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      “I want to go home”, sighed Jose. “I just want to go home.” He sighed again as he stood looking out of the cabin. What a mess it all was. Cyclone Ycart had left a trail of mangled wreckage in her wake, but it wasn’t just the devastation on the island, it was the atmosphere, the feeling of chaos, the sense of hidden turmoil permeating the place that made him weary and homesick.

      “Ah, JoselitoPaquita whispered softly, stroking his hair gently “Why do you want to go home? What about the treatments?”

      “Oh, bugger the treatments!” Jose frowned. “I don’t think I want the treatments any more, you know.” He looked at Paqui’s face. “I never even notice your skin anymore, I like it just the way it is. I don’t even worry about my scars any more, either.”

      “I know what you mean” Paqui smiled. “I’m not worried about it either, anymore. I’d like to go home too now. The question is, though, how do we get off this god forsaken island?”

      Jose sighed again. “God only knows”

      Paqui took Jose by the hand and led him back inside the cabin. “Remember what I was telling you about the ancients dreaming together? How the tribe would dream together, plan where to go next? How they would work things out in their dreams? Let’s try it. Let’s go to sleep and when we wake up we’ll compare notes, and see if we can come up with a solution”

      Jose smiled a crooked smile, thinking that sleep sounded as good as anything else he could think of to do. Well, perhaps there was one other thing. Jose winked at Paqui as he closed the door behind them.


      When they woke up the sun was low enough on the western shore to cast long umber shadows across the cabin floor, and dust particles danced in the golden sunbeams. Jose woke first and lay still, savouring the remnants of dream images. He felt good; the indescribable sense of having accomplished some meaningful communications with known but elusive others that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, yet couldn’t deny the validity of. It was some minutes before he remembered the plan to dream of a solution to the problem of how to get off the island, and in an instant the well-being evaporated as he struggled to recall any useful details, and frustratingly found that he couldn’t recall a thing.

      “Focus on the feeling, Joselito” a voice in his head said. The voice had come through loud and clear, a deep male voice with a hint of a merry chuckle. “Ha ha ha!” The voice boomed again, as if in response to Jose’s awareness of him. An image of dusty reddish skin, swathed in indigo blue cloth flashed through Jose’s mind, and then vanished like a particle of dust moving out of the sunlight into the shadows.

      Paqui was beginning to stir, and started mumbling. “The pool, the rock pool, there’s a cave under the pool, hold your breath it won’t be long and out the other side…” She opened her eyes and sat up. “There’s a pool, Jose, and under the pool there’s a tunnel. That’s how we get off the island.”

      Jose frowned. “Paqui, this island is in the middle of the ocean, miles from anywhere. Even if there is a tunnel, and even if it goes anywhere at all, it would take months to get to the mainland on foot!”

      “Focus on the feeling, Joselito ~ Ha ha ha!” That voice in his head again! Jose was starting to think he was going mad. Suddenly he was filled with doubts and hopelessness. Everything seemed so utterly ridiculous. God, what was he doing here on this island! Everything was crazy here. If only he could just go home!

      “Focus on the feeling, Jose.” The voice was gentle now, and kind. “The feeling will take you home”.

      “I don’t know what you mean!” cried Jose in exasperation. “How can a feeling take me home? It’s not logical!”

      Paqui smiled a wise old smile and said “If you can’t trust yourself, dear one, then trust me for now. We’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

      “But we don’t even know where the pool is! What if we can’t find it?”

      “Focus on the feeling Jose, and trust that we will.”


