Search Results for 'sounded'

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  • #3143
    EricEric
    Keymaster

      “A feeling of despair or depression Madame is a sign that you are holding a false belief. To perpetuate an untruth about yourself, another, or God is to block your own happiness.”
      “Good lord, when did you become so smart, Nicole” she wondered while her maid was prepping her new wig and leather boots for her morning walk around the grounds. It sounded like the Count had some good influence on the people.
      She greatly anticipated to hear his new composition played in the Opera tonight.

      #3142

      Sadie often got lost. Her ability to get lost was second only to her ability to attract complete strangers asking her for directions. Therefore Sanso’s words sounded like complete gibberish. Fortunately, at that precise moment, her daily quote from “Juicy Vibration Raising Lemons” came through on the e-zapper and she felt her morale raise considerably.

      Good Team Work! it read, succinctly and profoundly.

      #2985
      AvatarJib
      Participant

        The fresh breeze on her face awoke Aqua Luna. She struggled a moment to open her eyes, and realized that it was completely dark around her. The floor she was lying on was soft and spongy, and when she moved to sit the soil emitted a weak suction noise as if full of water. But it was dry, that she could tell after so many years of cleaning. And the smell on her finger was merely that of her familiar detergents.
        She was feeling a bit numb and in a neutral mood. She couldn’t remember how she arrived here. She hesitated a moment and asked “Where am I ?” Her voice sounded muffled and distant to her.
        “You’re on my ship,” an unknown male voice answered after a few seconds.
        “Why is it so dark?”
        “I didn’t want to frighten you.”
        “Am I a prisoner ?” she asked, checking if she could feel something else past the numbness. “Are you going to torture me ?” she probed with no more success with her feelings.
        “To the contrary, earthling, you are a very valuable person to us.”
        She thought about her work. Maybe the Long Poonese mafia abducted her to extract some information.
        It was so dark that colors and shapes were beginning to appear before her eyes.
        “Did you drug me ?”
        “It was a necessary precautionary measure for your own good. “

        #2957

        The aftershock of the surge at the Three Kings’ Parade started to hit full blast at the portals initial location, thus effectively linking old mummies energy to the bodies there that were hit by Mari Fe, and for he most part still lying unconscious.
        The combination of energies started to make them arise and walk like mindless zombies, intoning old guttural sounds in cadence in a language that sounded like Italian poetry.
        There you had the Balthazar, Rogelio, Dru and alter-Ed who all woke up at once, and even Sanso who had been hit (while impersonating a Portal Worker) started to feel oddly strange.

        Noticing the atypical occurrence, Arona, whom Janet seemed to have had taken a sudden liking to (blame it on her Yankee side), started to look at her brood and rally them for a safe and prompt exit.
        “What is it Arona dearie?” Janet didn’t seem worried. She was a Surge Team member after all, and a zombilic epidemic (zombies energy coming from wormholes) wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle.
        “I fear that although your presence is most delightful, we shall be on our way.” Arona’s old sabulmantium had shown persistent and remarkable hints of dragon energy in this dimension that, although a bit different and looking in her mind’s eye like red flying snakes bearing impossibly long mustache, resonated quite well —not to mention she was eager to part with such bizarre company.
        “Alrighty, let’s keep in touch dearie,” Janet added, covering their escape, not without winking at Sanso as he was the last one to leave through the map portal, leaving her to look for her missing flushed friends, Mari Fe and Pearl.
        Unbeknownst to everyone, the picture-taking lady had camouflaged herself to look like a red sofa nearby the hot pink leather chaise lounge in the corner of the room, and was documenting silently the promising epic battle of Janet and Riff Raff against the zombies.
        And for sure, Janet was still ready to make good use of the pocket-sized forklift to move away all cumbersome bodies,… as there was bound to be casualties.

        #2884
        benjaminbenjamin
        Participant

          Meanwhile, in a not to distant probable reality, Greenflow, the turtle, was hiding in his shell due to the loud racket that started just moments ago.

          Bang, sounded his shell once again, an this time even louder than the last one.

          “Holly Molly, that one was too close to be anything other than a sign,” said Greenflow.

          “I had better pop out and take a look about and see what the dickens is making all this racket!”

          Just then a tiny green snout eased out of a house, which was the brilliant green color, and with odd looking symbols etched into its body.

