Search Results for 'post'

Forums Search Search Results for 'post'

Viewing 15 results - 221 through 235 (of 235 total)
  • Author
    Search Results
  • #320

    Sean put the letter in his pocket. Perhaps a trip to the Amusement Park wasn’t such a bad idea. He always enjoyed Becky’s company, and he was curious about dear old Al. Becky’s postscript hadn’t made a great deal of sense, but then, Becky was a bit like that. The truth of it was, he needed a break.

    Sean wondered if Tina would be there. He remembered their brief meeting, and how he’d been struck by her sweet voice. And Sam, dear funny Sam!

    Sean put his hat on, and walked out into the clammy Irish drizzle. A pint of guinness in The Dunloughpadraisobahairiedunkennyloughaire Arms to celebrate, I think! He patted the letter in his pocket and smiled for the first time in months.


    well it feels warm here :yahoo_daydreaming: just having a break in good company for a big :yahoo_big_hug:

    back again for another choooopine :yahoo_rose: :yahoo_good_luck: :yahoo_rose: :yahoo_good_luck: :yahoo_rose: :yahoo_good_luck:


    HAHAHA, I just noticed I posted the 23rd comment on this thread :yahoo_big_grin: :yahoo_big_hug:


    ……In case you feel like talking, don’t hesitate any moment, I’ll be here. Anytime.



    PS, Becky added as an afterthought in her letter to dear old Wrick, Al’s so looking forward to meeting you in the ‘Amusement Park’ in Central Park, I hope you will disillusion him gently as to the nature of projecting and out-of body excursions……I will leave it to you, Wrick old boy, to decide how best to handle it. Ah, you wise old buffoon, I can hear you saying it now: Al’s choices are perfect, as are yours. Becky smiled fondly and added to the postscript: Wrick, you’re a brick, old stick.


    In reply to: Synchronicity


    Right, I have not been able to watch more than the first two episodes of LOST ;))
    Anyway, that’s quite interesting! Thanks for posting :)


    :yahoo_alien:Oh is this wh:yahoo_confused:at the salmon was all about! Eric, the Elias quote you posted in the diary is exactly what I was wondering about yesterday! Interesting…..:world:


    This is a thread for referencing terms, creatures and other funny words that may be useful to find easily…
    Don’t hesitate to post your suggestions below, that I will integrate later.


    • Dragons
    • Gripshawks [ ˈgrip-ˌshȯk ]: feline-like race.
    • Humans
    • Uglings


    • capricorn [ ˈka-pri-ˌkȯrn ]: goat-like fish-tailed aquatic creature
    • fincheon [ ˈfin-chən ]: grey ugly birds, with the particularity of being extremely discreet (almost invisible) with a great sense of orientation, and loyalty to their owner. They are mostly used as message deliverers
    • glukenitch [ ˈglu̇-ˌken-nitch ] (Gripshawk dialect: [ ˈglu̇k-ˌnitch ]) : Slimy wet creatures fearing light, sharing one mind, found in Malvina’s cave. Useful recyclers of garbage, their droppings emit a glowing bluish halo, until they dry up completely and coalesce into a glassy substance.
    • golfindel [ ˈgōl-ˌfin-dəl ] : golden coloured cetacean, found in Golfindely.
    • grake [ ˈgrāk ]: big birds of Golfindely, with colours like mandarin ducks and shaped as geese.
    • indogo [ ˈin-dō-ˌgō ]: blue type of flamingo living in the Eastern Lagunas of Lan’ork.
    • langoat [ ˈlan-ˌgōt ]: daft three-eyed goat-like creature living in the Dragon Head Peninsula, the wool of which has many magical uses (enchanted cloaks, tapestries etc.). Their milk is known to have remarkable healing powers too.
    • marmoth [ ˈmär-məth ]: big toothed hibernating woolliphants
    • saurhse [ ˈsȯr-əs ] : bidepal saurian used as a mount in Asgurdy.
    • schpurniatz [ ˈshpər-ˌniats ] : bat-like creatures, found in dark caves.
    • sparfly [ ˈspär-ˌflī ] : birds usually seen in couples, loving to nest in silgreen trees, and their songs is one of the Treasure of the Worlds.
    • weaszchilla [ ˈwēz-ˌchi-lə ]: little mouse-like ferret

    Magical Artefacts

    • buntifluën [ ˈbənti-ˌflün ] (or [ ˈbau̇nti-ˌflün ]): A magical artefact having in most of its variations the form of a knot-like object, which allows the wearer or bearer to communicate directly with the energy of sentient beings.
    • glubolín [ ˈglü-bȯ-ˌlin ]: A device made from unhatched dragon eggs of the same brood, that allows people to communicate through it.
    • sabulmantium [ ˈsā-bəl-ˌman(t)-shəm ] (or [ ˈsā-bu̇l-ˌman(t)-shəm ]): A device made from rare unhatched dragon egg with crystalline transparent shells, which is filled with sands. May be used as a divination device or as a compass, in any case as an intent focusing device.


