Search Results for 'start'
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Search Results
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In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Why you supercilious little prout! said the Mummy
Steady on Sasha, I don’t think I deserve that. I am a great believer in personal choice. You chose to be part of my experiments didn’t you? Did anyone force you to come here? His voice started to raise petulently. Are you a victim Sasha? Just because one small thing went wrong, an accident, no more and no less.
If it wasn’t for these damn bandages I would laugh.
Dr Bronkelhampton threw his hands in the air in vexation. Try and see the big picture Sasha dear. How many times have I told you now? My God we have been through this over and over again. Are you listening Sasha? All you can think about is yourself and your own petty little life. You are dead, you need to accept this and move on.
Silence.
Sasha? … Talk to me Sasha dear one.
Dr Bronkelhampton? Nurse Bellamy tapped lightly on the office door, and entered cautiously. She could hear Chris talking to himself, again. It was nothing new, he spent hours closeted in his office lately. Though today she started in shocked surprise when she saw him, the yellow wig from the early days of the clinic was perched precariously on top of his bald head, garish make-up roughly applied, yet not hiding the dark blue circles under his blood-shot eyes.
He glared at her. Can you not see I am with a client, Nurse Bellamy?
She cast her eyes reflexively around the small office, although she did not need to look. It was bare save for a pot plant and that dreadful mummy propped up in the corner of the room.
I am worried about you, Chris.
He slammed his fist on the desk and turned away from her, staring moodily out the window.
Nurse Bellamy’s face reddened with emotion, she struggled to hold back her tears as all the anxiety of the last week threatened to overwhelm her. She reminded herself of the words of her dear nursing tutor Edwardo Lemenox. Always remember your calling as a nurse. When the road seems difficult, take a deep breath and remind yourself you are perfect.
She took a deep breath.
I am sorry, I mean Dr Bronkelhampton … I need to inform you that three new clients are expected tomorrow …. and we have two here waiting for their treatment to start … and I can’t entertain them for much longer, they are getting restless. Veranassessee is up to no good, and, Nurse Bellamy pursed her lips for a moment in annoyance .. and now she has a gentleman friend here.
Dr Bronkelhampton turned towards her quickly, the wig falling off in the process, She has a gentleman friend? Here on the island? Who?
Nurse Bellamy’s face reddened even more as she remembered her encounter with the drop-dead gorgeous stranger, the way he had looked into her eyes as he asked where he might find Veranassessee, goodness, she had nearly dropped her coconuts.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
I take it from that you don’t know where the wedding dress is currently. Well if you do come across it would you mind letting Felicity know. said Tina haughtily, switching the phone off abruptly.
Al’s words running through her head she started walking quickly nowhere in particular.
Tina, what’s the point of these experiments we have been doing with Becky and Sam if you are going to keep relying on the phone all the time? And why are you trying to sort out the dress for Felicity, it isn’t your problem.
It wasn’t the so much the words which had stung, after all he was right, it was the annoyance she thought she had heard in his voice.
She felt him making contact, quickly blocked, feeling too hurt to be open.
She knew he was tired, god knows he had put so much into the wedding preparations, as he did with all his projects. He was fast building a reputation for his ground breaking experiments with body processes. Tina loved Al whatever he looked like, which was just as well really considering some of the rather bizarre effects he managed to produce.
Becky had been a bit irritated with her as well, Tina you are so last decade, nay century even! she would say, rolling her large eyes dramatically. Becky too was racing confidently and exuberantly ahead. Her intriguing contributions to the reality play never failed to amaze Tina. Her own contributions felt stolid, words trapped in a big gluggy ball of last century energy, she had to work hard to extricate each one.
It was nearly dark, raining harder now, wind-driven rain. Tina liked it, the rain complemented her mood and disguised the self-pitying tears streaming down her face. There were very few people in the street. Just the long line of shop windows, glass faces warmly lit, overhangs offering some shelter from the rain, though it wasn’t shelter Tina was looking for.
Her long hair whipped around her face, wet blue satin clung to her slim frame.
Sam had taken off unexpectedly and suddenly to Australia. He had been gone only a few days and she missed him. Dear Sam, his wicked and irrepressible sense of humour could make her laugh even in the blackest of moods. He too was playing with new potentials, forging new and exciting paths.
The others are probably all communicating with their advanced telepathic skills right now, laughing at dumb old last century Tina, she thought morosely. In fact even last century I would have been so last century, judging by my spectacular lack of success at anything I have undertaken recently. A vision of her recent humiliation in the ballet dancing class sprang to mind. She winced and quickly blocked the distressing image of the dance teacher drawing her aside after class and gently suggesting she might try the Ancient Kuzhebar Motional Practices beginner’s class, to get some basic rhythm, before attempting the ballet. ….
