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  • #2730

    In reply to: Strings of Nines

    AvatarJib
    Participant

      Mandrake rolled his eyes, something he had learned from Arona, which made Yickesy chuckle.
      Arona sighed, rolling her eyes twice and asked: “So who want some Nuhm tea?”
      “Where does that tea set come from”, asked Vincentius.

      #2821

      In reply to: Snowflakes of Tens

      TracyTracy
      Participant

        “Well, it clarifies one thing, if nothing else” Frond, the curator of the Murganian Distortium, said drily, “Cleary, this is nothing but a pack of seeds.”

        :yahoo_rolling_eyes:

        Alfred, preoccupied with worrying about his overdue library book, entered the door of the Murganian Distortium by mistake, which was next door to the Murgatorium Library.

        {LINK: CLARIFIED, SEED}

        #2819

        In reply to: Snowflakes of Tens

        F LoveF Love
        Participant

          Three Murganians, now full of burnt cake, were passing by and heard Alfred’s piteous cries for help. Fearing the worst, they quickly devised a cunning plan to get themselves out of earshot. For if they could not hear the cries for help then clearly they were under no obligation to offer assistance.

          “Roll!” shouted one of the Murganians. They tried to roll as fast as there bellies would carry them, but the burnt cake was heavy and it soon became obvious that rolling was out of question.

          “Help!” shouted Alfred. “Is someone there?”

          {link – rolling Murganians}

          #2700

          In reply to: Strings of Nines

          EricEric
          Keymaster

            Shelly rolled its eyes, for dubious reasons. :yahoo_rolling_eyes:

            #2437

            Deep within the Furcano, the Mother of the Blubbits was growling. Her belly actually. She’d spent days and days, like every good blubbit alien mother, spawning a furry and ungrateful progeny.

            For each of the blubbits captured and slaughtered, she was compelled to balance the loss. Balance was her motivation —at first. Now she was starting to think that maybe drowning them in baby blubbits would be a better and quicker way to end their (and her) suffering.

            That was at that precise moment that something round and hairy rolled at her feet with a funny movement and strange soft sounds. How funny she thought, she suddenly felt compelled to balance that odd thing on her nose.

            Imagine the expression (yes you’d have to imagine it, because they didn’t have one) on the faces of our favorite Peaslanders when they came into the cave running after the rolling head to see said head balanced on the nose (pink and soft) of a giant and furry Mother Blubbit.

            #2434

            “These old ezines and blogs are fascinating” remarked Periwinkle, passing the one she had just been reading to Daffodil. “Thank goodness some folks had the foresight to print some of them!” :news:

            “I know, imagine if they hadn’t. We’d have no artefacts for the collection. Well, we have all those flat discs, but no way to decipher them. Oh, did I tell you? Bignonia found something even older than the discs!” :search:

            “NO!” exclaimed Periwinkle “Do tell!” :yahoo_surprise:

            “Yes, even older! Funny looking contraption, with two reels and a ribbon. An information storage device, so they say, although they haven’t discovered how to decipher it.” :yahoo_nerd:

            “I wonder why we’re still not simply accessing that information without, well, without messing around with the physical contraption, you know?” :yahoo_idk:

            “Wouldn’t be any point in being here in the first place, if we weren’t going to mess around with physical things, silly” replied Daffodil. :yahoo_doh:

            There was no answer to that, so Periwikle didn’t answer. She continued to thumb through the printed pages. :news:

            Periwinkle and Daffodil sat together on the patio in the warm spring sunshine, sipping lemonade :fruit_lemon:
            and leafing through the papers. Bright white clouds in cartoon shapes romped across the blue sky, :weather-few-clouds:
            and the birds chattered in the trees, :magpie: :magpie:
            occasionally landing on the printed pages and cocking their heads sideways to read for a moment, before flying off to tell their friends, which was usually followed by a raucous group cackling. :yahoo_heehee: :yahoo_heehee: :yahoo_heehee:

            “Dear Goofenoff” read Daffodil, “This one looks interesting Peri, someone here is asking for advice on a problem.” :help:

            “What’s a “problem”, Daffy?” asked Periwinkle. “For that matter, what does the word “advice” mean? Oh, never mind” she said as she noticed Daffodil rolling her eyes, “I’ll look it up in my pre shift dictionary of defunct words.” :notepad:

