Search Results for 'tin'
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January 7, 2008 at 3:06 pm #1616
In reply to: Synchronicity
Great it works now
earlier today it wasn’t working, error 500!!!
and it’s 14:53 that’s again a demonstration of my great power
well a few synchs… since a few days, we are having with Eric synchs with the name Fletcher, related to Fletcher, the chief of the mutineer in the bounty…
there is also Jessica Fletcher in a TV series, who’s a novel writer… like crime books and so on… I don’t remember the name of the series in English but it’s “Arabesque” in French. (Murder, She Wrote In English)well yesterday I was looking for something… I don’t remember what it was and only the synch
I found that a new movie called Fletch would be created, and apparently Fletch is a series of books, about a man called Fletch , well actually Irwin Maurice Fletcher… who’s a journalist.
What I found funny again was that the writer created a spin off of the series of books after the introduction of a character named Flynn
In the first movie the actor George Wendt plays Fat Sam
Well that’s all about Fletcher.
Going to work this morning, as we moved to a new building I took another way… and crossed a Celine Robert Street
and a Massue Street (massue is a club).I found that funny
January 7, 2008 at 6:57 am #641In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
AN EXCHANGE WHICH TAKES PLACE ON THE STREETS OF LONDON DURING THE REIGN OF QUEEN VICTORIA:
‘Ere!, I saw you take that.
Let go of me, I didn’t do nothing.
I aint blind and I aint stupid, lad. I saw you put your thieving hand in this ladies handbag. Now what you got?
Nothing. Just this coin. It’s for me mam, she’s at home poorly, dying, and we aint got no food. ‘Ere, take it. it won’t happen again.
You’re right it won’t happen again because you’ll be going to the gallows I’ll be bound. I know your face. You’re one of them Magpies. I’ve ‘ad my eye on you for some time. You’re clever at covering tracks I’ll grant you that, but not clever enough it seems.
Look Mr Constable, I don’t know nothing about no magpies, they thieving birds aint they? It was for me poor old mam, I swear to God, if I be lying may ‘e strike me down dead.
No more blasphemy from you. I expect the good Lord’s got better things to do than spend his time striking down lying thieves. Thing is you’ve been been caught thieving from this lady and it’s not looking too good for you right now.
And I will thank you Ma’am for your courageous co-operation. said Constable Marshall O’Riley, turning galantly to the finely dressed woman, clutching her handbag tightly to her person. You have been victim of a heinous crime, and I would wish to trouble your gentle self no more with this matter. But I will thank you for your details and be assured I shall call upon you should we need you to give further evidence.
No sooner had the lady gone than Constable O’Riley turned to the young thief.
Now you listen to me carefully, young lad. I have an idea that, if you play your hand right, might save you from hanging.
I’m listening.
You and me is not two figures to be seen together, except for somewhere private. I want you to talk to the one what leads your little gang. I have an idea that could be of mutual benefit. I will let you go now, and you be here tomorrow same time, and I will tell you where the meeting will be held. I’ve ‘ad my eyes on your gang for quite some time, all I needed to convict you was to catch you red ‘anded, and I got that now. So If you ain’t here, I know where to find you lot, and I swear I’ll drag you in front of the magistrate. Do as I say though and we could all be laughing.
January 7, 2008 at 12:37 am #640In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Rafaela stopped her meticulous grazing and smiled, as far as a goat can smile, at the newcomer.
We were waiting for you… and your other half so to speak.Kay looked at the goat suspiciously. He had never seen a goat speaking. And it was not an spirit animal. He automatically began growling.
Grrrrowl… who are you?
He looked successively at the lynx, the owl and the rabbit.
Who are you 4?— Oh a dog!!
Anita got on her feet quickly and began running toward him. That was when a winded Akita choose to appear in the clearing.
— Kay, why the hell did you run after that… What is a little girl doing in the middle of this jungle? he muttered, trying to catch his breathe.
