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  • #2498

    In reply to: Strings of Nines

    TracyTracy
    Participant

      Yoland was inordinately pleased with her purchases, trifling though they were. She smiled at the little bottle of cherry red nail varnish, imagining how it would look on sun browned and callous free toes. Painted toe nails was one of life’s simple pleasure, she reckoned. Nothing fancy or expensive or uncomfortable, like her new brassiere, which had never the less given her spirits a bit of a lift, as well as her breasts, with its bright blue moulded foam shape. She wondered if she could suspend the brassiere and its contents from something other than her shoulders for once, but couldn’t see how it could be arranged and still allow a modicum of freedom of movement. Perhaps some of the new scientific discoveries that she was eagerly awaiting would include some kind of gravity and weight defying device, possibly helium filled foam support. Perhaps even in the future, anyone with a high squeaky voice would be described as a bra sucker. Or perhaps one day breasts worn on the waist would be fashionable. This thought made Yoland a bit uncomfortable, as she hadn’t really believed she was following fashion, but maybe she was after all.

      Yoland wondered if she was verging on the ridiculous again, and decided that it didn’t matter if she was. There was something rather splendid, she was beginning to discover, about the mundane and the silly. Something serenely pleasurable about ~ well about everything she’d been taking for granted for so many years. The things she hadn’t really noticed much, while her mind was busy thinking and pondering, replaying old conversations, and imagining new ones, sometimes with others, but often with herself, inside the vast jumble of words that was her mind.

      It was always a wonderful change of pace to go away on a trip, with its wealth of new conversations and words, events and symbols to ponder over later at her leisure, the many photographic snapshots providing reminders and clues and remembered laughs, but it was the renewed sense of appreciation for the mundane that was ultimately most refreshing about returning home.

      The word home had baffled Yoland for many years. For most of her 51 years, if the truth be told. So many moves, so many houses, so many people ~ where, really, was home? She’d eventually compromised and called herself a citizen of the world, but she still found herself at times silently wailing “I want to go home”, but with the whole world as her home, it didn’t make a great deal of sense why she would still yearn for that elusive place called home.

      Of all the words that swam in her head some of them seemed to keep bobbing up to the surface, attracting her attention from time to time. That was the funny thing about words, Yoland mused, not for the first time, You hear them and hear them and you understand what they mean, but only in theory. The suddenly something happens and you shout AHA, and then you can’t find any words to explain it! Repeating the words you’ve already heard a hundred times somehow doesn’t even come close to describing what it actually feels like to understand what those words mean. That kind of feeling always left her wondering if everyone else had known all along, except her.

      Yoland was often finding words in unexpected places, and these were often the very words that were the catalysts. (Even the word catalyst had been one of those words that repeatedly bobbed to the surface of her sea of words). Her trip had been in search of words, supposedly, channeled words (although Yoland suspected the trip had been more about connections than words) and yet there had only really been one word that had stood out as significant, and oddly enough, that word had been watermelon.

      That had been a lesson in itself, if indeed lesson is the right word. Yoland had been attempting to exercise her psychic powers for six months or more, trying to get Toobidoo, the world famous channeled entity, to say the word watermelon ~ just for fun. She couldn’t even remember how it all started, or why the word watermelon was significant ~ perhaps a connection to a symbol etched on a watermelon rind in Marseilles, which later became a Tile of the City. (Yoland wasn’t altogether sure that she understood the tiles, but she did think it was a very fun game, and that aspect alone was sufficient to hold her interest.) By the end of the last day of the channeling event Toobidoo still hadn’t said the word watermelon which was somewhat of a disappointment, so when Yoland saw Gerry Jumper, Toobidoo’s channel, in the vast hotel foyer, she ran up to him saying “Say watermelon.” The simple direct method worked instantly, where months of attempts the hard way had failed. Yoland felt that she learned alot from this rather silly incident about the nature of everyday magic, and this particular lesson, or we might prefer to call it a communication, was repeated for good measure the following day in the park.

