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  • #2030

    In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

    ÉricÉric
    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

      #1152

      Angela Wing was getting impatient. It had taken the fat white goose many months to reach a state of impatience, being such an accepting sort of creature, but really, she was wondering if she would ever have even so much as a walk in part in the Reality Play. Sure, she was a player behind the scenes, often appearing in the dreams of the players, but heck, a little bit of limelight would be nice occasionally.

      She preened her brilliant white feathers, thinking how well they would show up under the lights, as it were. It was all very well lurking in the shadows of the ill remembered dreams all the time, but Angela felt the time was ripe for more exposure.

      :fleuron:

      Becky yawned. Where on earth did that come from? she wondered, as she tried to rouse herself from her long nap. I wasn’t even dreaming about Angela Wing! All I can remember dreaming about is a book cover, something to do with eights…

      #1147

      :multimedia:
      Norm! NORM!!” Sue Flay shouted. “We’re filming the garden scene now, where are you?”

      But Norm was nowhere to be found. He’d stumbled upon an unexpected problem while filming T’Eggy & Phlynn with Sue Flay ~ a problem too embarrassing to mention, and one he could hardly keep a secret, given the nature of the P Movie. He’d managed to excuse himself during the last scene, feigning illness, but what if it happened again today?

      “You’re focusing on what you don’t want again, Norm.” The voice made him jump. He’d thought he was alone in the treehouse, he thought no-one would find him hiding there in the leafy depths of the spinney, high up in the foliage. He looked around, wondering where the voice was coming from.

      “You haven’t generated me physical, Norm, but you can if you wish” the voice said.

      “How do I do that?” asked Norm.

      “Allow, that’s all” the voice replied.

      “Oh what rubbish!” Norm said in an agitated whisper. “What stupid advice!”

      “Ha ha ha! As you wish, my friend” replied the voice, sounding rather amused.

      “If you hadn’t just given me such stupid advice I might have felt more inclined to ask you for some advice about this awful problem” Norm whispered crossly.

      “Are you asking me for advice or not?”

      “Well if you’ve got anything USEFUL to say, then say it!”

      “If you go down to the garden today,
      You’re sure to have a surprise.
      There’s a herb growing there and you don’t have to pay,
      It’s growing in front of your eyes.
      The magic you see is everywhere
      It never runs out of stock
      Go down to the garden, if you dare….”

      “I asked you for advice, not a daft bloody poem!” Norm hissed.

      “You wish to be hard as a rock?”

      YES!” spat Norm in frustration, blushing furiously. What’s the friggen garden got to do with it?”

      “There’s a herb in the garden called Horny Goat

      “Oh PulEASE…..” Norm rolled his eyes.

      “Horny Goat Weed will do the trick.
      And straighten up your droopy…”

      ENOUGH! Good Grief, I get the message. What am I supposed to DO with it, roll in it? Eat it? Smoke it?”

      “It matters not, my friend. That’s the magic of it all. You can choose any method”

      “Are you sure about this?” asked Norm, who was willing to try anything at this point. “How do I know I can trust you?”

      “Ha ha ha! Trust youSELF, Norm!”

      “Who are you anyway?” Norm asked suspiciously.

      But the voice chuckled and faded, leaving Norm in a quandary in the treehouse.

      “Oh bugger it, I may as well give it a go. I can’t stay here forever, and anyway, I’ve run out of cigarettes.”

      Norm climbed down the tree and marched over to the the film crew.

      “Oh THERE you are Norm!” Sue came rushing up to him. “What perfect timing, we’re breaking for lunch.” She gave Norm a spontaneous hug. She really was rather nice, Norm thought, smiling at her.

      “Would you like some soup? We put lots of fresh herbs in it from the garden.”

      #1146

      “Oh My God” exclaimed Bea. “I had a dream about the DOOR!”

      “Oh, well done! The question is, did you remember it?” asked Leonora.

      “As a matter of fact, Leo, I did!” replied Bea with a happy smile. “As a matter of fact, although I’m not too sure how factual matter really is, but anyway, I did remember the dream, and I wrote it all down.”

      “Gosh, up early this morning, weren’t you?” asked Leo, who was sipping coffee at the kitchen table and watching the sun come up over the mountains through the open door.

      “Oh I didn’t write it down this morning, silly! I wrote it all down last week.”

      Leo placed her cup on the table and rubbed her eyes, frowning. “Wait a minute, let me get this straight…..”

