Search Results for 'story'

Forums Search Search Results for 'story'

Viewing 20 results - 481 through 500 (of 638 total)
  • Author
    Search Results
  • #2150

    In reply to: The Story So Far

    EricEric
    Keymaster

      The Alienor Dimension, Georges and Salome

      Dory (in our current timeline/space reality) meets Georges in a cave in Madagascar during her trip.
      Georges doesn’t explain much, but we get the feeling that, though human, he’s a Traveler, crossing bridges through dimensional veils.
      Sanso, who we happen to meet at times, is supposedly another type of Traveler too, but apparently happier to cross earth-bound space veils rather than time or other-dimensional ones.

      Georges is closely linked to Salome. They are involved in the Alienor Dimension, another parallel universe, which was initially used as the set of the first story bits and in which they are involved at some historical points of importance.

      The Alienor dimension is composed (as we know now) of a central sun named Alienor, and a few planets.

      One of these planets is the Duane, which is a planet similar to Earth, except having easier access to magic, and having dragons, where the characters of Malvina, Arona, Leörmn, Irtak, Badul, Tomkin etc. are supposedly living. A map of parts of that planet was drawn somewhere in the archives.

      There are two major historical plots occurring; one in a time parallel to our own, with Malvina, Arona, Badul’s explorations etc. And another, occurring what we would call centuries earlier, with Lola and her dragon, and the Yellow Princess Atiara story-arc (see Araili’s notes).
      Somewhere in between, many years before Arona’s timeline, there is a subplot with Franiel, the monastery succession, the chalice and other magical artifacts. As far as we know, it ties to the other epochs thanks to Madame Chesterhope and Vincentius’ story.
      Madame Chesterhope is, we found out, known to Georges in his youth, when he first met Salome. Madame Chesterhope is originally from our dimension (Earth, around 1800s something?) but has learned how to travel and is thus able to move through dimensions, and has a few special powers, presumably thanks to artifacts she gathered along her trips.

      Another twin planet is the Murtuane, where there are giant eagles (counterparts of dragons), “mermaids”, zentauras (zebra-centaurs), green-skinned people, and purple beaches. This planet remains to be explored more in depth.

      The third planet, the Phreal, is rarely spoken of, as its vibration was changed before even the first epoch, and is no longer ‘seen’. Guardians, a special race of this Alienor Dimension with great mastery of the energy manipulation powers are involved within most of the historical changes, and in this one in particular.

      Malvina’s explorations are linked to those of her two “sisters”, each paired with a dragon. Initially she’s a healer, but recent developments have made her change locations a few times in space/time, and those alterations have inserted probabilities in the “past”. She has known Leonard, who is also a Traveler and who is linked to Franiel’s subplot.

      #1032
      F LoveF Love
      Participant

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

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

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

        And getting worse by the day!

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

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

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

        #1023
        Avatar1da
        Participant

          4:21:44 PM 8-8-08 1da Geolocation Time.

          sometimes the flow climbs a mountain.

          pause. step. quick step. pause again. step. upstream another step. the stones solid, smooth, settled beneath my feet with the timeless passing of water. the path of gravity. the rising of a mountain. a rapid, considered, going on pace. sand between the stones. the moments of time. light on the rippling waters flickering. the air transparent, timeless, crisp, cool.

          knowing i’ve passed this way before, i pass again for the first time.

          it’s good to be back. returning. beginning.

          knowing my destination. the cave far above beneath the ancient pine. the boulder near the rough and gnarled trunk, slick and smooth. so hard the sense is of softness gliding with my fingers over the iridescent surface. soft to sit upon, to watch the valley far below extending forever into the distance. soft to recline upon, arcing my back. the warmth of the day in the stone, lingering far into the night to heat my bones. …knowing my destination, i take the next step into all that is new.

          sitting near the water. deep transparent pools of green/blue. the setting red sun. a shelter beneath driftwood high on the bank. a myrtle tree draping a blanket of scent over me, opening my soul. with each breath. i watch the light fading into the words echoing through my skull… life is hard… the song…

          Life is hard
          Anyway you cut it
          Life is sweet,
          Like a berry from a tree
          Life is temptation, baby,
          Every single day
          Life is hard

          Life is funny,
          I dont mean ha-ha
          It‘s not always sunny,
          When it needs to be
          Life is frightening,
          Nothing lasts forever
          Life is hard

