Search Results for 'whisper'

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  • #1019
    1da
    Participant

      1da stood on the shore. amazement splattering awe across his universe. he knew as a seeker he had to return. his journey beginning once again, he watched closely as he stepped from stone to stone along the pathless shoreline of the clear water stream. the scent of cedar and low water rocks covered in moss penetrating deeply with each breath, he smiled… his return and arrival on this planet far into the valley he always and forever would returned to because it was the center of his seeking, he found the depth of his awareness opening…

      “wait. which planet is this again? of the 19 it has to be one of my favorites.”

      “timing is everything.” the whisper of the universe

      “damp drats. missed again.” he replied to the babbling waters.

      “greetings all ye who enter upon my existence.”

      – 1da – as in the number 0ne (1) & da as in the smallest particle of nothingness. 8-07-08 …because of course 1da watches from a distance. planet geopositioning time being 4:27:42 PM in about the middle of the Pacific Pond.

      #998
      ÉricÉric
      Keymaster

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

        #969
        TracyTracy
        Participant

          You see what I mean, Becky? whispered Tina in alarm. Aliens now!

          #963

          PPPSSST!

          Arona looked around, but couldn’t see anything. That sounded just like someone saying PPSSST, she said to herself.

          PPPSSTT! Over here!

          A large human form hidden behind voluminous dusty folds of indigo fabric was beckoning to her from behind a rock.

          Arona! Over here!

          Arona inched towards the apparition. Sanso? she whispered. Sanso, is that really you?

          Ahahaha yes, it’s me, and this is my new friend Zhana, he said, courteously introducing the two girls.

          I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation, Arona. I know where the cave entrances are. You’re most welcome to come with us, if you’d like to. There are no closed entrances in MY cave. Er, Our cave, Sanso corrected himself. Well, MY cave. He laughed. You know what I mean, he said, We all know we each create our own caves, no need to keep droning on and on about it, eh, but what I mean to say is, if you’d like to share a perception of my cave with me, where there are no closed entrances (or indeed exits, depending on your direction and point of perception), you are most welcome to join us.

          Looking kindly down at Zhana, he continued: I’ll bet my young freind here would appreciate some young female company.

          We’re going to Nishanti’s place, Arona, said Zhana shyly. Would you like to come with us?

          #943
          TracyTracy
          Participant

            Becky started to hear voices babbling, through the swirling colours and fog. She groaned as she became aware of her head ache, and raised her hand feebly to her forehead.

            Ah, she’s coming round! she mentally translated the foreign babble that was drifting into her consciousness. Becky’s hand slipped down towards her belly, which was hurting almost as much as her head.

            What the f…! she whispered in amazement, as she struggled to sit up.

            The babble of voices twittered at her to be still, and bony fingers pushed at her shoulders, encouraging her to lie still.

            I’m not fat anymore, Becky whispered incredulously, and began to smile.

            A well meaning voice was comforting her, telling her not to worry, that the three babies were fine, though tiny, and had been rushed to a special facility in the mountains to be placed in an incubator.

            Oh, cool, said Becky vaguely, not really listening. She stroked her smooth flat belly and sighed happily, and drifted off once more into the delightful oblivion of unconsciousness.

            #937

            When Anu woke up, all was fuzzy around her. She could remember the movements inside the wortex, the strange feeling of being dissolved into a million particles, and falling quickly as if falling from the sky.
            She was feeling alone. She wasn’t cold, but not comfortable either. The soil was damp, and rain was still falling were she was. Her little bag with her GameGirl Advanced was all stained by the brownish yellow mud, but it didn’t matter.
            At every moment, she expected her friends to appear once again, but she started to fear they had gone forever. Araili with its pointy dark ears, and its soft fur, Yuki, and the others. Where were they?

            Anita, are you alright?

            The voice was familiar, she recognized the unshaved face of Akita emerging from the shadows, and felt relieved. And she started to remember… her parents? Were they okay? They were with Akita in his werelynx form back “thenre”…

            Your parents are alright… They started to wake up, they asked for you… But we shouldn’t stay here, we have to find a shelter, because I think one of the spiders is here, and she will want to build a nest…

            Anita picked up her bag and started to follow Akita. A faint whisper made her turn her back to the spot were she was… there was nothing though. But she could have sworn she wasn’t alone…

            #909

            The confusion that Claude had made on the spiders ranks had been all that Phurt had waited for.
            In her agitation she hadn’t felt the signals that the Mother had been hurt during the fight.

            The only thing that obsessed Phurt now was that a way was now clear for the giant spider to go nearer the “wortex”. She could feel it, it was coming from the elder tree, the roots of which went spreading miles and miles away.
            Perhaps she could subjugate that raw power, consume it wholly and become one with it.

            But, as she went closer and closer, she started to feel as if she wasn’t the one eating or absorbing it, but the reverse was true. She started to struggle as she felt sucked into the wortex, crying as she felt doomed to oblivion, as old Narani had been telling them. How stupid had she been, she should have heard her. And as the Mother was now dying instead of becoming the new Mother, she was now about to die with her.
            But now was too late for laments. She had to embrace her destiny, and if it meant to die, she would, with pride.

            :fleuron:

            They all had felt it simultaneously. Armelle and the Snoot on the borgulm tree, Yuki and Rafaela, waiting with Anita near the perimeter made by the spiders, and Akayli the werelynx, carrying the mummified parents.