      Bea laughed ~ she was in rather a jolly mood, despite the early hour. “I had the dream last week, Leo, but I only just realized this morning that the dream was about THE DOOR

      “So what did you learn about the door, then?”

      Bea frowned. “Well I’m not really sure. But it seemed so significant because it was that scary door, you know, the dreams I’ve been having for years about that door in that bedroom that’s too scary to get near, never mind go through….would you like to read it? Maybe you can interpret it for me.”

      “If I must” sighed Leonora “You better pour me another cup of coffee then and pass me those cigarettes.”

      Leonora read from Bea’s Dream Journal:

      I was sorting winter clothes out on an upstairs landing of a cottagey gabled house,
      and decided to use the upstairs bedroom instead of the downstairs one.
      The bedroom was a recurring dream one, gabled attic with dormer windows kind of room.
      Then I saw the door and remembered this was the door I was always too terrified
      in dreams to open; it was so scary that I always wanted to use this bedroom
      but never could because of that terrifying door and whatever lay beyond it.

      “Didn’t you do a waking dream and go through that door?” Leonora asked. “Oh, yes here is is…”

      Remembering that I had done a waking dream and gone beyond the door once,
      I marched up to the door, flung it open and strode through.
      Suddenly an almost overpowering fear and dread stopped me in my tracks
      but I carried on anyway.

      “Oh, bloody well done, Bea! Good for you, girl!” Leonora could be a bit waspish at times, but she was a kind old soul underneath.

       It was a bit like a old slightly shabby but once grand hotel foyer, high ceilings
      (not the same as when I went through in the waking dream, which was then rows
      of closed doors on either side).  The foyer opened out on the left into a large old
      fashioned restaurant dining room, with one person over on the far side sitting at
      a table.  I carried on straight ahead through opaque etched glass double doors
      onto an upstairs outdoor terrace.  There was a city scene below.  On the left
      was a shallow ornately shaped ornamental pool.

      “Reminds me a bit of our trip to Barcelona, this does, eh” Leo commented.

      “Yeah, I’m sure that had something to do with the gargoyle imagery” replied Bea.

      A woman squeezed past me holding a small thick book and I knew she was
      going to jump off the terrace which was several storeys up.  She collapsed into
      the pool, writhing backwards, baring a flat white breast and dropping the book.

      “Flat breast, hahah Bea, that weren’t you then, obviously, was it!”

      Bea chuckled. “Not bloody likely! I reckon that bit slipped in the dream because I can’t find a comfortable bra lately”

      “You and me both” replied Leo. She continued reading from the journal.

      I picked up the book, and somehow ended up with two books, which seemed like guide books. I couldn’t hold onto the two books with the creature in my hand, which was weird, like a very heavy small furry grey reptile, or gargoyle.

      “Maybe it was a baby dragon?”

      “Don’t say that!” retorted Bea, who had a horror of dragons. “The thought did cross my mind too, though” she admitted.

      I was holding it with one hand round its middle and the fat grey belly of it
      was bulging out under my fingers.  It was unbelievably heavy for such a small creature
      and I didn't want to hold it, so I passed it to a boy. (Twice I was holding the creature,
      and twice I passed it to the boy, but I can't recall the other time)
      Back inside the building, I followed the boy down a big wide staircase that
      curved round to the right at a landing below.  I started to fall down the stairs and
      knew it was because of the book that I was holding that the woman had been holding
      when she collapsed into the pool, so I threw the book down the stairs to save myself,
      and felt the tumbling down from the books perspective, although I stayed in
      the same place, clutching the banister.

      “Well I am amazed that you remembered so much, Bea! Going through the doors and finding the books reminds me of Jane’s Library you know”. Leo was starting to go into an altered state.

      “Are you going into an altered state, Leo?” asked Bea. “Are you channeling Juani Ramirez again?”

      “The creature, the gargoyle, was representing ‘a different species of awareness, of consciousness’” continued Leonora, as Bea hastily started taking notes. Leo wouldn’t remember what she’d said while she was channeling Juani, so it was essential that Bea record what was said.

      “The weight was a marker to help you recall the creature, as well as being symbolic of denseness”

      Bea couldn’t help making a snirking noise. Dense eh, she said under her breath.

      “The door” continued Leonora “Is a signpost, a marker.”

      Just then the phone rang, snapping Leonora out of the trance. Bea picked up the telephone, but there was nobody there.

      “Pffft” said Bea.

      “More coffee?”

      #1142

      “I had an absolutely brilliant revelation last night” Bea was saying “about The Door. Buggered if I can remember what it was, though.”