          Greenflow immediately noticed a silvery shiny ball just inches from his nose, and it was ever so slightly embedded into the brown mud. “What could that be?” he thought.

          #2746

          In reply to: Tales of Tw’Elves

          TracyTracy
          Participant

            “There hath he lain for ages, and will lie
            Battening upon huge seaworms in his sleep,
            Until the latter fire shall heat the deep;
            Then once by man and angels to be seen,
            In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die…..”

            After Petronella’s resounding success with the remote view and the head spinning afterwards as she pondered the possibilities, she spent a couple of hours randomly roaming around the internet, noticing how many synchronicities kept popping up.

            “Come be part of the adventure, and help mold the destiny of the Multiverse in the greatest story that is being lived and not told. Come participate in Chapter One, the Revealing and discover the secrets that have been only guessed at till now.

            The Isle has a plan for all…
            Wounds Heal, Scars Fade and Paradigms Shift,
            but GLORY is FOREVER!”

            Even the Rosehaven team were starting a new chapter.

            “The Unbound, Cadamus the Artificer, entered Rosehaven. “

            Cadamus? The name sounded familiar. Could it be Toobidoo, in disguise?

            #2845

            In reply to: Tales of Tw’Elves

            AvatarWhite Panther
            Participant

              Petronella had attended many “Occupy Movement” gatherings- she was one of the first to shuffle eagerly to Wall Street when the Yankee Americans were finally awakened from their stupendous slumber, and when the Spanish were shouting “Viva la Revolucion!” she was silently there, capturing every movement with her Canon IX-25 14.0 Megapixel camcorder and reporting to the rest of the world the rumblings of the impending revolution. This occupation was different, felt different, and conducted in a different manner.

              She dusted the dirt off the book, looked around to see if nobody spotted her picking the book up, and retreated back into her tent. She brew a fresh pot of coffee, bundled herself in her tiny, yet thick and warm blanket and set the book before her. It was an odd-looking book, none like the books she’d encountered- and she encountered many books! Its cover was plain, covered in a velvet cloth with the title written plainly and boldly on the cover: CANARIA. The name rang a distant bell, but she shook the afterthought and proceeded to open the book. As she opened the first page, another beam of bright energetic light- this time it was blue- swept past her like a hurried flock of bees. This was the fourth beam of light she’d witnessed in the past twelve hours, and she was beginning to think she was going crazy. What made the whole matter even more crazier was that these beams of light seemed to be WHISPERING AND GIGGLING, almost as though they were forlorn inhabitants of the vatican. She ignored the beam of light- yet again- and resumed with her book. Just then, a blip sounded from her tiny Lenovo notebook: Kerry had sent her an instant message on Facebook chat. Slightly chagrined, she leered over and grabbed her notebook, settling the book next to her. Kerry was offline, but she had left a link to a website. Petronella clicked onto the link, and an article popped up on the screen. She skimmed by, having little interest in Kerry’s New Age nonsense. She was just about to close the webpage when a sentence caught her attention: “When you practise remote viewing, you will be accorded a beam of light with its owwn colour that’ll identify with you.”
              The mentioned beams of light the sentence mentioned were the same she’d been witnessing, so she silently read on.

              #2827

              In reply to: Snowflakes of Tens

              benjaminbenjamin
              Participant

                Young Neb entered the vast openness that is, with a faint whooshing sound.

                whoooooooosh

                “Hello?” squeaked Neb in a curious fashion. Neb, wearing a curious face, drowns in the quiet of his own presence.

                “Is there anybosy out there?” asked Neb in a slightly less squeaky tone than his last vocal utterance.

                Neb ponders his latest mote, and questions its validity.

                “Well, I am just as curious as you are, and I am not entirely sure of this reality… if you are interested in interacting with me, and perhaps answering some of my questions, we may create a fantasy worth.. well it is what it is, isn’t it?” resounded Neb with a faint puff of cigar smoke trailing up and out of his mouth.

                Neb ponders, and then begins to sleep.