An elderly woman who had disembarked at the nearby gondola stop splashed by her, and, illuminated momentarily by the street lamp, Tina felt a flash of recognition. The woman turned suddenly towards her, smiled, gesticulated with her free hand, the other was clutching a large bag, towards some distant bushes. She mouthed some words at Tina, but these were lost in the wind. Tina waved and managed a reciprocal smile.
She noticed a Positivity Robot parked in front of Samantha Lingerie, and found herself drawn towards it, 3D images of models wearing the latest in underwear fashions rotated in the shop’s window, their faces beaming irritatingly at her. These Positivity Robots had been all the rage in the early 2020’s, you did not see as many of them now. On impulse she stood in front of the robot, touched the screen, allowing it to read her energy. “negative 21” its glass face discreetly informed her. The words “I AM PERFECT” flashed up on the screen as a suggested thought pattern to implement. Tina grimaced. I wonder how low I can make this damn thing go. The idea made her giggle and to her alarm shot the meter up to a positive 12. Bugger, a bad start!
What am I going to do with myself, Mr PR, if you are so positively smart?
I AM PERFECT…. I AM PERFECT …. I AM PERFECT ….
perfectly grumpy, perfectly insecure, perfectly last decade, perfectly soaked to the skin, Tina watched as the meter climbed all the way up to 55.
She glanced at the shop window, just as a smiling model wearing a minuscule open net dress and nun’s habit rotated by. She felt an inexplicable burst of amusement as the meter climbed to 57.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
— Arona, my dear?
The silky voice of Malvina resounded in Arona’s ear, while she was meditating on the implications of the story Vincentius had told her.
— Yes?
— May I borrow you Buckberry and your sabulmantium for a few moments?
— Oh sure, no need to ask… Though I don’t think you require my permission for Buckberry, isn’t he free as I am?
— Oh yes he is, exactly as you said, free as you areArona could have sworn she felt a winking energy rippling through her flesh, making some unfamiliar electrical currents crawl underneath her skin. She would have said she was thoroughly disliking it, though she wasn’t really sure if she was.
— Oh, Malvina added as if an innocent afterthought, we are moving by the way, perhaps you may find interesting to join us for the homationing ceremony. You may learn some more about your sabulmantium.
— Well, why not, answered Arona having no idea of what a homationing ceremony could be…
— Very well, please join us in the main entrance, where I am playing the harp. We will be waiting for you.
— I’ll be there in a second.So, they were moving? Speak about implications… Arona muttered, stroking dozing Mandrake, who had feasted on too many of the moorats crawling inside the moisteous cave tunnels.
I guess I’ll take this astounding elan as a hint that I’ll be going alone she said. A yawn for all answer.
Considering it was Mandrake, that was almost a mark of distinctive affection… or was it rather of affectionate distinction?Moving? She didn’t want to move, not yet, not like that… And to be honest, with all the stuff in that cave, she sure didn’t want to help pack all of this, be it by magic. What an impossible task.
Vincentius the nanny was taking care of Yikes, so she was confident should anything happen, he would be alright.
On the outside of the cave, the dragons were all lined up, as if waiting for some unknown signal. Leormn first in shades of teal, and his spawns, Buckberry, with the most florid and baroque hues of purple that one could imagine, and the two facetious Heckle and Jeckle in shades of emerald, looking unusually calm.
Malvina, with Leo the little marmoset on her left shoulder, was playing her harp, while Irtak was accompanying her playing a mouth harp.
Some drums had been disposed around, and quite naturally, Arona felt like beating the measure on these, getting slowly and slowly relaxed by the music and guttural sounds produced by the throat singing dragons.
She almost laughed and broke the meditating pattern when she let the memory of Sanso come into her awareness. What a shame he’d missed that, that would have fitted him better than her.Slowly the sounds stopped, and Malvina very gracefully rose from her stool, and greeted Arona with a loving hug. Her flowing robe was a tender orchid hue with laces of thistle pink, and her silvery peach long flowing hair were giving her the aura of a princess.
— Wait, where are Georges and Salome? She said, are they already gone?
— No, they are waiting for us at the new location, she said with a smile… Now, Leormn will start the ceremony.Arona almost said Wait again, in anticipation of what was to come, and finally decided to let it flow. The serene look of Malvina and her motherly smile was of a nurturing reassurance.
Outside, in the grassy lands, the dragons had all grown wings and were apparently ready to take off. A pile of conic shaped dirty sand was standing in front of the entrance, that Arona had never seen before.
She could feel Buckberry answer her unspoken question without even a word being uttered. It is soil from the cave, and we will use it now.
Arona watched the dragons rise in the sky full of damp gray clouds, and wondered what they were doing.
They are doing two things, Arona answered Malvina (again that disagreeable habit of reading thoughts, couldn’t help but think Arona, wishing there would be some World around where such thing wouldn’t be so easy), first they are checking what kind of creature are staying with us and following the movement, continued Malvina, ignoring the remark, and second, they are drawing with that sand from the cave a circle to enclose the area we want to moveArona didn’t dare say the explanations were making her even fuzzier, so she nodded as if abreast of what was going on.