      “Well fat lot of use that is then, Bea” replied Leonora. “Any snapshots? Can you remember anything at all?”

      “Well, there was a big pale green patch that floated down, then there was the floating part, oh and all the coloured light flashes…the French girl, the old fashioned scene…..and that weird change of focus, sort of off centre and a bit out of body, with the guy behind my right shoulder shouting HEY every time my focus started drifting back to normal. Oh, and the spiraling part, that was cool too!” Bea was starting to drift off into another world just thinking about it.

      “Yes, well, now we know all about The Door” said Leonora sarcastically. “Very helpful, Bea, well done.”

      “That’s it!” shouted Bea, leaning forward in excitement. “It’s about blocking energy!”

      Leonora rolled her eyes.

      “Holding tightly to energy, that’s what the closed door is. I can have an open door, and still be free to create who walks through it. We don’t lock the door here, do we, but we don’t get any intruders.”

      “Maybe that’s because we’ve got nine dogs” said Leo. “And anyway, define intruder, in a ‘you create your own reality’ context. What’s the difference between an intruder, and a wonderful surprise?”

      Bea was stumped for a moment. “That’s a good question, Leo, we’ll come back to that in a bit, but let me finish telling you this before I forget again.
      I used to mentally open a big double door every time I did a meditation or went to sleep” Bea continued “and I havent opened that door in months. Well, sometimes it’s open, obviously, but I dont seem to throw the doors open wide anymore, you know, to other energies objectively, if you see what I mean.”

      Bea was starting to ramble. “I used to invite any Tom, Dick and Harry to my meditations as long as they weren’t aliens.”

      “What about the dogs in raincoats dimension?” asked Leo “What were they if they weren’t aliens?”

      “Oh, they were alright, I liked them. Oh you know what I’m like about that other dimensional stuff, don’t get me started on that now. I think occasionally things happen and I get rattled, and shut the door for a bit.”

      “Right, so let see if I’ve got this straight” said Leonora “There’s more than one layer to this Door thing because what you’ve just told me is what’s going on in your reality. The question is, what’s going on in mine?”

      “Buggered if I know, LeoBea replied. “Fancy a cuppa?”

      #1095
      Jib
      Participant

        She put her hands on his balls, and her hungry look said more to him to any love whispers he had ever heard before.
        “I love your 2 big pink balls”.

        Noise in the corridor.
        Finnley looked suddenly afraid.
        Lady Theresa’s coming”…
        They fumbled upon each other, trying to get back their clothes but could only half do it before she entered the library.
        She gasped at the scene before her eyes.
        Finnley! what on earth?..”

        #1068

        From the tall windows of her manor of Pillaughpiffleston, Lady Theresa Eaglestone was eying Phlynn the gamekeeper. He was coming back from the wooden part of her ancestral domain, where he had apparently been hunting foxes.
        He was quite a handsome man, and his pack of disparate dogs was making lots of noise greeting him.
        Theresa had always loved men with dogs. There was such a virile aspect exhaling the scene that she almost covered the window’s glass with a bit of blur.

        The “ahem” of her snooty butler looking down his nose almost made her jump.

        — “Your cup of tea, Madam.”
        — “Thank you Finnley. You may go now.”

        #1065

        The smooke of her pipe was creating interesting shapes flooting away from her.
        Elizabeth had the weird impression that her story was taking an uncontrollable turn.
        She woold have written a torrid sex scene with Phoebe and the yoong Russian on the submarine, but it was as if Finnley’s eyes were constantly reminding her of her own nymphoomaniac behavior. She had to let it unexpressed except in her imagination.

        Looking at the last curls of smooke, it was as if the pook-marked face of Pavel was taking life before her eyes. Thanks to her new croop, her feelings were far far away… She let the smooked face decomposed in a gracious gray whale.

        She giggled thinking of Finnley’s disapproval… maybe she’ll write that scene after all.
        She took a sheet of paper and a pen, but soon realized the words were not foorming as expected. The thud prooduced by the pen rolling on the floor was amusing too.

        Ooh!

        The thud prooduced by her body rolling on the floor was more disturbing… and the last thing she saw before she lost consciousness was Finnley’s disapproving look… maybe she had written that scene after all…

        A smile on her face she began to snoore soundly.

        #1032
        F LoveF Love
        Participant

          Finnley looked appraisingly at her reflection in the mirroor of the staff toiloots. She turned her head, surveying herself from different angles. Sure, her hair was cut very short, but she had always thought it looked quite fetching and stylish, and so easy to care for.

