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  • #2906
    AvatarJib
    Participant

      Sir Ed Steam looked at his last acquisition, Henri Butter’s Marauder Map. Its reach was currently limited to the saucerers’ school perimeter but he had already thought of several means to extend it.
      At this very moment, his old friend Lulla was on her way to Pohnpei and would soon meet with the man he needed. She didn’t know she was about to meet him, but it really mattered not. All he needed was the events to be triggered and all would go according to his plan, like a domino trail.

      #2058

      In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

      ÉricÉric
      Keymaster

        whatever characters
        thanks bloody
        somewhat hit thread
        everyone school
        girl continuity
        dead facts
        start details
        glor mad
        give professor
        wondering moment

        #2300

        Sha and Glo were looking at the Aerial Pond of Cloud Fishes in their blobby glowing spectral form.

        “A shame we’re dead… That school of fish is sure somethin’”
        “You’re thinking what I’m thinking Shar?”
        “Well, of course; we’re dead and psychic, bloody hell Glor!”

        Glor was glad that she was dead sometimes, and this was such a time. She’d found Sharon’s usual rude rebuking was far easier to handle in that state.

        “Well, I would love to dive in that pool too, like in that documentary…”
        “Exactamundo! Have the school of fishes eat dead skin and give it back its young fresh and peachy glow.”

        “I think we better find some quick way to get back in Shar…”
        “Not to bloody worry Glor, it already looks like our subliminal sex enticements have worked very well; would be a shame no one would get preggers with all that fornication going around!”
        “I’m starting to wonder what it would be like if that’s the nine-titted alien going first though… I’m told their pregnancy is quicker than human’s…”

        #2608

        In reply to: Strings of Nines

        ÉricÉric
        Keymaster

          Becky was liking her dancing courses; there was this funny guy with an outrageously bright canary yellow shirt and a funny accent who taught them some Asian-based moves last time, and she’d been puzzled for awhile, frozen in her tracks and speechless for a moment (which didn’t often occur), as the guy was so weird and yet serious looking that she didn’t know if she should laugh hysterically at his preposterous wiggling butt moves, or keep serious like the others.
          That’s where she noticed a girl in the class. Like her, she was lost in wonderment while all of the others where respectfully following the teacher’s movements with a polite straight face.

          As she was feeling bubbles of hysterical laughter desperately struggling to burst at the surface, she quickly exited the classroom, only to find that the other girl was there too.

          “Ahaha, is he some sort of wacko or what?” Becky couldn’t help but laugh even if the other one seemed affected somehow, yet not indifferent to the humour of the situation.
          “Bloody oath, yeah… Madder than Almad this one”
          “You’re not from here are you?” Becky asked, noticing a delicious variation of British accent in the girl’s voice.
          “No, from New Zealand. Name’s Tina, Tina Prout. Well you can forget the last name anyway, I’m going to change that.”
          “Delighted, I’m Becky Vane. Would you fancy some vegemite on toast?”
          “Sure, let’s get out of here quickly.”
          “Toot toot! School’s out!… Mmm, looks like it’s ‘pissing down’ outside… Is that how you say in Kiwi?”

          #2604

          In reply to: Strings of Nines

          ÉricÉric
          Keymaster

            “Well, it’s a fiction, she could be anywhere. That and if you stopped changing the facts and names for a moment, you’d be able to knit them together into new understandings.”

            Charmille was knitting while answering to impatient young Becky who for all of the birds’ chatter in the apartment couldn’t really concentrate on her schoolwork, and had only one thought in mind (more insistent than the fleeting thousands other ones that is): she wanted to go outside immerse herself in the helter skelter of New York City.

            “And why should I care!” Becky was about to start another tirade of self-righteous indignation at the failure to recognize her brilliance when she stopped herself in her tracks. She was suddenly amazed at the intricacy of the pattern Charmille was creating with two simple sticks and the many colourful threads in her black and white box. That was an art in itself, and Becky wasn’t impervious to art, quite the contrary. She could spot art in the slightest and singlest stroke of graffiti on the walls of the City. She could even see them dancing endless farandoles in front of her eyes. She was perhaps the only one she knew who was able to see that, but what her aunt was doing was very much like it.
            Sometimes, she’d had people laugh at her when she was younger. She was telling them about her vivid dreams, that she’d spent hours in one dream looking at a single napkin, how soft it was, how superbly almost real it was —even if that was just a dream napkin— while, according to others, she could have done more “lofty” things instead —like go and see ascended masters.