      Wailon, the other world famous channeled entity who was the star attraction of the Words Event, had proudly displayed photographic evidence of orbs at the lecture. Like Yoland had tried with the watermelon, he was choosing an esoteric and unfamiliar method of creating orbs, suggesting that the audience meditate and conjure them up to show on photographs, rather than simply creating physical orbs. Yoland and her friends Meldrew and Franklyn had chanced upon a beautiful glass house full of real physical glass orbs in the park, underlining the watermelon message for Yoland: not to discount the spontaneous magic of the physical world in the search for the esoteric.

      It had, for example, been rather magical and wonderful to hear Gerry Jumper explain how he had mentioned watermelon to his wife on the previous day in the dining room ~ mundane, yes, but magical too. It would have been marvellous to create Toobidoo channeling the word watermelon for sure, but how much more magical to create an actual slice of physical watermelon in the dining room and have Gerry remark on it, and to have an actual physical conversation with him about it. Who knows, he may even remember the nutcase who spent six months trying to get him to say watermelon whenever he sees one, at least for awhile. It might be quite often too, as his wife is partial to watermelon. Yoland wondered if this was some kind of connecting link, perhaps the connection to Gerry and Cindy started in Marseilles and watermelon was the physical clue, the pointer towards the connection.

      Perhaps, Yoland wondered, the orbs were the connecting link to Wailon, although she didn’t feel such a strong connection to him as she did to Toobidoo and Gerry Jumper. She had been collecting coloured gel orbs for several months ~ just for fun. There was often a connecting link to be found in the silly and the fun, the pointless and the bizarre, and even in the mundane and everyday things.

      In the days following her return home ~ or the house that Yoland lived in, shall we say ~ she felt rather sleepy, as if she was in slow motion, but the feeling was welcome, it felt easy and more importantly, acceptable. There was nothing that she felt she should be doing instead, for a change, no fretting about starting projects, or accomplishing chores, rather a slow pleasant drifting along. Yes, there were chores to be done, such as watering plants and feeding animals and other things, but they no longer felt like chores. She found she wasn’t mentally listing all the other chores to be done but was simply enjoying the one she was doing. Even whilst picking up innumerable dog turds outside, she heard the birds singing and saw the blossom on the fruit trees against the blue sky, saw shapes in the white clouds, heard the bees buzzing in the wisteria. The abundance of dog shit was a sign of a houseful of happy healthy well fed dogs, and the warm spring sun dried it and made it easier to pick up.

      It was, somewhat unexpectedly, while Yoland was picking up dog shit that she finally realized what some of those bobbing words meant about home, and presence, and connection to source. It seemed amusingly ironic after travelling so far (not just the recent trip, but all the years of searching) to finally find out where home was, where the mysterious and elusive source was. (Truth be told, some printed words she found the previous day had been another catalyst, by Vivian channeled by Wanda, but she couldn’t recall the exact words. Yoland had to admit that words, used as a catalyst, were really rather handy.)

      Wherever you go, there you are ~ they were words too, and they were part of the story. Now that Yoland had come to the part where she wanted to express in words where home, and source, was, she found she couldn’t find the right words. In a funny kind of way the word vacant popped into her head, as if the place where the vast jumble of words was usually housed became vacant, allowing her to be present in her real physical world. It really was quite extraordinary how simple it was. Too simple for words.

      :yahoo_heehee:

      #2163
      ÉricÉric
      Keymaster

        From the Eights’ Shift new settings

        “Take advantage of the Beast’s sleep to have some.”
        From How to Sing Like a Bird in Fifty Three Relatively Easy Lessons by Eremurus LemonID2047

        “We’re all nuts anyway; different flavours thereof, but nuts nonetheless, peanuts, peacan or up the wall-nuts” Eremus LemonID2061

        “One would find it strange how people cling to their discomfort, going in as much length as by saying it’s good to suffer uninteresting bitching because it’s a sort of untold proof there is shift happening…” from Ewko Lemin’s Whizzing Away in a Blue FlashID2064

        #2220

        And look at the funny messages her business cards have on them! Lavender pulled a selection of cards from her purse. I mean how weird is this:

        Lester’s ex-wife keeps the milk cold. Batman316 is a nugget

        and listen to this one:

        We have a lot of fun doing it and you can too.