    • buckberry [ ˈbək-ˌbe-rē ]: fruit of wild buckberries shrubs, in the form of big electric blue-vermilion reddish berries, known to have thwarted all attempts to be grown in gardens.
    • grogonut [ ˈgrō-ˌgə-nət ] tree: a tree indigenous of the warm coasts of Golfindely, known to provide grogonuts, which have a wide range of uses (food, drinks, cups etc.) depending on the maturation level of the nut.
    • silgreen [ ˈsil-ˈgrēn ] tree: a big decorative shrub, blooming sparkling flowers of emerald and silver once every moon. Leafs can have medicinal use too.

    More here later…


    :notepad: Seems there is an issue when you take too long to write a comment, the system thinks you are not signed in any longer.
    Will see what I can do.

    In the meantime, if that happens, just copy your comment from the comment box, and then reload the page, and paste/post it back… Sorry for any inconvenience…

    [EDIT] I’ve changed something in the configuration of the cookies, perhaps that’ll help. Might be a good thing to clear your cookies in your browser too, just in case…


    When Rudy the myna had come back crashing on the boat, it all became suddenly a huge uncontrollable chaos.
    The hovering menacing clouds that were looming in front of them were coming closer at a dreadful speed, and even more concerning were the rocks that were appearing everywhere now, that they had more and more trouble to avoid in betwixt the turmoils and eddies.

    So they had finally come to the Great Rift, Bådul was thinking. The back of the legendary water dragon that noone was known to have crossed.

    But Bådul knew better.
    He howled orders to get everybody ready at their posts, and felt reassured when he saw that Austor was maneuvering with dexterity and confidence through the rift.
    He ignored the crazy laugh of Razkÿ, the madman who was now shouting with a manic laughter “We all gonna diiie! AHAHAHAH! DIE! DIE!” Then winking at Bådul and laughing again.

    :fleuron: :fleuron:

    A few months earlier, Northern Åsgurdy

    A huge cloaked figure was riding in the middle of the deserts. The saurhse, a bit small for its rider, was getting tired, but the man wanted to move before the night came. Åsgurdy had a climate which made travels uneasy on land, and only on these bipedal saurians they named saurhses, could Åsgurdians easily travel on the burning hot sands by day. Then, they could gain the high plateaus of rock and ice, where the temperature was kept cold by the high chilly winds. But at night, the deserts would be chilly too, and the cold-blooded creature he was mounting would require a shelter.

    He knew that such a shelter wouldn’t be far away now.
    That region was mostly uncharted as it was fairly remote from all known cities, but that strange man he had met had said he was a traveler who knew were he could find something priceless.
    At that time, Badul had felt he had nothing to lose, and said to himself “when in doubt, go for the experience”.
    He had felt he could trust that man known to him only by a strange name, something like Gheorg.
    There had been nothing boastful about him, and he had been kind to him. He had been the only person in the World he had known to have given him back his dignity as a human being, and even more, to have given him a reason to live.
    He owed him a lot, and perhaps even more as he was now drawing closer to the cave… that same cave which was a mere cross on the torn map he had been drawing hastily before vanishing almost preternaturally, living him a bit of money and that map…


    Roselÿn had felt the urge to move somewhere else. This land didn’t resonate with her energy, and that of Rëgkvist, and of the few eggs the dragon had managed to lay, none had actually been able to hatch.
    It had affected her so much that she had even retreated from her sisters’ usual talks through the glubolíns.
    She needed to move on.


    When he entered the cave, Badul was disappointed. He could feel there had been someone living here quite recently, but it was like the cave was now abandoned. He hoped he could have found more answers, but now it was again like burning sand slipping through his fingers.

    In a fit of rage, he took a boulder as big as him and threw it across the cave with a roar.
    Something was brought down by his huge force further down into the cave and he heard it quite distinctly.

    He tied up the saurhse at the entrance of the cave, and entered it with determination, ducking through the tunnel too narrow for his big baby-faced frame. Then he found something glowing. At first, he thought it was some gold, but what kind of fool had been living here before and had been in such a haste to move as to forget gold?

    It was not gold. It was something like a broken shell. The broken bits were like a jigsaw puzzle and he wished he could make it one, as he was attracted by the strange radiance of the thing.

    :fleuron: :fleuron:

    Austor did not believe his eyes…
    They had crossed the Rift, all three of the ships.
    And it was nothing like the dark void they had nearly expected behind.

    It was an open sea, glistening in the sun, and all hope had come back through them all.


    And yet….and yet….it’s so familiar! Bill climbed out of bed, eyes fixed on the stone carved head on top of the tallboy, and went over for a closer look. He reached up and touched the cool smooth stone, and then leaned back against the bedpost, stroking his chin, transfixed.

