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  • #881

    Aum Geog spent a long time seating motionless before the piece of parchment which had just been delivered by a specially trained fincheon.
    Fincheons were not particularly elegant, (not to say downright ugly) one had to admit, but they were very convenient, once you noticed that their feathers were a special shining tint of grey which almost made them invisible. They always knew how to fly back, and this one had made no exception.
    But it was a bearer of annoying news for the newly appointed Elder of the Monastery who was trying to curb his irateness by staying still.

    This… he was at a loss for words. Breathe, breathe he exhorted himself.

    A few months ago, when he was appointed Elder, his patient work of diligence seemed to have just paid off. He had thought he would be given the keys, and more importantly, the chalice.
    But that sly dog of Hrih had decided otherwise. He had transmitted the chalice to that irresponsible and naïve novice Franiel, while giving him a bunch of rusted keys he didn’t give two poohs about.
    Of course, it was only a matter of time before he could get it back, all he had to do was to make Franiel uncomfortable enough that he willingly relinquish the ownership to someone… someone like himself of course!
    The annoying thing about this damn chalice you see, is that it won’t properly function with anyone else than the rightful owner (except for small uninteresting tricks). Obviously, Hrih didn’t want him to have access to its powers, but that old monkey was now gone, and there wasn’t much he could do about what was going on.

    In fact, the plan was nearly perfect. Two birds, one stone. Bring Franiel to have some appropriate spell modifications carved onto that chalice, and have him give it back to the Elder, Aum Geog himself.
    Obviously, he couldn’t just let go such a precious artifact in the nature without appropriate stealthy surveillance. Thanks to one of his faithful servants, Brother Derwish, he was kept informed of the progresses. A former master of disguises that a other-Worldly experience had him join the orders, Brother Derwish was no short of brains nor tricks in his bag, and that parchment was another proof of it.
    If he had renounced to contact Elder Aum Geog directly through the glowing balls, and take the risks of unexpected delays, it was because they were most probably watched and their communication monitored.

    So here went the news:

    SPARFLY HAS MADE CONTACT WITH BIRD OF PREY. EGG DISAPPEARED.
    NESTING CHANGED TREE. GNAT STICKS TO THE POOH.

    Brother Derwish imaginative poetry could mean but one thing. Or two perhaps.

    The little twit had been watched by someone else who had showed him some of the powers of the egg… err, the chalice. It would have partly activated the chalice, and make it disappear unless its owner needs it enough to have it appear again. Obviously, without chalice, or thinking it was lost, he had changed his course to another place.
    Hopefully, Brother Derwish was following his trail closely.

    If more disastrous news had to come, Elder Aum Geog would have to summon his char of marmoths (big toothed hibernating woolliphants) and go there by himself.

    :fleuron:

    Leonard was content. It had not happened exactly as he had thought, but as he had explained to Malvina, the only wise thing to do was to teach the boy about the powers of the chalice. That would active its self-protective cloaking power, and have the boy temporarily relieved of this burden.
    For if he had been entrusted the chalice by the old Abbot, that was surely for a good reason.

    As Franiel had been moving, Leonard had had Moufle watch over him. Apparently, Leonard and his dog weren’t the only ones on his trail… The wiry gangly tonsured guy clothed in a potatoes sack didn’t seem to be here by chance either…

    #861

    Finally catching up with the fluid communication of the Snoot, Yuki realized that they had to move swiftly.

    — I think it’s our chance to move to another place. Well, of course we can do it already Rafaela, please don’t interrupt. I mean, Anu, you have a chance to leave this place and get back to your dimension…
    — And what about my parents, Anu asked preoccupied.
    — Mmm, that’s another thing I had not yet thought about…

    There, Akita interrupted.

    — I know where those beasts gather, me and Kay could do a raid to their place, we can have a chance to free your parents when the spiders go for hunting.
    — I could help too, Araili said menacingly, baring its sharp teeth.