            “She’s asking the Snoot too, about the same problem. Oh, I think I’ve heard of them! It’s coming back to me, the old Snoot’n‘Goof team, they were quite famous in the beginning of the century, I remember hearing about them before in a Shift History discussion.” :cluebox:

            “Well, I can’t say I’ve ever heard of them, but then, I’ve never been into history like you, dear. So what is this “problem” all about, then?” :yahoo_daydreaming:

            “I’ll read it out to you, it’s way too convoluted to put in a nutshell. Lordy, they sure did complicate matters back then, it’s almost unbeleivable, really, but anyway, here goes:

            Dear Goofenoff,

            I don’t know what to do! I am confused about which probable version of a blog freind, let’s call him MrZ, I have chosen to align with. The first probable version was ok, nothing to worry about, and then I drew into my awareness the probable versions of MrZ that some of my freinds had chosen to align with….”

            “Blimey”, interrupted Periwinkle, who was starting to fidget. “Is it much longer?” :yahoo_not_listening:

            “It’s alot longer, so be patient. Where was I? Oh yes: :yahoo_nerd:

            “….and while that was very interesting indeed, and led to lots of usefully emotionally heated discussions, I started to align with their probable version, at times, although not consistently, which led to some confusion. So then I had a chat with someone who was more in alignment with my original probable version, although there were aspects of that probable version that were a little in alignment with the other folks probable version, notwithstanding. I suppose I was still in alignment with the other folks probable version when it came to my attention that there was another individual that might be aligning with a probable version, and my question is, in a nutshell, is it any of my business which probable version the new individual on the scene is aligning with?” :yahoo_thinking:

            “Well, I can tell you the answer to that!” exclaimed Periwinkle. :yahoo_smug:

            Daffodil rolled her eyes. “Yes, dear, WE know the answer, but the point is, SHE didn’t know the answer at the time, which is why she asked Goofenoff.” :yahoo_straight_face:

            “If you ask me, she knew the answer all along” Periwinkle intuited. “What did Goofenoff say anyway?” :yahoo_eyelashes:

            “He said:

            Are you requiring a short or a long answer?” :yahoo_raised_eyebrow:

            Daffodil turned the page to continue reading. She frowned, and flicked through a few pages.

            “What a shame, some of these pages appear to be missing! Now we’ll never know what Goofenoff said.” :yahoo_skull:

            Periwinkle laughed. “Well, never mind that anyway, have you seen the random story quote today? Rather synchronistic I’d say, listen to this bit: :paperclip:

            Illi felt much better, and was sitting at the breakfast table, basking in the warm shafts of sunlight filtering in through the window, and listening to the birds singing in the lemon tree outside.”
            :weather-clear: :magpie: :fruit_lemon: :weather-few-clouds:

            #2772
            EricEric
            Keymaster

              #54

              the voice was feeling liquid. Leörmn wouldn’t change the exit of that egg.

              Since many of his abilities were quite perfect the only difficulty was to follow any egg.

              And the egg was in another one from which the girl drifted off to sleep, despite the sounds of the camels, and then it turned into one of those heart shape!

              “BUGGER THISDory was singing ‘Bugger this’ to Arona rolling around laughing.

              #2324

              Ann slapped her forehead when she realized her mistake, notwithstanding that there were no ‘mistakes’ as such.

              The story is for the writer that writes it, not the reader.

              What the repercussions of that were for the future of publishing, Ann wasn’t quite sure.

              “Oh, I can answer that for you, dear” Lavender responded. “On my recent trip to the future I went to the Pick Your Own Pages book store. There’s a wonderful Pick ‘N’ Mix section, and a Lucky Dip. You can pick various quantities, such as chapters, pages, paragraphs or sentences, and you arrange them yourself.”

              “What a wonderful idea!” Ann replied.

              “Oh, the idea was an old one, very old!” Lavvie explained. “People were doing it all along, though they didn’t realize it. The idea of being spoon fed an entire story went out with the Ark. It was the advent of random quote generators that started the ball rolling.”

              Ann beatled off to check the random quote for the day….

              Arona! Sanso! Oh, how wonderful to see you guys again! Come and meet Lavender and Walter, we’re discussing continuity….”