          My time
          Is next to nothing
          My time
          Falls on you, yeah
          Everything
          Is in motion
          Life is hard

          Life is precious,
          No matter how you see it
          Life is crazy,
          Like yellow fishes in the street
          Life is lonely
          When you‘re not with me
          Life is hard

          Gentlemen
          Is that you story?
          Hanging religion
          From a tree, yeah
          My time
          Is next to nothing
          Life is hard

          My time
          Is next to nothing
          My time
          Falls on you, yeah
          Everything
          Is in motion
          Life is hard

          My time
          Falls on you, yeah
          Life is hard
          Life is hard

          – J. Mellencamp – while on the planet earth.

          ok. life is also beautiful. – 1da

          it’s a cruel crazy beautiful world – J. Clegg – also while on the planet earth.

          stars flickering in the fading twilight. the silence of a light breeze as pine boughs begin to whisper. the ache of tall trees swaying in the night with a moan like countless masts on the tall ships of a planet. blink. and i sleep.

          #1015
          TracyTracy
          Participant

            Elizabeth was beginning to realize that there WAS no ‘end of the road’, no grand finale, no finish line. Whenever her characters appeared to be nearing the proposed grand point of the story, she found herself following another thread in the impossibly huge tapestry. Maybe she didn’t want it to end, or perhaps it was that there was no ‘point’, no end point to aim for, that it was all just a process, a continual weaving of marvelously coloured threads. Some threads were gaily coloured silks, some were rough and coarse, some were woolly and comforting, and others were plain and functional. There were threads of the most unusual and unexpected fibres, other worldly threads tying the myriad dimensions and chapters together somehow. It really was the most fabulously intricate and absorbing construction.

            #1009
            F LoveF Love
            Participant

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

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

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

              #1005
              EricEric
              Keymaster

                This I Ching business wasn’t very convenient to figure out, Al was thinking.
                For Becky’s draw, he had more than a handful:

                entry 3 (id:1610) #835
                entry 2 (id:234) #171
                entry 1 (id:1275) #638

                All he had to do was relax, and know that the magic would appear by ways of his interpretation of these numbers.
                He wanted to get 6 numbers out of these 3 comments. So, for each of the comments, he would make 2 numbers.

                So, for the original comment IDs:

                • 1275: 1 (odd) and 2 (even) gives (odd) ; then 7 and 5 gives (even)
                • 234: 2 and 3 gives (odd) ; 3 and 4 (odd)
                • 1610: 1 and 6 gives (odd) ; 1 and 0 gives (odd)

                odd-even-odd-odd-odd-odd (what a bunch of odds, he thought, though barely surprised remembering the numbers came from Becky)
                that’s 1-0-1-1-1-1 or |¦||||

                From now on, he would spare everyone the maths, and play some interlude music while working out the magic.

                (some lalala music) :yahoo_party:

                and for the mutation (835,171,638): 1-0-0-0-1-1 or |¦¦¦||

                And the result: ‘Fellowship of Men’ mutating to ‘Increase’

                Bah… this is more fun to add more nonsense than try to figure out what it was all about. Al was finding it the moral of the story for today.

                #1003
                TracyTracy
                Participant

                  Well, what a coincidence! exclaimed Becky. Becky was choosing her I Ching story comments, not altogether sure (not in the least sure, really) how it worked, but enjoying the opportunity to do a few random impulse searches. She had been reading the blog archives of Stilly from the early part of the century, all about cactus, beetles, and the investigation into the cochineal trade, when she suddenly remembered the Reality Play deadline. Anticipating buckling down to some serious writing, Becky was delighted to find the I Ching game, and made her first random choice.

                  Well, what a coincidence! Becky repeated. It’s all about beetles!

                  Becky made a note of the number: 638. :notepad:

                  #998
                  EricEric
                  Keymaster

                    “Okay,” Al started.
                    “At the essence of I Ching, is the notion that everything is mutable, and changes. Everything changes, except the law that says that everything changes.
                    “In many ways, the I Ching is like a book where the pages numbering change every time you start to read it. Not unlike our story composition.”

                    “I get that,” answered Tina, interested by what would come out.

