Search Results for 'smile'

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  • #4512
    Jib
    Participant

      When Lucinda called her friend, Shawn Paul felt it was time to go back home. He wasn’t sure if it was his natural shyness, that he had already seen and talk to so many new people today, or if it was the fear of the unknown. What would he tell a stranger? What would she think of him, his outfit and his scarf? All that made it too much at that moment to meet someone new. So he looked at his phone and pretexted something had come up. They agreed to meet at the reception at the French embassy and he left.

      Shawn Paul was walking crossing streets on autopilot, lost in his thoughts about the adventures of the day, when a crazy honking that sounded like an elephant fart brought him back to reality in front a bakery. He realised too late that he had forgotten his granola cookies on the table. But he shrugged and smiled when a little yellow butterfly flew by and landed momentarily on the rear light of a red car. He stopped and wondered how such a light creature could live in a city like this. It took off and fluttered around into the general direction of a public garden nearby where children played under the kind presence of their parents.

      It took Shawn Paul twenty minutes to go back home. He felt tired enough to take a nap before getting dressed to the Party. In the stairs he met with Maeve and her pekinese.

      “Hi.” They said at the same time with the same awkwardness. Maeve’s dog was sniffing out his shoes, making Shawn Paul self conscious of himself. He feared a moment she might think he had a sloppy hygiene.
      “Come Fabio.” Maeve said. “Sorry for that. Dogs…”

      Shawn Paul smiled in an attempt to hide his embarrassment, and each of them went in their own direction.

      :fleuron:

      Shawn Paul arrived late at the reception because he spent too much time deciding on which scarf would match his new deep purple velvet jacket. The others were already inside and drinking, their body moving more or less in rhythm with the music.

      “Your dress suits you so well,” said Shawn Paul bending closer to her hear and making an effort to talk louder. A smile blossomed on her face at the compliment, contrasting with a lingering nostalgia in her eyes. She was wearing one of those black body fit dress which gave her silhouette all the contours they needed to pop out in a flattering way.

      “You missed the speech of the ambassador,” she said with a wink. “Nothing memorable, it’s the same every year.”

      Jerk was standing on the side, wearing a suit like one would wear camouflage clothing. He seemed to deeply wonder what he was doing there. Shawn Paul, who was wondering the same, addressed the man a sympathising smile. A moment of connection happened and went away. Jerk took a sip of his glass of champagne and Lucinda put a flute in Shawn Paul’s hand.

      She took his other arm and said : “Come. There is something I want to show you!”

      #4509
      TracyTracy
      Participant

        Lucinda answered her honking phone, while silently indicating to the waiter whose drink was whose. She smiled as she noticed the reaction of the people sitting at the other tables to the strident honking geese noise she’d chosen for her phone. The mundane daily things that amuses one are more important that you think, she’d say if anyone mentioned it, and the reaction to the honking tickled her every time her phone rang.

        “Maeve, darling!” she gushed, showing off a bit in front of Shawn Paul and Jerk, and then her face puckered into a frown as she cringed. “Oh dear, I’m awfully sorry… . No, of course you can’t decorate it all on your own, that wouldn’t be fair at all, but that’s the thing I wanted to tell you,” Lucinda was thinking quickly, “The neighbour, you know that tall one with the nice smile, and the, er..the well dressed one, yes that’s the one, the writer, well he’s going to help us with everything…”

        Almost imperceptibly, Shawn Paul’s head jerked back a little upon hearing this, as he wondered what exactly he was expected to help with.

        Lucinda continued into the phone, “And you know the guy from the supermarket down the road, the , um, the quiet one, well ok perhaps you haven’t noticed…. what? yes, that’s the one! well he’s going to help too. What? Oh I’m sure he’s only like that at work,” Lucinda glanced at Jerk with a little laugh, mouthing something indecipherable to him and pointing at the phone with a roll of her eyes. Jerk raised a single sardonic eyebrow and sipped his cocktail.

        “I tell you what Maeve, come and join us. We’re having drinks at the Red Beans cafe. Where? It’s next to the Karmalott Kafe on the river front, you know it? Good! See you in ten, then.” Lucinda snapped her phone shut and beamed at the two men.

        #4498

        “Tagada” said Margoritt to Tak, after feeding him the last spoon of the red clay paste mixture he had to take daily for the past week.

        Glynnis had mixed a fine clay powder with the yellow flowers of the prikkperikum that grew in the nearby woods. It would little by little absorb the effects of the potion, and hopefully neutralise that garish greenish color off his face and fur.

        Meanwhile, Glynnis had perfected her own treatment by analysing the leftover salvaged from the lotion. Tak, with his sharp olfactory senses when he turned into a puppy, had helped her identify the plants and minerals used in the potion, as he felt bad about the whole thing. She’d liked to spend time chasing with puppy Tak after plants into the mountain woods, the nearby plains, and once even as they went as far as the heathlands where a evil wind blew… too close to the heinous machinations of Leroway to desecrate the land of old.

        Thankfully, this time, she had properly labelled the lotion, with the cute picture of a skull adorned with a flower garland, under a smiling full moon. She wasn’t sure it would be of much use to ward off gluttons, but it put a smile on her face every time she looked at it.