And he can’t see you guys, apparently thought the spirit dog.
January 7, 2008 at 12:30 am #1615In reply to: Synchronicity
I just read T’s comment in the story: one for sorrow, two for joy (Malvina's Dragon Rookery # 509). As I was out driving along the road a little bit earlier, I noticed the number plates of a couple of cars coming towards me, 157 and then 257. I particularly noticed the “1” and “2” in sequence, and mentally laughed wondering if Tracy was playing a game and what we were counting too. Shortly after that 557 passed me.
These comments really are very funny, the way they are lining up. I was going to write another comment in the story just now, but decided it was too hot, must be the hottest day ever I thought, and then laughed at myself because it is not really that hot ( hottest day this summer though I bet ). Next thing I looked at the daily quote and it is the one where Tina says:
“Icy” is an exaggeration of course, said Tina, “it just meant I had to put a jacket on again today”.
January 6, 2008 at 11:48 pm #639In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
One for sorrow, two for joy, when the moon shines bright or not at all…..what WAS that book, Becky wondered. Years and years ago in an adventure book, a children’s book; was it the famous five? The intrepid six? A clue, a magpie silhouette on a loose brick….the treasure hidden behind the brick…..the adventurous seven? The jingle, the magpie jingle….. in a children’s adventure book…..
Becky, are you alright? asked Sean. You’ve been sitting there staring into space for hours.
Twenty minutes later Becky replied, Huh? Haha, I seem to be in slow motion today, it’s really rather pleasant.
Three and a half hours later, Becky smiled drowsily and said, It wasn’t the famous five, it was the wandering one……the wandering one, after all….
January 6, 2008 at 11:23 pm #638In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
He did recall his name in a dream. Jarvis.
A strange dream actually.
There was that woman… whose name he couldn’t recall though.
Her face was beautiful but he hadn’t felt any sexual attraction toward her… it was different, like he knew her.
Well, with his memory loss, he possibly knew her, someone close assuredly.
She was asking questions about this land he had beached on… and in the dream it appeared he knew many details, again that he couldn’t recall now he was awake.
It was more like a legend, not facts.
But now it was quite real to him.
It’s been 2 days since he opened his eyes on this purple beach, and he’s been busy collecting driftwood to make a fire. He didn’t dare venture into the forest, and if the legends about the inhabitants of Kandulim were true, he wasn’t welcome here.Wow he was feeling dizzy. His head was pounding repeatedly like one of the vangor drums. He dropped the twigs he had collected on the sand and took his head in his hands. The pounding was so loud that he began crying.
A flash, a soft feminine face surrounded by a fiery red hair and blue liquid eyes. She was smiling at him.
The pounding ceased at once, and he just had the time to see a movement in the forest. All was still now. His mind would suggest it was a hallucination fostered by that head ache… if his thoughts weren’t so scattered.Who was in that vision? Who was in the forest?
Was it the woman in his dream?He began to recall the strange vision he had before awakening on this beach.
January 6, 2008 at 7:43 pm #637In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Is there anything I can do? Tina had phoned to see how Becky was, and Sean had answered the phone.
Hang on a moment, Tina ….. What’s that Beckipooh? … She says can you tell Felicity she has changed her mind about tribal, hmmm, whatever that means. His voice lowered, she is saying some very strange things Tina, ….. Nothing Becks, I am not whispering …. and can you send some blue diamond healing energy… this conversation is getting stranger and stranger!
Okay will do, give her my love.
Wait a moment Tina …. what is it darling, what are you saying about a gang of magpies? ….
January 6, 2008 at 12:36 pm #1872In reply to: Rafaela’s Random Ramblings
Funny how the robber gang were all regrouping and conspiring to push the poor policeman onto the glass while my back was turned huh; all having so much fun with this focus while I lay punctured and deflated and alone BLIMEY O’RILEY where did that come from this is a very weird focus hunting exploration I must say and not one of my favourites and how do we make this one stop and can I have my lungs and ribs back in one piece now PLEASE
January 6, 2008 at 5:29 am #634In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Veranassessee cursed under her breath. Her mind was working swiftly, weighing up her next actions. The Doctor was becoming a liability to the success of the project.
iko va baba bula makuba she muttered.