Popping sounds of the dragons blinking in and out to get some more dirt almost made her dizzy, and she forgot the strangest feeling she had when she thought she heard “the area we want to move”.
— Now, continued Mavina, the sabulmantium.
The dragons were now all back, and the pile of sand had disappeared.
Arona’s attention snapped back to herself, and she handed the fine object to the lady. She couldn’t help but notice the glowing eyes of Irtak, who apparently was very eager to see what would happen.
So he will move too, she thought, hope his father won’t be too sad… Why did she felt it was a separation from this place she had found she was liking…— If you look closely, said Malvina to no one in particular, but Arona took it for herself, you will see how easy it is to come back if you feel so inclined.
At her touch, the coloured sands in the sabulmantium’s transparent dragon shell globe started to move. And all could see the cave being formed, with all the little people, dragons, glukenitches and even Leo and Mandrake… They were all here, enclosed into a circle of sand.
— Now, if you will follow me… said Malvina who traced on the ground a curvy symbol.
And very slowly, as the whole sand scenery inside the sabulmantium was turning in a round, they all felt as though they were dissolving into the air. Yet, they were all solid, and the interior of the cave was still too.
The only thing that was moving was the exterior, twirling and changing, getting out of focus, and moving erratically at the beginning, and then getting close to a focal point. Some fine tuning was occurring.And in a snap,
The landscape
Was
In all its splendor…— Greetings! a smiling couple at the entrance of the cave said to the people inside.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Al woke up from a series of lucid dreams, interspersed with false awakening in which he was in the same space arrangement, but visibly another time space or even dimension… He was quite familiar now with these stuff, and could remember them well, but still had doubt about the implications of the strange imageries he was getting glimpses of.
It was like his tatami (because at this time, Al was finding more comfortable to sleep on the rice-straw mattress) was a flying carpet with its own volition, and Albert, like some modern-time Aladdin, was finding himself plunged right into new horizons.
Last vision had almost made him blush of the deranged aspects of his mind. Sure he was finding Becky rather attractive (who wouldn’t, he was wondering), but imaging her scantily clad in that skimpy dress in the middle of the bushes was surely some trick of his luscious mind rather than some bona fide connection of his magic tatami.Good thing too that the joggers (or thought-forms, whatever they might have been) in the park in which the magic tatami had landed couldn’t see the projected form of Al, because he was unable to move right now, except for some embarrassing lower part of his body. Now the tatami was looking like a circus tent. Oh dear… the wedding had been really hard on his nerves, he reckoned.
When he finally woke up, he noticed some voice messages on his telephone from Becky and thought he would probably skip mentioning his last synchronicity of his
What was she wanting that necessitated a dozen messages on his phone? Couldn’t she just call Sean, or was he still incapacitated by the gallons of vodka he had “injested”?
Well, surely the matter would wait for him to shave, for he was starting to look like Mr Cavern, with the huge hunger too —he smiled at the idea that dear Becky would surely fear he might eat a clue by mistake… Moments later, after a good shower, fresh clothes and some slices of buttered nuts bread with pumpkin jam, he telepathically connected to Becky, wondering why she had not thought of that method in the first place… What was the point of all these group meditations together with Sam and Tina if they couldn’t make good profit of the enhanced neurological pathways they had built together. Granted Becky had always been a bit reluctant to use it, or perhaps just forgetful of that possibility… Anyway…
— CAN’T YOU JUST KNOCK BEFORE YOU CONNECT! a shriek suddenly filled his skull
Al immediately shut the visual, blushing of the renewed deranged vision…
— Sorry, I just…
— Oh, no need to trail forever on that… I’ve found someone to help me, and yes, I do remember how to connect telepathically!With that, all was left in Al’s skull was a big whooshing wind.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Vessie Darl, Sha and I are just popping down to the beach for some more of them special beauty sea waters you told us about.
Great idea, Gloria, responded Veranassessee vaguely. She watched absent-mindedly as Gloria’s generous body, clad only in a skimpy red bikini, disappeared down the corridor. There was something about that shade of red tugging at her memory. Vermillion red …
Red! PLAN B! Oh my God! how could she have forgotten!
It was two days since she had called him, that meant he would be here soon, that did not leave her much time to prepare.
Everything has to be perfect. She wears a silk vermillion red camisole, the one he gave her, scarcely covered by lush black velvet and topped with bright red lipstick. She casts her eyes critically around the room. It is nearly three years since she has seen him, she doesn’t want to spoil this moment. The glasses of soft red merlot are ready, a plate of miniature liqueur chocolates on a plate by the bed.
She shakes out her long dark hair and looks in the mirror. Her chocolate skin glows, her eyes are bright. She will do. She touches the red silk camisole … it is still beyond her comprehension how she can have forgotten.