            “But I like movement! I don’t want to be stuck in slimy facts!”
            “Well dear, you should know that… wherever you are, there you are. Even if wherever is elsewhere.”

            The cryptic statement made by the poised lady somehow struck a cord. She wanted to disguise facts into fictions, or fiction as facts, but any way she was going, she was still struggling with herself, the essence at her core. It didn’t matter if she wanted to have the needle jump to another loop (and get out of that particular loop) because it was all part of the same cloth she was creating. It suddenly gave her much to ponder…

            #2572

            In reply to: Strings of Nines

            ÉricÉric
            Keymaster

              Santiago, Chile, May 2020

              For the last past years, Becky now a pretty young teenager had been traveling from one school to another to pursue her artistic aspiration, but more so to discover as many places as possible. Schools were a necessary evil, for as long as she was too young to choose without her father’s consent, but at least she could choose which one she wanted to go to.
              Although she barely remembered it now, she already did a fair deal of traveling out of the body when she was younger, helping her to map out the places and order in which she wanted to see them later. All of that subjective programming of sorts was now extremely helpful to her forgetful nature, as all she needed do was to trust her impulses to go here and there.
              She would then magically find a distant relative who had been lost in the far ends of the family tree, or a friend of a friend who would accept to host her or recommend her to a friend. From there, her open nature and smiles did the rest to win them over.

              In a month from now, she would be eighteen, and she wanted to go somewhere else, perhaps settle down for a little while. She had taken a world map and thrown a few coloured pins to let randomness choose for her, as she trusted it was her proper way of essence, so to speak. To her surprise, none of the pins seemed to stick but a single one in the vicinity of New York. America wasn’t her natural choice of predilection, but she knew she could trust the random flow of events. And to top that, she knew her aunt Charmille was living there. It would be easy then.

              :fleuron:

              Charmille was the elder sister of Sabine Baina N’Diaye, Becky’s mother and first wife of Dan. She was a middle-aged eccentric and cheerful lady, who had never married, proudly saying that it was what had kept her young at heart. She was living in Brooklyn with a dozen birds twittering all day, and a few cats and other creatures the neighbours would give her to care for while they were away.

              When she learnt that her niece would come here for three months, she first thought that it was a darn long time to be nice to anybody. But then she smiled and went preparing the spare room and brush the cats’ hair off the sheets.

              #1928
              TracyTracy
              Participant

                After the schools were closed down by peanut saboteurs, the ‘dangerous chemicals’ squad was called in to deal with a brown sauce attack, the Daily Mail reports yesterday….

                #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.”

                  #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.”

                    #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.

                    #850
                    TracyTracy
                    Participant

                      Stop it, STOP IT! Becky shouted, clamping her hands over her ears, It was a futile action, as the voices were inside her head, and not likely to be halted by her pointless automatic reaction.

                      She lit a cigarette with shaking hands and picked up a magazine in an attempt to calm down. She opened the copy of Crisp at random, her eyes unfocused.

                      I’ll think about this later, she said to herself, when I’m feeling a bit better. Relaxing her tense hunched shoulders, she focused on the glossy pages. She had opened the magazine to the Essencopes page, and read the Borledim forecast for the month ahead.

                      That’s it! She said excitedly. I’ll change my alignment! I’ll change it to, um, let me think…..
                      Becky sighed, muttering to herself, How on earth does one change ones alignment?

                      You said you were going to ‘think’ about it tomorrow, said the voice.

                      Bugger off, you. Becky snapped. Good point, though.

                      She picked up Crisp again, this time noticing that the scopes were written by her old schoolfriend, Luce Mong.

                      Luce! Well, I never! exclaimed Becky with a smile. Luce Mong! Last I heard she was in Long Pong with Leah Muir. I wonder where she’s living now?