        7:33:59 AM 8-19-08 ∞1da Geolocation Time.

        days of sleeping slip by. the light on the peaks soft, golden in the cool dawn. a shiver. the water would be cold but thirst is a motivating factor. movement would mean warmth. birds flitting from branch to branch…

        stones to perch on. river jade at my finger tips. the babble of a quickly flowing stream. scooping with one hand to drink from a clear pool, the musky scent of cedar and low water.

        across the wide stream, a river. actually. no. the amount of water between a stream and a river. a young buck, head bent low also drinking. antlers. how are years marked again? two prongs on each side. is that two years after reaching mating age? or four. no matter. eyes latch across rapidly flowing water. we watch each other. both still, both quiet. both recognizing in each other another survival being of dreams.

        dream memory extending into long ago. no. longer than that. the rules to colonizing a planet. simple universal rules. one band of survival beings with a limited number of nuclear families from any survival being group that wishes to expand into livable planets. set down in one place – with nothing. no food. no implements. not even clothes. if they survive they colonize. if not. well. the universe is full of tried and failed experimentation. The pulse of all that is drawn into a black hole. drawn in and back out through tunnels of light that are trapped within the black hole…

        the fact that more than one form of survival being can attempt to colonize one planet at any given time is both an advantage and a disadvantage. they become resource for each other as well as competition – resource and competition, as is all that is within and upon the planet.

        still that cave, that First Cave. on the tip of the continent in the southern hemisphere… blue ocean view… a beginning that is long ago. how long ago? 160,000 planet years? 200,000 thousand planet years? late arrivals as we are, this is where our colonization is now. Digging to find those memories and what is left of that initial arrival…

        walking up this valley on the other side of a continent, an ocean away from First Cave… funny how time advances forward and backward in both directions – in all directions – and remains the same. This now is the same now as that now and remains the same in both directions as it passes around each of us.

        the sun trickling across the tips of trees lower and lower into the valley. another half an hour and it will be in my face.

        might as well eat breakfast while I walk. thimble berries, currents, oh! yarrow. i could make tea. – if I made fire. If I had fire… or i could make yarrow tea because i have sun. . .

        at peace within because i know i am returning to the High Portal Cave on the mountain, near the timberline. the central entrance, near the ancient pine. The safe harbor of the High Portal Cave, the entrance to a multitude of passageways, interconnecting chambers and stunning connecting points that open beyond this time and beyond this continent – before and after this continent. probably, through the right passage way opening beyond this planet. I don’t know that, it makes sense that it does. I believe I will find out in my memory or in my future. i remember some of these things and places. not all of them. i remember entering, finding the stone trough of water with the wooden drinking bowl on the damp ledge. i remember passageways that lead to incredible places and times. why return now? without knowing i know. this is the way it is because this is the way it will become.

        warm sun on my chest. warm from walking. birds, quiet as i approach, resume their constant foraging as i pass. along the shore the constant sound of the river stream like the white noise of the universe, beautiful and ever present so that if i am not mindful i no longer hear it.

        a walking stick. ok, a broken branch caught between boulders. still green enough to be strong, almost as thick as my forearm with little taper and altho it is not straight, it is a head taller than i am – perfect. a walking stick. a walking staff. i work it loose from the rocks. strange markings… the hand of an intelligent being – a gift then.

        do images become visible on these pages or only the thoughts and sights from within my mind, i wonder. i try to remember not to believe all that i think… if i wonder… then do i attempt to find out? yes, often enough, yes. and why is short hair exciting, new, a sign of adventuring? changes. oh. perhaps. or perhaps it’s a way of changing breath. I smile. I walk on.


          Serendib Facility, Sri Lanka ~ (2035)

          Becky had forgotten all about her new babies now that she had the handsome and charming Gayesh in her sights. During the hot lazy days at the facility while Gayesh was working, she passed her time idly, swimming in the pool, dozing on the terrace, or randomly roaming around the Internet. Sometimes she checked Secondary Clone Becky’s blog all about bringing up triplets and coping with difficult husbands but soon got bored with such mundane affairs. Occasionally she worked on the Reality Play, and often sent reminders to Tina about the Facility , hoping that she would decide to join her.

          Perhaps I could entice her over here with the promise of a menage à trois with the delectable Gayesh, Becky mused, rather wickedly. I’m not sure I want to write about that in the Reality Play though, she thought, perhaps I could add it to my old journals, and then send Tina a link.