    — Oh fine then, Yuki said… A rabbit won’t probably be of much use to you then…
    — And of course, you have forgotten how to shapeshift, almost said Armelle, but she only rolled her eyes twice while bitting her beck. (quite a feat to witness, the narrator thinks)
    — I’ll follow the Snoot’s indication and lead the way to the pinhole, Yuki continued. Rafaela will come with us, to take Anu on her back, so that she doesn’t get hurt in the rocky cliffs.
    — Beh, said Rafaela, with a wisp of fresh herb tinted drool on her chin
    — No “but”, please. Armelle, I count on you to show our rescue team where the pinhole is located. No we have to move quickly. The pinhole is getting bigger by now, and though time lasts usually longer here than in Anu’s dimension, there are fluctuations we can’t forecast.

    And the two groups parted.

    :fleuron:

    Meanwhile, Claude was finding his progress inside the tree (but was it really a tree?) more and more difficult, as though the conduit was getting smaller and smaller. He paused for a moment.
    A deep cracking sound seemed to be heard in the distance. He had to continue…

    #837

    As Claude was entering deeper into the giant babul tree, the obscurity was resounding with joyful peals of laughters and whispered words that seemed to mossify into his mind, like they weren’t really words, but bubbles pops and boobles.

    He was resolute to find out whatever was going on in this place…

    #828

    What really was Salitre’s mound? For most people around this valley, who had forgotten about the old times, it was nothing more than a rocky and steep piece of earth, barely good enough for Barbary sheep and piglets.
    In fact, when you were coming from the new macadamized roads encircling the mountains, it could almost slip unnoticed. But when, like Granny Mosca, you knew the paths for having worn countless shoes walking on them, you could no longer ignore the towering presence of this place.
    For her, it was a magical realm, a doorstep truly.

    Granny Mosca was the official owner of this place, though she preferred to think of it as being the gatekeeper.
    She kept a few animals up there, and went everyday here to feed them, pacing up and down the treacherous paths despite her old age.

    Something you couldn’t really realize until you first reached the top of the mound was that the mound was at the center of the valley, giving an impressive view miles and miles around. In that land of mountains, it could be just another peak among others, but when you were here, you knew it wasn’t.
    Granny Mosca had felt it many times, this surge of energy, almost as if there were streams flowing down the surrounding slopes, up to the top of Salitre’s mound. At special times of the year, it was like you could feel the dwellers of the past moving around… At this very spot were almond trees were now growing.

    Those tourists who came a few days ago where funny. Especially the blond woman, with the high-pitched laugh who had come a few times here already.
    For sure Granny Mosca didn’t fear that they discover anything, as the place had knew how to shroud itself without her for ages, even before she was born. In fact, it was the contrary. She was willing to share some of the secrets to people daring enough and open-minded enough to crack some of these nuts of wisdom.
    The land would tell them…

    That is… unless they left the bag of almonds to the dogs…

    #1775

    In reply to: Synchronicity

    F LoveF Love
    Participant

      Synching with T’s post about Rosie, my massage angel (well her name is Sarah really) started telling me about her puppy called Rosie yesterday, (11th April) Just noticed this was comment 257.
      :yahoo_rose: :yahoo_big_hug:

      Cafe with friends a short while ago – was given table number 12 again!

      :yahoo_big_hug:

      dreamt about a sort of portal thing last night – i would say it was a muddled mixture of a church and a cave and even a tree, it was hard to know what it was, but the person I was with was dressed in church robes, and we went up high into it till we nearly got to the top. This sort of syncs a bit with Eric’s comment I thought.

      55 – guests invoice 255, and their black porsche convertible :yahoo_rolling_eyes: number plate 355.

      only yellow synch i can think of, as I was walking across the park with my friends, the baby started pointing and making noises at a bright yellow plastic bag lying in the grass … apparently (and here I am going off what her mother said as I have no idea) she wanted us to pick it up and put it in the bin. ahahahahahha yeah bugger the freakin yellow !

      The other day i spent some time googling for a particular model of coffee maker (which appears to be out of stock) … some guests had broken it and wanted to replace it. It was Breville ECM2. Then the next day as I was randomly reading things I linked onto an EFT site. It was talking about Energy and mass (and stuff) and Einstein and E=MC2 (don’t know how to do a little 2). Later I mentioned it to Eric and he found an Einstein synch. Just now I went over to a news site to look for a goat story for T, and the first thing on the page was an advertsing banner for Mariah Carey’s new album, E=MC² . Absolutely no idea of any significance to this synch however it felt sort of illuminated so I am sharing it. Now I will go and look for the goat story again.