She made her decision.
Agent V, he said. I have been expecting your call.
Operation Spider is in danger. I need instructions.
We can’t abort at this stage, it has gone too far. He thought for a moment. Mobilise plan B.
One more thing you need to know, I have seen evidence of increased Magpie activity in the locality.
He swore softly. Are you sure?
Pretty sure, they are keeping undercover, shapeshifting, but I sense their presence.
Bugger those thieves. I feared they would sniff this out …. keep me posted Agent V
Will do.
And Agent V …. good work.
Veranassessee felt a moment’s pleasure at his unaccustomed praise, quickly fading at the tremendous racket coming from the cupboard behind her.
This aint bloody right Glor.
We’ve been here for bloody hours, my lumbago’s playing up something dreadful
‘Ark Glor! I thought I ‘eard a noise
oh let’s shout out, on the count of three
January 5, 2008 at 10:21 pm #633In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
On Channel TV-5, Tobi the ventriloquist’s show was on.
The usual gang was gathered in Al and Tina’s flat, to enjoy the popular show. Becky, who was a huge aficionado of the show had made it to the flat before everyone, despite her suffering from apparently unexplainable pains in the chest.
When the show started, Becky felt a little better though she couldn’t really breathe easily. The Yeath Lady, in her ash-blue mummy outfit was making her giggle. It wasn’t very good for her floating ribs, but she couldn’t help, and decided to giggle softly.Al was trying his best to munch some pop-corn but one of his tooth was still moving in his mouth, and it wasn’t time to get some pop-corn implanted into his gums…
January 5, 2008 at 2:39 pm #632In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
The movements of the marmoset were swifts and effortless. The creature was moving through space and not in the jungle. That Kay was another expression of consciousness. It was not a creature, it was not of essence. They had not recognized its nature as quickly as they could have if it wasn’t merged so intimately with that focus of Blöhmul. The little mass event of this pursuit was tremendously fun, and they were all getting closer to Anita. The aspects of the 4 essences still focused with her were still. She had just awaken from her last dream with her parents. And was telling it to Yuki and Armelle. The Lynx was sleeping on a rock outside, enjoying the warm feeling of the sun on its fur, and the Goat was busy eating the grass around the camp so no creature or human could hide and sneak around without being noticed. Armelle hooted with amusement. They all reintegrated the aspects they had put together to create that marmoset.
It reached its hand to grasp an borgulm fruit from the upper branch of the borgulm tree. The Snoot was quite fond of these juicy and intermediate fruits. They were always containing alcohol to various degrees, never the same. They were quite colorful also, many shades that you would discover only when opening them. And the Snoot liked to be surprised. The juice was coloring its liquid fur as soon as it had been absorbed. The Snoot had usually no name. They were quite solitary creatures. Expressions of different aspects of consciousness from an ancient civilization, as some would tell you. The Snoot noticed some alteration of the air. Different elements of the whole were coming… they felt quite different from what it was accustomed to. A strong curiosity motivated the Snoot which was altering his liquid fur and becoming translucent, transparent, almost invisible, and it began to focus on these strange arrangements of consciousness that were so noisy.
Kay saw the marmoset disappear just before they reached a clearing where a Lynx was sleeping and yet not sleeping, a Goat was eating the grass and esthetically shaping the clearing, and inside a hidden bubble were an Owl and a Rabbit that seemingly were listening to a little girl giggling and babbling.
January 5, 2008 at 1:38 pm #631In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
— Kay, what do you reckon? Is it any good?