                    “So,” Al continued, always disagreeably pondering, Tina would say. “usually, when people are drawing to read from the I Ching, they have six numbers that give an hexagram. And these numbers are carrying into them their potential change, which usually gives another hexagram to read.”
                    “In our stories, the entries have a fixed identity, which is given by the system; this is our starting point. For your comments, this is ’4-191-328’.
                    “But as everything evolves, our entries are given an order in the book; this order is changeable, and that’s what I will use for the second hexagram; in your case it’s ’2-151-223’.”
                    “If you say so…” Tina sighed, a bit lost.
                    “Oh, I’m inventing the rules as we speak,” Al said trying to reassure her somewhat.
                    “I don’t know if that makes me feel better” she said.

                    “Okay. Now, I need to create the hexagrams; hexagrams are defined by six straight or broken lines; zero or one, binary system. Here, Chinese usually use the convention that odd is straight, and even is broken… Ahaha, doesn’t seem to make sense, but odd is male, unbalanced into action, and is associated with single, straight things. Broken is paired, complete in reflection, unbalanced in passivity.”

                    “And I wonder when we actually start to hear something that makes sense?” whispered Tina, a bit crossly.

                    “Okay, the thing I see, is that I have trouble making one hexagram with seven numbers, ahaha”, Al laughed a bit embarrassed.

                    “Oh, then no point in wiggling like that” said Tina very sweetly, “Scrap any bit that bothers you”.

                    “Okay, anyway we can go deeper into them afterwards if needed; I’ll scrap the first number rather than the last, because you see, 2 and 4 are both even, and thus there is no mutation here.”

                    Original Mutation
                    8 ╌ 3 —
                    2 ╌ 2 ╌
                    3 — 2 ╌
                    1 — 1 —
                    9 — 5 —
                    1 — 1 —
                    4 ╌ 2 ╌

                    “So here we are, if we scrap the bottom one, we get…”

                    #961

                    Much to Arona’s surprise…

                    Although I don’t know why I am continually surprised, she thought, surely I am getting used to this weirdo story by now.

                    Well anyway, Arona found herself standing outside of Malvina’s cave. She was still so caught up in the last warm remnants of her delightful reverie in the field of flowers it took her a few moments to realise that the entrance to the cave had disappeared and was now a solid wall of stone.

                    Hmmmm, yes, said Leormn, appearing in the nick of time to answer her unspoken question, Yes, Malvina has been shifting things around again.

                    I can’t get in though! complained the ever astute Arona.

                    No, agreed Leormn reflectively, you can’t. Well there is another entrance, but this has only been disclosed to an elite few. He smiled smugly.

                    #1807

                    In reply to: Synchronicity

                    EricEric
                    Keymaster

                      Fake contessa spotted in the trashy Brit news ;)) (story ref.)

                      #936

                      California, 1849

                      Almost five months… Five whole months they’d been traveling all around the place at a very slow pace.
                      Twilight was enjoying every instant of being in the middle of that strange moving cohort.

                      She had been inspired to write daily. Not much at the beginning, but it was all “in the dedication and intent that marvel would shine through”, as Felix, the Otter man had been saying to her.

                      In truth, she wasn’t really expecting marvels, but marvels had come to her more than once.
                      At times, she even felt compelled to write about it to Jo and Elroy, her dear brothers. Of course, she’d been writing with a clockwork regularity, posting sometimes more than a few letters at each of their settling near a new town, all the way from Texas, to Colorado, Utah, Nevada and finally California. She wasn’t even sure the actual letters were reaching them, but she more than once felt like her thoughts had reached them throughout the distance, and her dreams would confirm her into these intuitions.
                      That trip was hard, harder than she would have guessed, with all the heat, dust and chaotic dirt trails, but the company and fellowship was always uplifting, and a joy of each instant.
                      Even the war between America and Mexico that made travel even more perilous was over after two years, and things all around seemed to settle down more peacefully as if to reflect that truce.

                      And now, looking at all of what she had gathered, she was amazed at these marvels she had collected, those nuggets of their lives, each moment seemingly so fleeting and trite, and yet, as they were put together, all marvelously interwoven.
                      Though she mostly loved passionate real-life stories, she had to admit she had a soft spot (or let it be said, an un-common spot) for one of her most delirious story.
                      She had been inspired to write something about giant ants after she’d been amazed at seeing huge ant hills during their trip in the deserts. There was this mad quack who was trying to extract some sort of honey from giant ants to make a powerful drug, and and she had added lots of her friends from the show inside this story. Herself was a delightful jet-black haired beauty with an impossible name and diverse and frustrated love interests, spying on the mad quack… She even started to dream about that story at times…

                      She loved that gentle slipping into abundant nutness…

                      Now that they were arrived in San Francisco, she was considering settling there for a while, sharing her time between writing and dancing. Time would tell.