      Goat Story on the news last night

      #824

      Midora was perplexed. These books were like an open-ended uncharted territory. That territory was so vast and fractal-like in nature that each attempt at following a single thread seemed daunting. There were always details growing like a reckless plant from the entry points where she started her investigations. Badul seemed lost in this jungled maze.
      Last time she’d tried to connect, she ended up with another focus of his, a child, vaguely related to the crystal skulls hunt.

      All it requires is a proper compass to navigate the thought suddenly appeared in her mind as clear as daylight, carrying with it a trail of concepts and clusters of associated ideas.
      One in particular…
      She’d had that book of designs she’d always loved to read when she was a child. It was full of colorful symbols which were called by the authors “tiles”. The authors associated some properties to them, and she remembered one which was about a compass…
      So she had found a compass… Now, she would have to learn how to use it. The introduction of the book said:

      The tiles presented in this book all have different functions; they can be primarily understood as focal points which enhance specific uses of energy. […] As far as we know, they can be discovered in many situations, either objective events (e.g. something that catches your gaze in the street) or in the subjective (dreams, visions, inspirations etc.). In both cases, the recognition is instantaneous, as each tile carries a distinctive energetic signature which is the essence of its “function”, so to speak.
      As such, it can be used theoretically in both situations (subjective and objective), though, as far as we have explored, subjective interaction with them seem to be the easiest and most quickly rewarding way of accessing them.

      Subjective interaction, yes that was child’s play, she would have said, though she could vaguely understand why people before the Shift completed had more trouble accessing it. Objective wasn’t so difficult, once you get to the idea that it’s all one, and you can easily switch from each of the attentions used to focus on them.

      The only thing that doesn’t seem to change, she thought, is the numbering. Even when the events shuffle through the pages and reorder themselves, or even when the very energy of the event subtly changes, their numbers were the same. She could start with that.

      She cleared her mind, envisioning the compass, then took a deep breath and asked herself a question, Where do I find Badul?
      Slowly, the compass started to shift and turn, while numbers started to roll in front of her mind’s eye, and like a lottery, at each draw a number appeared, slowly revealing a number: 1-2-3-8

      She eagerly leafed through the books to find the reference. Well… that was more perplexing than ever, that seemed like a totally unrelated story.
      But now, she was not so sure about that, as she read the entry and wondered about the fact that it seemed once again different from the first time she’d read it.

      And now, she marveled as a new entry started to write itself under that one. It was the first time she actually saw an entry write itself. Those she had spotted that were not here before, she just assumed they had appeared instantaneously. But not this one… and it started to link Franiel’s and Badul’s explorations…

      #823

      It had been more than a week now that Claude had broken loose from one captivity to fall into another.
      Not that this gang of strange shape-shifting magpie beings seemed to consider him a captive, rather an impromptu host that they felt obliged to take care of. But Claude wasn’t duped one moment.

      His precedent prison on Tikfijikoo had been relatively easy to break out from, thanks to that unasked for gift of preternatural strength he had gained from the experiments he had be subjected to. Actually, had he not almost been driven mad from pain, he would have been on the loose earlier. Thank the Magpies for his recovered sanity…
      Security on the island facility wasn’t the highest and most difficult he had been confronted to. They seemed to consider the relative isolation of the island and its deadly sharp coral reef encircling it their main asset in keeping their experiments clear from outside interferences.

      Claude snapped back from his thoughts and gazed fixedly at a tender green sprout at his feet while humming a nursery rhyme. An effective trick.
      He had to be more cautious… He knew they could read his surface thoughts…
      Apparently, he could come and go as pleased him, but as he had tried to find his way back to the island facility, he had discovered that the landscape was changing each time he felt close to it. And soon enough, he was finding himself back to the hidden settlement. He knew enough to suspect his affable alien hosts of playing tricks on his mind to keep him in check. Perhaps they were even bending space around their settlement, as far as he knew…
      Not intrusive, and yet not a very different treatment from the inhumane experiments. Except he had no mummy bandages this time…