          She turned over the empty cleaning bucket so she could stand on it to get a better view of her body in the mirroor. Perhaps the baggy blue cleaning dungaroos she wore were not the most flattering on her slim figure, yet incredibly practical nonetheless, with 6 large pockets. She had bought several pairs on special, so she could alternate them.

          That Elizabeth Tattler was clearly just one of the mindblown ones. Mad as Almad.

          And getting worse by the day!

          Perhaps it was just THAT time of the moonth, but for some reason Elizabeth’s insistence on referring to her as a male had really hurt Finnley today. Ever since she had attempted to help Elizabeth with the Island story by modifying the love scene , just slightly, Elizabeth had been intent on undermining Finnley’s sexooality. Not only that, she appeared to be fabricating Finnley’s involvement with the noovel she was writing. Just yesterday she had overheard Elizabeth telling her publisher, Bronkel, that Finnley was telepoothically implanting evil suggestions in her head.

          Finnley shook her head again, this time in bewilderment. For Foocks sake, someone should do something about that woman, before it is too late!

          Studying herself in the mirroor again she undid the top 3 buttons of the shirt she was wearing under her dungaroos and made a mental note to buy a poosh-up bra after work today. She mussed her hair up in what she hoped was a sexy look and made her way to clean the computer gooks office.

          #2149

          In reply to: The Story So Far

          ÉricÉric
          Keymaster

            Tikfijikoo Island (continued)

            (synopsis)

            It starts with the Dr doing some evil tests on that remote island; he’s with the nurse Bellamy, whose forte is coconut tree frog-leaping, and Veranessesseesessesses with her impossible name (V’ass)
            We then learn the Dr is mad, and his researches are financed by an occult organization, who V’ass is working for, to check on their assets; he’s mad but brilliant.

            He’s a bit of a transvestite too (fullname Chris Bronklehampton)
            The organization has given him a machine in which there is a crystal skull, unknown to him. This crystal skull seems linked to spiders somehow and his researches on spiders genome (blue bonnet), but we only know it’s coveted by many people. It’s all happening in our dimension, roughly at our time.

            (Where Leo and Bea are renting Jose’s house and they are Dory’s and Dan timeframe ie: now)

            The first experiences give dreadful results; there is Sasha (mummified by the doctor) who’s dead, and now speaks with the Dr; and there is Claude, who gained super strength and madness, and escaped the island facility.
            Claude is one of those working with the Mad Baron ; he’s on a undercover mission to get the skull
            (The false Viscountess —lady in salmon— at the auction was also working for the baron)

            So Claude escapes but there is another mysterious person looking for the skull; it’s Madame Chesterhope, and she’s sent the magpies to steal it. The magpies are from another dimension, they are famous stealers.
            Claude encounters the magpies on their mission. He’s captured in an energy labyrinth they have set on the island temporarily, to cover their tracks.

            Meanwhile, Sha and Glo have arrived. Dory wanted to go but she couldn’t find the airline (bag lady)…
            And Mavis later explains in a comment (555) how they all got involved in that adventure. She takes some time to convince her husband, and get to go to Tikfijikoo too. During the flight correspondence, she gets to know Paquita and Joselito.

            On the island, the Dr is losing it seriously. He talks to the dead mummy, and had blond wig and stuff.
            V’ass is reacquainting herself with the Italian of her secret organization, to report on the Dr. (insert steamy sex scene :)) ) )

            Dory is back at Gib, with Dan and young Becky and later, her friends Yurick and Yann came to visit; go see Salitre :)
            She has knowledge of Leo and Bea (Fletcher) – at whose place there are skulls too.

            On the island, everything starts to get crazy; since Sha and Glo arrived
            The magpies are ready to strike as a cyclone is coming.
            Claude has recovered his memory and is no longer mad; but he’s still trapped and tries to find an escape in a strange tree. He goes into another dimension, the giant spiders’ one.
            In this dimension there are a few human survivors. There is young Anita, and her mummified parents, but still alive from a plane crash; and a stranded soldier from WWII, named “Akita”, who’s got a spirit dog with him he’d found on the spider island.
            They somehow managed to survive in the giant spider’s jungle (the island is on top of a sort of Bermuda triangle).

            Anita is in communication with our four essences, who can manifest easily in this spider dimension and our essences are aware of an dimensional gate opening (the cyclone).
            All this people get together and succeed in escaping through the wortex.