                      #921

                      It had been a week now. Georges had fully taken his role as Shu-Lom, the eleventh Gate in the Council of the Guardians. His mergence with the actual focus of Blöhmul was fading out ; the transition had been smooth, unnoticed by most of the Guardians, even his closest friends. Georges was careful not to display any unusual change in Shu-Lom’s attitude, though some of them were showing signs of suspicion, especially… his own focus, Sinadron who was the most susceptible to be aware of the difference. Georges had been avoiding him since his arrival, but he would eventually have to face him for one of the rituals soon to begin.
                      Of the eleventh other Guardians, only 2 were considering him as a friend, Doh’Maar and Vogel. Most of the others were ignoring him during the sessions and Sinadron were despising him. Well, technically he was despising Shu-Lom and the change would not make things go easier between the 2 of them as the energy of their 2 focuses were sort of repulsing each other.
                      Following Shu-Lom’s habits, he was heading to the public baths, but contrary to him, he was going during daylight. He needed some answers. He had been feeling strong tensions between the Gates, and there were also underlying feeling of discontentment and anger among the other Guardians. For the first time in their history, unknown groups of their kind were attacking the other races and provoking them and generating feelings of fear, even amongst the Guardians.
                      The man he was following would give him some of the answers. He would have to befriend him first though. Noraam had a smooth energy, and he would be easy to approach, especially in the dampness of the baths.

                      Noraam was wearing an grey cape, attached on his shoulders with carved fibulae. His robe was short, above his knees, and rather dark. He was quite young by the standards of the Guardians and still fiery. Shu-Lom was young too, about the same age as Noraam, but he was quite pessimistic and self-effacing, and especially he wanted to leave, that he did, and Georges took his place.
                      Georges suddenly felt a familiar energy, one that he would recognize anywhere, anytime. Salome… rather another focus of her essence. Hahaha, that was a surprise, and he almost lost track of what he was doing. Noraam was already taking the stairs up to the baths. Something about the energy of that focus was attractive, he still didn’t know who it was or what he/she(?) was doing here. Maybe just a projection. He didn’t have time to investigate. Heading to the stairs where Noraam was already being dematerialized and rematerialized to the first level, he heard a child’s voice.

                      Can you help me?.. I know you can.

                      What again, another distraction… he would be late to the baths and maybe loose the occasion to speak with the other Gate.

                      Looking down at the origin of the voice, he was surprised to see a little girl, red hair and amber eyes. As he could see, she was blind, but as he could feel, she was quite capable of seeing things.

                      Do I know you, little one? He had not been aware of this child in Shu-Lom’s memories, and he was wondering if he had missed something during his encounters with the original.

                      You dreamt of me the other night, but you weren’t here yet.

                      Her last words triggered a memory, of him carrying a naked little girl in his arms, protecting her in a way, and he was following a man in his dream, trying to keep track… in his dream, he was rushing and almost lost the child, following also Salome who had already taken the stairs… yes he was here in his dreams, the place and the stairs were the same… as was the child.

                      What is your name little one? In my dream you were followed by an owl
                      You can call me Ar’Meel.

                      :fleuron:

                      Sam thought he could write it somewhat differently. With his understanding of Georges’ abilities, he could well have split in two and followed Salome and stayed with the girl simultaneously and maybe even Noraam.
                      A smile.
                      He was feeling wobbly and wavy. A ripple effect?
                      It seemed that there had been a strange recognition between his character and himself. It was like Georges was aware of Sam wanting to change what had happened… or was it a suggestion of Georges?

                      #1803

                      In reply to: Synchronicity

                      EricEric
                      Keymaster


                        Yesterday sync: while watching a series, something popped in in relation to the crystal skulls.

                        The thing is, Roslin, the woman character on the screenshot, is a president dying from a cancer, and is wearing a black wig. We had been discussing black wig with Finn previously.