        With the full moon a day’s ahead, she started to grow restless. Even Eleri had noticed, and she wasn’t one to notice subtleties. While she’d encouraged Hasam’ to start to work at something outside with his hands, like building a magic rainproof dome — working with his hands was something the God would find himself endlessly bemused at — she’d started her plan to glamour-bomb the forest with placing at the most unusual places hundreds of concrete statues of little fat men wearing doilies. Something Gorrash obviously felt he was the inspiration for. In truth, it wasn’t far from it, as she’d taken the opportunity of a bright day of his stone sleep to make a plaster mold of him, and then artistically adjust postures and decorum to get her little fat men done. Gorrash had felt so appreciative of the likeness, probably encouraged in that thought by the rest of Rainbow’s babies dancing around him, that he even helped her ferry the heavy cargoes to the oddest destinations.

        #4496
        TracyTracy
        Participant

          Lucinda could hear the neighbours dog whining through the thin walls between the apartments, but she liked the dog, and she liked her neighbour Maeve, so the noise was a comfort rather than a bother. Moments earlier a movement from the window had caught her eye: fleetingly it looked like some sort of dust devil or whirlwind of dry leaves. Perhaps that was what had upset Caspar.

          She went out onto the kitchen balcony and looked across at Maeve’s identical balcony and called softly to the dog. He came sidling out looking guilty, with a lowered head and nervous tail wag. Lucinda noticed that her neighbours tomato plants were ripening nicely, while her own were still hard shiny green, thanks to the shade of the big oak tree. A blessing in some ways, keeping the hot afternoon sun off the kitchen, but not so good for the tomatoes. Not that it was particularly hot so far this summer: glancing down she noticed the guy from the apartment on the other side of Maeve was wearing a scarf as he sauntered out onto the sidewalk. Surely it’s not cold enough for a scarf, though, thought Lucinda. Still, perhaps he’s just wearing it because it matches his socks. A trifle vain, that one, but a nice enough fellow. Always a ready friendly smile, and Maeve said he was quiet enough, and never complained about her dog.

          Lucinda had been passing by one day as Shawn-Paul had opened his door, and she couldn’t help but notice all his bookcases. He’d noticed her looking ~ she hadn’t been subtle about her interest and was trying to peer round him for a better look inside ~ and he’d invited her to come round any time to borrow a book, but that he was late for an appointment, and didn’t have time to invite her inside that day. Lucinda wondered why she’d never gone back, and thought perhaps she would. One day. One of those things that for some reason gets put off and delayed.

          There was nothing Lucinda liked more than to find a new ~ or a newly found old ~ book, and to randomly open it. The synchronicities invariably delighted her, so she did know a thing or two about the benefits of timing ~ otherwise often known as procrastination. When she did decide to visit Shawn-Paul and look at his books, she knew the timing would be right.

          “Don’t lean on me man, la la la la, synchronicity city…” she started singing an old Bowie song that popped into her head from nowhere, barely aware that she was changing the words from suffragette to synchronicity.

          Meanwhile unbeknown to Lucinda, Shawn-Paul had just rounded the corner and bumped into the gardener, Stan, who was on his way to the apartments to mow the lawns. They exchanged pleasantries, and patted each others shoulders in the usual familiar friendly way as they parted. The two guys were not friends per se, they never socialized together, but always enjoyed a brief encounter outside with an easy pleasant greeting and a few words. Shawn-Paul always inquired about Stan’s family and so on, and Stan often complemented Shawn-Paul’s scarves.

          Granola, temporarily rustling around in the big oak tree, noticed all of this and immediately recognized the connecting links, and peered eagerly at the three people in turn to see if they had noticed. They hadn’t. Not one of them recalled the time when they were all three suffragettes chained to the railings near an old oak tree.

          #4495
          Jib
          Participant

            Shawn-Paul lived in a studio apartment, crammed with bookshelves full of books and trinkets that he gathered during his many walks around the city while looking for inspiration. He hadn’t read all of the books, but he always had the intention to do it one day. One day easily became two and three, and so many.
            Someone with OCD could dust date the different purchases by measuring the thickness of the layer of dust on the books.

            That day, Shawn-Paul was drinking a hot chocolate at his computer on the small desk where some books lied open or closed on top of each others. The top one’s cover claimed in bold red letters “NARRATIVE COACHING, The Definitive Guide to Bring New Stories to Life”. Shawn-Paul had bought it thinking it was a coaching book for writers but it apparently aimed at teaching coaches to tell good stories. The book had proved interesting and especially another occasion to enrich his knowledge about the world or in one word procrastinate.

            Shawn-Paul took a sip of the hot chocolate, which was now more lukewarm than hot and felt the impulsion to open his browser and watch a video about narrative coaching on U-stub. That’s when it all went wrong and myriads of ads popped up and covered the screen and his newly bought writer software were the first word of his novel still waited to appear.

            At first, he panicked and his sudden movements back and fro almost broke the fragile equilibrium of the desk clutter. But then he shrugged, took his phone to call his friend Jeremiad for help and remembered how that went last time when he had to listen to his friend’s imaginary problems, just like imaginary friends but worse. He put the phone back in the clutter and looked at the last ad. A girl with sensuous cherry red lips winking at him with a packet of granola cookies spinning around her head.

            Unaware of what was happening, Shawn-Paul felt hungry and considered his lukewarm chocolate. He smiled as he thought he could make another one and enjoy dipping some cookies in it.
            He went to the kitchen and foraged through the clutter of dirty dishes and empty cookie packets. There were none left. The effect of hunger on Shawn-Paul was square grumpiness. Not round, not rectangular. Square. And it didn’t fit the curves of his stomach.

            Shawn-Paul put his writer’s jacket and cap on, added a wool scarf because he had a sensitive throat, and it looked cool on him and he winked at his reflection on the mirror hanging on the main door.
            He left, unaware of the smile of the granola girl.

