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AuthorSearch Results
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May 13, 2008 at 11:01 pm #875
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Chris Robin’s brief sojourn in the past had been an interesting one. He’d only spent a couple of hours in the year 2034 and had unfortunately arrived during a rainstorm. He arrived back in the year 2163 soaked to his skin, but grinning like a Cheshire cat. Armed only with the time travellers password, ‘Tarty Nun’, Chris had expected to spend alot more time trying to making contact with a TF, or ‘timetravellers friend’ than he did; he was astonished to see a tarty nun almost immediately upon arrival.
The girl was giggling to herself, and reciting limericks as she wandered aimlessly through the bushes, looking really quite fetching in an interesting little garment. As she brushed past him, seemingly oblivious to his presence, he heard her whisper the password. “… coming… in … tarty nun…..”
May 11, 2008 at 6:02 pm #863In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Blimey, Sha, them waves are huge! The sun’s gone in, an’ all.
It’s alot blimmen warmer than back ‘ome though, Gloria, replied Sharon. Wind’s picking up a bit, innit?
I’ll say! Did you ‘ear someone shout? asked Gloria. Oh bugger, it’s started to rain!
Oh give over, Glor, it’ll pass over in a minute. Keep yer knickers on, will ya? It’s a tropical island, the weather’s supposed to be nice and ‘ot, innit?
May 11, 2008 at 8:25 am #859In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
The wind howled. It screamed in fury. Cyclone Ycart in all its majestic glory was ripping over the island, screaming out its rage, like a demon swirling from hell.
The rain started.
Veranassessee shivered and cursed beneath the onslaught. Water saturated her long hair, plastered her thin cotton dress to her body and rain ran in rivulets down her face.
She looked wildly around, trying to suppress the hysteria rising in her chest. She screamed out their names, but her voice was carried away by the winds. Breathing roughly, she paused, drawing in a calming breath.
Then she saw them.
Goddamit!
She stared in bewilderment. She could barely believe what she was seeing. Mavis had been right when she nervously told her Sharon and Gloria were having a picnic on the beach. There they were like two beached whales, apparently oblivious to the waves lashing perilously close to them.
For a moment Veranassessee was sorely tempted to leave them to their fate.
May 10, 2008 at 4:03 pm #849In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Al had just inadvertently telepathically overheard Becky’s long monologue, and was rather amused at the situation that he decided to stay quiet and refrain from intervening.
It was a sort of interesting experience, to see how it would develop…A voice was starting to make itself heard through Becky’s neuronal pathways though… A feminine voice first… Then a male…
He could even sense a third presence too…Al was surprised, as he apparently didn’t really care about what kind of probability would express itself. It seemed it was all valid, and yet, there was something that wanted to make itself heard.
Becky was quiet now. She seemed to have finally seen that nothing would happen as intensely and quickly as in her swift imagination.
But Al was intrigued… Who were those presence, they felt lively, very humorous too. But they were concerned about Becky’s changes of mood. They were considering probabilities too, as though Becky’s choices were important to them.
— We are the first-borns of Becky answered the feminine voice who had keep still.
— Potential first sniggered the male voice.
— Oh, shut up, Oliver the third one said you know well enough we are creating our realities, so better give her some time… No need to freak her out… After all, it’s like for Dory’s nine dogs, they only came gradually, and she just accepted them…Dory? Al was wondering… He had heard that name recently… At the wedding party perhaps?
— Dory’s a past overlapping focus of Becky and her step-mother too… answered Léan, the quiet one.
Al was befuddled. He had first thought these voices were only Becky’s playing games with herself.
— Oh sure it was, answered Oliver, we’ve just be using that wave of thoughts to bring us through. It’s very multi-layered.
— See, take the dogs which Illana talked about right now. You know some of these dogs Dory had (or has, or will have), they have “flecks” of people close to Dory, other essences’ energies. Some are very clearly noticeable, other are more mingled. These voices are multiplexes of voices, more or less subtle energies being expressed. Some are very deep. We were riding the surface of them.So, Illana, Lean and Oliver? That’s it?… Nice to meet you… Al was still thinking aloud (like in big characters printed on a silent kaleidoscopic screen)
And that will be your focus names? Oh, yes… probable ones.
It’s funny you know, it’s like you are becoming more real now. I can feel some associations coming that help bring you into form. Like Oliver, I associate him with a black dog of Dory. A little grumpy one with funny black eyes.The two female laughters mingled into one delightful chorus. Ahaha, we will give you a point for accurate connection!