                [link: squeaky]

                #2807

                In reply to: Snowflakes of Tens

                EricEric
                Keymaster

                  Everything was white, from the sky to the ground and the limit between them was not even discernible. Despite the lack of visibility, he felt confident that the house was near. His small feet were making crunchy sounds, and at times, between two gushes of wind, he could almost see the fur at the top of his boots.
                  At a distance, some woolly beast, a yak maybe, was making a muffled sound that resounded in the landscape, and like the beast, he was feeling strong against the elements. On his left were some black shriveled trunks of some small deciduous trees, and it looked like the only life around.
                  This was far from the truth; even if most of it was frozen in a deep slumber, there still was a lot of life underground.
                  He had been chasing a few rabbits, and though he had to compete with the lynxes at that game, he had managed to get one. That was why he was feeling so strong and proud. He could feel the still warm little soft creature against his belt, dangling at each of his steps. Soon he will be home…

                  [link:white]

                  #2388

                  He was lying on her massage table, his nudity covered with a blue satin towel. Josephine had really soft hands and was a really good masseuse. Almondus Blondor had been waiting for so long for this massage that he wouldn’t let one bit escape his awareness; though, he was feeling as if he was inexorably slipping into the drum world, his heart was pounding, more and more present. His attention was merging with his old drum self, when he could remember clearly how it was before he came here through the portal himself.

                  :fleuron:

                  Josephine was using the very potion she was preparing when she heard the tinkling sound… and she was unaware that her hand had taken a wrong ingredient, one of the most important ones. Even if she had known, she would have been unable to tell the consequences of the switch. Almondus could just disappear, melt, transform into a big giant dragonfly… at the moment, she was into a trance, far even from the idea that she could do such a mistake. She never did mistakes!

                  :fleuron:

                  Bentworth Sadnick was all but confident in his new appointment by his peaster. He had never been alone at the portal before, and he feared most of all that someone would come ask a question. In his mind, it was unthinkable that someone would even dare ask to open the portal…

                  He was lost in his hamster wheel, too exhausted by the race to do the usual chores —sure his peaster would notice when he comes back. But what if some official came by? It would certainly be a disaster, Bentworth would be caught stammering and that would only add to his confusion. Wasn’t it hot here? So hot, maybe if he could just put his head aside for a few moments… no, it was forbidden, his peaster had repeated it thousands of times to him, and had him repeat it ten times more… though it could help, sure, release the pressure in his head. His hands reached the hook of his head-fastener and a sudden release of pressure popped into the silence, ending in a harmonious whistling sound.

                  Holding his head in his hands, face turned to his chest, he was unable to see the strangers coming from the distance. He sat on the first step of the stairs climbing to the portal, his head resting on his lap, looking at his belly button (his clothes were too short for him, and he was looking like a child grown too fast). Though he was the only one present and when he suddenly heard a raucous voice asking if he could make his bird sing, he feared that it was some kind of sexual offer and were his head on, it would have blushed, but it was still releasing pressure and the sudden squirck sounded like a yes.

                  That’s when he lost his head, he stood up briskly and his head rolled on the ground, hitting a stone in the process. His head was knocked out, and he couldn’t use it for the moment. What had his peaster told him so often: “Always do as if you know what to do! Don’t let people see you don’t know, even if you don’t… pretend that you have all the answers. You’re here the most trusted Peaslander and everybody will trust what you say.”

                  “Sh-show mme yu-your bi-bird!”

                  The Aunt and Dolores looked at each other… the others being headless it would have been pointless.
                  “Are you the Keeper of the Old and notwithstanding Great portal of Nibabuz.”

                  As he was about to say yes, another release of pressure from his unconscious head made a squirmish sound. As they were waiting, he said the word that would seal his destiny.
                  “Yeyes!”

                  :fleuron:

                  That’s when Almondus, falling asleep, farted. Was it the mixture of Josephine? Was it that he hadn’t done a detox cure for centuries? Nonetheless, that had the disastrous effect of inducing Josephine in a lethargic state. She stopped massaging him and stood there still. Her spearit gone, far worse than if her head had popped out on its own.

                  #2374

                  The sound of a boiling kettle resounded screeching in the air so loudly everyone looked at Pee as if he was the culprit.

                  AAAAARGH, by the beard of Wrathfa the Bloody Goat, darn rotten rusted spigots again! That frigging plumbing is not at all was it’s used to be!…” Mewrich Peamon sweared in mild despair. “This morning alone, I had to remove one of them again, it’s been months I haven’t taken a hot bath…”

                  “But of course,” he added with darting eyes when the others didn’t look that surprised “you haven’t come here to hear about that.”