When he arrives he is beautiful. Too beautiful. she thinks. It is so easy for him, effortless. He appraises the room and laughs casually, he knows how hard she has tried. Agent V he says, a pleasure to see you again. He kisses her. She remembers everything.
He takes a sip of the wine. She watches him, unsure of herself. He has a black bag with him.
He looks at her, sees her looking at the bag, and smiles slowly, I have something to show you, Agent V, he says, and she can sense his pride, the barely suppressed excitement in his voice.
He opens the bag carefully, pulls out a small white box, handles it lovingly. Two years experimentation in the Russian lab, he says softly, delicate threads of spun blue bonnet spider silk and yet strong enough to hang a bridge on.
He looks at her. Come here. he says
She hesitates for just a moment thinking of Mahiliki, and then inwardly shrugs, bugger it, I never really wanted to live on Fukitupi island and have loads of babies anyway. She moves over to him. He takes the transparent silk and slowly starts to wind the delicate thread around her wrists. Try and break it, he whispers in her ear, kisses her neck.
Then stops.
My God, what the fuck is that?
Veranassessee sighs.
No I swear Sha, I am telling you, I saw him go into Vessie’s room.
Oh my God Glor, he might be a murderer, or a bloody rapist even!
I tell you though, he were right bloody gorgeous.
Well never mind that! The door is locked Sha. I think we’d better shout out. Make sure she’s okay.
Right, good idea. And then if she doesn’t answer we can bash the door in and we can both pounce on him.
Right, on the count of three Glor, we’‘ll shout out, one… two… THREE!”
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
That’s when she heard a little voice… not really in her head, the voice was like coming from under the space tissue.
Dear RATS… Thou canst do it thyself. Let the power of the Snooshrooms flow through thy skin.
— Who’s there? asked Becky anxiously… is it the Snoot? What are the smooshnools? I don’t want any more skin problem, don’t do anything!!!
Becky was feeling a bit drowsy again. She was tired of sleeping though and managed to get rid of this feeling.
She got startled by her cell phone, it was vibrating furiously now… oh no, just a picture message from Sam.
With that distraction she lost grip of herself for a few seconds… and when she woke up she was feeling her head like heavy… how god!!!! what the f…
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
It was taking longer than expected for Sanso and Zhana to find food, and they were weak with hunger when they came across the big toad. There was plenty of water; gurgling brooks and rushing streams crisscrossed their path, crystal clear with icy cool snow melt from the summer thaw. The’d found a few cow berries along the way, and they had chewed a few mushrooms but they wanted something substantial before setting off for the other side of the world. Sanso had left a trail of flourescent green cave lichen, to show them the way back to the cave entrance, which was to be their portal to Nishanti’s place.
Maybe the toad will show us the way to find food, said Zhana. Ask him, Sanso!
You ask him! replied Sanso.
No, YOU ask him. Zhana was inexplicably feeling shy.
Sanso chuckled goodnaturedly, and agreed to ask toad. He stood there silently smiling for some minutes, and Zhana began to wonder just WHEN Sanso would oblige. Her stomach was grumbling and growling and she was starting to get impatient when Sanso turned and strode purposefully off to the left.
What the…..snapped Zhana. She rushed after him, angrily shouting OY! Her foot caught on a root, sending her sprawling face down amongst the mushrooms.
Sanso turned, and couldn’t help but laugh. The more he laughed, the angrier Zhana became, causing Sanso to laugh all the more.
AAAH Ha Ha Ha! AAAHHHH Ha Ha Ha HAAAAH! OOO Hoohooo! If you could see your face all covered in blue mud and red and white spotted mushrooms, you’d laugh too!
Zhana started to cry.
There there, dear, Sanso said kindly, trying hard to stop laughing, and wiped the mess off the girls face with an old rag he found in one of his pockets. Did you know that Siberian blue mud is a much sought after beauty treatment in some places? This little mishap will do wonders for your complexion, you know.
Will it? snivelled Zhana, who had been preoccupied of late with with her adolescent skin.
Yes! There is no such thing as an accident, you know.
Well, where were you rushing off to, anyway? You promised to ask toad where to find food, and then without saying a word, you dashed off and left me!
Sanso looked perplexed. I DID ask toad!
No, you DIDN’T, retorted Zhana.
Sanso stared at her, wondering what was the matter with her. Then the penny dropped, so to speak, and he realized that Zhana was more familiar with verbal conversations, and had been unaware of the silent communication between him and toad.
Zhana, most of our conversations aren’t in words, you know, he explained gently. Listen to the non-words.
Huh? it was Zhana’s turn to look perplexed.
You do it all the time you know. You are simply not paying attention.
He winked at her, and smiled. Come on! The food is this-a-way!
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
After a long but uneventful ride in the yellow gondola cab, Becky stepped out onto terra firma and strolled through the park.