            4:21:44 PM 8-8-08 1da Geolocation Time.

            sometimes the flow climbs a mountain.

            pause. step. quick step. pause again. step. upstream another step. the stones solid, smooth, settled beneath my feet with the timeless passing of water. the path of gravity. the rising of a mountain. a rapid, considered, going on pace. sand between the stones. the moments of time. light on the rippling waters flickering. the air transparent, timeless, crisp, cool.

            knowing i’ve passed this way before, i pass again for the first time.

            it’s good to be back. returning. beginning.

            knowing my destination. the cave far above beneath the ancient pine. the boulder near the rough and gnarled trunk, slick and smooth. so hard the sense is of softness gliding with my fingers over the iridescent surface. soft to sit upon, to watch the valley far below extending forever into the distance. soft to recline upon, arcing my back. the warmth of the day in the stone, lingering far into the night to heat my bones. …knowing my destination, i take the next step into all that is new.

            sitting near the water. deep transparent pools of green/blue. the setting red sun. a shelter beneath driftwood high on the bank. a myrtle tree draping a blanket of scent over me, opening my soul. with each breath. i watch the light fading into the words echoing through my skull… life is hard… the song…

            Life is hard
            Anyway you cut it
            Life is sweet,
            Like a berry from a tree
            Life is temptation, baby,
            Every single day
            Life is hard

            Life is funny,
            I dont mean ha-ha
            It‘s not always sunny,
            When it needs to be
            Life is frightening,
            Nothing lasts forever
            Life is hard

            My time
            Is next to nothing
            My time
            Falls on you, yeah
            Is in motion
            Life is hard

            Life is precious,
            No matter how you see it
            Life is crazy,
            Like yellow fishes in the street
            Life is lonely
            When you‘re not with me
            Life is hard

            Is that you story?
            Hanging religion
            From a tree, yeah
            My time
            Is next to nothing
            Life is hard

            My time
            Is next to nothing
            My time
            Falls on you, yeah
            Is in motion
            Life is hard

            My time
            Falls on you, yeah
            Life is hard
            Life is hard

            – J. Mellencamp – while on the planet earth.

            ok. life is also beautiful. – 1da

            it’s a cruel crazy beautiful world – J. Clegg – also while on the planet earth.

            stars flickering in the fading twilight. the silence of a light breeze as pine boughs begin to whisper. the ache of tall trees swaying in the night with a moan like countless masts on the tall ships of a planet. blink. and i sleep.


            The door of the garage opened with a creaking sound, and Madame Chesterhope sped up into the gritty alley.
            In that dimension where she had hidden her command base, people were a bit sloppy about roads and tarmac, so she had designed a little modification on her machines to be able to levitate in some of the less practical areas; but she had to admit,… she loved the vibrations and bumps that the motorbike created with the friction of the ground surface.
            She started to giggle, all enthusiastic about the speed and the wind in her hair, that she ignored the road sign indicating that the road was flooded some miles ahead. The rain had been pouring cabbages all past hexades, so much so that her leather suit was in all honesty the best thing she could have worn, not to mention the fact of course, that it was making her totally sexy.
            Two peasants were coming her way, looking at her with wild eyes like they had just seen something otherworldly. Ahahah she laughed, the fools would soon have forgotten everything about it (another handy and sly magical modification she nodded to herself). Looking in her rear mirror, she could still see them wiggle their hands in a frenzy… What the fl…!


            On the road, the two peasants wondered what in the name of Shaint Lejus was that rider… But worse, it was heading straight to the pool that the swollen river had made recently, outpouring on fields and little sniggly and thorny paths, like this one. Making desperate signs to be seen and warn it, they watched in horror the black podgy thing with flabby flapping schpurniatz arms sink straight to the bottom of the pool.