        So I just knew it had to be some sort of clue. So you know me … I just had to make an appointment to see her!

        Oh of course, agreed Decimus, scratching his ear. You don’t have a business card for Dr Limur in there by any chance do you?

        oh no, sorry. Anyway, before I meet Annabel, I intend to go shopping for some new parasites. Aspidistra asked me to bring some back for her … and it is the least I can do really.

        Yes, parasites sound great, sighed Decimus. You know the name of Annabel Ingram does ring a bell. Is she the one who takes guided tours of the Doorway of the Goddess Amarylis Moo Rue?

        #2175

        In reply to: Closing up

        ÉricÉric
        Keymaster

          A little precision about the “word cloud” and the “random quote”.

          The word cloud takes everything (all discussions, even those extraneous to the stories) into account, up to 300 something comments from the now moment. So the story thread shift didn’t affect it.

          The random quote was initially taken from the Circle of Eights’ thread only. I slightly changed the program recently so that it’ll pick up randomly from either this thread or the new one.

          #2212
          ÉricÉric
          Keymaster

            A sudden message popped into the bathtub.
            Opening the capsule, it was obvious it came from the future, as the color code was unmistakable.

            Well Fall is officially here now. Time to get down to business. How would up to 3k extra a week fit into your life? We have alot of fun doing it and you can to. Call the number below to hear how you can get onboard.

            The last part was more intriguing. Probably a code.

            Lester’s ex-wife keeps the milk cold. Batman316 is a nugget.

            He rose from the bubble of now cold goat milk bath for his sensitive skin, and dried his muscular body.
            For this mission, he probably would have to get onto those old generation portals. He always had a spare pants for those missions, as only bio material could travel though. He sure didn’t want his pants to disintegrate in the heat of the action.

            #2209
            F LoveF Love
            Participant

              Ann Tattler groaned. Perhaps listening wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. The latest novel was degenerating rapidly into trivial nonsense, in large part thanks to the collaborative writing efforts of her publisher, and the cleaner, Daisy. It was hard keeping quiet when confronted with such an outpouring of nonsensical rubbish.

              She wondered despondently whether even the erudite Eremurus Lemon would be able to help her this time. She opened his latest book, “How to Sing Like a Bird in Fifty Three Relatively Easy Lessons” at random.

              Take advantage of the Beast’s sleep to have some.

              Of course! Duh! How could she have doubted Lemon. Didn’t he always come through? She should be taking advantage of this time of silence! While her inner noisy beast was sleeping she should be having some.

              But some what?

              #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.

              #2196

              I think Aspooh is too busy mourning her cat which she had embalmed and mummified to pay any attention to the piglet (it be).

              “Did you know that ancient Egyptians shaved their eyebrows in sign of mourn when the family cat died?”

              What do you think of “Cellar door” as a name? Some eminent linguist has proposed it was the most beautiful association of nouns in the whole English language…

              Now, Lavender was puzzled; why in the name of all the angels’ choir, Harvey was speaking of nun associations? Soon he’ll be talking of peanuts at that rate…

              This whole Shifting business was definitely taking its toll on uncanny understandings…

              #2193

              Oh! That’s right! that’s what I meant to tell you .. she exclaimed.

              What? … oh and what IS your name, anyway? asked Harvey. We are such close friends, I sort of feel I should call you something.

              Lavender ..funny, I thought you knew that .. well anyway, I forgot to mention, when they asked me what breed I would like for Essence I asked for a piglet. I asked for one with black and white stripes to take after Col. They are so cute aren’t they, and smart too! I hope Aspidistra likes pigs though …

              #2191

              I don’t remember dreams at all unfortunately, she confided, her voice lowered. But, on the bright side, the DMT I have been taking is helping me to see aliens and little people.