                  #2363

                  Fwick con Troll, one of the great Wartlocks of Mungibbs, was quite preoccupied with the situation. This sudden abundance of blubbits was no doubt an evil craft at work.

                  Fwick wasn’t extraordinarily enthralled at the Majorburgmester’s idea to send someone through the Eight Portal, as for one, it was quite an antiquated piece of technology which had not been used since the Great Influence of Haitian Henwan, and second, people from the eighth dimension weren’t really easy people to follow.
                  Shaped as a big eight, the portal also had some secondary effects of twisting one’s minds into loops of endless wonderment and bedazzlement. Surely no New Pealander in his own mind would dare succumb to these effects so alien to their culture.

                  Nevertheless, he was a bit short of ideas, as most of his spells had failed miserably at evicting the thriving blubbits. He was lost in these thoughts when a frantic barking resounded at his door.

                  #2327

                  “So how was your lunch date with your new best friend?” Harvey sounded distinctly sarcastic, even to Lavender’s forgiving ears.

                  “Oh, you know …”

                  Harvey raised his eyebrows. No mean feat when you have a book balancing on your nose. He sighed, and let the book fall. A few months ago he was balancing four poster beds, and now he could barely manage a Lemoine novel. Heavy as they are! He sniggered to himself. Oh well, at least I havn’t lost my sense of humour, along with my sense of smell!

                  “Well, to be honest Harvey .. I think I may have been possessed by those pesky aliens. I suddenly came to and I was talking all this rubbish about ‘random quote generators’ and using words like ‘dear’.

                  Lavender shuddered in horror at the memory, and then rolled her beautiful eyes and sighed. “Poor Ann, I think she is a really tortured soul.”

                  The writer wondered if it was time to add a dark side to Lavender’s personality. All this beautiful eyes business was getting a tad irritating, the beauty of Lavender’s eyes not withstanding. Not to mention her lips which she painted a bright shade of amaranth for every day wear, and on special occasions, rose madder. The writer wondered if the last thought made sense and wondered again how to strike out text. The writer decided to try that last line again.

                  Lavender shuddered, and then with an enigmatic smile which even her good friend Harvey found hard to decipher, she said softly, “I ate olives for lunch. They were yummy.”

                  The writer sighed and then noticed the random quote generator said “mean cleaner coming soon.” The writer wondered if it was a sign.

                  #2627

                  In reply to: Strings of Nines

                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    The word flounder popped into Yolands head, and for want of the inspiration to do anything meaningful, or even useful, she googled flounder. She was astonished to find so many varieties of flounder, and recognized that she was counterparting with quite a number of them.

                    :fish:

                    There was the Crosseyed flounder that she felt an affinity for, at the end of an evening of trying to sort out her photos; Alcock’s narrow-body righteye flounder, which was what she felt like in a bed full of male dogs every night, and she could relate to the Antarctic armless flounder when she couldn’t keep track of the Antarctic thread. Barfin flounder reminded her of the green icon and her friend Finn; Bigmouth flounder ~ Yoland sighed, she definitely felt a connection to that often enough. Blotched flounder, well that sounded a bit like botched ~ there were many occasions when Yoland felt that everything she did was botched, half done and messy. Chain-mail wide-eyed flounder when she dabbled a bit in past lives, and the Disc flounder when she got her music in a muddle. The Dark flounders were the worst, when everything seemed to take on the tone of a horror movie, but they were often followed by a Deep flounder, which sometimes contained a few insights, more often than not promptly forgotten.

                    :fish:

                    Yoland sighed. Imagine counterparting with just about every flounder known to man! She decided she wasn’t the only one counterparting the European flounder, which was a releif, nor was she the only one counterparting the Fantail flounder, although at least it could be said that she wasn’t a complete fan of anyone in particular, dead or alive, she was a fantail of quite a number. There were long spells of resonating with the Finless flounder; Finn was always disappearing, or so it seemed to Yoland. Very rarely she felt an alignment with God’s flounder, thankfuly she wasn’t often prone to dwelling on God things.

                    :fish:

                    Ah, the Gray flounder, yes she’d had a bit of a flounder when Gray sent all those photos of the Beltane Dance, she’d had a flounder for sure in amongst all those. Looking back though, she’d had fun with the mummy and Ella Tindale in the Gulf flounder…

                    :fish:

                    Yoland had to laugh when she came across the Intermediate flounder. Yoland wondered if the majority of her foundering was counterparting with the Intermediate flounder and decided she was probably too intermediate to work it out objectively anyway. She often had a tussle with the Large tooth flounder, lordy, she was always floundering with dental issues. And the Largescale flounder, that really was the biggest ongoing flounder of them all, the sheer vastness of everything.