“And Léan,” Al continued, “you feel like a young blond woman, friend of Dory ready to get married… Yet, I can see you have a black complexion in this probable focus, unlike your siblings… Sounds a bit confusing…”
— Ahaha, another point!
“Let me see, Illana now… I got you connected with another friend of Dory… An paleontologist or geologist, living in the US, blond lively woman with painted nails, and… the image is just gone now…”
— Hehehe, that’s close enough, said Illana’s voice. I can see we’ll meet soon Al…
And the moment after, the wisps of light were gone.
April 27, 2008 at 11:55 pm #1791In reply to: Synchronicity
ahhahah yes definitely foggy brain synch
egg synch, my mother choked on hardboiled egg the other night and they had to do the … H technique (T already told me what the word was but old foggy mongy brain here can’t remember) on her.
I was looking at jewelery yesterday, a friend on multiply makes jewelery and I was looking at her photos thinking how lovely they were
April 27, 2008 at 10:09 pm #1790In reply to: Synchronicity
For the foggy brain you can ask Francie
April 27, 2008 at 9:05 pm #1788In reply to: Synchronicity
Anyone having a foggy mongy brain sync?
April 5, 2008 at 12:59 pm #819In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
A man was walking on the narrow path shaded by the tall pandanus trees.
Mahiliki was coming back from the sawmill where he worked, smiling to the people he met on his way back home. The island of Fikitupi was a small island in the Pacific, and he knew most of the people living around this small corner here.
An old wizened lady with a toupee was busy weaving pandanus dried leaves into baskets and mats on the front door of her small house, while children were running to and fro among noisy chicken all around the place.
Mahiliki smiled, fond as he was of Nanaiis, whom all children loved deeply, for she always had new tales for them to hear, and cheering words to share. She was quite intuitive, and had said to him years ago that his new girlfriend wouldn’t stay around and have lots of children.
He didn’t want many children anyway… but as Nanaiis had said, Vera had left, not without saying she would come back though.
Mahiliki didn’t count much on it, but he had all the time to wait for her. Life was calm and sweet here, and its appeal was great.At a short distance, he could spot the hut of O’panié and Twahissi. They were some funny strange hoots these two. Twahissi was the light-haired niece of O’panié and she was sharing with him her love for otherworldly matters. Twahissi’s parents had left her in his care, when they left to open a shop in the main island of the archipelago, and frankly, Twahissy was far more comfortable staying in Fukitupi where all felt magic to her.
Mahiliki smiled when he finally understood they were trying to bury something near the culvert on the side of their hut. For apparently no reason, a month or two ago, O’panié had become interested in old papers and had become convinced that the date line was not only passing on the island of Fukitupi, but even more, it was passing right through his hut, and thus might explain his apparent sudden feelings of time loss.
Some educated people had tried to reason him, but he’d stood fast in his opinion. Sightings of rainbow bubbletons by his niece Twahissi had him convinced even further that there was the possibility to improve this technique of time-travel. For as he crossed the bedroom he could step one day forward or backward! How thrilling it all was!
Guess only the Elders knew what he was trying to bury now…Mahiliki could not but agree with him, as they were giving the whole village some pleasant laughing, and he had to admit that his enthusiasm was winning him more and more people to his quest. He wondered what sweet Vera would think of all of that, Cartesian as she was…
March 24, 2008 at 4:41 pm #812In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Ella Marie put the encounter to the back of her mind, and whistled loudy and kept her eyes averted when dusting the mummy case during the following months. It wasn’t until the floods of the following spring that she heard Elioctyl’s voice again, urging her to take action, that now was the perfect opportunity.
Pssst! Ella! Do it now, NOW!
NO! shouted Ella Marie.
Suit yourself, Honey, replied her husband Arthur, pouring himself a cup of coffee from a thermos and screwing the lid back on.
Ella Marie spun round, saying HUH? Yes, I mean yes, please.
Arthur raised an eyebrow and tutted. You said No, Ella, who was you talking to anyway?
Oh Lordy, Art, I was just saying NO to all the flooding, NO more rain, and all….Ella Marie replied, but her mind was racing.
Art Honey, why don’t you wade round to your mothers and see if she’s ok, why dontcha, and I’ll start moving stuff up into the attic. River’s gonna burst its banks tonight, I reckon, we oughta do what we can now.
Don’t get lifting nothing too heavy, ya hear? Leave anything you can’t manage for me, I’ll do it when I get back, Arthur replied.
As soon as Art was out of the door and down the porch steps, Ella Marie raced out the back door and into the garage. The adrenaline was pumping through her veins, and she felt light as air, and fit as a twenty year old. Her flashlight beam swept the garage…she didn’t know what, precisely, she was looking for, but she knew she’d find it.