      Know thy foe so went the adage, and Claude was determined to know enough about his new captors to escape and complete his mission.
      From what he was guessing, as they had not killed him, they probably would release him (if he was lucky) as soon as their mission would be completed —a mission which was most probably the same as his own. Snatching the crystal skull he knew was there somewhere. He could sense they were after it too.
      He was wondering who had hired them to retrieve the thing. Obviously they were not from the common lot of thieves, most certainly not even from this planet, and anyone who had hired them must have been in dire need of the thing.
      He had been told by the Baron that the crystals were storing ancient vast knowledge and that accessing it had been only possible since a few decades, actually since the discovery of coherent beams of light (laser). But even accessed, the information stored remained vastly incomprehensible, and deciphering it could take another millennium without appropriate knowledge of its holographic proprieties.
      The Baron had told humanity was like a child being given a box of books on relativity… And even the mad transvestite doctor was only toying with the tip of an immense iceberg.

      Those Magpies were far more advanced, Claude could see it clearly, and he wondered how he could outdo them, if that was possible. Quite frankly he didn’t know why they had not yet retrieved it. Perhaps they were having trouble locating it too…
      That would mean he still had a head start, however short.

      :fleuron2:

      A faint barking sound seemed to echo in his head… It was apparently coming from… the gnarled trunk of an old majestic tree… Whispers seemed to come from it too, like a child talking with an adult, and whispers around them…
      The tree seemed wide enough for him to enter into the biggest crack of its bark…
      Could it be one of their secret entrances and exits? There had to be coordinate points were they could get out of this warped space… What was he risking to try?

      #1768

      In reply to: Synchronicity

      F LoveF Love
      Participant

        Bill Artist, Magpie and “biggest” synchs:

        A painting has just been sold for the largest sum ever for a living NZ artist $290,000 (i expect that works out to about $257,000 after tax).

        The Artist is Bill Hammond and the painting is called “Fortified Gang Headquarters”. All his paintings have surreal bird/human shapes and this one reminded me of our Gang of Magpies on the island. I can even see some mummy cloth hanging from the branch of a tree :yahoo_laughing:

        #819
        EricEric
        Keymaster

          A man was walking on the narrow path shaded by the tall pandanus trees.

          Mahiliki was coming back from the sawmill where he worked, smiling to the people he met on his way back home. The island of Fikitupi was a small island in the Pacific, and he knew most of the people living around this small corner here.

          An old wizened lady with a toupee was busy weaving pandanus dried leaves into baskets and mats on the front door of her small house, while children were running to and fro among noisy chicken all around the place.
          Mahiliki smiled, fond as he was of Nanaiis, whom all children loved deeply, for she always had new tales for them to hear, and cheering words to share. She was quite intuitive, and had said to him years ago that his new girlfriend wouldn’t stay around and have lots of children.
          He didn’t want many children anyway… but as Nanaiis had said, Vera had left, not without saying she would come back though.
          Mahiliki didn’t count much on it, but he had all the time to wait for her. Life was calm and sweet here, and its appeal was great.

          At a short distance, he could spot the hut of O’panié and Twahissi. They were some funny strange hoots these two. Twahissi was the light-haired niece of O’panié and she was sharing with him her love for otherworldly matters. Twahissi’s parents had left her in his care, when they left to open a shop in the main island of the archipelago, and frankly, Twahissy was far more comfortable staying in Fukitupi where all felt magic to her.

          Mahiliki smiled when he finally understood they were trying to bury something near the culvert on the side of their hut. For apparently no reason, a month or two ago, O’panié had become interested in old papers and had become convinced that the date line was not only passing on the island of Fukitupi, but even more, it was passing right through his hut, and thus might explain his apparent sudden feelings of time loss.
          Some educated people had tried to reason him, but he’d stood fast in his opinion. Sightings of rainbow bubbletons by his niece Twahissi had him convinced even further that there was the possibility to improve this technique of time-travel. For as he crossed the bedroom he could step one day forward or backward! How thrilling it all was!
          Guess only the Elders knew what he was trying to bury now…

          Mahiliki could not but agree with him, as they were giving the whole village some pleasant laughing, and he had to admit that his enthusiasm was winning him more and more people to his quest. He wondered what sweet Vera would think of all of that, Cartesian as she was…

          #812
          TracyTracy
          Participant

            Ella Marie put the encounter to the back of her mind, and whistled loudy and kept her eyes averted when dusting the mummy case during the following months. It wasn’t until the floods of the following spring that she heard Elioctyl’s voice again, urging her to take action, that now was the perfect opportunity.