            So now, that explains the people around the campfire on Tikfijikoo. It was all relatively brief, during the storm, where the others were sheltered on the facility (thanks to V’ass who cared for the careless Sha and Glo)

            Sha and Glo find out the magpies trying to pry the computer open where the skull is hidden; they crush the magpies with coconuts bra slings (exit the magpies in purple blood ;)) )
            They find the strange crystal skull they mistakenly think is some apparatus like an UV lamp. They take it to the UV room and plug it; it starts to project all sorts of lights
            They want to dance, because it’s like a disco.

            Meanwhile, one giant spider has managed to sneak through the portal, and goes close to them, but she gets sidetracked by the lightened skull and gets shrunk to a small size… and gets crushed by Sha and Glo (they’re the heroines of the day, but they don’t know squat ;)) )

            There is also a honeycomb subplot with a man named Jarvis on the island, with beehives.

            Now: Sha and Glo are dancing, Mavis is going out attracted by the campfire, finding out the survivors (The campfire was there because it’s night, and Claude is wary of the island’s owners, because he was abducted and mummified). The Dr is mad as ever.
            The skull is in the UV room, but they don’t know what it is — only Madame Chesterhope and Claude are knowing (possibly Jarvis and V’ass); but Mme Chesterhope is flung into the ocean crashing into Mahiliki’s plane recently :))

            #1009
            F LoveF Love
            Participant

              The truth was the book was nowhere near finished. In fact the island story she was working on currently was becoming more and more complex. Elizabeth put it down to her own wonderfully complex nature, this insatiable need to add more and more characters, all converging on the island for the dramatic finale.

              Finale! She snoorted derisively. Having no idea where it was all going ,if the truth be told, then there was not much likelihood of a finale for quite some time.

              A tentative knock on the door. It was that bloody Finnley! Since the sex scene fiasco Elizabeth had banned her entry to her office. Quite a rookus there had been. Still, she had to grudgingly admit, the girl had writing talent! Perhaps she could make use of her. Elizabeth quite fancied herself in the role of a leader, and the idea of Finnley in a sort of subservient underling capacity was tremendoosly appealing to her.

              #944
              ÉricÉric
              Keymaster

                Becky pulled a loose cotton dress out of the suitcase, and scowled at her bikinis. I’ll go for a long hike, she muttered to herself, slipping a pair of strappy mule sandals on her feet. At least my legs aren’t fat! she said, admiring her slim ankles…

                She stopped for a while wondering why this scene seemed so familiar. She had lived that day already… Was she going crazy?
                What would you expect with time-traveling affairs? the voice of one of her babies smirked at her…

                #935

                From one blink to the other, hung betwixt spaces and times in that now where there is no such thing as space or time, Leörmn was considering the wide network of possibilities through the eyes of his friends to assist their movement.


                The “blink” was an opportunity for them; an opportunity to rearrange the space, incorporate new physical aspects, or discard others.

                In truth, all was ever here, at their reach. All was surrounding them in a dance of invisible links of consciousness.
                These links were, like the grains of sand of a giant glubolin, constantly vibrating in an arrangement made to accommodate and fit those clumps of grains known as “essences” that were playing for a moment the game of having an identity and being separated from the whole vibration moving through the sand —even playing to the point of identifying themselves with the sand at times.

                You could see that as a progressive enhanced experience, and while most races he had seen were having fun playing with many filters overlaying the experience of that vibrating scenery of conscious sand, Leörmn was a dragon, and dragons had no need for that many layers.
                That was where the energy of Malvina, and Georges, were helpful. In tuning into their filterings, Leörmn could dim the spotlights on the parts of this unbound scenery which was not useful to them. But still retaining this wide awareness of the infinite realm of possibilities, he could also easily spot those most accessible to them.
                And even as consummate a traveler Georges was, there were still energy reconfiguration of the overall scenery that were not easily reachable for him.
                Tuning into another world or reality was mostly easy. Altering the configuration of the physical reality at a bigger scale was another thing altogether.

                That tremendous power had made the dragons almost extinct in the past —a better way to put it would be to say that they slipped into other dimensions, exited that of Alienor—, fearsome as it was for the other races.
                The seed that was found in that past they had just visited was already germinating. The whole probability trail looked to the dragon like something radiant and warm as the little creature named Leo, curled-up into Malvina’s aura…

                What would be their next move now?

                #904

                The portal has opened, we must hurry said Araili

                Araili had felt something more, that he didn’t want to share yet with Akita and his spirit dog Kay. He had felt that something, or someone was trying to make its way from the wortex. However, the whole area was tightly held in a sort of quarantine by the giant spiders. Their genetic ancestral memory was aware of previous huge bleedthroughs like this one, and they had what humans would call “prophecies” amongst their kin, of such occurrences being heralds of tremendous upheavals.
                Araili, who was extending far beyond this guise of a lynx that he had taken now, smiled when he thought of how some of his earthly medieval focuses would have been similarly frightened by natural events like eclipses.