Kay had no doubt the marmoset wasn’t actually a marmoset. Being safe wasn’t much of an issue for a spirit dog, for as long as his symbiotic human friend would himself be safe. If that marmoset was actually a hint of another human presence on this accursed island, as Kay believed it was, it would mean that the island wasn’t as separate from the outside as it seemed. Someone had crossed the barriers… He had to find who, and why.
— I suppose it is safe enough, Yikes. I’ve made my decision. We’ll bring that individual to the HQ. Keep the mummy in check, but don’t brutalize it. It may prove useful… — At your beck and call, Kay! answered Robert X. The magpie named “Robert K”, codename Kay, started to morph into a boar, and very delicately lifted the mummy with its powerful snout until it was safely resting on its back, and started to go deeper into the woods, followed by the other magpies.
January 5, 2008 at 4:00 am #627In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Franiel offered his congratulations to Aum Geog along with the others. He did not mind that he was not himself chosen to succeed Hrih Chokyam, and neither would he have expected it, however he felt the physical absence of the Old One keenly. His powerful presence had cloaked the whole monastery in a sweet warmth, and even though Franiel had only been there a short while, he had felt close to the Old One. Of course his spirit will always be here, but the same time Franiel knew change was inevitable, and he was unsure of his own place within the boundaries of the monastery. Happiness and fun were valued highly by Franiel, they were more important to him than all the spiritual ideals others would speak of, and he had felt a slight greyness of late. He found humility difficult and did not enjoy following rules, neither did he enjoy listening to the wisdom of the other brothers. At times his sense of humor would cause them to frown upon him. He knew the Old One had understood this, but now he was gone he wondered how he would fit. He pulled out the note Jog Lam had given him from Hrih Chokyam, Listen to your heart…. it began. What was his heart telling him?
Brother Franiel!. He heard the voice of Aba Tane calling him. The Brothers were shortly meeting to hear Aum Geog speak, presumably to announce the new direction for the monastery.
Brother Franiel, Aum Geog has requested you take this chalice to the Village, so the silversmith may engrave it with these words. Aba Tane handed Franiel a cup, and a piece of paper with a seal. He requested you should go right away and that you should remember that the cup is precious. He requested also that I sprinkle you with some Holy Water to safeguard you on your way. In customary manner, Franiel knelt and Aba Tane sprinkled the precious bottled water on his forehead. Love and Light, Brother Franiel. Blessings for your journey.
It was several days walking down the mountain to the Village. To be honest though, it was a task Franiel welcomed, perhaps to be away from the monastery at this time would give him a chance to better hear what was in his heart, and to miss the meeting was no loss for him.
He wondered at the haste, and at what the words might be, however it was not his business to question the directives of Aum Geog. He remembered also his dream of the silver goblet. Many things to ponder, he mused, a feeling of excitement growing within him.
January 5, 2008 at 3:45 am #626In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
There was a tentative knock on the door and Finnley, the weekly cleaner popped her head around.
Oh Ms Tattler …. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be in here at… she checked the wootch on her wrist, 5:57 am .. but I saw the light on …. A horrified expression passed fleetingly over her face as she took in condition of the office.
Perhaps I shall come back later Ms Tattler, she said retreating, and making a note to have a word to the building supervisor, Mr Arak, as soon as possible. Mind you this wasn’t the first time she had spoken to Mr Arak about the issue of Ms Tattler living on the premises, to no avail. He was mad as Almad that man. Perhaps I will bloddy resign while I am at it too, she thought. Perhaps I will tell him to bugger his job, shove it where the sun doesn’t shine! Finnly cheered up greatly at the prospect.
Elizabeth, exhausted, only dimly registered the interruption, looking up for an instant she waved vaguely in the direction of the door, and then returned to her frenzied writing, eager to capture the last remnants of her dream before it faded.
January 4, 2008 at 10:50 pm #1994In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud
loved strong :heart:dear dimension
town eyes
weird images
cave surface
writing focuses
swing dear:bounce:
often speaking:yahoo_not_listening:
night dream bugger
strange writing
rather taken
friend matter
change
love woke
January 4, 2008 at 3:50 pm #625In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
The buzzing of the telepooh woke up Elizabeth with a flinch, her heart pounding in fast tremolos.