            Pssst! Ella! Do it now, NOW!

            NO! shouted Ella Marie.

            Suit yourself, Honey, replied her husband Arthur, pouring himself a cup of coffee from a thermos and screwing the lid back on.

            Ella Marie spun round, saying HUH? Yes, I mean yes, please.

            Arthur raised an eyebrow and tutted. You said No, Ella, who was you talking to anyway?

            Oh Lordy, Art, I was just saying NO to all the flooding, NO more rain, and all….Ella Marie replied, but her mind was racing.

            Art Honey, why don’t you wade round to your mothers and see if she’s ok, why dontcha, and I’ll start moving stuff up into the attic. River’s gonna burst its banks tonight, I reckon, we oughta do what we can now.

            Don’t get lifting nothing too heavy, ya hear? Leave anything you can’t manage for me, I’ll do it when I get back, Arthur replied.

            As soon as Art was out of the door and down the porch steps, Ella Marie raced out the back door and into the garage. The adrenaline was pumping through her veins, and she felt light as air, and fit as a twenty year old. Her flashlight beam swept the garage…she didn’t know what, precisely, she was looking for, but she knew she’d find it.

            Aha! Ella Marie spotted a coil of washing line rope, and a tarpaulin. Stuffing the flashlight into her pocket, she grabbed the surfboard off the hooks on the wall and dragged it outside, the rope and tarpaulin under her arm. Quickly she tied the tarpaulin to the surfboard, tethering it to the garage door handle while she went back inside for the oars out of the uninflated dinghy. The flood water was past her ankles now, inching towards her knees, as she set off for the museum, pulling the surfboard behind her, thankful for the power blackout and the dark streets.

            #811
            TracyTracy
            Participant

              Elioctyl had been trying in vain for years to attract the attention of the museum cleaning lady, Ella Marie Tindale.

              Ella Marie had lived in Alabama all her life, and her parents before her. Some of her ancestors were native to this land, some from the distant shores of Africa. She loved the stories of the old ones, passed down through the generations, stories told at family gatherings and celebrations. Ella Marie had never learned to read, but she remembered all the stories word for word, including her own stories. Ah, her own stories! She kept her own stories to herself, she never forgot the horrified silence when, as a child of five, she had voiced one of her stories at a family gathering. A silence had descended like a pall in the dining room that day.

              She shivered at the memory as she dusted the glass case covering the mummy, and Elioctyl, seizing upon the moment as a possible chance to get Ella Marie’s attention, whispered loudly.

              Ella! It’s me, you silly goose, it’s me, I mean YOU!

              Duster suspended in mid-air, Ella Marie quickly looked around to make sure nobody was watching her. All her life she’d been one step away from the funny-farm; she knew she had to be careful.

              Are you speaking to ME? she asked the mummy, incredulously. She’d spoken to trees before, and heard them reply, but never a mummy.

              Sheesh! exclaimed the mummy, At LAST! Over 3,000 years I’ve been whispering to you, and finally, you heard me.

              Ella Marie looked furtively over her shoulder, and then whispered back: Well, what for? What do you want?

              I want you to get me the fuck out of here, that’s what!

              Ella Marie clamped her work worn hands over her ears. You mind your language! she admonished the mummy. I don’t wonder I wasn’t listening to you all those years, coming out with language like that! Pfft….

              Metaphorically speaking, the mummy raised its eyebrows and sighed.
              :mummy:

              #805

              When Franiel got to the crossroads the path turned abruptly to the left and plunged sharply down, past a crumbling and long-deserted stone cottage, to a little bridge built across a gently flowing river. Beyond the bridge there was a short ascent westwards through a thickly wooded area and then the way opened out rather suddenly. Such a pleasant and restful scene welcomed Franiel that for a moment he felt he may have entered a dream. The air was fragrant, the grass was sprinkled with daffodils and shaded by great chestnut trees. Confronting Franiel, at the south-west corner of the green, was a massive stone lych-gate. Beyond the lynch gate, and almost hidden by trees Franiel could see the roof of Chesterhope Manor.