              Her close friend Harvey Norman, circus performer and proxy dreamer in his spare time, nodded distractedly, not really listening. He was more concerned at that moment with investigating any visible damage to his precious nose. Freakin heck! a freakin oven! what would the producers come up with next?

              Oh you know what! she continued, unperturbed by Harvey’s lack of attention. I’m pregnant! I’m so excited. I have a name picked and everything. I am going to call it Essence. The Fellowship said I could pick it up next week!

              Oh yeah? The Fellowship said next week? That’s pretty cool. Didn’t know you were after a baby. They are a bit hard to come by now aren’t they? So who is the father donor?

              None other than the great Col Umbro himself! She smiled proudly, anticipating the effect her words would have. She was not disappointed.

              Wow! Col Umbro! The Zebra! Harvey stopped the investigation of his nose in order to shake his head in disbelief. How did YOU manage that?

              Oh, well you know last week when I had that interview with Ann Tattler? you know, the crazy author who doesn’t write any more, just listens?

              Harvey noodded and roolled his eyes disparagingly. Used to be Elizabeth right? yeah sure, who hasn’t heard of her… so, go on …

              Well, HE was there, and he suggested I ask him some questions, you know to assess my suitability for the position. Somehow, by some freakin miraculous fluke, I managed to get the questions in the right order .. he is a bit obsessed with the whole order thing …. but I didn’t know that till after … so anyway, he was so impressed with my obvious brilliance that he offered to father a baby for me!

              Harvey, rendered momentarily speechless, shook his head again. He had never had much time for babies himself, although appreciated that some people were into
              them.

              Yeah, I know what you mean, she said, reading his thoughts. Actually I am not sure if I have really thought it through. I might have got caught up in the whole thrill of the moment thing … to be honest, I don’t know if little Essence will fit into my lifestyle. I am supposed to be going to Asgard next week …

              Asgard? Really, can you still get through? I thought the bridge was crumbling?

              oh really! bugger! … Oh but anyway I am thinking of giving little Essence to my cousin Aspidistra. She is such a funny old thing with her strange glowing skin. A little baby to care for could do her the world of good.

              #1290

              Yurick woke up from another spell of dreams. The patterns of the bedsheets where as though his newly inserted tile was creating a strong combination with other tiles.

              Spruttle

              In his puzzlement, he forgot to take a physical dream snapshot…

              #2183

              When Aspidistra woke early the following morning she lay still in the darkness. Holding up her arm she used the faint golden glow her skin gave off to read the time on her bedside clock. 4.44 am!

              She remembered the advice Dick had given her when she shared her dream. Dear Dick, she had fully expected him to laugh at her foolish fancies.

              When you wake up in the morning, take a deep breath. Sing the song of joy that you are here! Dick Tator

              Feeling a little foolish she took a deep breath, opened her mouth wide and ….. out came a high pitched shriek.

              I sound more like a squawking magpie than a song bird, she thought disconsolately.

              Gloomily she switched on the television where a muscular looking man was attempting to balance an oven on his face.

              #1285
              ÉricÉric
              Keymaster

                Naasir then exhaled slowly, until all in the cave was still.
                The End

                — “What?”
                — “That can’t be true?”

                The twins were outraged. The book couldn’t stop now, there was so much left they wanted to explore. Watermelons, mummies, secret islands… even aliens would be a fate better than a dreaded “END”!

                Lord Wrick smiled at them.
                “Dear ones, you knew all along that there was no third book, and that it would end at some point, didn’t you?”

                A stubborn silence greeted his deep raspy voice.

                He continued unfaltering “Let us see it another way. These stories are like a breath.
                You take breath without thinking of it. It feels good to have the air flow into your lungs and make you feel so full of life.
                But you know without even thinking when it’s time to release. You can try to hold the air indefinitely in your lungs, but soon it’ll become painful. The air is all around you, you can release the tiny fraction you think you hold without a worry. All you will have to do is breathe again.
                These books will change over time, they are not finished. They are only closed. You can open them again anytime, and reinvent them. I trust your imagination on that.”