                It did not take long to them to find Anita’s parents. They were right at the spot that the big arachnid had just left, wrapped in silky spider bandages with little skin left to breathe.

                They seem alive. checked Akita. Heavily sedated, but alive… Now, we’ll have to get them out of here quick.
                I think I have an idea smiled Araili.

                :fleuron:

                Claude had finally came out of what he thought was just a strange tree, but then, his preternatural senses where telling him something was wrong. This place looked different. No, this place felt different.
                And smelt different too.

                There were soft sounds, crawlings he could hear, very near his place. They were coming from him, but he would fight.
                He jumped on a tree, and in a few vigorous movements, was perched on top of it.
                He almost gapped when he saw the black circle of huge spiderly creatures around his tree.

                They were staying at a distance from the wortex. But for how long… He couldn’t wait for his death.

                From the top of the tree, Claude jumped unscathed. Taking a look around, he found exactly what he needed.
                Breaking a few sharp bamboos poles, he started his move to the black circle in a prodigious and accelerated run.

                :fleuron:

                From atop a nearby tree, Armelle was considering the whole scene. The wortex would probably last a few hours, perhaps a bit more. Anita, Rafaela and Yuki were about to be here soon, she had warned them of the spider circle, so that they would hide until she has found them a way to get through.

                She had not expected someone to come out of it. That may be her way…

                :fleuron:

                Phurt was coming closer and closer now. She could feel the surge of power, and the trepidation raising all the hair on her legs. She couldn’t possibly confront all of the sisters. Not yet.
                She had to find a way to get past.

                As if Arachneiax, Goddess of her kind had heard and answered her plea, a dying cry, confusion, and call for help came to her senses from a border of their circle. A perfect diversion…

                #895

                The woman’s voice raised softly in the dark, like a velvet caress, or the sound of a purring cat.

                Life was long before I met Georges. Not unbearable, but so long and lifeless. Days would pass, and nothing new would happen but the same matter the previous days were made of.
                Though I no longer align to these limitations, I was once human, born to Earth, as Georges was, in a not so distant past. Like most of my people, I was not feeling special. But my will was strong and my desire to survive too. I survived poverty, lust and violence. In the crucible of these emotions I’ve melted my fears, and it was there I found Georges too.

                A curtain raises in the dark. A palace in an exotic tropical place. Brunei? Al doesn’t know this place…
                A young dark haired woman in a small room, around sixteen, perhaps a bit less, disheveled. She looks wildly around her, her rags stained with dust and dirt.

                Enters a tall woman. She doesn’t seem local. British perhaps. She’s elegantly dressed, thin mouth, high cheekbones, apparently in charge. A maid follows her. She can speak the girl’s language.

                Where is my mother? Let me out of here! she starts to cry
                I’m afraid this is not possible, Salome. For your safety,…
                What do you care about my safety!
                For your safety, Salome, hear me, try to behave. The Sultan is not a man without a heart. He loves beautiful women, and that is what probably saved your neck, considering what all what your mother did wrong to him refusing to pay taxes and her obstinate and bare-faced smuggling. Listen Salome, this might save you, and might save your mother as well.

                The curtain falls on the scene, where Salome hopes to have found a friend of captivity with this woman.

                A few years later, still in the golden cage of the harem, occasionally asked to service the lustful and violent Sultan, I start to go explore the depths of my misery. My inner world was a safe sanctuary, a haven from the pit of hell where I was now living, after my childhood years of hard work in the forest. There, where no one was given the key to enter, I became aware of him. I first thought he was an imaginary friend, a messenger from the other world, greeting me to a sure death. But he was real. He started to talk to me. About what I could do, like him, be a Traveler, if I wanted to.

                The curtain raises again. Young Salome is lying on her straw mat, in a seeming delirium. She moans, whispers, weeps, laughs. No one in the harem seem to care any longer. She is probably possessed, but the Sultan still find her suitable, she can’t be touched.

                A roar can be heard in the palace. The big black-bearded Sultan Ojylam the Second, ogre look on his face, summons his guard.