                    :fish:

                    Every now and again, less than previously though, Yoland had a Melbourne flounder on Saturday nights, and rather enjoyed it, but not as much as she enjoyed a good old New Zealand flounder.

                    :fish:

                    Another flounder Yoland always enjoyed was an Olive wide-eyed flounder, roaming around the ancient olive trees of Andalucia, wide eyed and awestruck with the beauty and history of the place. She also enjoyed a Peruvian flounder on occasion, too ~ she’d even had a dream recently about floundering around by the mysterious doorway of Amaru Muru. The next night she’d had a River flounder, dreaming of the river in the Grand Canyon.

                    :fish:

                    Sand flounders were the best of all though, Yoland recalled many happy flounderings in the world of sand and all its Subulmantium configurations. The trouble with the sand flounder was that it often morphed into the largescale flounder, and got quite out of hand.

                    :fish:

                    Yoland sighed, it had been ages since she’d felt connected to the Seven pelvic ray flounder, what with Dan working nights. She was beginning to feel like a Shelf flounder. However, at least thanks to her new diet of replacing meals with flans, chocolate mousses and ice cream, she was closely aligning now with the Slender flounder.

                    :fish:

                    The ongoing slug issue with the cat food was obviously because she was still strongly aligned with the Slime flounder. Notwithstanding, Yoland was rather pleased to note that despite her morose and petulant mood this morning, it had to be said that she often counterparted with the Smooth flounder; although that was easy to forget in moments of quiet desperation when the floundering got out of proportion.

                    :fish:

                    Smiling, Yoland remembered the dream of feet touching when she noticed there was a Sole flounder too. And how often the Spotted flounder popped up, she was always spotting clues. Well spotted! she would tell herself. Oh, and the Stone flounder, wasn’t that the truth! Yoland was aligning strongly with that lately, smoking more than ever, somehow striving for either inspiration, or perhaps oblivion.

                    :fish:

                    Oh well, I guess this is just a Summer flounder, it will pass, Yoland decided (who was secretly glad that she was nearing the end of the list of flounder names). And sure enough, the next on the list was the Three spotted flounder, surely a good sign! A probability change perhaps! As if to validate Yolands impression, she noticed the Tile-colored righteye flounder. There was even a Warthog flounder, which seemed to ring a bell with a recent entry to the Reality Play.

                    :fish:

                    Best of all was the Windowpane flounder, Yoland felt she would even go so far as to say that this was her new focus animal. Well, she thought, if I am making this all up, I can make that up too!

                    :fish:

                    Thankfully Yoland reached the end of the flounder list, rather pleased that it had ended on such an amusing and encouraging note.

                    Being closely aligned with flounders wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

                    :fish:

                    #2595

                    In reply to: Strings of Nines

                    TracyTracy
                    Participant

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

                      :yahoo_puppy:

                      “In the backwater….”

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

                      :yahoo_oh_go_on:

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

                      :yahoo_puppy:

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

                      :yahoo_hypnotized:

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

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

                      :yahoo_chatterbox:

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

                      :yahoo_sigh:

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

                      Yoland wondered what THAT was supposed to mean.

                      :yahoo_straight_face:

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

                      Yoland relaxed. That sounded easier.

                      :yahoo_big_grin:

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

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

                      :yahoo_rolling_eyes:

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

                      :detective:

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

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

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

                      :yahoo_thinking:

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

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

                      :yahoo_star:

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

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

                      :bounce:

                      #2214
                      TracyTracy
                      Participant

                        Ann woke up thinking of Annabel Ingram. The name sounded very familiar, quite close to the name Annabel Ingman actually. The funny thing was that Ann had seen images of Annabel’s face, lots of them, a series of faces of all the ages of her life. She felt like a ‘real’ person’, whatever that meant. Ann wondered which came first ~ the ‘real’ woman that inspired the character, or did the character now have a life?

                        #2197

                        Lavender stared at Harvey in alarm. He had put the waiter down and was rambling incoherently, head jerking in small sharp movements, eyes too shiny.