              #2304

              The summer Holidays were nearly over, or the Hollow Days, as they were known to some. The last days of summer had been a bit hollow for Ann at any rate, rattling around inside her own head, not really knowing whether it was full or empty. Ann had spent most of the summer sleeping, and with virtually no dream recall, it seemed as if half of the summer was missing. Probably just as well, what with it being such an odd summer. She wondered if she would simply sleep through the shift, like Ned Young slept through the mutiny. Didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

              “Normally” the Worserversity students started rolling back towards Poubelleville round about now, but the word “normally” was becoming obsolete. What was normal, what could be expected? Ann didn’t know. She packed her coloured pencils, her detachable hand and her wooden men, and fished out her homework assigments for the holidays that she had only just remembered.

              Alliteration. Bugger bollocks and blast, blimey but what a bother, too bloody hot and bored.

              That’s a bit bloody depressing, she muttered to herself, try another letter.

              Sweltering summer of sweat and sand, sleeping and sleeping, sublime surruptitious snooze, sail away in the sunset swell, sunrise surrender, ships ahoy!

              Fan the flames, far sighted fellows! There’s a flash in the funnel for fast falling fishermen. Far flung, fun fueled, oh fast fleeting fantasies, follow the folks with the flags! Flounder not, fresh fishies, for fun feels fantastic!

              Ah, wallow in wisps of wordless wonderings, weather the winds of wandering whispers, while weighty wells of wishes work winsome wonders, woven with worn wool and worrisome white weathered windows. Whether we will, whether we won’t, who will win, what will work, will we watch it water the weeds….

              #2284
              EricEric
              Keymaster

                “Ahaha, in the dark broom cupboard with Dieter Jentz, indeed!” the cleaning lady couldn’t help but snicker with a raised eyebrow upon a pair of rolling eyes (quite a feat to accomplish one should add).

                #2595

                In reply to: Strings of Nines

                TracyTracy
                Participant

                  “Just do it. Either just do it, or just make something up” she told herself. Again. “Either do it, or make it up, but stop thinking about it and talking about it.” Yoland sighed and turned on the radio. It was an old pink one, the kind with the dials that turn, and a pull out antenna. The antenna was a bit rusty at the bottom and didn’t rotate very well, which made it a bit tricky to get a clear reception without alot of preliminary juggling around and fidgeting. The dogs under her desk scratched themselves noisily as Yoland fiddled with the radio.

                  :yahoo_puppy:

                  “In the backwater….”

                  “…yes you’ve got the Splain Channel loud and clear now all you have to do is focus on what the next word is and then write it down without thinking about the spelling, as you can see you are looking at the keybaord and tryping”, Yoland smiled at the typo, “the words that you are hearing without trying to anallzye them too much now. ok are you ready? We’re going to do some balloon exercise first to get the ball rolling, you see, there are many ways to blow up a balloon, and I’ll be the first to tell you you’re doing it wrong, I am kidding, of course.”

                  :yahoo_oh_go_on:

                  Yoland smiled, inching forward on the chair to accomodate the dog that had wormed his way round her back, wondering whether or not to move him.

                  :yahoo_puppy:

                  “Your chair is fine the way it is, that’s a very common delaying tactic my freind, and one you are quite familiar with. Now, pay attention once again to simply the words that you hear as you are writing, watching the keys is rather mesmerising is it not….”

                  :yahoo_hypnotized:

                  Yoland did a quick reality check and agreed that she was feeling a bit mesmerized, and realized that she possibly could feel considerably more mesmerized if she stopped doing reality checks.

                  “…and as you watch your fingers moving along in a rather detached way, you can detach your attachment to knowing what the next word might be and simply write what you hear; we are practicing the sliding away from the strict hold on trying to anticpate the net words and then you freeze the flow, it shouldn’t be tiring if you let go and relax a bit and simply allow your fingers to move of their own accord while you relax your shoulders…”

                  :yahoo_chatterbox:

                  What a load of rubbish, thought Yoland, as she adjusted her chair, which had a habit of suddenly dropping down an inch, just enough to make it hard for her to reach the keyboard. Sighing, she wondered about ever getting a satisfactory answer to her Really Big Questions, the ones that nobody had answered so far. All she ever managed to tune into was rambling waffling inane….

                  :yahoo_sigh:

                  “….you feel that your questions are so large that the capacity for distortion is huge, and you feel that other questions are easily answered via other routes and methods, and this is correct.”