            The landing was a bit bumpy, but she found her balance quickly. Those transdimensional puddles were a bit rough to get accustomed to, but once you knew how to manipulate it, you couldn’t forget it.
            Now, all she needed to got to the location she was heading to was to hop through a few more transdimensional puddles.
            Actually, all sorts of puddles could do the job, water puddles, even oil puddles… or run-over poodle puddles for that matter. She preferred water ones, for the quality of water was very fluid, and allowed for easier defocusing. Lately she had tried transdimensional exhaust fumes clouddles, but that was a bit disorienting more than helping.
            As far as she could tell, this first one had been projecting her to a dimension in between Earth and the Duane. Incorporating vibrational qualities of the two, with a little more rigidity though. The machine needed a little time to stabilize and get prepared for the next transdimensional jump.
            As far as she could tell, she was in a place that was not unlike her birthplace, in the countryside of England. There were occasionally some giveaways that she still wasn’t quite there yet, like an erratic flying schpurniatz, but she was close now.
            A few meters in front of her, she could see a lovely puddle that could do for the next jump. A bit small for her… well, motorbike, what were you thinking… but that would probably do it. She took another breath, then pushed the TDPP (Trans-Dimensional Puddle Propeller) button.


            Bugger, bugger…. What the bloody heck!

            Straw was flying all over her hair, and obfuscating her vision… Darn last puddle had to much mud in it, and her concentration went off for a split second, heading her towards a field of barley.
            Turning round and round for a moment in complete disorientation, she finally pushed the levitation button to take a little altitude.
            Oh, now,… at least she could tell she was in England, because she knew that place.
            How perfect! She could now just move into the dimension to the Pacific island. The GPS included in the modern expensive motorbike had been bipping as soon as it had found again the satellites, and it was now pointing the direction.
            Giggling again, she pushed a new button and disappeared into the sky in a supersonic puff of smoke.


            a few days later, Chestershire, UK

            AFP - 2008-07-21 - An new amazing design has been reported by eye-witnesses
            on a crop of barley of a local farmer along with reports of strange booming sounds
            and orbs of light. A sight to behold, the delicate intricacy of these interwoven
            patterns is believed by many to be the work of the Crop-circle Makers, some
            alien intelligence desiring to communicate with us. The theme of this crop-circle
            is thought to be a variation on planet Venus cycles, and would be highlighting
            the number of cycles lefts until the notorious end-date of Mayan calendar,
            Dec. 21st 2012. Scientists have brushed off the allegations of elderly pranksters,
            as this one seemed to have required levels of astronomical knowledge far beyond
            human intelligence.

            Orgetak was fond of taking a crocodile as an animal essence.
            He was coming from a fragmentation of some big names of Essence Land, and he shared many connections with lots of other “essences siblings”. In that moment, he was having fun observing Rafaela… though he was having a weird sense of wanting to merge more thoroughly with her… perhaps that crocodile disguise was cloaking his judgment… He wasn’t too sure.

            He had focused recently, to catch up with one of Rafaela’s own focuses, a rather famous one, whose genetic pool was a magical blend which would be spread in many new enticing physical probabilities. In a haste, despite of no time by which to measure it, he had created himself a past of an Sri Lankan geneticist named Dr. Gayesh Sitharaya, whose interest (or intent) dwelt in exploring the multiplicity of one individual’s aspects…


            What’s the catch then?
            What do you mean Al?
            Oh, come on Tinipooh, you know there’s always a catch… Surely Becky mentioned that on the phone…
            Ahaha, are we speaking of the same Becky? :yahoo_rolling_eyes:
            Well, why would that guy help her anyway. And I’m not really sure having another her on the loose is of any help for that matter :yahoo_hypnotized: Sounds more like a world domination plan to me… :yahoo_dontwannasee:
            Well, you know Becky, always blissfully jumping in the stream, even if it’s full of piranhas. It’s good she even thought of giving us a call…
            Yeah, too bad our thought reading techniques seem to get less and less reliable these days…


              Becky visited the nursery at The Facility every day, and smiled vaguely at the triplets, relieved that they were thriving and being well cared for. She had spent several happy hours ordering a new wardrobe online, charging it all to The Facility, whose staff were being wonderfully kind and accomodating. She spent the days reading historical novels, lounging on the recliners on the numerous patios and balconies, or strolling through the colourful leafy gardens, or floating in the cool lotus filled pools, without a care in the world.