Aha! Ella Marie spotted a coil of washing line rope, and a tarpaulin. Stuffing the flashlight into her pocket, she grabbed the surfboard off the hooks on the wall and dragged it outside, the rope and tarpaulin under her arm. Quickly she tied the tarpaulin to the surfboard, tethering it to the garage door handle while she went back inside for the oars out of the uninflated dinghy. The flood water was past her ankles now, inching towards her knees, as she set off for the museum, pulling the surfboard behind her, thankful for the power blackout and the dark streets.
March 18, 2008 at 8:57 am #803In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
The room was chilly and silent when she awoke. The transition between her dream and the reality was like a cold shower on her aching body. It was still the middle of the night, even the guards were noiseless. She managed to bring her body close to the wall with the only window far above her head. Her thin clothes weren’t sufficient to keep the warmth into her flesh and she couldn’t restrain a shiver. How painful this could be after such a vivid dream.
She winced when one of her right thigh muscles decided to contract on its own and wouldn’t let go of the tensions. She tried to relax and breathe as deeply as she could, which made her cough repeatedly and that was even more painful. Still she could think. She was with that girl and her dragon again, Lola she was. Though that time the dragon was sleeping rather deeply. She could not blend her mind with her. The other was well shielded and she couldn’t communicate. Even her mind was a prison that she couldn’t communicate with her dream selfs.
There was that woman again, the Warrior Goddess, but they didn’t fight with her pupil as they usually did. She was more like a channel to another realm. Atiara could barely feel the presence of the others. They were too far in a way that she couldn’t comprehend.
Oh! Now she was remembering… hope.
After what had seemed hours of an exhausting fight with ghosts, the vividness of that dream had faded and she had found herself speaking with a young lad. What was his name? He was showing her different symbols, telling her that she had asked him in a dream once and that his friend Ewrick had now finished them. Yann had then showed her this set of symbols.
She had felt a different kind of power along with the smile of a blue man. Had she asked for this? She couldn’t remember. She had said to Yann that they were beautiful though she hadn’t the slightest idea of what they were. He had laughed and just said that she’ll know soon enough. And there was that guy behind Yann, with his mischievous look and his nine-tailed fox…
All she could hope was that she would remember the set. It seemed important. Well important enough that she had forgotten her painful body consciousness for a few moments. The coldness of the stone under her bare feet was bringing her back to her gray reality. The storm was now closer but still not ready to release its power. She was waiting for it.
March 18, 2008 at 8:49 am #802In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Bea stretched and yawned, and threw the bedcovers back. The early morning sun was streaming in the windows, catching the coloured glass bottles and crystals on the windowsill and making rainbow mice scamper over the floor. Horus, the Siamese cat, crouched with tail swishing, ready to pounce.
Bea sat up and swung her legs out of bed, feeling around with her feet for her slippers; a rainbow mouse crawled up her leg.
“Ouch! For fuck’s sake, Horus!”
Horus stared at Bea, unperturbed, and then yowled, asking for breakfast.
“Come on then Horus, let’s go and put the coffee on, are you hungry? Lovely day again! I wonder if Leonora’s up yet; doubt it! Come on then, hut hut!”
Bea wasn’t sure why she always said ‘Hut Hut’ to the cat, but Horus seemed to know what she meant, and followed her into the kitchen.
“Oh, it’s Eggleton painting day today, Horus!” Bea said to the cat, noticing the big basket of eggs on the kitchen table, For the Eggleton Hunt on Thursday.
Horus yowled and twisted himself through Bea’s legs.
“Ok Ok!” she replied, and opened a can of BocaBits with Atun. For herself, she made a large mug of black coffee with plenty of sugar, and lit a cigarette.
With the third lungful of smoke, Bea recalled a strange snatch of dream, and started to sing:
One man went to mow , went to mow a meadow,
One man two man and his dog
Went to mow a meadow……“Oh!” Bea said “I wrote something down in the night!” She went to the bedroom to get her dream journal.
“One man went to mow scattered lettuces.”
One man went to mow scattered lettuces? HUH? That doesn’t make any sense. I wonder if Leo can work it out, she’s good with clues…
“Leo! LEO! OY, Leo, whaddya make of this here dream snap-phrase then?” Bea barged into Leo’s bedroom and prodded the sleeping bulk.
“Wha wha whazzat!” Leo woke up with a start. “Bloody ‘ell, Bea! You woke me up! I was having a lovely dream about rabbits, an’ all……”
“One man went to mow scattered lettuces; what do you make of that? “ Bea asked, as she plonked herself down on Leo’s bed with a bounce that made the bed springs squeak.
