participant

                          Yann was excited, he just had a mail from the cattery “The Laughing Cats” telling him they would send him pictures of the new litter. The little kittens had just opened their eyes and apparently they were very cute.

                          When they went to that cat exhibition with Ewrick in March, Yann thought it was just to meet a friend of his who was a cat breeder himself, and they actually met him. His cat was gorgeous and seemed so comfortable that you could have thought he had been drugged. Yann’s friend told them he was always like a big stuffed toy.

                          They chatted a bit and Ewrick and Yann wandered about to have a look at the other cats, and that’s when Yann saw the Abyssinian cats of the Carnelian cattery. The cats were solar and majestic, their cinnamon coat were stealing Yann’s heart. He knew he would get one… soon.

                          After a few weeks looking on the Internet at the different catteries, the different websites about this particular race, Yann decided to take his phone and make a call. He’d selected a few numbers and decided to just have another look on the net and found the Laughing Cat cattery, they got new kittens since a few days only and there was one of them whose coat was cinnamon. It seemed it was the perfect one, so Yann called that cattery first and the guy told him there were no call for this one color yet though he had many calls from Russian or other European breeders for the others…

                          Yann asked if they already had pictures but apparently the kittens had still their eyes closed and he was waiting a bit to take pictures… “they looks like rats you know”… no matter, he’d wait.

                          And they had opened their eyes now, he’d get pictures very soon now.

                          #1226

                          “What?” Yurick asked Dory who had left an email for them, as they had just come back with Yann from a trip to the far-off spaces of their dimension —also known as French countryside.

                          “There’s snow on Salitre ! Can you believe it?”

                          Sure, had not Dory showed the pictures, he would not have believed it. The beautiful mound otherwise green-looking during the most part of the year now looked just like a pretty picture of the Pyrénées mountains!

                          “Guess what”, he replied immediately “we saw ‘snoow’ outside of Paris too! It looked like Russian tundra…”

                          “Wow… I wonder what kind of stuff we are creating now. I should be careful what I investigate!” Dory mused…

                          #1172

                          After he sent his reply to Yann, Yurick took a deep breathe in appreciation of all that had been done the last past days.

                          However tedious, all in all, it had allowed him to stay away from other people’s trauma, and stay focused on his own issues. Now, the feeling of the energy at hand was starting to become lighter. Like a thin ray of light poking through a thick layer of rainy clouds, announcing that the silver lining was more than just a consolation. It was announcing the sun to come.

                          He took the book of stories that had been unburied (like his pleasure to write) from the bottom of the sofa’s cushions when they’d received hosts last week-end, and looked with amusement at the opening note about the “random quotes”.

                          A strong sense of an inkling started to dawn at him.
                          Thanks to the random quotes —or more appropriately said, to convenient synchronicities— “stuff” was never lost or buried in the insides of that ever-growing story, which was eating with gluttony at the edges of its expansion. Things were popping up here and there, reminding of old loose threads, or pertinent inclusions or links to be made.

                          But there was more. He, for a long time, had thought that imagination was expanding things to make physical reality look smaller in proportion than it was. Like when they’d looked at Dory’s pictures, and everything looked so big on them. Even the mere thought of nine dogs was huge. But when they’d met her, and Dan, and the dogs, it was all so much smaller. Even seeing Dory manage her dogs made having nine dogs seem manageable.
                          But the reverse was true: physical reality had its way of dwarfing imagination. Not so much making it smaller, but compacting it, making it fit in an unbelievably condensed and small space.

                          Take that book. Thousands of words, billions of probabilities, endless threads and hundreds of characters, all packaged in a small stack of inked paper. The trick was that when you look at it that way, when you got that small stack of paper in your hands, it all seems so manageable; one starts to get accustomed to it, then fails to see the newness in it each time it’s opened to tell a story.

                          Imagination is the true gauge of the vastness of the universe. It’s so easy to forget…

                          #1440
                          EricEric
                          Keymaster
                            #1150

                            Dory was often reminding herself (and anyone within hearing or blogging distance in the process) of one of her favourite catch-phrases: what you are looking for is probably right under your nose.
                            It seemed of particular relevance these days, Yurick was noticing, for a variety of reasons.

                            First, his glasses needed some dusting… He’d have to finish that monologue later then.