Various fleeting images of the wedding party flashed through her mind, and she recalled the change in Elvira after the meal. She certainly tucked into that reindeer stew, Becky mused, Had a right good scoff, she did. Funny, anyone eating four helpings of that slop would be expected to slump in a chair for an hour or two, but Elvira had sprung into life. She looked pretty good for 121 years old, but who would have guessed what a splendid dancer she was! She put the younger guests to shame with her fancy steps, and tireless enthusiasm.
And not only that, she’d really come into her own when the drunken fights started, fearlessly breaking up fights between men twice her size.
In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud
THE DAY began WITH AN AWFUL start.
THIS morning I ACTED LIKE A true soft USING HIS hand book WITH REFINED SKILL.
THE snoot STOPPED talking AND IT BECAME closeR TO MY OWN focus.
[…]In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
The rain started to pour down… Becky moaned and winced at each of the thunder strokes.
Don’t worry, as they say in the bayou, “mariage pluvieux, mariage heureux”. (rainy wedding, merry marriage) Al said with a wink.
Anyway, should be over for the vin d’honneur, he added hastily, hoping that the circus tent that was set up would be big enough to accommodate all the guests in case he’d be wrong…He didn’t even want to imagine what the Russian fluorescent bacon they had planned to serve for the toasts would look like drenched in rain…
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Becky was far too happy to mind the snide undercurrents she could sense from poor jealous Tina. Dear Tina, she’d had eyes for Sean all along, Becky had known right from the start.
Becky smiled kindly as she said to Tina: You’re such a sweetie pooh, Tina. I’m so glad you’re going to be such a big part of our special day.
And then Becky threw her arms around her in a great telepathic energy bear hug and said ‘I love you, Tina’.
Tina visibly quailed, Becky accurately remotely viewed, and her complexion turned an alarming shade of blotchy green. Tina spun round to the toilet, retching, thanking her lucky stars that she was already in the bathroom and close to the lavatory.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
oh that’s a fantastic idea Becky! encouraged Tina, when Becky suggested tentatively that perhaps she could try advanced visualisation techniques in order to turn this disastrous start to her wedding day around.
Yes, imagine it as you would like it to be, no matter how unrealistic it may seem. Imagine looking in the mirror and seeing your skin glowing like a glowing peach. After all, you have nothing to lose Becky-pooh.
In reply to: Rafaela’s Random Ramblings
tjmarshall57: hahahaha as if it’s not bad enough with the weeding, now poor girl has blotches all over her face!
tjmarshall57: wedding not weeding
tjmarshall57: do russian wear velis?
tjmarshall57: veils
tjmarshall57: hhhm, blessing by a shaman, plaiting together of the couples hair….(is Becky still blad?)
tjmarshall57: The biggest concern at the wedding is to have enough liquor. A Russian Wedding is an event where everybody must be drunk. No one will be surprised if people drink themselves to unconscious on the wedding – and many do.
tjmarshall57: well, that will appeal to Sean
tjmarshall57: You are probably surprised to find out that a Russian wedding lasts for 2 days!! (Well, at least. Some weddings last as long as a week, and this is something to be proud of and remember for years: it means the couple had enough liquor to go on and on, and enough devoted friends to stay.)
tjmarshall57: The Russian church ceremony is colorful and solemn but the complete traditional ceremony is very long, and as guests and the couple have to stand during the ceremony (there are no benches in Russian churches at all; people must stand during all church services), faints are not rare.
tjmarshall57: right, so a fair amount of fainting and drunkeness then
tjmarshall57: Then the witnesses continue running the wedding, reading jokes and poems, and sometimes asking the new couple questions to make fun of them.
tjmarshall57: Franci will you be my witness, you’d be perfect
tjmarshall57: “Za molodykh!” (“For the newlywed!”)
tjmarshall57: Traditionally money is considered as the best gift, and is given in an envelope. Some time after the beginning of the reception when people start to become drunk the witnesses will ask everybody to give their gifts and one of the witnesses will collect envelopes from the rest of the guests with a tray.
tjmarshall57: Then people have time to dance. First dance is opened by the new couple. After the music starts, there is no exact script anymore, and witnesses can relax a little. They still occasionally announce a toast but do not entertain the guests with jokes and poems; guests by this time are already having lots of fun and are able to entertain themselves.Movements become quite hectic; some people go out “to refresh”, and at some moment in this movement the bride gets… “stolen”! She disappears, and when the groom starts looking for her, he is faced with a request for a ransom. Usually it’s his buddies who “steal” the bride. A more or less short wrangle about the amount, and he can have his new wife back. But he must watch out – the bride sometimes may be stolen a few times!
tjmarshall57: right, so we have drunkeness, fainting, jokes, poems and insults, and theft and abduction
tjmarshall57: Then there are the bride’s friends – they steal the bride’s shoe. The groom must pay ransom for the shoe too – the guests enjoy watching wrangles.