                  Yoland wondered what THAT was supposed to mean.

                  :yahoo_straight_face:

                  “Ok we can forget questions then and I will tell you a story.”

                  Yoland relaxed. That sounded easier.

                  :yahoo_big_grin:

                  “Once upon a time there was a beer fisherman from the planet of Oxbloodshire.”

                  Oh here we go, she thought. What’s coming next…

                  :yahoo_rolling_eyes:

                  “Whether or not you find clues in there is entirely your choice to create them, and all are equally valid. This is such a simple thing: that even the most seemingly miniscule sentences contain a myriad of potential diversions and convergences, routes, patterns, nets, from even the tiniest particle of an idea. All of them are boundlessly creative offshoots which become a particular stream, or string.”

                  :detective:

                  Yoland found herself wondering where some of them started, and found she didn’t know where to start.

                  “With the question of syncronicities every point of them is the start point, the end point, the main point, the moot point, and the connecting links as well, as are all the others. When you get your ball of string in a tangle, it’s easier to throw it away and start a new one.”

                  Yoland was inclined to agree, but wondered if that sounded like sensible advice.

                  :yahoo_thinking:

                  “Immediately the new one starts linking up all kinds of things in a new interconnected design pattern, and then when that gets in a right tangle, a fresh ball of string awaits; the tangled ones aren’t in a tangle at all when you’re not tangled up within it.”

                  Well, that certainly sounded resonable, Yoland had to admit.

                  :yahoo_star:

                  “And why waste time with old tangles anyway when you can start afresh and just make something up, for no particular reason?”

                  Bloody good question, why not indeed? Yoland decided to start making things up there and then, and turned her computer off and went to pack her case.

                  :bounce:

                  #2561

                  In reply to: Strings of Nines

                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    “You just can’t get the staff these days” sighed Ann.

                    :yahoo_rolling_eyes:

                    #2228
                    TracyTracy
                    Participant

                      “I just had the strangest dream, Rob” Jane said to her husband. “About a future probability, but it was really kind of silly.”

                      “What was it about?” he asked, leaning over the kitchen table to turn down the volume of the radio. Leon Russel’s new Back To The Island was playing, the waves rolling onto the shore mingled with the trucks thundering past on the busy road outside.

                      “Well, I’m pretty sure it was in the future, around 2009, and the kids were creating having a day off from school by throwing a peanut at the school building.”

                      Rob smiled at his wife, shaking his head.

                      “The class of ’75 today,” Jane continued, “Create a day off school by making a prank bomb scare phone call, but those kids in the future just threw a peanut at the place!”

                      “You sure do explore some far out probabilities, honey.”

                      #2225

                      Annabel Ingram was chatting the tourists through her guided tours, but most of the time, her mind was wandering elsewhere.
                      As a matter of fact, she often thought she should have been named “Wandering Elsewhere” instead. These were her two favourite words in the whole Manilvan language. Scholars had made fancy claims like basement portal or something of that ilk was the loveliest words combination, but she’s never been one to follow the trends and fleeting modes anyway.

                      All in all, it was probably time she got herself a new job; touring the tourists in the middle of “ohs” and “ahs” to the Doorway of the Goddess Amarylis Moo Rue? Not for her any longer.
                      To be bluntly honest she was beginning to find herself a little of a fraud, as she tried to maintain a decent level of excitement at the ridiculous amazement of the tourists when they recounted their litanies of visions of Goddess Amarylis surrounded with cohorts of naked ladies and bare butt cupids holding wreaths of flowers. Amarylis was the Goddess of Flove. A glorious goddess representing the duality of the aspects of love and death. Quite a hype for people coming from the cities, eager to get a quick shot of esoteric experiences.

                      But she’d seen Amarylis more than once, and it was not all that pretty behind the scenes. She was not as mean as herself, but she wasn’t the last to poke fun at people for whisking unwarranted followers to the altars. Anyway, that and her perfumes, honestly you had to wonder. Lavender and decaying morue (cod), what a blend… :yahoo_rolling_eyes:

                      #2222
                      TracyTracy
                      Participant

                        Are Nut Bans Promoting Hysteria?

                        Every parent of a school-age child has heard the warnings about nuts. Some schools ban nuts entirely, while others set aside special nut-free tables.