She grumbled restlessly, her throat dry and itchy and her limbs still limp from slumber; she was in a dream, and already, she was feeling the unusual distinct clarity of the dream scenario gently fade as her attention was focusing upon the unwelcome sound which had a distorting quality of her yet poorly focused perception of her surroundings.
The buzzing ceased abruptly. She opened an eye to see the ID of the caller, but it was not displayed. Bugger the caller
Still feeling groggy, she was hanging to the last images of her dreams. It was telling her a story, a legend… Something full of grandeur, like a galactic opera filled with awe, drama and excitement… A renewed fount of inspiration…The voice of the lady who had been telling her that story was still inside her head, all she had to do was to slightly let herself drift into the numb and warm state of mind in which she was some minutes ago…
You are tapping into a mass event. You are translating but a minute portion of it, though it seems colossal already. It is in fact so wide that it reflects in many other worlds which all live in your imagination. Bound together, they represent more books that you could write in a lifetime, more books that you and any army of ghost-writers could write in a thousand lifetimes…
The voice was delightfully soothing, and Elizabeth was seeing herself drifting again in the blissful sleep bereft of irate publishers’ diktats. Beaming at her, Elizabeth could envision a light feminine figure with flowing dark hair illuminated by green-blue shimmers. How could she ever remember all that was said… She was plagued with such bad memory…
Elizabeth had her dictaphoo under her pillow, ready for such sudden strokes of genius, but her mouth dried up from nicobeck wasn’t ready to spew out words that early in the morning.
What the lady with the teal eyes had shown her was an old book of prophecies, which she had named the Last Gospel, unknown yet but which would be remembered as the mass event would be enacted again.
The book spoke of a triad of planets, named M’si, B’si and Earth. Just before Elizabeth woke up, she had seen that Earth was in the process of been isolated from the other parts of the cosmos, for untold reason. Suddenly, she had seen one of the planets, the one named B’si, change her quality and become a “gravitational lense” altering the perception of space from the “Earth” standpoint. The planet B’si became transparent and expanded, as though it was an exploding super-nova, but nothing radiated from the planet. Only the quality of the space was modified.Elizabeth had the idea of a novel based upon this mass event which could be her next perfect best-seller. She reached out for her typewrooter.
When the World was young, the Powers were roaming in a void full of possibilities.
Initially, Three Syzygies there were. By two came the Six Powers. Three Syzygies, or couples of Light Beings, each Syzygy blessed with unlimited creative powers.Elizabeth pondered for a moment… She wanted to say many things at the same time, and couldn’t write them fast enough. She started to write notes haphazardly as they came to her mind.
— Two planets for themselves to play; a planet for themselves to dwell. The planets gravitate around a sun on the same orbit. Each of the Powers possess a symbolic
scepterpower artifact, and each couple generates a crystal or a kind of light seed which allows them to create new sentient beings… When parted, that crystal kind of light is deactivated.
— One planet is home of dragons, created by one of the syzygies, another is home of giant eagles; they all are lesser Powers… The third one have giant-like Light beings…— What made the planet B’si change its quality? What became of the Powers? (I can sense them desiring to become part of their creations, willing to forget about themselves and their powers… Punishment? Mere playfulness? Perhaps there was a coup organized by the Lesser Powers?)
Phew… Elizabeth yawned. All she could think of now was that she wanted to go back to sleep…
January 4, 2008 at 12:47 pm #1316In reply to: Yuki’s Livrary
January 4 th, 2008
A communication about legends, to complement what Yurick had connected to during his sleep, with ties with the dimension of Alienor, and possibly counterparts within his dimension
Starry sky, eternal and boundless waft of dreams and legends…
Many if not all of the physical dimensions possess legends. Legends of their beginnings, and legends of their ends.