            #4492
            ÉricÉric
            Keymaster

              When Jerk came for his shift at the WholeDay*Mart, it was still early in the morning. He liked this shift best. Early customers were always a bit sleepy, except for a few of the early riser soccer moms up for a jog, and usually were far less chatty than the midday crowds.

              One had to find ways to keep awake though. What he liked best were the invisible people. There was one in particular who’d caught his attention for the past few days. She had the insolent smile of people in the know, piercing eyes that would go straight to you without care for the social barriers, or untold rules and rites of the place. In short, she’d struck him as the only awake person in the lot, almost winkfully so.
              And to his surprise, nobody seemed aware of that. It was as though she was in the background of the other drone people, who just couldn’t register such oddity into their daily computation.

              He suspected for a while that she had found some way to trick the self-checkout line, as her whole demeanour looked more bag lady than suburban heiress, and her cart always seemed well stocked.

              He couldn’t care less — after all, for a meager pay, he wasn’t there to police. He was just intrigued by how she would seem to get away with it and be totally unnoticed.

              #4488

              Maeve liked to make dolls. They were all quiet, and full of an inner life that would transport her in wild imaginary adventure while she was making them. She liked also to collect strange people and make them into her dolls.
              She would often go to the mall, take a table at the coffee shop, and observe the daily life show for inspiration…

              In the apartment next to hers, lived Shawn-Paul, a handsome bearded bachelor, who was a writer he’d said. She had not made him into a doll, not that he wasn’t doll material, he seemed weirdo plenty, but she noted there were subtleties to the character she wanted to explore more.

              :fleuron:

              “Are you ready?” Ailill, had a blue suede hat this time. He liked to change his headpiece regularly to fit his mood, but somehow couldn’t or wouldn’t change it to any other color than blue.

              Granola wasn’t sure she would be ready to pop-in properly. She still had to build her character a little bit. She would have only mere seconds each time to make an impression, a glance was all it took at times. Something had to attract attention.
              “I think you’re plenty ready” Ailill smiled as he pushed her in the downward spiral that had appeared at their feet. He jumped right after her.

              #4483

              Thankfully, there had been a little left of the potion that Tak had so voraciously eaten.

              Rukshan had almost aborted the trip to the desert to take care of the little shapeshifting gibbon urchin, whose new shade of green looked serious enough.

              As quiet as she used to be, Glynis had shown a lot of cool and dexterity in handling the suspicious food poisoning case. She was gentle with the little boy, and didn’t show much concern about his going through her stuff.

              In the end, she said she would be able to manage curing him, but that it would take probably a moon’s time.
              Seeing Rukshan’s longer than usual face about the delay, she was the one to push him to go to the desert mysterious blue beams.

              “Go with Olliver, he will teleport you both, and you can be back faster. Once you’ll be clear of what it is, we can plan something. It seems rather obvious nobody’s really ready to leave.” She glanced wryly at Eleri who was munching noisily on her goat milk’s oats.

              Rukshan smiled. She’d almost sounded as though she was the boss. In any case, Glynis was right. Despite the cottage becoming overcrowded, and the threat of nearby building work encroachments into the forest paradise, all the unexpected friends seemed not in a rush for a change of scenery. Fox, Gorrash, Eleri and Hasam’, Margorrit and Tak, and the occasional resupply visits from the village…

              “I think you’re right.” He picked up his bag and nodded at Olli. “Let us go and investigate this desert beam. Are you ready?”

              And in a flash of the golden egg device, gone they were.

              #4472

              With a spring in her step that she had all but forgotten she possessed, Eleri set off on her trip to speak to her old friend Jolly about her husband Leroway’s latest plan that was causing some considerable controversy among the locals. Eleri planned to make the visit a short one, and to hasten back to Margoritt’s cottage in time for the departure of the expedition ~ because she surely wanted to be a part of that. But first, she had to see Jolly, and not just about Leroway. There was a sense of a stirring, or a quickening ~ it was hard to name precisely but there was a feeling of impending movement, that was wider than the expedition plans. Was Jolly feeling it, would she be considering it too? And if not, Eleri would bid her farewell, and make arrangements with her to send a caretaker down to her cottage. And what, she wondered, would happen about care taking the cottage if Jolly’s villagers were on the move again? Eleri frowned. How much did it matter? Perhaps a stranger would find it and choose to stay there, and make of it what they wished. But what about all her statues and ingredients? Eleri felt her steps falter on the old rocky road as her mind became crowded with all manner of things relating to the cottage, and her work.

              You don’t have to plan every little thing! she reminded herself sternly. None of that has to be decided now anyway! It’s wonderful day to be out walking, hark: the rustling in the undergrowth, and the distant moo and clang of a cow bell.

              The dreadful flu she’d had after the drenching had left her weakly despondent and not her usual self at all. But she’d heard the others talking while she’d been moping about and it was as if a little light had come on inside her.

              She still had trouble remembering all their names: ever since the flu, she had a sort of memory weakness and a peculiar inability to recall timelines correctly. Mr Minn (ah, she noted that she had not forgotten his name!) said not to worry, it was a well known side effect of that particular virus, and that as all time was simultaneous anyway, and all beings were essentially one, it hardly mattered. But Mr Minn, Eleri had replied, It makes it a devil of a job to write a story, to which he enigmatically replied, Not necessarily!