tjmarshall57: Often guests leave the wedding in such a condition that they cannot remember what happened. If this was the case with the majority of guests, then the wedding was a huge success
tjmarshall57: AHA! This is the key! I will write about it after the wedding, when nobody can remeber anything about it
tjmarshall57: Day two of the wedding:After the meal the bride must “clean” the floor in the room. The fun part is that guests are allowed to mess as much as they want while she is cleaning
tjmarshall57:
tjmarshall57: another part for you!
tjmarshall57: guests on a Russian wedding enjoy it much more than the newlywed couple who are all the time made fools of.
tjmarshall57: The most popular period for wedding ceremonies in Russia was between the Christmas and Shrovetide (a week before the spring fast). This period was called the wedding period.
tjmarshall57: well, the timing is right
tjmarshall57: One of the many superstitions still prevailing among the peasant population of Russia is that, on the occasion of a marriage, the happiness of the newly-married couple is not assured unless the parents of the contracting parties are soaked with water from head to foot. When a marriage takes place in summer this is easily accomplished by ducking the fathers and mothers in the nearest river, but in winter they are laid on the ground and rolled in the snow.
tjmarshall57: who are the parents?
tjmarshall57: Among the Koraks of Siberia a young man seeks for a maiden with considerable dowry in the form of rein-deer
tjmarshall57: oh, well we can have psychoactive reindeer pies, anyway
tjmarshall57: Kovalevsky has well shown that many of the marriage customs of this country are survivals from a primitive and prehistoric age when the woman ruled the household and had more than one husband.
tjmarshall57: hhmmmm
tjmarshall57: it all points to a distant age when the matriarchal system prevailed, and the brother was his sister’s guardian. In Little Russia the brother’s sword is decked with the red berries of the rowan tree, red being the emblem of maidenhood.
tjmarshall57: red fruit sync!
tjmarshall57: no wonder I threw the cherries away!
tjmarshall57: ahahahahha!
franci_free: oh hrllo
franci_free: goodness
franci_free: will need to read back
tjmarshall57: hahahah oh there you are
franci_free: well what a complicated theme
tjmarshall57: haahah well
franci_free: you will have to write about the wedding
tjmarshall57: the key to the whole thing is that everyone was so drunk that nobody can remeber any of it aftrwards
franci_free: hahahah
franci_free: great!
tjmarshall57: thats my angle, I think
franci_free:
tjmarshall57: and s few things fit perfectly
tjmarshall57: the red fruit
tjmarshall57: the time of year
tjmarshall57: the drunkeness, Sean will love that
franci_free: the splotches?
tjmarshall57: well, nobody will remeber that
tjmarshall57: afterwardsIn reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Zhana was so happy that she started to sing .
That’s beautiful! exclaimed Sanso, Sing another one!
So Zhana sang some more.
Whoa! said Sanso. Weirdo singing!
Oh! Zhana looked crestfallen. Don’t you like it?
Hahaha, Oh yes, I love it! Please, sing some more.
Well…….oh, alright. And Zhana sang for Sanso…..and sang some more……
Where did you learn to sing like that? asked Sanso politely.
Oh, haha, Zhana laughed and blushed. Granny used to sing like that. Zhana sighed wistfully, remembering her grandmother. If only they hadn’t had to kill her when she got too old to be useful.
Sanso closed his eyes, feeling a song coming to his own lips from somewhere deep inside him.
Sanso suddenly felt sleepy after all the strange singing, and lay down on the mushroom speckled forrest floor and drifted into a strange dream of mice and birds and a topsy turvy world.
Zhana wasn’t really tired, after all, she had only just woken from her sleep when she met Sanso, but she lay down beside him and after awhile she drifted off. She had some strange dreams too.
In reply to: Synchronicity
Oxshift
ahem, well for my latest synchs:
I followed numberplate J533 into town this morning.
Lemon synchs please see my previous comment well … i finally threw out the last of these lemons I had stored in my fridge yesterday, and thought fondly of the whole lemon synch thing. Then I noticed today that Tracy had posted the lemon tree song again in her ramblings thread. A short time later I picked up the local hawkes bay newspaper in order to peruse it, and saw that the whole front page was a picture of Noel Lucas (we don’t know him, I just include his name for accuracy) and a big heading A ZEST FOR THE BEST. Noel was holding up a lemon, which looked to be about as big as his head. It weighed 756gms.
Apparently on Jan 12th there was a story of a 600gm lemon (unfortunately I missed this story .. as you can see our local newspaper is full of riveting news …) and now a lemon war has started as lemon growers vie for the biggest lemon.
Noel has never fertilized his lemons and attributes it to climate changes. He has lived in the same house same house since 1983 and this is the biggest crop ever.
Director of the Lemon marketing board believes the bumper crop is due to an “evolutionary leap.” hahahaha
I think this is also a Nadia synch, biggest baby, biggest lemon… oh and also Hercules the biggest dog.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Well, now there’s an idea, Elvira said, closing the book she’d been reading. Hhmmm….
Boris, how about a trip back home to see the folks?