              The past few months had been draining, exhausting. The unexpected break from everything that was familiar was doing her a power of good.

              One hot still afternoon, Gayesh, the director of the facility, called her into his large airy office. The antique ceiling fan ruffled the papers on his desk. The papers were part of the antique decor, giving the room a nostalgic 20th century air.

              Becky, we have been observing you while you’ve been staying with us, Gayesh said kindly. And we would like to make you an offer.

              Observing me? asked Becky, feeling a trifle violated.

              Oh, you know, at the essence level, dear, replied Gayesh, with a gentle smile. Your essence did agree, we couldn’t be intrusive, of course, as you know.

              Oh well, if my essence agreed that’s ok I guess, answered Becky, mollified. What’s your offer?

              Gayesh explained at length the purpose of the Facility, while Becky yawned and studied her new shoes, her mind wandering…

              …….and so, in a nutshell, Gayesh was saying, If you give us permission, we can send a cloned Becky back to Galle, and the husband Sean, while you, my dear, do whatever you desire. You can be mother to the essences already lined up to manifest via your, er, the clones, body (and may I point out that none of our undercover clones so far have been uncovered, shall we say), which will facilitate….Gayesh chuckled….your new found freedom! You will be a free Becky that nobody knows exists! Free to wander hither and yon, without any responsibilities…..what do you say?

              I accept your offer, sir! Becky said, jumping up to shake Gayesh’s hand.


                Phurt had been prowling in the woods for some time, but the illuminated structure at the center of the island was more appealing than the damp trees and mud holes to build her nest.
                And it was also like a sort of huge container of fat and tender food she could tell.
                She had spotted three delicious looking entrées: sorts of human cross between :yahoo_chicken: and :yahoo_cow:

                She jumped on the top of the part of the building were the three giggling entrées were heading towards. There was a window on the top of the dome which was easily opened. She wouldn’t attract attention now the rain had ceased, and that way she would be smelling the delicious suntan-cream sauce and pheromone fumet. She started to drool but before she noticed, a large gooey blue snotty pool had landed on the floor just in front of one of the meals.

                Good thing the ensuing confusion left her location still concealed, she thought…
                She had trouble discerning them as anything else than a big juicy appetizing blob of energy, but Phurt could tell they would come back; apparently, the light was enticing them.

                She would wait till they come back…
                And build her nest in this warm place full of light…


                Phurt started to glide herself through the roof window into the room. She hadn’t noticed how the blinking lights were making her dizzy. It was coming from that strange ball of light…
                She started to gaze into it, mesmerized by what she could see…
                But somehow, it felt like her energy was becoming more compact…
                What was happening?
                It was all so fascinating…
                Was she shrinking? She loved that feeling, like she was becoming more concentrated, a compact ball of sheer power!
                She was hungry for more! She would devore this world!



                What was that Glo?!
                A bloddy spider ‘ere! And now it’s all stuck under my foot like bloddy sticky Toilet Paper!
                Oh come on, now we can dance!


                START! said Tina.

                Becky and Tina were doing a meditation together, and Becky decided to just write whatever popped into her head. She could always delete it afterwards, or edit it, she reasoned.