              Someone had asked, Who do we want to come on the expedition, or perhaps they said Who wants to come on the expedition, but Eleri had heard it as Who wants to be a person who wants to go on an expedition, or perhaps, what kind of person do the others want as an expedition companion. But whatever it was, it made Eleri stop and realize that she wasn’t even enjoying the morose despondent helpless feeling glump that she has turned into of late, and that it was only a feeling after all and if she couldn’t change that herself, then who the devil else was going to do it for her, and so she did, bit by bit. It might feel a bit fake at first, someone had said. And it did, somewhat, but it really wasn’t long before it felt quite natural, as it used to be. It was astonishing how quickly it worked, once she had put her mind to it. Less than a week of a determined intention to appreciate the simple things of the day. Such a simple recipe. One can only wonder in amazement at such a simple thing being forgotten so easily. But perhaps that was a side effect of some virus, caught long ago.

              Enjoying the feeling of warm sun on her face, interspersed with moments of cool thanks to passing clouds, Eleri noticed the wildflowers along the way, abundant thanks to all the rain and all flowering at once it seemed, instead of the more usual sequence and succession. Briefly she wondered is this was a side effect of the virus, and another manifestation of the continuity and timeline issues. Even the wildflowers had all come at once this year. She had not noticed all those yellow ones flowering at the same time as all those pink ones in previous years, but a splendid riot they were and a feast for the eyes.

              The puffy clouds drifting past across the sun were joining invisible hands together and forming a crowd, and it began to look like rain again. Eleri felt a little frown start to form and quickly changed it to a beaming smile, remembering the handy weightless impermeability shield that someone (who? Glynnis?) had given her for the trip. She would not catch another dose of the drenching memory flu again, not with the handy shield.

              The raindrops started spattering the path in front of her, spotting the dusty ground, and Eleri activated the device, and became quite entranced with the effects of the droplets hitting the shield and dispersing.

              #4462

              Night had fallen when Rukshan came back to the cottage. He was thinking that they could wait a little bit for the trip. He did not like that much the idea of trusting the safety of their group to a stranger, even if it was a friend of Lhamom. They were not in such a rush after all.

              Rukshan looked at their luxuriant newly grown pergola. Thanks to the boost potion Glynis had prepared, it had only took a week to reach its full size and they have been able to enjoy it since the start of the unusual hot spell. The creatures that had hatched from the colourful eggs Gorrash had brought with him were flowing around the branches creating a nice glowing concerto of lights, inside and out.

              It was amazing how everyone were combining their resources and skills to make this little community function. In the shadow of the pergola there was an empty pedestal that Fox had built and Eleri had decorated with nice grapes carvings. Gorrash was certainly on patrol with the owls. His friends had thought that a pedestal would be more comfortable and the pergola would keep Gorrash’s stone from the scorching heat of the sun. Also, he wouldn’t get covered in mud during the sudden heavy rains accompanying the hot spell.

              Seeing the beautiful pedestal and the carved little stairs he could use to climb up, Gorrash had tried to hide the tears in his eyes. He mumbled it was due to some desert dust not to appear emotional, but they all knew his hard shell harboured the softest heart.

              The dwarf had repaid them in an unexpected way. Every day just before sunrise, he would take a big plate in his hands and jumped on the pedestal before turning to stone. It allowed them to put grapes or other fruits that they could eat under the shadow of the of the pergola.

              Rukshan came into the house and he found Margoritt sitting at the dining table on which there was a small parchment roll. Her angry look was so unusual that Rukshan’s felt his chest tighten.

              “They sent me a bloody pigeon,” she said when she arrived. She took the roll and handed it to Rukshan. “The city council… Leroway… he accuses us of unauthorised expansion of the house, of unauthorised construction on communal ground, and of unlicensed trade of manufactured goods.” Margoritt’s face was twisted with pain as the said the words.

              Rukshan winced. Too much bad news were arriving at the same time. If there was a pattern, it seemed rather chaotic and harassing.

              “They threaten us to send a bailif if we don’t stop our illegal activities and if we don’t pay the extra taxes they reclaim,” she continued. “I’m speechless at the guile of that man.”

              Rukshan smiled, he wondered if Margoritt could ever be rendered speechless by anything except for bad flu. He uncoiled the roll and quickly skimmed through the long string of accusations. Many of them were unfair and, to his own opinion unjustified. Since when the forest belonged to Leroway’s city? It had always been sacred ground, and its own master.

              “I have no money,” said Margoritt. “It’s so unfair. I can’t fight with that man. I’m too old and tired.”

              “Don’t forget we are all in the same cottage, Margoritt. It’s not just you. Eventhough, they clearly want to evict us,” said Rukshan. “Even if we had enough money, they would not let us stay.” He showed her the small roll. “The list of accusations is so ludicrous that it’s clearly a ploy to get rid of us. First, that road they want to build through the forest, now evicting us from the ground.” And those bad omens from the mountain, he thought with a shiver.

              “We are not going to give them that satisfaction, are we?” asked Margoritt, pleading like a little girl. “We have to find something Rukshan,” she said. “You have to help me fight Leroway.”

              “Ahem,” said a rockous voice. Gorrash had returned from his patrol. “I know where to find money,” he added. “At leas, I think I know. I had another dream about my maker. It’s just bits and pieces, but I’m sure he hid some treasure in the mountains. There was that big blue diamond, glowing as brightly as a blue sun. And other things.”

              A big blue diamond? It sounds familiar. Rukshan thought. There was an old fae legend that mentioned a blue diamond but he couldn’t remember. Is it connected to the blue light Olliver mentioned earlier? He wondered.

              “That’s it! You have to go find this treasure,” said Margoritt.

              Rukshan sighed as he could feel the first symptoms of a headache. There was so much to think about, so much to do. He massaged his temples. The trip had suddenly become urgent, but they also had to leave someone behind to help Margoritt with the “Leroway problem”. And he winced as he wondered who was going to take care of that road business. It was clear to him that he couldn’t be everywhere at the same time. He would have to delegate.