                #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.

                #1283

                Leormn was glad to be back in his cave.
                The trip with the twins and Irtak had been very interesting for all of them; it had expanded their knowledge of their world, and the young Irtak was allowing his desire to be expressing his playfulness with dragons more and more.

                Leormn could foresee he would become a great dragon breeder, and the dragons once again would reappear with times of peace.

                For now, he and Malvina were packing again. It was time for them to move the rookery, and find another spot where they could alter the stuck energies by simply being there. They were like roots in the ground, they were unseen to most, but they were moving, and changing the quality of the soil, enriching it, bringing lightness to it.

                Irtak and the twins would start their own path, they had learned so much. They were heading to the South deserts, the land of the gripshawks, and other less known creatures. Irtak wanted to see the seal-men, too wherever they were, in between the Icy Lands and the Southern shores. He wanted to explore everythere.

                Arona had found her way to the cave, and since Malvina was moving again, she had decided to stay there with her newfound little strange, but delightful family. Ikesy would probably go in a few years to fulfill his own destiny, but for now, the Ugling raised by an Oddling was doing well.
                Having seen the interesting properties of her painted door (yes, the “peace off” magic door) she had finally acknowledged her talent, and decided to devote her time to take up her art. Of course, Mandrake was encouraging as ever (refraining to comment at the beginning), but she had no doubt her dedication would conquer his and her own doubts.
                After all, her magic was strong; if anything needed to be drawn out of this adventure that was it. And Buckberry her own artist dragon was a remainder of that.

                #1282
                F LoveF Love
                Participant

                  Speaking of toomoorroow, Elizabeth,there is something I have been meaning to say to you for some time now. Godfrey cleared his throat nervously. Somehow with all our deep, and incredibly meaningful philosoophising about life, I clean forgot to mention it.

                  Clean is hardly the word I would have used whilst anywhere in the vicinity of this ooffice, muttered Finnley, mostly to herself, as she attempted to dislodge a large spooder web from the corner of the ceiling.

                  Godfrey hesitated. He looked down and with somewhat unusual preoccupation made spiral patterns in the thick layer of dust on the window ledge.

                  Godfrey, what is it? asked Elizabeth starting to feel some alarm. Oh in the name of Floove, you haven’t found another Felicity have you!

                  No, nothing like that. The thing is, you see … well …

                  Spoot it out! You are driving me Madder than Almad! snapped Elizabeth, losing patience, and craving nicobeck. She knew that meddlesome Finnley would take great delight in reporting her to Mr Arak if she smoked in the ooffice.

                  Godfrey sighed and looked up, directly into Elizabeth’s beautiful violet, albeit rather bloodshot, eyes.

                  I have been offered a position managing a poonut farm in Noo Zooland. I start immediately. It is a dream come true for me Elizabeth. I had to accept.

                  No! screamed Elizabeth.

                  Yes, I am afraid so. Goodbye dear Elizabeth. We both knew I was a rubbish pooblisher. Why don’t you see if that chap Bronkel will come back?

                  Good riddance I say! said Finnley as Godfrey walked out the door. You two have done nothing but speak noonsense in a hooty tooty accent since that man arrived.

                  #1278

                  Salome was recalling her first steps on the Murtuane as she was fondly turning a small pale greenish stone into her palm. The stone was smooth, with a milky shine and had a diffuse warmth.

                  It was carrying many of her memories of this time. She’d taken it from the shores of the Kandulim that first night, taking the rough stone as something to cling on, and firmly grasp, to bring herself back to her own senses, and drown her fearfulness and disorientation in the strong presence of feeling alive.

                  She’d kept it for a while, and then had started to learn how to use stones to encode certain information. Of all the shiny crystals that she could have used, she’d preferred to keep the rough unpolished stone because of its genuineness.
                  Encoding it wasn’t as easy as for more regular crystalline structures found in more precious stones, yet it was almost as if she’d wanted this one to bear the mark of her mastery at this art.