Leo frowned, instantly awake now and intrigued with the clue. To Bea she said, “Get me a cup of coffee and a fag, and I’ll google it.”
Horus, having disinterestedly licked some of the juice off his Bocabits, jumped onto Leo’s lap as she typed the word lettuce into the search window. He jumped onto the desk, knocking a well worn paperback copy of Seth Speaks onto the floor, and on impulse, Leo added the words ‘Horus’ and ‘Seth’.
March 17, 2008 at 11:28 pm #801In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
The cold wind was blowing upon the marshes. The atmosphere was damp and dark with threatening gray clouds. A storm was approaching and Asiir was dreaming.
Her dreams were so strong that they were triggering many emotions in her rider. Since their bonding seven years ago, their link had grown stronger and Lola wouldn’t think of shutting it down even in those uncomfortable moments. They were one.
Lola was feeling a menace, some undefined threat coming with the storm, as if the storm was just the visible counterpart of what was preparing. In those moments, Lola couldn’t help but think of her family and her village… Her fist grasped tightly the grip of the sword she was holding.
Everyone was killed when she was nine. Her dragon wasn’t fully developed at that time and couldn’t help her save her people. All Asiir could do was shield her from them as she was shielding herself, not even thinking of it.
She sighed deeply, releasing the pressure of the storm and of the dreams. She’d learnt not to hold on the powerful emotional responses but to open herself as a channel of her dragon’s dreams. All she could do was let the energy flow through her. Was it Asiir creating the storm or the storm disturbing Asiir’s dreams? She wasn’t aware of the answer yet, but at times it had bothered her to think that her dragon could cause “bad things” to happen.
A chilly breeze and a surge of electricity. She grinned impishly.
It was the time of her lesson.You’re late master. she thought to the shadowy figure behind her. She was feeling something different that day in the presence. You’re not alone. I can feel a different energy with you today…
The dragon growled in her agitated sleep.
Your emotions are dragon drenched again, Lola. I know you consider it a proof of your connection with your beast, but it may be far more damaging than you think.
Lola had felt a twinge at how Samira had called her friend, she was feeling her emotions rise dangerously to the point which she had learned she could not control herself. She had always wondered if Samira was seriously considering dragons as beasts or if she was teasing her, especially since she had let the connection develop in such a way.
You’re going to have a new teacher…
Lola’s heartbeat accelerated slightly, so slightly, but she could feel her mentor’s smile upon her interrogations. Was she leaving? She’d always dreaded such a moment. She felt the wry expression of Samira.
I’m not going away… you need a training that I can’t give you. You need to learn how to ride properly over your bond and not get consumed by it, and Noraam can teach you that.
A strange impression of connection with the new energy flew in her, making her feel quite uneasy. Such an intimacy was unusual with another human energy. Or was he human?
A sudden surge of energy made her wince. She turned to her mentor and was surprised to only see Samira in her stout armor. She could feel the strength of the other energy but she couldn’t give him a form. She was feeling nudged gently from many directions at the same time and realized that she was afraid of loosing her bond with her friend. Wasn’t she trusting her bond? Another chill, and the rain started falling.
You won’t really need all that Samira taught you during these last 4 years
The inner voice was almost inaudible, but still she could feel it was not a voice and that the communication was going through another pathway. The vegetation of the marshes and few rocks were shifting to an unnatural yellow tint, and the faint glow around her teacher was growing in intensity. Actually, all the objects around her was beginning to glow, the limits of their shapes were collapsing.
Lola was sill feeling the link with Asiir but it was thinning down in such an unfamiliar way.
I’m going to help you remove the veils that Samira helped you put on your consciousness when you first met. But first you need to renew the link with yourself.
She heard a vague sound of steel on the ground… had she lost her sword? She couldn’t feel her body. She couldn’t move as she was used to… but was it still something to move? The face of a man was forming in the energy patterns of the glowing clouds. Was he close or far away? Was he huge or of human size? Was she massive?
A pounding sound in the distance of her inner ear… a familiar call but she was still so far.
March 14, 2008 at 9:39 am #1731In reply to: Synchronicity
<translating Jib’s energy>
Ahahah, it’s funny Franci!