                            :fleuron:

                            What was he about then? Yes. The tillandsias near the window. Last week-end, they’d been to a crystal store with Yann, and mildly interested by crystals, Yurick had been wondering loudly at the heaps of strange plants in the middle of the paraphernalia of rocks, shells and starfishes. The store owner had proceeded to explain those were aerial plants, known for gathering the elements of their sustenance out of the air.
                            The curiosity would probably have ended with those quick answers, had the guy not not given them on an impulse two little specimens just when they were about to go with Yann’s newly acquired amethysts.
                            :raw-crystal:

                            Cute. New plants to interact with. Yurick had to say he preferred plants to rocks. Yann for his part had found them funny names. “Sha” for the witchy hairy one, and “Glo” for the pineapple-looking one. Why not…

                            The tilland… Well, “Sha” and “Glo” (you had to give credit to Yann for granting the reader a good respite from long unpleasant names) had been there in the bathroom for a few days, and only now had Yurick found some interest in investigating more about them.
                            The capacity they had to live apparently without any strings attached was very appealing to him, and it was like a symbol of focusing on one’s own vitality, and finding the means to live out of that elusive “new energy”; of not feeding off something outside of self.

                            Now, he was finding even more interesting facts; a picture that Yann had taken of a blooming plant recently was of the same genus of plants, and it reminded Yurick of plants which had fascinated him in a botanical garden, that were also from this species.
                            Interestingly, he found out that the plants were named after a Finnish botanist (Elias Tillandz )… He couldn’t help but notice the similarities with another focus of his: Elias Lönnrot.

                            The string of clues suddenly filling up the previously empty corridors of his mind were sparkling a renewed interest for focus hunting.

                            #1127

                            It may have been the sudden change of environment, but Leörmn had great difficulty at staying focused.
                            By staying focused, he meant more than just focusing his attention and thoughts. Actually, not much more, as nothing more than his thoughts and his attention were creating of everything —his body included. When he failed to focus as he was now, usually he simply started to disappear from other’s awareness, even though he could be aware that he was still present in their proximity. For most of his activity was happening in the Unseen, and his body was unnecessary for him to manipulate that environment.

                            The twin dragons, Heckle and Jeckle were equally disturbed, but to a lesser extent, perhaps because their communicating together made their de-focusing less of a concern.

                            The place where they had been guided to was really unusual. Unusual for dragons at least. Even possibly hostile.

                            It was like crossing that door had made them turn the physical reality inside-out, and though it was very similar on the surface, the exterior was significantly different.

                            Apart from the twins, Leörmn was feeling energies, strong energies focused nearby. They were possibly as strong as dragons’ energies, though their configuration was unfamiliar.
                            Where were they? What was this place?

                            Leörmn was feeling so powerful undercurrents that it was very disturbing. In his discomfort, he tried to reach for a familiar energy.

                            :fleuron:

                            In the pool, Salome was feeling the disturbance, as it was already making the cave wobble slightly ever since Leörmn had taken off.

                            Georges was having fun shape-shifting his skin to get more dolphin-like slickness, and was trying to bring her into his games, but she was caught by the demanding feeling and couldn’t concentrate on the game.

                            She made a foam bubble around herself to lift her up above the surface of the water. “There… I’ve always felt better in the air.” As a matter of fact, be it only the slight gain of altitude, but her thoughts felt clearer already.

                            “Oh, my… They are on the Murtuane… Georges, you knew that?!”

                            Georges was having too much fun to actually physically answer, but Salome knew he was more than vaguely aware of that.

                            She went deeper into herself, trying to see what was the issue… As far as she knew, the Murtuane was very closely tied to the Duane, and actions made into one of the planet had repercussions onto the other. They were close counterparts for each element, and perhaps it was the drawing closer of these which had created an imbalance of some kind.
                            “Yes…” she smiled. She was seeing how it could be made easier.

                            She sent to Leörmn the clearest picture she could make, then popped her foam bubble, to gracefully dive into the pool, having changed her skin to that of a black and white killer whale.

                            :fleuron:

                            “Thank the Elder Gods,” Leörmn thought, as he just received the warm familiar energy of Salome from deep inside himself.

                            So that was it… He had to find his counterparting Nirgual, and merge with her for the duration of their little excursion here.
                            N’meôrl was the name. Salome had met her already a long time ago. She was a brilliant shade of abrigot (some orange smooth fruit).