Boris looked up in astonishment. Home? see the folks? What for? Elvira had said right from the start, Don’t ever expect me to go to Siberia! And Boris had never pushed the matter; after all, he was in no hurry to return there either. In the 3 years they’d been together, the subject had never come up.
Listen to this, Boris. Elvira picked up the book and started reading.
“….in May, Kerouac had written to Timothy Leary requesting some ‘SM’ or Siberian mushrooms, after Ginsberg told him that they would enable Jack to complete a chapter each day…”
Boris, we can make a fortune! We can stay with your folks. Mushroom season starts soon, we’ll stay for the season, dry them or whatever you have to do, pack them into dolls or something, and have them shipped back here.
Well I don’t know, Elvira….I like it here.
Oh pooh, Boris, we’ve been in London for almost a year, and I’m bored. It’ll only be for a few months, and then think of all that money! How many of our friends have writers block? All of them! The market is there, Boris! We’ll have writers beating a path to our door for SM’s…..
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
So you have requested audience… a deep voice, hoarse as a water’s torrent running and jumping on a river bed smothered with pebbles, asked from the darkness.
Midora was not afraid of the darkness. As best as she could explain it, it was the void of creation, where everything came from, and where all was stripped of intrinsic meaning. It was from this place that she could reach for the answers.
She knew this place, she felt memories swirling around, as uncatchable as a swarm of short-lived sparkles born from the reddish embers of a dying fire.
In this lifetime, she was only a eleven year old girl, but she was as old as this voice within her. There was a time where she was playing with that voice, a time where her being was not yet, and yet a time which was in her future.
She was pure consciousness in that dream time space, and yet, she was feeling more comfortable with physical symbols around herself. So she focused on one of the symbols that she knew would help her stabilize her vibration, and in doing so, all the small particles of golden light around her started to swirl and coalesced into a dream body.She was in front of a cave, in a mountainous area. This body provided her a slowing down of the stream of information that came to her, and she could manipulate more efficiently the interaction with that huge presence she felt. The precipitous rocky environment was a symbol of that steadiness and slowing down and also, for her benefit of her beliefs in that acquiring such information might be a difficult task.
Now she had identified it, she could more easily dispel the obstacles on the path to the cave. The cave of course, was her symbol for reaching into her deep inner nature. And the darkness was only a fitting blank canvas for herself to project and translate the energy interactions.
All of that she knew, as it was knowledge embedded into herself that she could more easily access into this trance-like state, in her room in that location in space and time of 2112 in New Venice. And she knew that also for she was taught by her parents, Bart and Oscar, on how to access it.The voice was inside the cave. And no sooner had she thought of it that she was finding the whole place morphing into a vast room built into the rock, in the middle of which a majestic golden dragon was slowly breathing.
She had translated the vast energy as that of a dragon, but she knew when she felt into it that it had possible variations, one of which being that of a she-phoenix, of various sizes, where sizes where symbolic of its age and wisdom.— You may call me Naasir the dragon grinned at Midora. You are right, in a sense, you can consider yourself being born from me, though in your true form, you are equally august and splendid as I am. You will, in time, have access to that form, again. But for now, I can provide some answers to your questions. The only thing is… Are your questions up to the challenge? he added with the most benevolent smirk his wide toothed grin could convey.
Midora pondered for a moment, beholding the perfection of her translation of the energy. Each scale on the body of the dragon was a work of art. His half-closed eyes, with an amber shiny center, and teal border were equally mesmerizing.
— What is the significance of these books I have inherited from my parents?
— As you know, this place is the place were significance fades away, or radiates, depending on the direction in which you look, only to be replaced by fulfillment. Your… books hence, have no significance, I would say, for me at least. What do you want to know about them?
— They were passed from people to people, and as far as I understood, they started to be imprinted with these people’s stories, starting from my grand-parents Indy and Cuthbert. But there are still blank pages inside them, and no seeming order from one page to the other. I think that’s why my grand-parents grew tired of it.
— Continue…
— What I mean is… I feel attracted to them, and yet I don’t understand how they work…
— These… are not mere books as your ancestors understood them. In fact, they were crafted by a distant civilization, not denizens from this dimension in which you are presently focused, but travelers, with whom you can still interact by means of this device. When the “books” traveled into this dimension, they retained their initial properties and functioning, but their initial shapes were translated into something as close as you could understand so that you would allow them to appear into your reality. This knowing might help you unravel their true nature.
Another thing. Books are energy deposits, in your reality. There was a misunderstanding in that they were thought to be able to liber or to free your memory by imprinting it into the pages, but memories are alive and not separate from you. They live as you live and change them. So, the books are still being written, and that which you can read is the part of the book which is the most probable story in which you choose to insert yourself, so as to explore it. You can alter these probabilities, even if you might doubt it, but as you chose them, they are much a part of your design of your reality, that which you chose to explore. In short, a complete book means the end of your exploration, and prompts for a disengagement for you to continue other explorations, and on the contrary, a blank books means a boundless realm of probable explorations.