              He thought of the telebats. Maybe he could teach the others how to use them so that he could keep in touch and manage everything at distance. He sighed again. Who would be subtle and sensitive enough to master the telebats in time?

              #4443

              Eleri’s recovery lasted much longer than anyone expected. Nobody really believed the old wives tale that getting soaked in the rain caused flu, but this is what appeared to have happened. She’d been out of action for such a long time that she was considerably confused about what exactly had been going on prior to her collapse. Someone ~ who? she couldn’t remember their names ~ suggested she needed one of Glynnis’s special tonic juices to revive and restore her. Perhaps even one of her extra strong turmeric latte’s. Weakly, and with a wobbly smile, Eleri agreed. She didn’t have the strength to argue about the turmeric. Not only that, she couldn’t remember why she would want to argue about the turmeric anyway.

              It is what it is, she told herself. She didn’t know what that meant really, but was too tired to think about it.

              #4424
              TracyTracy
              Participant

                Roberto, silhouetted in the frame of back door, smiled smugly as he fingered the skeleton key in his pocket. He was glad he’d brought a few artefacts back from the doline.

                He sauntered up to the trunk, whistling a tune about his mother, and tapped on the lid.

                “I ‘ave a key that opens everrrrything, including trrrrunks,” he whispered.

                “Who are you, please sir, I have a doubt,” the muffled voice inside the trunk replied.

                “I’m not surprised,” Roberto replied, somewhat cryptically.

                “Please, I need the lavatory only, very quickly need it,” Anna tried another approach.

                But Roberto had wandered into the kitchen to confer with Finnley and didn’t hear her.

                #4403
                F LoveF Love
                Participant

                  random plot generator

                  A BOOK SHOP – IT IS THE AFTERNOON AFTER ALBIE HIT HIS MOTHER WITH A FEATHER.

                  Newly unemployed ALBIE is arguing with his friend JENNY RAMSBOTTOM. ALBIE tries to hug JENNY but she shakes him off angrily.

                  ALBIE
                  Please Jenny, don’t leave me.

                  JENNY
                  I’m sorry Albie, but I’m looking for somebody a bit more brave. Somebody who faces his fears head on, instead of running away. You hit your mother with a feather! You could have just talked to her!

                  ALBIE
                  I am such a person!

                  JENNY
                  I’m sorry, Albie. I just don’t feel excited by this relationship anymore.

                  JENNY leaves and ALBIE sits down, looking defeated.

                  Moments later, gentle sweet shop owner MR MATT HUMBLE barges in looking flustered.

                  ALBIE
                  Goodness, Matt! Is everything okay?

                  MATT
                  I’m afraid not.

                  ALBIE
                  What is it? Don’t keep me in suspense…

                  MATT
                  It’s … a hooligan … I saw an evil hooligan frighten a bunch of elderly ladies!

                  ALBIE
                  Defenseless elderly ladies?

                  MATT
                  Yes, defenseless elderly ladies!

                  ALBIE
                  Bloomin’ heck, Matt! We’ve got to do something.

                  MATT
                  I agree, but I wouldn’t know where to start.

                  ALBIE
                  You can start by telling me where this happened.

                  MATT
                  I was…
                  MATT fans himself and begins to wheeze.

                  ALBIE
                  Focus Matt, focus! Where did it happen?

                  MATT
                  The Library! That’s right – the Library!

                  ALBIE springs up and begins to run.

                  EXT. A ROADCONTINUOUS

                  ALBIE rushes along the street, followed by MATT. They take a short cut through some back gardens, jumping fences along the way.

                  INT. A LIBRARYSHORTLY AFTER

                  ROGER BLUNDER a forgetful hooligan terrorises two elderly ladies.

                  ALBIE, closely followed by MATT, rushes towards ROGER, but suddenly stops in his tracks.

                  MATT
                  What is is? What’s the matter?

                  ALBIE
                  That’s not just any old hooligan, that’s Roger Blunder!

                  MATT
                  Who’s Roger Blunder?

                  ALBIE
                  Who’s Roger Blunder? Who’s Roger Blunder? Only the most forgetful hooligan in the universe!

                  MATT
                  Blinkin’ knickers, Albie! We’re going to need some help if we’re going to stop the most forgetful hooligan in the universe!

                  ALBIE
                  You can say that again.

                  MATT
                  Blinkin’ knickers, Albie! We’re going to need some help if we’re going to stop the most forgetful hooligan in the universe!

                  ALBIE
                  I’m going to need candlesticks, lots of candlesticks.

                  Roger turns and sees Albie and Matt. He grins an evil grin.

                  ROGER
                  Albie Jones, we meet again!

                  MATT
                  You’ve met?

                  ALBIE
                  Yes. It was a long, long time ago…

                  EXT. A PARKBACK IN TIME

                  A young ALBIE is sitting in a park listening to some trance music, when suddenly a dark shadow casts over him.

                  He looks up and sees ROGER. He takes off his headphones.

                  ROGER
                  Would you like some wine gums?

                  ALBIE’s eyes light up, but then he studies ROGER more closely, and looks uneasy.

                  ALBIE
                  I don’t know, you look kind of forgetful.

                  ROGER
                  Me? No. I’m not forgetful. I’m the least forgetful hooligan in the world.

                  ALBIE
                  Wait, you’re a hooligan?

                  ALBIE runs away, screaming.

                  INT. A LIBRARYPRESENT DAY

                  ROGER
                  You were a coward then, and you are a coward now.