The language which legends speak is a language of symbols, and though many of the receivers of legends are prone to erect them as absolute and faithful accounts of historical soundness, they are much more mutable and protean than what may be commonly thought of them.
They are connections, bridges from a locus (point in time/space) drawn as a frontier between what is known of the now, in which civilizations of these worlds are thriving, and a locus which is forgotten, or beyond the commonly perceived world.
As such, they essentially represent boundaries.And of course, boundaries are only boundaries because they serve a purpose. Much like boundaries drawn on maps are not necessarily representing actual obstacles which cannot be physically crossed. These are mere perceptive frontiers, which tie in the various developments of history and societal relationships.
When the civilizations, or species, as you understand them, come close to one of these perceptive boundaries, there is an interaction with the very nature of the boundary, which is receptive to the inception of volition to cross the perceptive limitation.
And a process of reshaping and expending the borders takes place, by means of insertion of new legends.Legends, in that way of seeing things, are not necessarily old dusty accounts sung by blind bards with jovian white beards. Not quite. They are much alive. They are created and recreated in the instant where boundaries of perceptions are being tempered with. Which makes it important to notice that they are translations of much wider movements in consciousness, spanning more than the physical dimension in which they manifest.
Many of the legends that humanity is aware of are very similar accounts, throughout your globe. And they are also projected in other dimensional areas vibrationally close to your manifestations.You are currently fiddling with the legends of your ends of times, and that is the reason why at the same time, you are starting to create new legends. Legends of new beginnings.
In actuality, this is done oftentimes; each time a perceptual limit is crossed and seen beyond. The only difference here would be the unprecedented span of the process which is occurring now. The point where you are standing, prodding into the interactive frontier you have come across is not a single mere frontier, but a converging point of many of tinier, shorter ones. This also creates a singularity which makes the frontier respond with a sort of inertia. In fact, it is like a wide net of fine threads, which possess altogether a high absorbing potential for small energy bumps. Nonetheless, it will give way to a vastly expanded perception, as soon as the collective energy is focused upon, and steadily moving into the direction of pushing that protective envelop.That process never ends, and during that process, new legends are being remembered. For the lands beyond the frontiers exists when you are aware of it, which in retrospect also means, it is created, or inserted as you are prodding the frontier.
In fact, you are, as you stand before that specific nexus point, being creating new legends, in that you are evaluating the potentials that you see fluctuating as a shadow world through the layer of a soap bubble, and have them blend with legends that you know of.
Your very lives become the legends of these potential worlds, and thus is the importance of your being at that locus of transition. You indeed come at that point, as much for making it possible but more so, to experience the transition and alteration of the legendary landscape. You are the bridges between a future which you are creating as you remember it, and a past which contains the clues that will be seeds for your new discoveries.
And that is a most rewarding travel, as you will come to see…January 3, 2008 at 5:01 am #624In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Instantly Elizabeth regretted her spikey, voodish behaviour and scrambled to retrieve the telepooh. Her mother was Vood by nature, a particularly dysfunctional personality type, and Elizabeth had struggled all her life to avoid similar behavioural patterns. Her friends, and certainly her ex-husbands, would say perhaps with only partial success.
Apologies Bronkel, I was engrossed in my writing. How can I help you?
Bronkel appeared to be covered in bandages from what she could see of his upper torso, giving him the appearance of a rather odd mummy like creature. He was constantly searching for new beauty treatments to extend his youthful goodlooks, however at 167 years more and more desperate measures were being called for.
Elizabeth! Thank God, Where in Flork’s name have you been? he shouted at her. His pudgy, prouty little face was scrunched in peevish vexation. I can’t talk for long, I am on the Island for a month and the connection is flork. Where in the name of Fock is the story you promised me?
She could not find the words to reply to Bronkel. I wonder if I am mindblown? she mused. She had read of this horrible phenomenon, and seen the sad pictures of those thus afflicted. Poor wandering creatures, strange erratic behaviour, always travelling, always seeking. But for what? Hell on Dearth indeed. She shuddered.