                            It would be quite easy actually. Like the Dragons, Nirguals were summoned by their true name, no matter the distance.
                            Blessed be Salome

                            Popping back into focus, Leörmn pronounced loudly “N’meôrl, I hereby summon thy!

                            When the huge bird appeared all the others who had started to assail the dragon with question were startled.

                            Contrary to all appearances, Leörmn was not a dragon of many words, so very few needed to be actually exchanged. The two creatures both knew what had to be done to preserve the balance. And even if they had not known, the pressure on their energy fields was so intense that the merging was just like two magnets drawing closer naturally.

                            And One again they were.

                            #1055

                            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…

                            :fleuron:

                            On the surface of the waters, bubbles started to form.

                            #913
                            AvatarJib
                            Participant

                              The afternoon was hot, a bit moist and sticky too. Yurick and Yann were enjoying the freshness of Dory’s patio.
                              Cold lemon drink in cocktail glasses, the radio playing some sun related song.
                              Dan was out playing golf with friends and would be here for dinner.
                              Dory, dozing on her rocking chair had told Yurick and Yann that they could use their computers, they had 2 of them, so Yurick could take Dory’s and Yann could take Dan’s. Yurick was busy checking his mails and answering all those who had submitted some article for the next issue of their e-zine, and Yann wanted some distraction. He was just looking at some pictures on Gurgle, some movies on Yootune. Some of them were cracking him up, and he had difficulties keeping his :-| face serious.
                              At the same time he was browsing through Dan’s pictures folders. Some of them were really amazing. Pictures of Dory on the field, with her pith helmet and her brushes, her shovels or even her pick. She was very funny looking when she was finding something seemingly out of nowhere, having dug all day long with no result and then finally some treasure! Often, Yann thought, it was only some fragment of a vase or some broken tool, but she always had this awe-inspired gaze ;))

                              What is the name of this singer again?, asked Yurick.
                              You ask me?

                              The grin on Yurick’s face was all that Yann was waiting for. Yann had no memory of names of singers or actors. Their face, once he had seen it were recorded in his mind, but their name was like a summer breeze, refreshing, but soon forgotten. He knew that Yurick was more asking that to himself.

                              Dunno me luv. You can ask the mummy in the living room if you want…
                              Hahaha, graowl

                              Hehehe. Funny that, thought Yann. Coming back to the computer screen, his eyes fall on a strange folder name.
                              Patate? What’s that!?
                              Double-click.
                              Just a few files. Videos mainly. The names weren’t very evocative…
                              Yann picked one and waited for the movie to begin.
                              It was kind of black and white movie… the grain was gross and old fashioned. There was no audio.
                              Yann had an old memory of a similar movie seen on the comodor computer of his cousin’s parents… his cousin had told him about some weird movie he had found in a floppy disk of his father…
                              So, there was a man, maybe in his 60’s, he was wearing a gray bathing suit and was a bit hairy. Drinking some kind of grey cocktail.
                              A girl came in… with an amazing leopard baby-doll!!! from what Yann could see, she was blond and fleshy. Oh! and she had some friends. All of them with a leo-part on them :-?

                              Ahem! Yurick? Wanna see what I found?
                              Hmmm
                              I’m sure you’ll find some interest :)) hahaha! Oh my Flove! She’s really doing it!?
                              =))

                              Seeing his friend hilarious picked the curiosity of Yurick and he eventually came to see. The look on his face when he saw what was happening was too much for Yann who burst into laughter. That was enough to wake Dory who almost fell off her rocked chair.

                              What is that? Where did you find that… thing? Dory looked offended, but soon she was blushing.
                              Oh! no… don’t look at that. It was a youthful mistake…

                              #902
                              TracyTracy
                              Participant

                                Blimey O Riley, said Becky when she read what she’d written the previous evening. As she read it over again, though, a picture began to form in her mind, a character was starting to form.

                                I was connecting to a focus, she surmised, A focus as a simple country washerwoman. A simple person, choosing to experience a life of simple pleasures, not bogged down with deep meaningful thoughts or ideas; not striving for insights or accomplishments, a pure and simple life for a pure and simple soul.

                                The washerwoman used words differently, she didn’t use words to communicate with anyone, she simply used the bubbling gurgling endless stream of sounds to amuse herself…endlessly babbling, always smiling, infinitely amused with the sheer joyous nonsense of the sounds tumbling from her lips, broadcasting seeds of absurdity in the cornfields and the meadows of the hay hoo down dooly…..

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