                        While nuts are clearly a risk to some children, often the response to this health concern represents “a gross overreaction to the magnitude of the threat,” argues Dr Pistachio, an internal medicine doctor and professor at Pecan Medical School, in a recent column in the medical journal Nut Case.

                        Measures to protect children from nuts are becoming increasingly absurd and hysterical, say experts.

                        A nut rolling on the floor of a US school bus recently led to evacuation and decontamination for fear it might have affected the 10-year-old passengers, who were not classified as nuts.

                        Professor Pistachio said the issue was not whether nuts existed or whether they could occasionally be a serious threat. Nor was the issue whether reasonable preventative steps should be made for the few children who were documented as non-nuts, he argued.

                        “The issue is what accounts for the extreme responses to nuts.”

                        “We try to relieve anxiety about nuts by signs saying, ‘this is a nut free zone,’ which suggests that nuts are a clear and present danger,” Dr. Pistachio said. “But in doing so, we increase the anxiety.”

                        Being a severe nut shapes your whole life – and those of the people around you, as Cashew Cacahuete learned.

                        For most women trying to avoid the amorous advances of their husband, the line “Not tonight, I’ve got a headache” will suffice. For her, a simple “Don’t come near me, I am nuts” does the trick.

                        ‘Nut phobias are a growing phenomenon of the last 10 to 15 years,” says Professor P. Nut, an expert in nuts who is conducting a study to see if exposure to nuts in early life can inhibit such phobias. “One reason is that we’re all far too scared and bored, so we start attacking friendly characters such as nuts.” Prof P. Nut says that in African and Asian countries where pregnant women aren’t discouraged from socializing with nuts, have very low levels of nut phobia. “These countries have higher levels of parasitic infections than ours, so it’s possible that their belief systems may be protected from phobias.”

                        He also disputes Department of Fear advice that advises pregnant women and breastfeeding mothers to avoid nuts. He says there may be a case for exposing children to nuts. “Those who meet nuts early in life may in fact be protected against nut phobia, in contrast with previous studies which have suggested the opposite.”

                        #2218
                        TracyTracy
                        Participant

                          Decimus Spurius rubbed his eyes and scratched his head, befuddled. He’d been dreaming of Antonia Ludicrus, his sweetheart, and at first in the dream they were strolling along the beautiful beach at Baelo Claudia, upwind of the garum pots. But then they were inside some kind of building, and Antonia was pressing little black squares with numerals on each one, but they were strange numerals the like of which he’d never seen, interspersed with a few familiar ones. She leaned over the greyish black slab, frowning, glancing up occasionally to a brilliant square light placed in front of her on the table.

                          Decimus sighed. The dream made no sense at all, but he was filled with longing to see Antonia again. It had been months since he’d seen her, and he hated Saltum , hated that he’d been reposted so many days walk from her.

                          #1211

                          It felt like she’d been projecting for hours —in and out of her body, often brought back by the incomfort of the warm and moistly room, where the rheumatic fan was blowing a measly wind full of humidity.

                          The rabbit she’d seen a few hours ago was ‘wanishing’, like a gentle feeling of pure joyful happiness holding by a thread that you try to reminisce before lapsing back into the old patterns of self-doubts.

                          She didn’t have to strain herself so much, she suddenly realized; it never worked well when she tried to push it. She wanted the clarity of the projection to be deeply anchored within herself, and not some stroboscopic view of her grim reality sandwiched in glimpses of blissful clear lightness.

                          So, she decided to wait for the moment to be back. Time didn’t really matter once you projected, but here in this reality time still mattered, and you had to find the proper exit-way. Not all moment seemed to work well.
                          There were old books in this room, most of them, her son probably did pile up without even reading them. Some of them evoked the the birth pangs of the new era they were still building, which had started about 30 years ago. Now, in 2038 she was old, but back then she was in her mid-life and fully aware of the good aspects and not so good aspects of this life. She had yearned for the changes, and it had come; she had outlived most of them, and the books probably wouldn’t tell her much that she had not actually lived. Probably her son was keeping them because of his beliefs on wasting his investments.
                          She, for one, couldn’t care less about them.

                          She picked a little book, with a few words and mostly drawings and symbols on it, and she smiled. She’d seen some of these symbols in her dreams, she related to them; she didn’t need the words explaining them; words were just the authors’ translations, and she trusted her own before them. But the book was making her feel good.