                      #1759

                      In reply to: Synchronicity

                      F LoveF Love
                      Participant

                        SOME OF TODAY’S SYNCHS:

                        EGGLETON
                        reading a magazine in cafe, kept seeing the name Elise Eggleton … a journalist, seems to report mainly on appearance medicine type stuff .. (wonder if she knows about Dr B?) :face-kiss:

                        PINK PIXIES/PIXELS AND EASY
                        Jib mentioned this morning pink pixies .. pixels? Today a woman emailed with a request for an accommodation gift voucher. I have not done gift vouchers before as the whole thing felt a bit complicated to organise … however decided it would be EASY so said YES we do gift vouchers. I looked at the clock on the computer and it was 1:23 just to confirm this easiness. She emailed straight back and said she wanted to go ahead and could i send her one in electronic format? Well I felt a bit stressed by this and not very creative and under time pressure :yahoo_worried: so looked up gift voucher templates. There were quite a few, one was called PINK PIXELS. After trying all of them out I decided to use this one, and with some modifications it actually looks really good. :yahoo_kiss: thank you Jib for your help. (not so easy to post gifts :yahoo_sad: )

                        PINK AND POOH AND PANDA SYNCHS:
                        This afternoon i went to visit my friend Katie. This might not seem momentous but the thing is she is one of my closest friends but i have not seen her for about 2 years. She only lives 10minutes drive away. We did not have a falling out or anything, but I just stopped making contact with people and have been quite introverted. Anyway there was no sense of not having seen each other for ages or anything … just the strange thing for me was that her children seemed to have grown so much. The two youngest ones, Emily and William, both were playing with bright pink balloons :balloon: and even though it was a hot day Emily had bright pink tights on. William wanted to show me his book. There were two pictures he loved and pointed out for me .. one was of a Panda which he said was the “cutest picture in the book”. The other one he loved he said was “POOH” and he was quite delighted with this. Well yes it was a picture of pooh believe it or not. It was a design of a castle and showed a big “long drop” and a man shovelling pooh at the bottom of it.

                        RAT SYNCHS :mouse:
                        A short while ago I googled rats as pets, not because I wanted one, just out of interest. I found it fascinating all the anecdotes about what good pets they are and how intelligent etc etc. :agreed: I found it interesting as they are an animal which is commonly hated by many people. Anyway Katie told me that her other daughter, Ella, came rushing home from Kindy School the other day saying she really REALLY wanted a rat as a pet and is quite determined to get one. Katie was not happy about this. I was able to share all my positive rat information with her and now I think Ella will get her rat. :yahoo_nerd:

                        NUMBER PLATES
                        On the way home I thought how wonderful all the synchs were, and as I thought this I saw YES 57. For a short while on the way home i followed ERIC 1. I also saw BEEZ. Also HONEY8, which is another variation of the HONEYB one I saw. I do find it interesting all these bee related number plates within such a small area. Related to this, Sir Ed was on the news tonight as the Queen had a memorial service for him today at St Georges Chapel in Windsor Castle. (sir Ed was the original HONEYB synch on the day he died at the age of 88, he was a HONEY BEE keeper as well as mountain climber – this explanation is for Tracy who finds it hard to remember things)

                        555’S
                        still seeing lots of these, the last two evenings have logged on at 5:55pm

                        MISC:
                        Mr X bought me some cookies with hunks of ginger in them. Also I bought myself some passionfruit yoghurt. But I don’t think that was a synch really. I think I bought it because I had been talking about them.

                        oh that’s right, the girl buying the pink pixels gift voucher was also named Emily

                        F :heart:

                        #742

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

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

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

                        #628

                        Chris, I demand you tell me what’s going on! What was that … that thing! Nurse Bellamy was visibly upset, her cheeks flushed, her voice tremulous. She had no idea what had just happened, but she suspected that even coconut milk might not make it better this time.

                        Are you going to tell her or do I have to do it? asked Veranassessee. Because if you can pull yourself together I have a couple of guests locked in a closet, and now a mummy on the run to deal with! It had been a tiring day and Veranassessee was furious.

                        V’ass what’s going on, Chris, will someone please tell me ….!

                        I will tell her Veranassessee. Dr Bronkelhampton slumped in his chair and wondered where to start. A plan was beginning to form in his head. V’ass had always said Nurse Bellamy should be told the truth, now it seems that, as usual, she was right. But of course, he smiled to himself, as Dr Lemane, his erudite Professor at medical school had always said, there are many sniggly variations of one truth. Well, it was something along those lines he said anyway.

                        :fleuron2:

                        Oh this is the bees knees! what do you reckon about this room then Sha? Do you think the treatment has started?

                        Perhaps it is special beauty air in here. It smells different don’t it?

                        They both breathed deeply. Oh Yes, Yes, YES! giggled Glor

                        Sha?

                        Yes?

                        It’s a bit odd though don’t you think? I mean nothing like what I was thinking.