              :fleuron:

              In the day of judgment God be merciful to Derwent a sinner ……hehehehe. Well good riddance to God’s judgement! Begone God’s judgement! We’ve cheated the parson, we’ll cheat him again, for why should the vicar have one in ten ? Oh what’s this now then walking through the gate? A stranger! hehehehehe…tis one of God’s angels methinks, perhaps come to strike old Derwent down for his heathen ways and blasphemous tongue. Well does old Derwent even know what an angel looks like? and he chuckled in delight at the very idea of it.

              You there! he shouted as Franiel drew close, Are you the angel Gabriel come as a messenger of God’s wrath? Or a wandering stranger come to pass the time of day with me?

              Well neither really, said Franiel, although of the two possibilities I favour the second. I have come to have a word with Madame Chesterhope.

              Madame Chesterhope! Does she still live here then? He lowered his voice reverently. A real angel that one, better than those biblical ones by a long shot. So you want a word in her ear. You will have to find it first of course.

              Should I try the house? asked Franiel politely.

              Try the house? Derwent rubbed his bearded chin thoughtfully. I tell you what! Try the magic mushrooms first, and when you’ve tried them, try the patience of Saint Derwent. He gave Franiel a kindly pat on the shoulder. Good on you for trying Lad, anyway. I’ll bid you farewell now and if you do find an ear, best keep it, a spare ear can always come in handy.

              #1741

              In reply to: Synchronicity

              AvatarJib
              Participant

                Ok, I had some interesting syncs with the 444 stuff and the car… well…

                Going to work this morning I felt a bit oppressed and there was that guy that I had noticed from some time on the other side of the street. When I crossed the street and found myself walking behind him I suddenly noticed that electric blue little thingy on his back bag, very bright and I felt very relaxed after that. I turned my head on my left and noticed a car with the number 144 on its plate, though the 1 was under mud… well I thought of Francie and looked at an ups brown van… the phone number on the car was 0821 233 something… I laughed because of the 21 of course and also of the 233 which is also a signal for me of Eric and Elias… that was syncing with the blue dot and the 44.

                I thought I still missed one 4 to do the complete sync.

                Well I went into the elevator and hit button number 3, because that was where I had to go… work you know :))
                And the guy with the blue dot back bag entered the elevator and hit the button number 4 and turned his head to me and said “Hi” with a BIG SMILE :face-smile-big:

                I smiled back at him and thought, well I just got my 3rd 4 ;))

                ISN’T THAT A COOL SYNC!?

                #795

                — Sorry for the confusion, the voice of Leörmn said, there may have been some traffic jam along the portal’s tunnel… I think we lost track of time somewhat.
                — But we’re arrived, aren’t we? asked Arona, still a bit grumpy about the cave moving.
                — Mmm, I suppose so. If my calculations are correct, we are. Although…
                — What?!
                Arona was starting to wonder what could possibly go more mind-boggling than it already was…
                Leormn puffed into a small-sized teal-bellied gyucko (a sort a cutie reptipooh) and started to wiggle away…
                — Have honey do’s, see you in a while!

                — Grumpf, always wiggling out this one… grumbled Arona.
                And where did they all go now? It seemed like once again, she had been left alone. Good riddance, better enjoy the calm before they come back.

                :fleuron:

                Malvina was enjoying this new place where she was in. She had felt that, in other Worlds, some of her other attentions had been moving too. Especially one who was having great funnie in her new housie which was harbouring a portal in a very ancient tree. And for most of these attentions, it was also a time of reunion with dear ones, and reactivation of a new kind of power.
                Perhaps the time was now for her too arrived, to reunite with her Sisters.

                Only thing was that, where she was now at this precise moment, her Sisters were not yet born…
                Interestingly, for a reason that only the mind of a century old wise dragon like Leormn knew —if she would trust it not to be a simple stroke of inattention and bad luck as he would try to make it appear— she was undoubtedly right where she had thought to be, a small island in the Eastern coastal area of Lan’Ork in the vicinity of the Marshes of Doom.
                Except that it was the Legendary Past…

                #1734

                In reply to: Synchronicity

                TracyTracy
                Participant

                  Darren cut a branch of a tree down today too

                  #794

                  Franiel dreamed of strange eggs being dropped from giant birdlike creatures in the sky. Some of the eggs exploded into flashes of light in the inky darkness of the night sky. He fell to the ground and hid his face in his arms and waited. He could hear the highpitched noise of the eggs falling, getting louder and louder as they approached the ground, and he knew his life was in the hands of the gods as to whether or not he was destroyed.