                  MATT
                  (To ALBIE) You ran away?
                  ALBIE
                  (To MATT) I was a young child. What was I supposed to do?
                  ALBIE turns to ROGER.

                  ALBIE
                  I may have run away from you then, but I won’t run away this time!
                  ALBIE runs away.

                  He turns back and shouts.

                  ALBIE
                  I mean, I am running away, but I’ll be back – with candlesticks.

                  ROGER
                  I’m not scared of you.

                  ALBIE
                  You should be.

                  INT. A SWEET SHOPLATER THAT DAY

                  ALBIE and MATT walk around searching for something.

                  ALBIE
                  I feel sure I left my candlesticks somewhere around here.

                  MATT
                  Are you sure? It does seem like an odd place to keep deadly candlesticks.

                  ALBIE
                  You know nothing Matt Humble.

                  MATT
                  We’ve been searching for ages. I really don’t think they’re here.

                  Suddenly, ROGER appears, holding a pair of candlesticks.

                  ROGER
                  Looking for something?

                  MATT
                  Crikey, Albie, he’s got your candlesticks.

                  ALBIE
                  Tell me something I don’t already know!

                  MATT
                  The earth’s circumference at the equator is about 40,075 km.

                  ALBIE
                  I know that already!

                  MATT
                  I’m afraid of dust.

                  ROGER
                  (appalled) Dude!

                  While ROGER is looking at MATT with disgust, ALBIE lunges forward and grabs his deadly candlesticks. He wields them, triumphantly.

                  ALBIE
                  Prepare to die, you forgetful aubergine!

                  ROGER
                  No please! All I did was frighten a bunch of elderly ladies!

                  JENNY enters, unseen by any of the others.

                  ALBIE
                  I cannot tolerate that kind of behaviour! Those elderly ladies were defenceless! Well now they have a defender – and that’s me! Albie Jones defender of innocent elderly ladies.

                  ROGER
                  Don’t hurt me! Please!

                  ALBIE
                  Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t use these candlesticks on you right away!

                  ROGER
                  Because Albie, I am your father.

                  ALBIE looks stunned for a few moments, but then collects himself.

                  ALBIE
                  No you’re not!

                  ROGER
                  Ah well, it had to be worth a try.

                  ROGER tries to grab the candlesticks but ALBIE dodges out of the way.

                  ALBIE
                  Who’s the daddy now? Huh? Huh?

                  Unexpectedly, ROGER slumps to the ground.

                  MATT
                  Did he just faint?

                  ALBIE
                  I think so. Well that’s disappointing. I was rather hoping for a more dramatic conclusion, involving my deadly candlesticks.

                  ALBIE crouches over ROGER’s body.

                  MATT
                  Be careful, Albie. It could be a trick.

                  ALBIE
                  No, it’s not a trick. It appears that… It would seem… Roger Blunder is dead!

                  ALBIE
                  What?

                  ALBIE
                  Yes, it appears that I scared him to death.

                  MATT claps his hands.

                  MATT
                  So your candlesticks did save the day, after all.

                  JENNY steps forward.

                  JENNY
                  Is it true? Did you kill the forgetful hooligan?

                  ALBIE
                  Jenny how long have you been…?

                  JENNY puts her arm around ALBIE.

                  JENNY
                  Long enough.

                  ALBIE
                  Then you saw it for yourself. I killed Roger Blunder.

                  JENNY
                  Then the elderly ladies are safe?

                  ALBIE
                  It does seem that way!

                  A crowd of vulnerable elderly ladies enter, looking relived.

                  JENNY
                  You are their hero.

                  The elderly ladies bow to ALBIE.

                  ALBIE
                  There is no need to bow to me. I seek no worship. The knowledge that Roger Blunder will never frighten elderly ladies ever again, is enough for me.

                  JENNY
                  You are humble as well as brave! And I think that makes up for hitting your mother with a feather. It does in my opinion!

                  One of the elderly ladies passes ALBIE a healing ring

                  JENNY
                  I think they want you to have it, as a symbol of their gratitude.

                  ALBIE
                  I couldn’t possibly.
                  Pause.

                  ALBIE
                  Well, if you insist. It could come in handy when I go to the Doline tomorrow. With my friend Matt. It is dangerous and only for brave people and a healing ring could come in handy.

                  ALBIE takes the ring.

                  ALBIE
                  Thank you.
                  The elderly ladies bow their heads once more, and leave.

                  ALBIE turns to JENNY.

                  ALBIE
                  Does this mean you want me back?

                  JENNY
                  Oh, Albie, of course I want you back!
                  ALBIE smiles for a few seconds, but then looks defiant.

                  ALBIE
                  Well you can’t have me.

                  JENNY
                  WHAT?

                  ALBIE
                  You had no faith in me. You had to see my scare a hooligan to death before you would believe in me. I don’t want a lover like that. And I am going to the Doline and I may not be back!

                  JENNY
                  But…

                  ALBIE
                  Please leave. I want to spend time with the one person who stayed with me through thick and thin – my best friend, Matt.

                  MATT grins.

                  JENNY
                  But…

                  MATT
                  You heard the gentleman. Now be off with you. Skidaddle! Shoo!

                  JENNY
                  Albie?

                  ALBIE
                  I’m sorry Jenny, but I think you should skidaddle.
                  JENNY leaves.

                  MATT turns to ALBIE.

                  MATT
                  Did you mean that? You know … that I’m your best friend?

                  ALBIE
                  Of course you are!
                  The two walk off arm in arm.

                  Suddenly MATT stops.

                  MATT
                  When I said I’m afraid of dust, you know I was just trying to distract the hooligan don’t you?