    I must be dreaming, he thought, this just doesn’t make sense. And yet…..I’ve seen this before! The images flitted through Bill’s mind, not just this stone head, but other stone heads, all different but all linked somehow, and all so familiar.

    Bill didn’t hear the soft tapping on the door at first. Bill! psstt, Bill! Open the door, it’s me, India……


    Fiona had more or less given up on getting the pebbles from Yann, deciding they must have got lost in the post, so that evening when she happened to check the mailbox when walking past she was very surprised and delighted to see a package from him. It was way too late for the postie to have been, so she was intrigued as to how they had got there and where they had been all this time.

    The three pebbles, well a couple of them were more like small rocks really and she was most impressed that Yann had sent them, were from the cave in Scotland he had visited a few months ago. Yann said the small one was from the cliff, the red one was one of the pebbles outside the cave and the grey one was from the stream inside the cave.

    Fiona held each of them in her hand and got quite a strange feeling from them, and some interesting pictures came into her head…..

    Yann had also sent a furry toy, a little scottish hairy cow. Apparently on his trip these hairy cows had reminded him of her. Fiona was a little perplexed by the seeming similarity but decided to believe it was a good thing. how quaint! she thought bless him :yahoo_big_hug:


    When Dorothy Mc Leane, the imperviously impetuous and buoyant archaeologist, temporarily reduced to dust shawls in a small antique boutique of the coast of Madagascar, had been finally coming to her mind, she had felt so out of place.

    She had been in many places at once, and these have hardly been vacations at all. Well, all she had wanted at first was to follow that funny lemur winking on a placard, which was hinting at a funny expedition in a cave.

    But that may just have been phoney gooey advertisement, as she was now stranded in that shoppe with a stupid parrot. No-name parrot…

    That’d make Fiona laugh for sure… she thought; she would say that she wasn’t doing things in halves. Can’t even think if I can find a postcard big enough to tell her everything, she had laughed.

    Well, you don’t have a name by chance? she suddenly asked the bright bird.

    Archibaaaaald howled the parrot joyfully.

    Bugger this, I knew that… Dory couldn’t help but thinking.


    Oh!, she had started to feel exasperated. Archibald would take care of the key anyway, no need to stay here any much longer.

    And right after the parrot had flown through the window, as she was leaving the shoppe and heading to the mini-van where the distraught guide had been obviously looking for her since hours, she couldn’t help but wonder at the number of noisy Italian tourists who had just seemed to pop in, crowding the tiny shawl shoppe…

    Wow… She could have bet they could have been as many as fifty seven…


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

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

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

    Use your magic, she had said.

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

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

    :fleuron: :fleuron: :fleuron:

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

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

    No, thank YOU, replied the sleepy glukenitch.

    :fleuron: :fleuron: :fleuron:

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

    Why sad?

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

    You always know, just feel it

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Doesn’t the little girl feel left out?

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

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

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

    :fleuron: :fleuron: :fleuron:

    Arona returned to the cave.

    You look troubled

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Well I gave her the same advice, years ago.

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

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

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

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

    Dance Arona, she heard the woman’s voice

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

    It doesn’t matter

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

    :fleuron: :fleuron: :fleuron:

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

    Things are shifting she said

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

    Feel the answer

    Arona felt. I am very hungry, eggceptionally so.


    The pebbles were on their way to Fiona… the postman was very kind and told him it would arrive in 10 days max. The funny thing is that when Yann entered the post-office he first went to the automatic machine that wasn’t working, and when he was queuing he felt that it would be to that man he would give the parcel.

    There had been lots of movements during the night, he could’t remember a single thing except that he was talking with Archie… weirdo!

    And when he woke up, a friend with whom he hadn’t talk for ages had sent him a mail. He had thought the day before that he would speak to her soon. Soon has been very soon indeed.


    Fiona rushed excitedly to the mailbox when she saw the postman.

    Damn she muttered, still no pebble from Yann.

    She wandered dejectedly back inside to do her housework.


    Fiona could feel herself on the verge of doing something radical. In fact she had decided. She was not sure what exactly she had decided, but definitely a decision had been made. She had noticed how often she had been deleting her posts lately on an online blog she kept.

    It was clearly a sign.

    Fiona enjoyed deleting. Quintin and Dory were rather odd about her deleting. Quintin especially, who apparently never deleted anything. She wondered if this was reflected in other aspects of his life. Maybe he was a hoarder, barely able to move for all the things surrounding him. Dory tended to be a bit of hoarder, she often confessed to this trait. Nothing wrong with hoarding of course, thought Fiona. It is perfectly fine.

    Fiona resisted a sudden impulse to go and delete her whole blog, for now anyway.

    She was not quite sure what form her decision would take, but realised she felt distinctly peaceful.

Viewing 15 results - 221 through 235 (of 235 total)