                  At last all became quiet. He raised himself cautiously and began to examine the earth to see what damage had been caused. The dog of Leonard accompanied him, yet all of a sudden it ran from him. All else was forgotten as Franiel followed the dog, fearing for it’s well being.

                  As if in pursuit of a hare, the dog ran and ran, eventually coming to a large mansion and running in through the open door. The walls and floors of the mansion were made of marble, ornate pillars and statues graced the wide entrance way. The mansion appeared to be deserted, yet Franiel had no thought for that, only of bringing the dog to safety.

                  The dog disappeared into one of the many rooms of the palatial hallway with Franiel in hot pursuit. The room was empty save for a large Bengal Tiger, a magnificent and regal creature, radiating a strange power from it’s shiny yellow eyes. The tiger was about to take the small dog in it’s mouth, and Franiel grabbed a branch from a tree which was lying on the ground (and within his dream he wondered how the branch came to be there) and fearlessly placed it in the mouth of the beast. The branch was woefully inadequate, a mere twig in the jaws of this powerful beast, yet it distracted the tiger sufficiently for the dog to run to safety.

                  Now Franiel faced the beast alone, perplexed, yet strangely unafraid.

                  #778
                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    Meanwhile, Becky was still connecting strongly to the Laughing Monk, Schnortz, from ancient Kuzhebar. Reciting another limerick to herself, she made her way across the flooded street, attracted to a warm and cozy looking cafe on the other side.

                    “The goat floating secret is this”
                    Nanaconda butts in with a hiss.
                    “Stretch out in the sun!
                    Relax and have fun;
                    Now come here and give me a kiss”

                    The flood water rushed past Becky’s ankles, causing her to stagger. Unidentified floating debris bumped the back of her legs and she almost buckled.

                    “Well then, what shall we do now, Deliria?”
                    Asked a white faced and trembling Wisteria.
                    “Go for the kiss?
                    Or give it a miss?”
                    Replied she, “Let’s consult Wikipedia.”

                    Becky reached the other side of the street relatively unscathed and headed towards the Wisteria Garden Internet Cafe.

                    #777
                    TracyTracy
                    Participant

                      The trail of physical clues in Nutley Park had dried up (or more correctly, washed away) in the continuing torrential rain, so Elvira took shelter under a large tree to concentrate upon the psychic clues. She was still getting nonsensical images from Becky, but had managed to decipher that Becky was approaching the Wisteria Delicatesan, she was out in a storm (which Elvira had already deduced) and that there was a goat floating down the street.

                      #1906
                      TracyTracy
                      Participant

                        Booked tickets today for Cirque du Soleil in Malaga for July 4th! :bounce:

                        Quidam: a nameless passer-by, a solitary figure lingering on a street corner, a person rushing past. It could be anyone, anybody. Someone coming, going, living in our anonymous society. A member of the crowd, one of the silent majority. The one who cries out, sings and dreams within us all. This is the “quidam” that Cirque du Soleil is celebrating.

                        A young girl fumes; she has already seen everything there is to see, and her world has lost all meaning. Her anger shatters her little world, and she finds herself in the universe of Quidam. She is joined by a joyful companion as well as another character, more mysterious, who will attempt to seduce her with the marvelous, the unsettling, and the terrifying.

                        Check out the characters

                        #1724

                        In reply to: Synchronicity

                        EricEric
                        Keymaster

                          These are quite interesting… The retelling story feels particularly fit, especially considering The Story so Far threads :face-grin:
                          I also wasn’t aware of the CK(Conductive Keratoplasty) corrective eye surgery with sounds rather than laser methods… :-?

                          But I didn’t come for that, actually. ;))
                          I was browsing something totally unrelated, and found a news about the plot of Toy Story 3 revealed by the Wall Street Journal (ref). Something got my attention obviously, when I saw Circle 7 a division of Disney who worked on the previous Toy Story movies before acquisition of Pixar…

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