                        :fleuron2:

                        The mummy headed towards the dense bush, her brain was foggy but she knew she had to find cover. Her limbs felt heavy. Keep going, just keep going …

                        :fleuron2:

                        Nurse Bellamy could not stop crying. Oh Chris … oh you poor man. I always thought there was something odd about Veranassessee. Oh what shall we do my darling, she must be stopped!

                        Quite right, she must my little poppet, soothed Dr Bronkelhampton, stroking Nurse Bellamy’s hair gently, and thinking quickly. But for now, keep it to yourself. It is a very delicate matter. Can you do that my sweet one? Just for me?

                        Oh yes Chris! whatever you think best my my darling.

                        #498

                        some writing by Twilight

                        Jo fixed me up a swing. It hung from the old elm tree out the front. That’s my favourite place. I just sit there rocking and thinking, and thinking and rocking. Sometimes I would weave stories or sometimes I would dream about when I am real famous. I know I will miss Jo and Elroy, but then I cheer myself up thinking how, when I am rich, I will visit them and give them money and presents and how fine that will be.

                        Elroy and Jo don’t know about my stories or how I love to write. I ain’t much good. I didn’t get much schooling but Elroy helped me some and then I would try and teach myself the rest. The only book we have is a big old bible. That is written in real fine words. The part I like the best is a song that Solomon wrote. I don’t know how the tune went but the words are real nice. It is real romantic too. I dream one day some man will use words like that to me. Not like those drunken slobs round these parts. Anyway, that’s how I know I am not much good, because I can’t write nothing like Solomon. But I try anyway.

                        Yesterday I was sitting out on the swing rocking and thinking and young Dan from the ranch over the way turned up on his horse. He looked real hot and red and sweaty. Mostly though, he is real fine looking, and I confess I have a soft spot for him. So I leapt off the swing real quick and straightened myself up and bit my lips to make them all big and red. I wanted him to see I had developed some in the last little while.

                        Where’s your brothers, Twi? he said to me.

                        I felt he didn’t seem to be giving me the appreciation I hoped for, so I did a little flick of my head and gave him the look I had been practising. I had seen the other girls do this look to the men at the saloon, and it seemed to work a treat. I gestured at the same time, real slow and casual, and I said “Out the back, Dan.” in a honey voice.

                        He started to ride off, like he was in a hurry. But then he stopped. My heart did a little flutter. He said to me, “You know Twi, the boys at the ranch were talking about you. And it wasn’t the sort of talk should be said about a lady”.

                        When Dan said that, I felt he had kicked me in the guts. I wanted to gasp. But I am plenty used to putting up with things and not showing my true feelings, so I just looked at him real cold. Then I spat. I have been practising my spitting and I can do it real good now. Nearly as good as Jo.

                        “I am just telling you Twi he said. I thought he would say more, but he seemed to reflect for a moment, then shook his head and off he went in a hurry to find the boys.

                        Elroy and Jo looked real bothered when I saw them later. I knew when to hold my tongue so I did not give them no smart talk, and I cooked up a real fine bean dish for their supper. It was real quiet over the table that night. Truth was, I still felt mighty bad over what Dan had said.

                        I confess I felt some cares and sadness on me that evening when I went to bed, and found I could not sleep. I got out my diary and thought I would do some writing.
                        I tried to write what my name, Twilight, means to me. My real name is Tina Willemine Ivy El Disperso. I always been called Twi. Then Hank at the saloon, he says one night, “I am calling you Twilight and that sort of caught on. It made me feel special, having my own stage name.

                        I started writing. Lavender blue sky bleeding into the dark. I thought that sounded quite a good start to my writing, so feeling a bit encouraged I went on some more: Twilight is a magic time. It is the time I see things that aint there, but maybe they could be. My eyes play tricks on me in the half light and I feel like I could be anyone. I feel like I could be someone who I isn’t. Twilight is the time of promises. The promise and mystery of the night to come. It is inbetween time when you know the ordinary stuff could be magic.

                        I stopped. I weren’t never going to be able to write like Solomon. I knew that and I felt real bad. At least I could dance though, and that was going to make me famous. But that thought could not cheer me up this night and I confess I cried myself to sleep like a baby.

                        #261

                        In searching for a sheet of paper to do some sketches of images going through his mind, Bill found an old poem he had started a long time ago, when he was feeling like he was completely transforming himself. He had not finished the poem, but had kept it all along…

                        It said:

                        I’ve been wandering through the valleys of death
                        Where time knows no ending and all is gray
                        And shadows seek nothing but oblivion itself
                        In mazes of mist, minds’ errands led astray…

                        Perhaps it was time to let go of useless things, Bill thought to himself.