                “Bagpush got out of the washtub”, Becky scribbled, “ And scooted down along the river line to the marks butty big one by the farm. Heavens above, fishly, what’s that brown thing on the water butt? Gawbsmacker said, don’t be talking like that, shekeltons in a hide to ho where and its first light, fair bright and hey ho the wash go. Abbon Ipswich, slaty flats of corncake, hey dee on the wash bucket, spittin in the hole hey down dooly. Margaret Apsworth laying on the white cotton cake spread, fair dooly down the one hooly. Ay and its a hey ho fair fooly down by the wash pooly, drum rolling in the har fool haley, down by the dash darnly. I said, hey ho the brown tooly, hoggin all the raw tooly, stewing in the far fooly for eight pence an hour. Said Mavis of the green sportwear, theres may flowers in the far horse hair, weel butter in the spar for tucker and muck down in the cow butter, said bree in the bird barny, a flying for the far fooly, well its knees up and out your dooly for the green hay beer fair. Its a fine night for a hooly in the row bottom in the far fooly, said mavis of the tom fooly, in the wash bucket down stairs. Once more, sell a nickel farthing, in the morning and in the darning, and say way more is in the star sign than a wash bucket down stairs.”

                Good greif, exclaimed Becky, What was all that about?

                What a load of twaddle, Becky, said Tina with a laugh.

                Well you know what? It was kind of fun and refreshing to just write nonsense
                I am sick of things MEANING something, Becky said, and then, warming to her subject:

                Lets have some good old fashioned MEANINGLESSNESS!


                  Elioctyl looked down on her body being wrapped in mummification bandages and sniggered. Dear funny silly alive ones, with their darling little rituals. How sweet they were to think their physical processes would make a ha’porth of difference after their last sweet breath of terrestrial air.

                  Look at Hoofut, taking it all so seriously! He thinks that if he takes every possible care with those strips of cloth and smelly unguents, that he…yes he alone!…has the power to direct my next adventures. Silly man! But he means well, bless his leather sandals. And Tarfel too, see how he cries when he’s sure Hoofut isn’t watching. I see the tears roll down his leathery cheeks, I see him brush them away with the back of his hand, and sniff and snort, and then spit on the floor. He pretends it’s the malodourous vapours of the embalming mixtures that’s making his nose run, but I can see.

                  Shalabat cries too when no-one is watching. He rests on a cushion beside the pool, waiting for the completion of the process on my lifeless body, waiting for the ceremonial rites to take place, waiting, wondering, worrying about the future….he has every faith in Hoofut’s skills, and Tarfel’s too. But he wonders what will happen to his people now without Elioctyl.

                  Ah, and I wonder too, but I don’t worry. I make a pact now, in love for these dear ones, to leave a piece of me in energy in the mummy they create out of my bones and skin. The mummy is for the terrestrial ones, a poignant reminder, a mystery, a relic, a treasure, a clue! and for them, I give it life, energy, meaning….I will return from time to time, in ethereal body form, to those who ponder this mummy, for generations to come….


                  In reply to: The Story So Far


                    Zhana’s story:
                    (to be added to)

                    Zhana was born in Zhuzebar, Siberia in the year 2020.

                    Orpaned at an early age, she lived with her Uncle Grishenka, a surly unpleasant man.

                    ‘Imaginary’ (telepathic) friend: Nishanti, sho lives in Sri Lanka, in the reconstructed city of Hingapooloopi.

                    In 2032 Zhana meets Sanso, an underground traveller, who promises to take her to ‘the other side of the world’ in search of Nishanti. Zhana and Sanso meet Elvira and Boris, during their mushroom exporting sojourn in Boris’s abandoned Kuzhebar family farm.


                      I was looking at the picture of the girl and her face kept morphing into the face of my brother!


                      Due to the unusual events in the year 2026, Nishanti and her five sisters lived in the reconstructed ancient city of Hingapooloopi that had been submerged beneath the ocean for centuries. There had been a series of tsunami’s and eathquakes and volcanic eruptions resulting in an enormous hole appearing in the sea bed into which a considerable amount of Indian Ocean sea water had disappeared, lowering the sea levels in some locations, mainly those that had risen slightly due to shifting tectonic plates.

                      Ten year old Nishanti and her five sisters (Hinni, 3; Yaso, 5; Yuvani, 7; Eromi, 13; and Nanda, 16) had lost their parents, and indeed most of their relatives, due to an unfortunate mishap in the kitchens two years previously in the year 2032 at the wedding party of their brother, Chandra. Gayesh, Nishanti’s eldest brother had mistakenly included poisonous red berries in the desert. Fortunately, Nishanti and her sisters had been reading the Snoot Q&A column in The Tarty Nun girls magazine that they had procured without their parents knowledge from a school trip of American tourists, in which Snoot had advised against red fruits.