                  She wasn’t very educated, and had not seen much of the Earth, but she had known at once that this place where they had docked the dinghy after that epic escape from the Sultan’s palace wasn’t like anything she could have found on Earth. Somehow, even her own body had begun to reflect that alien-ority to her.

                  The stone was showing her scenes she had conveniently let slip away from her current focus. As she was seeing them, appreciation was overflowing her heart. It had taken her a while to get accustomed to this place and eerily enough, despite that lack of familiarity, she’d had a knowing that she was meant to be there.

                  Her thirst of discovery was as immense at that time —not that it was less at the moment, but the contrast between her ignorance and the things she knew she could access had been stark and bitterly felt.

                  She couldn’t help but smile at the scene of her past self learning to read and write. When Madame Chesterhope had taken her under her wing in her schemes to approach the Sultan with a worthy price, she had begun to learn from her a modicum of English language, but she would never have dreamt of learning how to read.

                  And there, how ironic that the first place she would learn that, of all the many languages she would learn over the course of their explorations with Georges, was a place from another dimension, with a language she only started to feel she could utter the sonorities of.

                  It was no mistake Leonard had brought them here first. Now she was thinking back, reminiscing this period of time, she recognized how much she loved the languages of the Turmakis. For her, it was as close as “home” a foreign culture could be called.

                  #1267

                  Yann got the phone call. It was a bit early where they were now living with Yurick, so he inferred that the call was probably coming from France. Looking at the caller ID, the familiar +33 index made him smile; it was indeed from France.

                  “Coucou!”

                  The clear young voice was unmistakable.

                  Hey, Chiara, comment ça va?

                  His niece was now a young pretty damsel, and still, Yann still remembered her fondly as the little baby who was dancing with great amusement at the sound of any music.
                  It has been long they had talked, and they chatted for awhile.

                  “Uncle Yann, can I ask you something?”
                  “Sure sweetie, what do you want to know?”
                  “I found stuff you wrote some time ago, about Alienor, and dragons, and these stories are fascinating… I want to know more about it; tell me…”

                  #1266

                  Jacques Schitt and Frank Diddley Squat were time-travelling artemesium absinthium salesmen. Diddley Squat had not returned from his last trip, and Jacques had just been informed that Frank’s phone was being answered by an imposter. The Absinthium Pirates has been unusually active of late, and Jacques was concerned.

                  The Time Travelling Absinthe Pirates were bright green in colour, and were often mistaken for aliens, depending on the timeframe they were visiting.

                  #1257
                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    “Don’t bother me with that now, Godfrey! Can’t you see I’m swamped with ideas? I’ve got so many things to write I simply don’t know where to start. Which is why I’m starting right here and now, with the issue of the writer being overloaded with potential story lines.”

                    Elizabeth ran her hands through her hair distractedly, and impatiently pushed the miniature giraffe off her lap.

                    “Relax, Liz”. Singularly unruffled, Godfrey picked up the giraffe and stroked his neck. “Tranquilo, Lizzie, tranquilo!”

                    “What? Oh, well done Godfrey, that’s taken care of one thing off my list then! One of my theme words had to be a foreign word.” Elizabeth started to relax. “And what finer word is there than tranquilo, eh, what a marvellous word.”

                    “Indeed” replied Godfey “But is that the correct usage of the creative writing theme words? I mean, really, you could just write ‘Liz had a list of theme words and they were a foreign word, dual~duel, marmalade sunrise, appreciate and adore, summer rain, beyond the horizon’ and leave it at that, couldn’t you?”

                    Godfrey, you are clever!” Elizabeth congratulated herself. “But what about all the other ideas?”

                    “Well, why not start by making a list? Jot down a few clues. Or just start writing, and see what happens. I’ll put the kettle on while you make a start, fancy a cuppa?”

                    “Oooh yes please! Finnley bought some new teabags this week, quite spicy they are as well.”

                    Godfrey sniggered as he disappeared into the kitchen, calling over his shoulder “Have you got any of those gingerbread men left?”

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