                        He watched the paper slowly smoldering and shrinking and falling to black and white cinders into the hearth.

                        :fleuron:

                        Before going to sleep that night, Quintin had the sensation of Janice’s presence. He was surprised, because she was no longer the little girl he had seen at times, but she was a very pretty young woman, with dark wavy hair.

                        She had giggled at his surprise, telling him that yes, she was catching up with him…

                        :fleuron:

                        The City, year 2255 (%)

                        Today was Janice’s birthday, but not her birthday as the Ancients, two and half a century from her time, would have counted it. It was counted from the time of the conception, as the future parents in this time were fully aware of the agreements they would have with the soul they would decide to give birth to.

                        It was a reminder of this agreement between the parents and the child that was celebrated, and not the actual birth date.

                        Janice had felt Cyprus’ presence quite strongly, and she decided to let herself open to the subjective communication. She was conversing with her friend Qixi, and sent her some energy to let her know she would probably remove her attention for a few moments, knowing she would be accepting.

                        When she closed her eyes, she could immediately feel herself engulfed by the strong yet smooth energy of Cyprus; it was like being kissed by a swarm of blue sparkling butterflies.

                        Then she opened her eyes.

                        She was in an ancient classroom, with Cyprus focused as a teacher figure. Cyprus was seated behind her desk and came at once to great Janice.

                        — Good morning!
                        — Good morning Cyprus, you wanted to say something to me?
                        — In actuality, you wanted me to tell you something, answered Cyprus with a mysterious smile.
                        — Yes, I thought so. Is it about what I am choosing to do as an activity?
                        — Correct.
                        — You are aware that I want to be creating of worlds, and give them to people that would have commissioned them…
                        — Yes, I am aware. And you wanted me to highlight some misconceptions about that.
                        — Oh, misconceptions?
                        — Yes. As you know, with these worlds that you create, you have infinite potential of explorations. You also know that they are not independent from the rest, even when you take great care of encapsulating them in an energy field. And as such, they are not cut-off from yourself, as soon as you deliver them.
                        — It feels like a tremendous responsibility.
                        — It is, and it is not. The responsibility is to yourself, as always. But, I wanted you to be aware that you hold some responsibility, to examine your own injections into these worlds that you create, so that you can be neutralizing what is not desired, and not merely hiding it deeper inside the world itself.
                        — OK, I will do that…
                        — Ahaha, there is another thing, my dear.
                        — Oooh…
                        — You also wanted me to make sure you understood what I meant.
                        — Ahahaha, I see. Wiggling out won’t be as easy as I thought, Janice said with a smile. So, is it the reason for this classroom?
                        — Nothing is hidden from you, as always.

                        So Janice took a look at the sheet of paper on top of her own school desk.

                        — I’ll be around if you need me, reassured Cyprus.
                        — Thank you, said Janice

                        The paper was like a spot test, with a few questions on it.

                        :fleuron2:

                        Study on a Few Contradictory Beliefs

                        1. GUILT

                        a. An old lord has lost contact with his son, because of harsh things said in the past.

                        Write a short story about him realizing how guilt is not effective, and how past can be changed from the point of present by direct action.

                        b. Detail the main beliefs you can see associated with this action of guilt.

                        2. FEAR

                        a. A man chooses to be disengaging by drowning in a river. During his transition, he faces his fears, helped in that by a friendly spirit. The fears take the forms of a forest of trees, all similar, with branches and malicious roots extending to him. In his previous life, the man thought he was a fool, as an excuse to stand out of the numb crowd. But now he faces this crowd again, only to be able to go on his journey and let go.

                        Write a short paragraph about his journey. Place yourself from the perspective of both him and the friendly spirit guiding him through his fears, and see how he helps himself in realizing he does not need to push the fears away, and that they can disappear easily.

                        b. Detail the beliefs associated with his madness, that he needs to let go of in order to be crossing the forest, and go to the Bridge of Daffoldils that leads to his cave of Self.

                        DUPLICITY

                        In association with the last two examples, detail how duplicity (belief in good versus bad) is influencing of each of the actions, and can be neutralised by accepting self and trusting that you shall not betray yourself.

                        :fleuron:

                        Janice gave her paper to Cyprus, who took it and held it for a moment, evaluating the answers.

                        Cyprus then made it burst into a bluish dancing flame, and when the paper had disappeared, smiled at Janice lovingly.

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