— Can you tell me why there are two of them?
— They are more than a couple. These ones are the only known ones that your ancestors happen to have found. Most of them have been destroyed over time in this dimension, as their possibilities were heavily cloaked. They are all linked together, as you will find out. You may gather some answers in finding Badul…
And with that, Midora was once again floating in an intermediate state hung between space and time, longing for her physical body. She woke up strangely energized…
In reply to: Synchronicity
Speaking of not so little Nadia we were discussing at noon with Jib, wondering how long ago our story (or stream of comments for now) was started.
And checking back, the first post which started the whole flow occurred with Naasir’s story on Sept. 12 th 2007 (so, our baby is a Virgo, with Capricorn rising), just a few days before Nadia (hope)’s birth …In reply to: Rafaela’s Random Ramblings
Good Greif! I thought we were making up all that crystal skulls stuff! Blimey O’Riley!
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“February 9, 2008
We are the crystal skulls and we bring you a message today about the 13th gate and the 13th skull.
First we would like to tell you that those looking for the 13th skull will be disappointed. It is not time for the 13th skull to be found yet. But even though the 13th skull is on hiding right now, it will start working with your planet and the people upon it.
The 13th gate will be opened on a special day for our channel.
February 20, 2008.
The initiation into the 13th gate will start soon after this.
What does this mean for you and your planet?”
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Dory was bored. She didn’t really know whether to be Dory, or Becky, or even Illi today. Maybe I will be someone new, she thought. Hmmm……
Elvira, how about that. Well, Elvira was just as bored as Elvira as she would have been as Dory, Becky or anyone else for that matter. What happens when the inspiration goes? Where does it go? One minute the world is full of interesting things, and then Poof! nothing is very interesting at all……
Elvira had lots of interesting things to do, she had many books, and various artistic projects half started or not even started, just thought about on and off for ages, and she had puppies to play with, and a big drawer full of pens and things to draw with. She had a camera that took little videos that was often a lot of fun…but nothing seemed worth the trouble today, nothing at all…..not even that silly wacom thing, and after all that fuss to buy it, too…it was more fun talking about buying it then the darn thing ever was afterwards…..
The Internet, how could anyone be bored with an internet! There must be something seriously wrong with her to be bored when she had Internet! But she halfheartedly googled this, googled that…ho hum, tedium, nothing very interesting there….
Well, what about your imagination then! Elvira sat up a bit straighter, challenging herself. You can surely do something interesting in your imagination, can’t you?
She slumped back down again, and sighed. Like what? Well, imagine you are out in the sun, going for a walk…..
Well ok, then, I am on the beach. At first I feel the sun on the top of my head and I squint at the bright sparkles on the sea. Then, my ears are ringing with cold, it’s a windy cold day after all and not much fun on the beach at all. Oh pull yourself together, woman! Pull your scarf round your ears! It’s a great day for driftwood, just look at those waves rolling in.
I am trudging along, and the sand is hard to walk on and makes my legs ache. My God, I am out of shape! There are soggy oranges and piles of bamboo sticks, and plastic bottles all washed up in curving heaps. A soggy Marlboro carton; my, are they still smuggling fags from Gibraltar, I am so out of the smuggling loop these days….
Well, was that it? Elvira chastised herself. Not much of a flight of imagination there, was it? Maybe a walk along the river instead…..
Oh alright, if I have to…..actually I can’t be bothered to do this imaginary walk either, it’s no use….nothing is really very interesting today. I would like someone to amuse me, charmingly, pointlessly, something funny and light, and delightfully meaningless and simple…..
And god forbid, nothing to do with beliefs, please! Or any of that weird stuff, like other lives and other dimensions, and talking to aliens and all that weirdo stuff….weirdo, weirdo, stuff! UGGHHH Elvira shuddered.
Well, one thing I am pleased about, she mused almost happily, I can smoke again now my lungs are behaving. I thought I would be gloriously happy forever if I could only breathe without fear, and already I am Ho Hum about breathing….thought for sure I’d remember to focus on every brilliantly wonderful NOW moment, I did, after that fright with the lungs, but no….back to normal, well, worse than normal really, because now I am not even interested in anything……
I wonder if I should start drinking again…..Oh don’t be silly, Elvira told herself rather sharply. Well, drugs then, maybe that would buck me up. It’d buck you up alright, but for how long? Well when they wore off, I could take some more.
Yeah, right…..
Elvira sighed again. Even Bertie Wooster hadn’t even managed to raise a smile this time, and he always used to make her smile. Reading Wodehouse now made her frown, wondering what ever she had used to find so amusing……
The birds are making a racket out there, she noticed. Whatever do they find to sing about all day? Chirp chirp…jeeze….. maybe I should take up golf, she wondered. Dan seems to always have an interest, something passionately all-consuming……he never has enough hours in the day for all HIS interesting things….
Where have all my interesting things GONE?