                — Don’t worry Salome, the voice of Georges whispers in the dark. The Sultan is mad at Madame Chesterhope. She has just fled with his precious crystal skull, but he won’t find her. She’s a skilled Traveler too, as soon you will be dear Salome, once you have learnt my last tricks, and we soon will be united.
                — Why that stupid crystal skull?
                — Don’t worry about it… This one is the Birds Skull. It carries lots of information and magic in relation to the Birds Realm, but it should be the least of your concerns. We’ll find Madame Chesterhope even if she’s clever at hiding between dimensions. Only concern for you must be to get out of here.
                — The Sultan will know I told her about it… I should have known, he was so proud of this object, and so protective too… And she was so curious…
                — That’s why we must hurry now.

                And so we were united for the first time. Lots of other lives have occurred afterwards, different paths at times, but always we have found each other again. Eternally bound, in a most sacred bound…

                #876

                Oh what absoloote rubbish, giggled Elizabeth Tattler, taking another large sloorp from her 4th glass of red wine and putting large determined scribbles through the last chapter of the latest Noovel. It was the continuing saga of the Tifijikoo Island story. She really had to finish it, old whats-his-face was on the telepooh to her daily now, demanding to know when it was to be finished.

                More Sex! he had shouted at her last time. More sex, we want the bloody thing to sell don’t we!

                Well I have shut you up haven’t I, she snorted to herself, thinking happily of Dr Bronkelhampton passed out on the couch wearing a pink dress and mascara running down his face.

                More sex eh? Hooommmm, Elizabeth did not particularly believe in putting extraneous sex in her noovels. At the same time that character Veranassessee was annoying her a bit with all her indecisiveness. And what a bloody mouthful that name was. Was it too late to change it? hooommm probably. She had modelled her roughly on the cleaner, Finnley, quite an attractive girl despite her pooty face and superior, bossy ways.

                She vaguely remembered something a tutor at writing school had said to her once about writing sex scenes … what was his name? Emonel … no that was not quite right … Meenol! That was it!

                Make your writing detailed, with accurate depiction of suction noises

                Elizabeth broke into fits of laughter, slamming her fist on the desk gleefully and startling Robert X. (Unfortunately the fainting Mongoats had been banned from the building by that nasty Mr Arak)

                You know Robbie-pooh what is wrong with this?

                Robbie-Pooh, Robbie-Pooh, cackled Robert X.

                IT’S BOORING, The damn characters never do anything. Right well, time to fix that. She took another few slugs of her wine.

                :fleuron:

                Oh God, said Agent Gabriele. Who gives a shit about the Doctor or bloody magpies. I can’t stand this any longer. I must have you Agent V. He lunged towards her, ripping open her robe and exposing her naked body.

                You are so beautiful. All I ever wanted is you. That’s why I demanded this assignment on the Island … to see you again. I have not been able to get you out of my head. You’ve been driving me crazy

                NO NO, cried Veranassessee weakly, but her body said YES YES

                YES!

                Agent Gabriele kissed her on the mouth, making strange and passionate slurping noises, and, unable to resist any longer, she gave in to his need for her.

                ( Yes, Yes, YES! snorted Elizabeth, momentarily unable to write for laughing. Hooommm what about that Mahiliki? He was pathootic. Did he want the girl or not for God’s sake? )

                :fleuron:

                Mahiliki stared anxiously out at the storm. He could think of nothing but his darling Veranassessee. He must know if she was alright. He must go to her. He grabbed his car keys and drove like a madman to the airport.

                ( Hoommm, thought Elizabeth, I really don’t know anything about small island airports and planes. Well booger that, I will research them later on the internoot )

                You must fly me to Tifijikoo Island! demanded Mahiliki, holding the pilot (who had been sitting out the storm in a little airport building thingy ) at knifepoint.

                Are you mad? said the pilot. There’s a freakin cyclone, or hadn’t you noticed?

                Yes, I am mad, I am mad with love. Fly me there or you are a dead man.

                :fleuron:

                ahahahaahah, laughed Elizabeth happily.

                #805

                When Franiel got to the crossroads the path turned abruptly to the left and plunged sharply down, past a crumbling and long-deserted stone cottage, to a little bridge built across a gently flowing river. Beyond the bridge there was a short ascent westwards through a thickly wooded area and then the way opened out rather suddenly. Such a pleasant and restful scene welcomed Franiel that for a moment he felt he may have entered a dream. The air was fragrant, the grass was sprinkled with daffodils and shaded by great chestnut trees. Confronting Franiel, at the south-west corner of the green, was a massive stone lych-gate. Beyond the lynch gate, and almost hidden by trees Franiel could see the roof of Chesterhope Manor.