                  #4401
                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    Aunt Idle:

                    Amazing how you can change your mind about things in the twinkling of an eye, and as I said to Bert (when he’d come down off those mushrooms or whatever was in those brownies that passing hippy gave him on the way to the guru camp over at the old copperworks place), I said to Bert, Bert I said, if you own the place lock stock and barrel, our financial worries are over. He said don’t be daft, you can’t eat the windows and doors, and what about all these dogs to feed, they can’t eat wooden beams, and I said, no listen Bert, I’ve had an idea. We don’t like banks, that’s true, and we don’t like debts, but why stand on principle and shoot yourself in the foot, I said, and I’ve heard about this thing with old people like us, that you can get the bank to give you loads of cash, and you don’t even have to pay them back until after you’re dead, and then he said, don’t be daft, how can you pay them back when you’re dead and I said Exactly, Bert! This is the beauty of it, and who knows if there will even be any more banks by the time we kick the bucket anyway, why not have our cake now and eat it, that’s what I said to Bert. And so he says, Well go on then, tell me why the bank would give us cash an I told him that they give you money because you own a house, and then when you snuff it, they have their money back. So Bert says, Yeah but they take far too much money, it’s another bank scam! And I said, Who the fuck cares, if we get the cash now when we need it? And then he said, Yeah, but what about the kids? I was gonna leave it to the kids, and I said, and I’ll be quite frank here, Fuck the kids! Who in the hell knows what the future will be like for the kids, and I told him straight: You can’t plan you’re own future, let alone trying to plan the kid’s future. Now is what matters, and right now, I need a new camera, and I need to get those tax hounds off my back. Then Bert started to smile and said, Hey, I could get me them new false teeth.

                    #4400
                    F LoveF Love
                    Participant

                      Inquisitive Bert
                      A Short Story
                      by trove flacy
                      Bert had always loved rambling Fish Inn with its boiled boarders. It was a place where he felt happiness.

                      He was an inquisitive, depressed, tea drinker with skinny ears and tall sheep. His friends saw him as a moaning, mashed monster. Once, he had even saved a nasty old lady that was stuck in a drain. That’s the sort of man he was.

                      Bert walked over to the window and reflected on his brooding surroundings. The rain hammered like jumping dog.

                      Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Mater . Mater was a bigoted flower with attractive ears.

                      Bert gulped. He was not prepared for Mater.

                      As Bert stepped outside and Mater came closer, he could see the lovely smile on her face.

                      Mater glared with all the wrath of 1553 honest hilarious hippo. She said, in hushed tones, “I hate you and I want information.”

                      Bert looked back, even more ecstatic and still fingering the new-fangled car. “Mater, I own the inn,” he replied.

                      They looked at each other with annoyed feelings, like two delicious, damaged donkey laughing at a very free house sale, which had piano music playing in the background and two sanguine uncles shouting to the beat.

                      Bert regarded Mater’s attractive ear. “I feel the same way!” revealed Bert with a delighted grin.

                      Mater looked puzzled, her emotions blushing like a loud, little letter box.

                      Then Mater came inside for a nice cup of tea.

                      THE END

                      #4381
                      Jib
                      Participant

                        Liz’s smile melted away when Roberto entered the living room, he was covered in dust and spider webs. What flustered her most wasn’t the trail of dirt and insects the gardener was leaving behind him, but that he was not in India.

                        Liz threw knives at Godfrey with her eyes, a useful skill she had developed during her (long) spare time, but he dodged them easily and they sank straight into the wall with a thud.
                        Finnley rolled her eyes and ordered one of the guy from the TV crew to take the knives off the wall. “Don’t forget to repaint afterward”, she said with a satisfied smile.

                        Godfrey leaned closer to the door. Liz felt words of frustration gather at her lips.

                        “I think I slept too much long,” Roberto said with his charming latino accent. At that time, Liz could almost forgive him not to be in India. “Funny thing is I dreamt I was doing yoga in India, near Colombo.”

                        Godfrey raised his eyebrows and gave Liz a meaningful look, telling he had been almost right all along. He relaxed and smirked. She hated it.

                        “Well, that must be a clue”, Liz said with a look at the butler. “Godfrey, Roberto needs to be in India, and we need to go with him. Book the plane tickets.”

                        “Well, technically, Colombo is in Sri Lanka, not India,” said Finnley.
                        “Small detail,” countered Liz.

                        “What do I do with the knives?” said the TV crew man.
                        Liz looked at the knives, then at Godfrey.
                        “I’ll take them back, they can always be useful where we are going.”

                        “What about the interview?” asked the woman from the TV.
                        “We’ll need a charter,” said Finnley who liked very much to give orders.

                        #4369
                        Jib
                        Participant

                          The door bell rang and Finnley left Liz confused by the present the maid had brought her from Bali. It was the statue of a man in a strange position. Liz had no clue what he was doing, but the statue was so big she could imaging using it as a stool with small silk cushion to make it more comfortable. It was made of wood. Liz touched the head of the statue and felt a momentary lapse.

                          “hum!”
                          Liz started. “Oh you’re back”, she said to Finnley with a smile. Finnley looked at her suspiciously.

                          “Did you take something while I was answering at the door?”

                          “Oh! right the door. Who was that?”

                          “Journalists. They are here for the documentary movie.”

                          The fleeting state of bliss was gone. “Journalists? For me?”

                          “For who else?” asked Finnley, raising her eyes. “Godfrey?”