Today and yesterday, I was in a training session and the guy kept saying stupid jokes and catch-phrases with 53 in them, like it’s the most natural thing to say! He also used a 23 onceAnd last week-end with Eric, we started to install a server. And to access a distant server, we use a program called PuTTY (pronounced sometimes “pooty”)… And the server kept rebooting on its own, so we ended pouting a bit
</translating Jib’s energy>
March 2, 2008 at 11:50 am #780In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Dear… And I always thought Beattie was a male name… Isn’t that funny? Al mused as he felt wrapped into the gortex (a kind of water-proof vortex specially fit for skimpy undies under torrential rains) of Becky’s thoughts…
Not that it mattered.
Albert was starting to question his own gender now… Could be another funny bodily exploration.
Hope Tina wouldn’t mind.March 1, 2008 at 10:11 pm #777In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
The trail of physical clues in Nutley Park had dried up (or more correctly, washed away) in the continuing torrential rain, so Elvira took shelter under a large tree to concentrate upon the psychic clues. She was still getting nonsensical images from Becky, but had managed to decipher that Becky was approaching the Wisteria Delicatesan, she was out in a storm (which Elvira had already deduced) and that there was a goat floating down the street.
March 1, 2008 at 10:02 pm #776In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Bea was drifting off to sleep on the patio, the gentle spring warm on her face. A stork glided past, and she noticed the first amethyst wisteria blossom against the blue sky. Dreamily, she heard a limerick forming in her mind:
There was an old crone called Wisteria
Who was prone to bouts of hysteria.
She fretted and flapped
Til her energy sapped,
And then she made friends with Deliria.The crone called Deliria hailed from
The unsettled realms of the maelstrom;
But she learned how to float
With the help of a goat
And considered it was quite a brainstorm.When Wisteria met with Deliria
She said “My! but you seem so familiar!
I admire your hat
So let’s have a chat
About goat floating maelstrom criteria”February 27, 2008 at 10:24 am #1907In reply to: Rafaela’s Random Ramblings
Googled rainbow snake and found Ezili Danto and her daughter Anais
Ezili Danto loves dolls. People often give her dolls as gifts ….. She is the most perfect mother one could wish to have….. Anais often serves as Ezili Danto’s translator and interpreter.
Haitian Vodou:
Danbala, the patriarchal serpent divinity, is an ancient water spirit associated with rain, wisdom, and fertility. He is usually entwined with his wife Ayida Wedo, the rainbow. Danbala is often represented as St. Patrick (who mastered the serpents of Ireland), and sometimes as the patriarchal Moses holding the Ten Commandments. In many temples, a permanent basin of water is maintained for this lwa. Many representations include Danbala’s main sacrificial food— an egg .
February 27, 2008 at 8:56 am #769In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Hang on a minute, Sam said to the Nanaconda. I’ll be with you as soon as I’ve dealt with this bucket of dung.
The rainbow Nanaconda raised her eyebrows (or gave the impression of that facial expression, at any rate).
As Sam tipped the bucket out, hundreds of dung beetles scurried in every direction.
Whoa! exclaimed Sam, taking an involuntary step backwards.
Nanaconda sniggered in a somewhat sinister fashion and said, Ah, the Symbolic scarab beetles strike again.
As Sam stood transfixed by the sight of the beetles running in all directions, an extraordinary thing happened. All the beetles stopped moving, as one, and then with a seemingly united purpose, they all started moving in the same direction. Within seconds a long black army of dung beetles marched off across the field.
Sam picked up the empty bucket and followed them.
Nanaconda followed him, grinning wickedly.
February 26, 2008 at 11:04 am #766In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
In the middle of the Aborigines Village in Tasmania, Sam was carrying a heavy wooden pail of kangaroos shite to spread on the crops of the Dreamtime.
Looking at the scene, a Tasmanian Devil was laughing frantically.
— Hinhiiinhiiiin, that old woman was tricky wasn’t sheeeeeee?He was now standing in front of a huge rainbow-coloured Nanaconda.
February 25, 2008 at 1:17 am #1517In reply to: Yurara Fameliki’s Story ~ Glossary
The Ooh Dimension:
It would be outside the constraints of this discussion, and the motivation of this writer, to list all the words within the Ooh Dimension so the writer will attempt to briefly summarise.
The language of the Ooh Dimension is distinguished by its spelling, vocubarly and pronunciation.
While those from the Ooh dimension have a verbal and written communication very similar to the language written and spoken in the Earth Dimension, the main distinguishing characteristic is the recurrent use of the sound “ooh”. This use of the “ooh” tends to be arbitrary and random, at the discretion and whim of the one doing the communicating. The randomness of the use of the “ooh” is one of the more delightful qualities of this language.
Grammatically the language of the Ooh Dimension is very similar to that of the Earth Dimension. This could change, of coose.
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AuthorSearch Results