                :fleuron:

                In the day of judgment God be merciful to Derwent a sinner ……hehehehe. Well good riddance to God’s judgement! Begone God’s judgement! We’ve cheated the parson, we’ll cheat him again, for why should the vicar have one in ten ? Oh what’s this now then walking through the gate? A stranger! hehehehehe…tis one of God’s angels methinks, perhaps come to strike old Derwent down for his heathen ways and blasphemous tongue. Well does old Derwent even know what an angel looks like? and he chuckled in delight at the very idea of it.

                You there! he shouted as Franiel drew close, Are you the angel Gabriel come as a messenger of God’s wrath? Or a wandering stranger come to pass the time of day with me?

                Well neither really, said Franiel, although of the two possibilities I favour the second. I have come to have a word with Madame Chesterhope.

                Madame Chesterhope! Does she still live here then? He lowered his voice reverently. A real angel that one, better than those biblical ones by a long shot. So you want a word in her ear. You will have to find it first of course.

                Should I try the house? asked Franiel politely.

                Try the house? Derwent rubbed his bearded chin thoughtfully. I tell you what! Try the magic mushrooms first, and when you’ve tried them, try the patience of Saint Derwent. He gave Franiel a kindly pat on the shoulder. Good on you for trying Lad, anyway. I’ll bid you farewell now and if you do find an ear, best keep it, a spare ear can always come in handy.

                #772

                Smiling warmly, and stretching luxuriously and rather felinely, Illi woke up from her dream. The sun had been shining in her dream, as indeed it was on the beach of the sand dragons where she had fallen asleep all those many moons ago. She had many projects underway in her dream, lots of interesting ideas to be sorted out and she knew that many dear ones had been with her in the dream: hiding under tables, and in cupcoards….some in the fridge, some in the lavatory cistern; lending energy and support, albeit behind the scenes. That they were not visibly helping didn’t mean that they weren’t there, in a spirit of helpful cooperation, Illi knew, and she felt comforted.

                When Illi had fallen asleep, she had been bored, hopelessly frustrated . The delights of the island paradise had palled rather quickly. Sure, she could create whatever she wanted, and she had had fun for awhile creating sand creatures and so on, but she had realized that she missed the surprises, the interactions with others, things not going according to plan… her objective plan, at any rate.

                Illi was beginning to accept the fact that she was ‘dead’, at last, but she was starting to see that it wasn’t the ‘end’, but an opportunity for a new beginning.

                Illi sat up and surveyed her surroundings. The sky was a deep azure blue, the sun was making twinkiling stars on the waters of the lagoon, a warm gentle breeze rustled the coconut palm leaves, and birds sang and twittered in the foliage. It was indeed idyllic, and Illi decided to simply enjoy it, while her new ideas formed into a reality.

                ~~~

                Illi was enjoying a new found freedom in her contentment, in not pushing her energy in frustration, and meandered happily around the island taking mental snapshots of a thousand delightful and marvellous wonders, appreciating even the smallest most insignificant things. Time lost all sense of meaning: there were deep velvet indigo skies full of sequins, and there were abstract multicoloured sunrises and sunsets; there were cottonwool clouds in cartoon shapes suspended on a canvas of blue. It mattered not the day or night; there was no longer a sense of time passing, just a glorious collage of appreciation and beauty.

                #766

                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.

                #1722

                In reply to: Synchronicity

                TracyTracy
                Participant

                  I googled Circle of Eights

                  ***

                  Give pairs seven post-its and ask the children to write down the main scenes. Take feedback and allow children to adjust/add to their post-its. Pairs then work on listing the scenes and sticking them in order. They should disregard any scenes that are not crucial, and just keep the key events.

                  Agree with the class the basic key scenes. Demonstrate how to make a few notes about each scene to help with a retelling.

                  In pairs, children make notes about each scene to help with retelling the tale. These should be kept to the barebones. In pairs, practice retelling the story, taking it in turns. Then put pairs together to retell their versions to another pair.

                  ***

                  If time allows, build this up to circles of eight.

                  ***

                  End the session by hearing several retellings. Encourage the children to evaluate between tellings, refining and improving their version.

                  Explore ways of altering the retellings. Children decide to alter one aspect. They then retell the tale, with the alteration. Pairs should then move into fours
                  and retell their new versions.

                  ***
                  Build up to circles of eight if time allows.

                  ***
                  The children recommend a version they have heard that is really effective. Listen to these, and as a class evaluate what makes an effective retelling. This enables more in-depth evaluation, especially by the storytellers themselves.

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