                          #4368

                          When the rain stopped, Eleri stood motionless, suspended in between the enveloping cocophony of pattering drops. Already the saturated foliage was steaming and a dense mist arose from the sodden ground. The effects of the cake were wearing off, and the sudden change from exhuberance in the lashing rain, to the whispering silence and eerie rising fog left her speechless, and still. A moment, hanging like a swaying rope bridge between one scene and another.

                          And it was at that very moment, as is so often the case, that the mysterious Mr Minn appeared, dressed, it would seem, for a formal event. Raising his tall black hat he said with a smile, “Eleri! WE meet again!”

                          She swooned, and fell into his arms. Later, in retrospect, Eleri had to admit it was an extraordinarily well timed whitey, due to the after effects of the cake, but was pleased with the theatrical symbolism and timing.

                          Rolling his eyes, Micawber Minn called for Festus, his young assistant. “Carry her back to the party, and tell Margoritt I’m on my way. But first,” he said, “A necessary detour…”

                          #4364

                          Rukshan had stayed awake for the most part of the night, slowly and repeatedly counting the seconds between the blazing strokes of lightning and the growling bouts of thunder.
                          It is slowly moving away.

                          The howling winds had stopped first, leaving the showers of rain fall in continuous streams against the dripping roof and wet walls.

                          An hour later maybe, his ear had turned to the sound of the newly arrived at the cottage, thinking it would be maybe the dwarf and Eleri coming back, but it was a different voice, very quiet, somehow familiar… the potion-maker?

                          He had warned Margoritt that a lady clad in head-to-toe shawls would likely come to them. Margoritt had understood that some magical weaving was at play. The old lady didn’t have siddhis or yogic powers, but she had a raw potential, very soundly rooted in her long practice of weaving, and learning the trades and tales of the weaving nomad folks. She had understood. Better, she’d known — from the moment I saw you and that little guy, she’d said, pointing at Tak curled under the bed.
                          “He’s amazing,” she’d said “wise beyond his age. But his mental state is not very strong.”

                          There was more than met the eye about Tak, Rukshan started to realize.
                          For now, the cottage had fell quiet. Dawn was near, and there was a brimming sense of peace and new beginning that came with the short silence before the birds started again their joyous chatter.

                          It must have been then that he collapsed on the table of exhaustion and started to dream.

                          It was long before.

                          The dragon is large and its presence awe-inspiring. They have just shared the shards, each has taken one of the seven. Even the girl, although she still hates to be among us.
                          The stench of the ring of fire is still in their nostrils. The Gods have deserted, and left as soon as the Portal closed itself. It is a mess.

                          “Good riddance.”

                          He raises his head, looking at the dragon above him. She is quite splendid, her scales a shining pearl blue on slate black, reflecting the moonshine in eerie patterns, and her plastron quietly shiny, almost softly fiery. His newly imbued power let him know intimately many things, at once. It is dizzying.

                          “You talk of the Gods, don’t you?” he says, already knowing the answer.
                          “Of course, I am. Good riddance. They had failed us so many times, forgot their duties, driven me and my kind to slavery. Now I am free. Free of guilt, and free of sorrow. Free to be myself, as I was meant to be.”
                          “It is a bit more complex th…”
                          “No it isn’t. It couldn’t be more simple. If you had the strength to see it, you would understand.”
                          “I know what you mean, but I am not sure I understand.”

                          The dragon smiles enigmatically. She turns to the lonely weeping girl, who is there with the old woman. Except her grand-mother is no longer an old crone, she has changed her shape to that of a younger person. She is showing potentials to the girl, almost drunk on the power, but it doesn’t alleviate her pain.

                          “What are you going to do about them?”

                          The Dragon seems above the concerns for herself. In a sense, she is right. It was all his instigation. He bears responsibility.

                          “I don’t know…” It is a strange thing to say, when you can know anything. He knows there are no good outcomes of this situation. Not with the power she now possesses.

                          “You better find out quick…” and wake up,

                          wake up, WAKE UP !

                          #4363

                          The rain stopped as suddenly as it had begun.

                          Margoritt showed Glynis to a small area, partitioned off from the main room; a narrow bed, a tiny window to the outside and and a simple wooden shelf.

                          “You’ll be wanting some privacy,” she said. “And something dry to wear,” she added, handing Glynis a dress, plain in shape and made from a soft woven fabric, pearly spheres woven into a dark purple background.

                          The second person to give me something to wear, she mused.

                          The fabric was amazing. It made Glynis think of stars at night and the way you could never see to the end of the sky. It felt both reassuring and terrifying all at the same time.

                          There is magic in the hands that wove this, she thought, hesitant though to voice her thoughts to Margoritt, however kindly she seemed.

                          “A master weaver has made this!” she said instead. “Was it you?”

                          “No, not I … but you are right, it was made by a master … as you can no doubt see, it doesn’t fit me any longer. I’ve had it sitting there going to waste for many years and am glad to put it to use. It doesn’t cover your head like the other did, but really there is no need here.” Margoritt smiled. “Go, get changed. Come out when you are ready and I will have some tea and cake for you. Then you can meet the others properly.”

                          “Is it okay? hissed Sunny in a loud whisper when they were alone, anxiously hopping from one foot to another.

                          “Yes, i think so … I’ve been very careful,” Glynis reached in her pouch and gently pulled out an egg.

                          “It’s amazing, isn’t it … almost golden… for sure it must be the gift the man from the market promised me in my dream … the way it just sat there on the path … lucky I did not stand on it.” She stroked the egg gently.

                          “Sorry about all this, little one,” she said softly to the egg. “I wonder what creature you are inside this shell … and what safe place can we hide you till you are ready to come out of there?”

                          “I can sit on it of course,” said Sunny. “It will be my honour and privilege to assist.”

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