                      Hingapooloopi was located on the land bridge , once again exposed, between Sri Lanka and the Indian continent. The reconstruction had been an enormously interesting undertaking, and Nishanti’s uncle Roshan had been involved in the ground work excavations. He found many artifacts, which he smuggled off the building site, and secreted under the floorboards of the old family home in the highlands . Perhaps the most interesting one was the crystal skull; certainly it was the one that Nishanti found the most intriguing.


                      A feeling of disappointment.
                      A feeling of hatred… Sam didn’t really know where it was coming from, but he was feeling it. It was a pooling of energies, not necessarily linked to anyone in particular. Like holding to old habits and old clothes though they needed to be changed.

                      Sam decided to create something he hadn’t for quite some time. Some fever and reconfiguration of his digestive process.

                      For him, it was a way of expression through his body. It was not a dysfunction as it was expressing freely the energy. Nothing was to be feared or opposed.
                      He focused deeply on himself and began to feel this low vibrating sound in his belly. And his body began its shifting.


                      Lucio was swimming with ease in the marble pool of the villa. His brother was speaking with the trees again and he had no interest in that himself. The water upon his body was offering enough interactions at that moment. In order to swim swiftly this morning he had reshaped his body to a slender and tall body. His short hair was moss green today and quite fitting in the sky blue water. A lemur was swimming alongside with him like it was challenging him in some way.
                      He felt his brother’s energy field expand and ripple through the water. A big watery splash was the indication he had joined Lucio in this aquatic amusement.

                      Though they were identical twins, they also had the ability to alter their physical shape slightly. Mostly their hair and size, and also their faces. Today they were identical again, except for their size as Lucio had increased it, and their hair. Adrian was bald today, his perfectly round skull was appearing almost shiny in the afternoon sun. He winked at his brother with a big grin and dived under the wavy surface.


                      The bal room was ready. Malvina was looking around and decided that all was perfect now
                      She felt the subtle ripples of her friends energy. Sam was waiting patiently their arrival.

                      The east wall just blurred and began to glow lightly of deep teal and emerald shades, blended in a beautiful and quite creative whirlpool.

                      Malvina just moved her attention on the encoding of her hair and shift slightly some hue to express a dark stary night, sparkling and full of mystery.

                      A thrill went through her body as she saw Georges and Salome emerge from the wall… and she burst into laughter at the sight of the marmoset which was looking at her with such a big smile :face-monkey:

                      Her laugh rippled through the crystals of the cave, making their light iridescent and swinging.

                      WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! A giant disco ball :bounce: just for us.

                      Georges couldn’t stop laughing and began dancing as Salome was generating a peppy and swinging music… he was all jumping and swirling, and Sam was jumping all around, barking at him with joy.

                      — What the hell, began Leörmn but he was fascinated.

                      And that’s when a wavy Irtak entered the discave with his 2 dragons… they immediately changed shape and began to swirl around with Georges, and Irtak was wondering if he was dreaming or if it was another process in his discovery… he was feeling as if he was dancing as the man-Georges. :yahoo_hypnotized: His body just started moving following the movements of Georges and they were just one.


                        The Little Brook gurgled over the pebbles, sparkling in the sunlight, and swirling in little pools dammed up with little stone bridges.

                        Dory smiled at George. Ok George, I’m all ears.

                        Well, Dory, you were asking why I didn’t help you, despite being with you every step of the way on your adventures.

                        Well, yeah! said Dory, somewhat indignantly. I mean, what are friends for?


                          Here you will find the picture pool for the story
                          Don’t hesitate to join in, and add your submissions…

                          NB please don’t use copyrighted material, unless you hold the rights or the permission to reproduce

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