It is getting urgent you know, spluttered Bronkel. Every day I am reading of new treatment centers opening for those undergoing crisis due to the prolonged absence of the Fickle Four in their lives.
She sighed, Pull yourself together Elizabeth, her bloodshot and tired eyes were drawn to the planetary horrorscope on the monthly calendar. Todays “Words of Comfort for the Descending” quotation was from the famous philosopher Lemone. She particularly loved Lemone’s ideas. Many considered him a nutter, a few thought he was a genius ahead of his time. For herself, she did not really know, only that his profoundly beautiful words offered a kind of solace or balm to her tortured soul at times such as this :
Sometimes it takes a single sniggly thorny path to go through to reach Elysian avenues much more efficiently ~ Lemone
Absolutely fantastic Bronkel, I think this is going to be the best novel yet! My God what an effort it took to say that, but for some reason Bronkel appeared to believe her and began to calm. Thank you Lemone, I could kiss you! she breathed an inward sigh of relief.
Poke its eyes out! screeched Robert X exuberantly.
A sniggly thorny path indeed, she thought, hanging up on Bronkel. She had fun using him and his island getaway for inspiration in her last novel. Fun, what happened to the fun? Is this what descended beings do, sit around in a dank, dusty office writing trashy novels?
She began nervously smoothing out pieces of paper and tried to decipher the scribbled notes; …big soup party …..pointy teeth like cannibals…..tribal wedding ….
Elizabeth put her head in her hands and groaned in abject despair. Twelve of the twenty mongoats fainted at the fearful sound.
January 2, 2008 at 10:48 pm #623In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Elizabeth Tattler stared morosely at her screen. Her long hair, formerly her crowning glory was wild and matted, small bald patches had formed where she had begun to habitually pull at it. Her beautiful violet eyes for which she was famous were bloodshot from weariness.
Ms Tattler was known planet wide for her series of children’s books “The Fickle Four”. The exploits of Almad, Tinigrump, Samnuf and Bekipo were beloved by children of all ages and planetary connections, although perhaps most endearing to those of the Fumari dimension who had a natural disposition for exploits of such fickleness. The catchprase “Bit rude Tinigrump”, and “Madder than Almad” had become part of the national vocabulary in recent years.
Formerly Ms Tattler had written, with limited success, novels of a more adult nature, drawing on her numerous marriages for creative inspiration. However her publisher had asked her to create a series about four friends who were on a mission to create other worlds, the focus being on “providing positive and fun role models” for children growing up in these difficult times of planetary upheaval. The works were in the science freakshow genre of writing and the popularity of the original novel had been unprecedented, taking Elizabeth and her publisher by surprise and leading for the demand for many more.
Ah, she sighed, and then spluttered as she inhaled the dusty, smoky air, but what a noose this has created. Her yellow nicobeck stained fingers touched her neck and then ran agitatedly through her hair. For at some point, when did it start? the story had begun to take a life of its own. She no longer felt in control as plots became more and more bizarre. She felt unable to follow anything through, creating endless threads which seemed to lead nowhere. She looked around her small office, everywhere was the evidence of stories started and discarded, screwed up pieces of paper covered in frenetic doodles littering the floor.
The telepooh began to buzz. She knew it was Bronkel her publisher before his face came up on the screen.
I know you are there Elizabeth. Will you pick up please!
In a fit of rage Elizabeth picked up the telepooh and threw it across the room, where it narrowly missed Lana, one of her 20 fainting Mongoats she kept as pets. Lana fainted for a few seconds in fear and Robert X, her pet Magpie, hopped around delightedly, Bugger the telepooh, Bugger the telepooh! he screeched. Poke its eyes out! Poke its eyes out.
January 2, 2008 at 6:03 pm #2099In reply to: QUIZ TIME: Test YOUR grasp
Sounds like we found some missing link about the fainting goats …
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