                        His eyes. Something dark seemed to be emerging from his eyes.

                        Lavender threw herself at him, and grabbing his massive shoulders attempted to shake them vigourously. In actual fact he didn’t budge.

                        GET OUT OF HIM! she shouted instead.

                        What are you doing? asked Harvey after he recovered from his initial shock.

                        Oh sorry. You sounded weird. I thought you might have been taken over by aliens.

                        #2195

                        Speaking of sex? Lavender’s ears perked up. Oh X! He was speaking of X. Now SHE was mishearing … or mis-mindreading to be more accurate. Pity, sex sounded more interesting than all this X business. She did wish Harvey wouldn’t call her Lavy, for obvious reasons, she would have thought. No wonder in the 6 years they had been friends she hadn’t told him her name.

                        Speaking of names … do you think Essence is a good name for a pig? she asked, hoping to get Harvey off the rather boring subject of procrastination. She would speak of X later, maybe … if she had time.

                        Maybe I should let Aspidistra name the pig?

                        Harvey wasn’t paying attention. He was balancing the waiter on his nose.

                        You know I might have to go through the portal if the bridge to Asgard has crumbled, Lavender mused, to no-one in particular.

                        #97
                        EricEric
                        Keymaster

                          As we see some syncs about “ten” and “X”, it occurred to me that “X” is for “close” too.
                          So closing the “Circle of Eights” thread sounded more and more like the thing to do.
                          To me, to close is not the same as to end; like a program, you can re-run it later, or like a book reopen it. Stories can be inserted again; and for one, the Jorid explorations of Georges and Salome will continue too.

                          It’s not a close down, it’s a close up; a new breath for inspiration, and a new breadth for ideas.

                          X is closer than you think, but also a promise of a fresh start :)
                          Feel free to dive in first :)

                          Cheers,
                          Your friendly Sumafreak

                          #1284

                          Bronkel was stern as ever, yet you could feel in his eyes that he was troubled.

                          — “What? That’s roobish, isn’t it?”
                          — “No! Elizabeth! Not at all! It’s your best book in years! Poople will want more!”
                          — “Well, we’ll see… For now, I think my moose needs some rest”

                          Her detox had done her great. Her beautifool violet eyes weren’t as bloodshot as before, and she could even see some of her hair grow back in places. Elizabeth in some surge of energy had collected all the bits written here and there, loose paper flying at times with some missing (perhaps used during her poohnuts hazes to light fires in the office).
                          Some of these paper she wasn’t even sure were hers, or writing attempts by Finnley, but she didn’t care; they were all so funny and interesting.

                          For instance, she wasn’t too soore that she’d have Veranassasss —whatever her bloody name was— go off with the pilot of the plane, but that sounded nice for her. So she’d used that part too.

                          Of course, the Spanish couple, Paqui and Jose had reemerged at the boulder moving party after a long trip in the underground space-traveling tunnels. Leo and Bea were not so glad they’d reappeared so early, but had found it was time to move on, and continue their quest for more bizarre and entertaining artifacts. And they wanted to go to Morocco anyway, in this gorgeous blue city…
                          Young Becky decided she wanted to go abroad to travel the world. “And study too” had said Dan who wasn’t as shifty as Dory, a thing for which she thanked heavens profusely every day.

                          Sharon, Gloria and Mavis after some more bizarre adventures among the Masai tribes finally found their way back home, while Akita continued his explorations of this strange shifting world of the 21st century.

                          Even the bizarre animals stories in the ZOO she’d kept. They’d even found Arky the Aardvark. He had been accidentally buried under Oligan the Oliphant’s pile of poop. The poor Oliphant had suffered from an excess of mangoes in his diet, and Arky was so eager to collect poop for his garden of flowers that he hadn’t noticed the harbingers of it.
                          Pawanie the lady Panda and Barry the White Bear had since then decided to take care of the little Aardvark, and provide it with their own poop to fertilize the flower garden. Theirs was a garden to behold, with the most beautiful flowers to be seen in miles. Attracting creatures from all over the place.

                          There were a few points Elizabeth had left deliberately unanswered; the mad doctor, who was probably still alive somewhere, and most important of all… if, after all this children bearing with Sean, Becky ended up with Sam or not.
                          One thing was sure though, they were all moving to the City. The sooner the better.

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