                        Later that night, Tracy shared about an experience that she and her friends just had during the afternoon, which was interpreted by Arkandin as a bleedthrough from a dying focus of her friend’s husband. He said that this focus would be in Chile.
                        Tracy inquired if there was a Chile thread already in the story, to which I told her there was

                        And I was quite impressed to see there was a connection not only to crystal skulls and Chile, but also with dying person, and wig…

                        L-)

                        #893

                        The day had been long. Actually, from an outside perspective he had been apparently sleeping almost all of it, so it was not appearing as if it could be a really exhausting day at all.
                        But Al had been extending his body researches in the subjective. He’d started to play again with his various dream bodies he had known the existence of for quite a while now, though he hadn’t yet found the time to experiment with them fully enough. An idea he owed to Sam, who he had been pleased to hear about his unusual experiences in the Australian bush, or more accurately, in the Dreamtime.

                        Playing with these various “bodies”, or qualities of attention and perception, he was aware that his thoughts on the recent events occurring in their story was still unfolding in the backstage of his attention. A rehearsal perhaps…
                        Nevertheless, he was delaying the actual representation, for he felt he was not yet ready for it.
                        He could feel lots of information waiting for him to download them and process them. But he wanted to do it with clarity.

                        Last try had not been very convincing… He had dreamt of a midget Tina, in a flowing mauve and lemon chiffon dress. Of course, in the dream he had taken great care of not hurting her feelings, all the more since she seemed so fond of the dress. He couldn’t really tell her that the dress was giving her an enormous butt and that she was rolling her hips comically when she was walking… Impossible…
                        While dream-Al was searching for words to truthfully convey his appreciation of whatever little thing that could be left to appreciate on that dress, dream-Sam had been quick to tell dream-Tina she looked like fairy Nuf. What had he said! She soon started to weep noisily. Fairy Nuf, as anyone knew, is a purple-clad plump grumpy fairy, with a pointy hat and she couldn’t possibly look that bad.
                        Speak about clarity…

                        Al tried again to concentrate. Taking deep breathes.

                        He could feel more and more clearly the presence of the woman. Her aura was beckoning, and she seemed to want to share information with him —pieces of information he would be free to tell others or not, it didn’t matter.
                        What mattered was that there was this deep desire for this information which was coming from him; and equally as deep as his, her own desire to share was palpable.

                        Salome ” he whispered “ I am ready to see
                        He soon started to fall into another lucid dream…

                        #892
                        EricEric
                        Keymaster

                          Al took another pleased look at the animated stereographic pictures of himself he had been pleased to see in a special feature of Wisp. Oddly enough, he usually didn’t care to appear in such an outlet of officially held beliefs (now that most people were indeed living those previously-considered-odd concepts described issue after issue, it wasn’t like it was unofficial experiences any longer), but considering the amount of readers, he couldn’t have just turned down such a proposition of coverage.

                          After putting the magazine into the drawer, Al voiced the cyputer on. An expensive acquisition this cyputer, but Tina and him had agreed that this new artificial-consciousness device would be worth more than a try, and probably would help them with putting some order in the entangled threads of their story submissions. Well, of course Tina had been slightly reluctant at first, as she had felt her taxonomy skills being rebuked, but Al had tenderly reminded her with a wink that they would be soon more equipped than sooo last-century Becky Pooh.
                          Tina had bit her sensual glossy crimson lips when she almost spilled the beans about Becky’s expected kid who would probably teach her a trick or two on the new technology. Little did she know that Al knew a few things about this adventure

                          The suave voice of the cyputer asked if he cared to read the new additions on the story.
                          Oh good… Al rubbed his hand with expectation, and started to carefully listen to Tina’s last additions.

                          :fleuron:

                          Al had felt quite stimulated by what he had just had the cyputer read aloud with Tina’s sampled voice, and had to refrain himself from writing another long comment just after that. Essentially for Sam’s sake who would complain about Al being a pooper of big comments… ;))

                          #1801

                          In reply to: Synchronicity

                          F LoveF Love
                          Participant

                            few spider synchs – the other night I had a vivid dream of a spider, a large one with a funny symbol on it’s back. I found it in my ice-cream and was trying to catch it in a small plastic jar. Then I decided I must search the icecream to see if there were any more spiders. The icecream parted in the middle and changed texture, resembling the texture of a spider’s nest. When I woke up I read Eric’s new comment

                            I had been planning to add a spider comment to the tifikijoo island thread and was had a particular comment in mind. The next time I looked at the story site, the comment I had been thinking of came up as the random quote