                          She leaned back in her bed, maneuvering the rolling bed to be in front of the last beams of light of the day.
                          She could see the full moon rise, and she felt peaceful.

                          :fleuron:

                          When she noticed she was in front of the cave, she wondered how long she’d been out of her body without knowing.
                          She could see the moon higher in the sky than when she was in her room, and she could feel an energy of excitement.

                          Anita was finally coming out of this underground trip with her parents. Seeing the little girl in the flesh would be such a revelation for her, she was thrilled to the point of even forgetting her doubts about the possibility that she was really becoming insane.
                          She didn’t know why or how, but she would convince her son to offer them some shelter, so that they could settle before getting home. She had so much to learn from the little one she could feel. She was really wise beyond her age…

                          Voices where starting to fill the silent space:

                          Anu! It’s been hours now we’ve been in these damp corridors, are you sure you know the way?”
                          “Yes Mum, we’re almost there…”
                          “Here, I can see the light Lily!”
                          “Yes, I can see it too Aaron!”
                          “Wow, the moon is full, it’s so lovely”

                          After the couple had emerged, Balbina could see Anu wink at her. She was seeing her! Now, she only need show her the way to the house!

                          #1175
                          EricEric
                          Keymaster

                            Al was singing this Hallowe’en tune in his imp costume:

                            “Trick or treat, smell my feet, we want something good to eat” :yahoo_pumpkin:

                            —“Sacrebleu,” he said to Tina “I guess Becky Pooh must not be far away, I can feel her limerick rhymes aiming at Ewrick”
                            — “Mmmm, ‘whatever that means’ I suppose” retorted Tina, rolling the eyes of her funny Hallowe’en fancy dress. :ghost:

                            #1163

                            Day of the Dead soon, Leo, might be a good day to go through that door” Bea said.

                            “Well that’s the day that Baked Bean Barb is coming round with that book she found, Bea” replied Leonora.

                            “She can come with us, the more the merrier eh! We could have a bit of a party you know, maybe have a bonfire on the top of the mound and then go through the door, might be fun.”

                            “It’s all very well you saying we’ll just go through the door, Bea, but it’s not that easy.”

                            “Why not?”

                            “Because it isn’t a door, that’s why! It’s a pile of boulders blocking a cave entrance!”

                            “All the more reason to invite lots of people to the party then! It will be a boulder moving out of the way of the door party, and when the door way is clear, we can all go through it. Aren’t you dying of curiosity to see what’s inside that mound?”

                            “Yeah, I am. And we have to do it soon, because Jose will be back and then we’ll have to move. Might not be so easy then. Ok, let’s go for it. I’ll make a list who to invite.”

                            “Some nice big strong strapping lads is what we need.”

                            “No kidding”

                            “To move the boulders, I meant” Bea said, rolling her eyes.

                            #2030

                            In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

                            EricEric
                            Keymaster

                              Some selected bits from one tag cumulo-cloud:

                              — “Matter (is) dimensional energies realized”
                              — “Expect Hector (to) surface, Rafaela!”
                              — “Leonora gets (to) keep saying ‘play attention!’”
                              — “Close rain, friend magic, hope water seeing”
                              — “Far within thinking, Arona sort days, (her) hold gives human comments great meaning”
                              — “Soon blue seconds, call straight (at the) door, met surely physical; notice move (of) essence (in) fat huge dreams”
                              — “Universe appear (in) book story”
                              — “Malvina line although familiar answered busy funny heading”
                              — “Tina looked love taking lots question indeed”
                              — “Word usually working (in) short shifting pooh adventure”
                              — “Seems Armelle starting soft reason; strange perhaps (in the) middle (of) rolling help (one may) spot dragons’ truth past spider times”
                              — “‘Tell inside reality’: three words step (to) creating”
                              — “Becky, allow yourself finding single beautiful playing light, dear”
                              — “Cloud impulse shall house explain surprised black connection”
                              — “Cool trust(ed) friends, portal plane”
                              — “Aliens coincidence next talking”
                              — “Walking arms seem flight silence; stone creature sound already entered field (of) aware(ness); scene trip apparently given reading”
                              — “Beyond rolled Theresa, lately cave telling unusual morning”
                              — “Wortex large, merely Glo

                            Viewing 20 results - 81 through 100 (of 143 total)