                            Franiel thread , where I talked about the messenger birds Fincheons and introduced a motorbike – I wrote this directly before going to my hairdresser. As he was talking he told me he had always wanted a motorbike. He had to leave me for a few minutes to move the motorbike of another client which was blocking the access way. He also told me he’d had an unusual bird incident, a fantail had on two separate occasions circled his head, freaking him out rather. The maori believe this bird is a messenger bird, some believe it is an omen of death, others that it is an omen of good-luck … well whatever it is regarded as a messenger. Another synch with the comment; the fincheons are grey birds, the fantail found commonly in NZ is the grey fantail

                            A couple of synch numberplates today: EAGL 1 and EGY221

                            #888

                            Franiel lifted the metal latch and pushed open the creaking door of the old shed. In the darkness he could make out of the shape of boxes and other various objects, then, as his eyes became more accustomed to the darkness, he saw the motorbike propped up against the far wall.

                            What are you up to young man?

                            Franiel jumped and spun around. It was Lydia, just returned from her journey to the market.

                            Oh hello again! You startled me … Phoebe suggested I check out the motorbike, see if I can get it going.

                            Lydia looked grave. Did she now? Well it’s been many a long year since that piece of junk worked. Anyway so you’ve met Madame Chesterhope then, and what did you make of her? She was giving Franiel that deeply penetrating stare again. Franiel wondered kindly if perhaps she was shortsighted.

                            Oh very nice … and I met Vincentius the parrot too.

                            Lydia chuckled. Did you now?

                            Yes, actually Phoebe told me a rather unusual story.

                            At that Lydia broke into gales of laughter. Let me guess, about mixing the aura and the egg?

                            Yes, that’s right, replied Franiel, his face breaking into a smile too as he realised the absurdity of it.

                            Lydia wiped the tears of laughter from her face. ’Ere Lad, I told you things are not what they always seem. She thought for a moment. I’m parched from my long walk, I am going inside to make a brew. Why don’t you join me? If you are going to be stopping then there are a few things you need to know.

                            #882
                            EricEric
                            Keymaster

                              Ms Beryl?
                              — Yes.
                              — Tell me more about this whole sneezing… You can’t be serious about that deposition. You have sworn on the Book of Flove, and perjury is a grave offense.
                              — I know that, Sir.
                              — Perfect. And notwithstanding, you maintain your deposition.
                              — Notwithstandingly, I do Sir.
                              — That will be all.

                              :fleuron2:

                              A few days later, the case on what happened of the time-travelling goats was close owing to blatant lack of evidence.
                              Some later said that the judge fondness for the annual Fainting Goat Fair won his leniency, but that would be another story…

                              #876

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

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

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

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

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

                              Make your writing detailed, with accurate depiction of suction noises

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

                              You know Robbie-pooh what is wrong with this?

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

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

                              :fleuron:

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

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

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

                              YES!

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

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

                              :fleuron:

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

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

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

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

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

                              :fleuron:

                              ahahahaahah, laughed Elizabeth happily.

                              #862

                              “Actually, that’s it! Quintin had feared the implications, as lots of people did.
                              It would mean everything would be allowed. Everything would be true, even the most blatant contradictions would be harmoniously living side by side.”

                              Becky smiled at the marvelously appropriate Reality Play entry that she’d found whilst randomly reading back through their script notes.

                              She’d had a hard time explaining to Sean about the probability glitch in which the note had appeared in the ‘wrong’ reality. He understood the concept of probable realities eventually, but he was hurt and confused as to why Becky had even thought to make up that probability in the first place. Becky hadn’t told him the full story about the dream, feeling that it may in some way be a self fulfilling prophecy if Sean knew that (in one probability, at any rate) he ended up an alcoholic, not to mention all those children! The very thought of all those children was enough to make Becky break out in a sweat, and she wasn’t inclined to add energy to that probable future.

                              Becky explained that she had written the note to Sean (in the Reality Play) to tell him she was leaving him merely as a method of introducing some new characters, but Sean was deeply wounded.

                              She did her best to placate her new husband and take his mind off it, even going so far as to don the shrunken tarty nun outfit. But after the romantic interlude, when Becky had fallen asleep, Sean was unable to stop thinking about it, and he wandered dejectedly into the kitchen, and poured himself a large whiskey.

                              In an ironic twist of fate, a glimpse into a probable future had affected the present, and Sean’s descent into confused drunkenness began in earnest.

                            Viewing 20 results - 481 through 500 (of 638 total)