            What’s happening Claude asked to the owl

            One of the giant spiders went through the hole, and we’ll have to follow her said Yuki to Anita.

            The good thing is that the turmoil will keep the wortex opened a little longer Akayli thought to himselves.

            Armelle, go open the way now the Snoot whispered to the owl, then poofed away in a gurgling liquid sound.

            #895

            The woman’s voice raised softly in the dark, like a velvet caress, or the sound of a purring cat.

            Life was long before I met Georges. Not unbearable, but so long and lifeless. Days would pass, and nothing new would happen but the same matter the previous days were made of.
            Though I no longer align to these limitations, I was once human, born to Earth, as Georges was, in a not so distant past. Like most of my people, I was not feeling special. But my will was strong and my desire to survive too. I survived poverty, lust and violence. In the crucible of these emotions I’ve melted my fears, and it was there I found Georges too.

            A curtain raises in the dark. A palace in an exotic tropical place. Brunei? Al doesn’t know this place…
            A young dark haired woman in a small room, around sixteen, perhaps a bit less, disheveled. She looks wildly around her, her rags stained with dust and dirt.

            Enters a tall woman. She doesn’t seem local. British perhaps. She’s elegantly dressed, thin mouth, high cheekbones, apparently in charge. A maid follows her. She can speak the girl’s language.

            Where is my mother? Let me out of here! she starts to cry
            I’m afraid this is not possible, Salome. For your safety,…
            What do you care about my safety!
            For your safety, Salome, hear me, try to behave. The Sultan is not a man without a heart. He loves beautiful women, and that is what probably saved your neck, considering what all what your mother did wrong to him refusing to pay taxes and her obstinate and bare-faced smuggling. Listen Salome, this might save you, and might save your mother as well.

            The curtain falls on the scene, where Salome hopes to have found a friend of captivity with this woman.

            A few years later, still in the golden cage of the harem, occasionally asked to service the lustful and violent Sultan, I start to go explore the depths of my misery. My inner world was a safe sanctuary, a haven from the pit of hell where I was now living, after my childhood years of hard work in the forest. There, where no one was given the key to enter, I became aware of him. I first thought he was an imaginary friend, a messenger from the other world, greeting me to a sure death. But he was real. He started to talk to me. About what I could do, like him, be a Traveler, if I wanted to.

            The curtain raises again. Young Salome is lying on her straw mat, in a seeming delirium. She moans, whispers, weeps, laughs. No one in the harem seem to care any longer. She is probably possessed, but the Sultan still find her suitable, she can’t be touched.

            A roar can be heard in the palace. The big black-bearded Sultan Ojylam the Second, ogre look on his face, summons his guard.

            — Don’t worry Salome, the voice of Georges whispers in the dark. The Sultan is mad at Madame Chesterhope. She has just fled with his precious crystal skull, but he won’t find her. She’s a skilled Traveler too, as soon you will be dear Salome, once you have learnt my last tricks, and we soon will be united.
            — Why that stupid crystal skull?
            — Don’t worry about it… This one is the Birds Skull. It carries lots of information and magic in relation to the Birds Realm, but it should be the least of your concerns. We’ll find Madame Chesterhope even if she’s clever at hiding between dimensions. Only concern for you must be to get out of here.
            — The Sultan will know I told her about it… I should have known, he was so proud of this object, and so protective too… And she was so curious…
            — That’s why we must hurry now.

            And so we were united for the first time. Lots of other lives have occurred afterwards, different paths at times, but always we have found each other again. Eternally bound, in a most sacred bound…

            #893

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

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

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

            Al tried again to concentrate. Taking deep breathes.

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

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

            #883
            TracyTracy
            Participant

              Becky arrived at the cafe twenty minutes late, looking breathless and disheveled. Scanning the room with a wild eye, she spotted Tina engrossed in a magazine in a booth in the far corner. Flopping down on the leatherette seat, Becky ran her hands through her hair and said Holy Moly, Tina, I don’t know whether I’m coming or going.

              BREATHE, replied Tina, in a deeply resonant voice, a trifly mischeivously, Becky thought. Breathe into YOU…..

              Oh bugger off Tina, Becky said affectionately. Thanks for coming at such short notice.

              Well, out with it then, Becks, what’s the panic this time? What fine pickle have you got yourself into now?

              Becky glanced surreptiously over her shoulder, and then leaning over the table whispered to Tina, Promise you won’t tell anyone? Not even Sam and Al?

              Tina frowned. Not even Sam and Al?

              Seeing Becky’s crumpled face, Tina quickly agreed, saying, Oh alright then, but what’s the big secret? Not that there ARE any secrets….

              Yes there bloody well ARE secrets Tina, and this is one of them! Promise not to tell ANYONE!

              Alright, alright! Calm down and spit it out, for Gawds sake! Tina said.

              Remember when I was in the park? In that tarty nun outfit? Becky continued, in a loud whisper.

              How could I forget?

              Well, something happened! In the bushes, with this guy, a guy from the future, a time traveller.

              Tina raised one eyebrow in disbelief.

              It’s no good looking at me like that Tina, I’m telling you it happened. And what’s more, I’m pregnant, and he’s the father.

              Tina’s mouth fell open in surprise, and then she said, You TART! You haven’t been married a week! You haven’t even been on your blimmen honeymoon yet!

              Well, actually, replied Becky huffily, Don’t you think it’s kind of cool?

              What happened then, Becky, do tell! Tina was intrigued.

              And Becky proceeded to tell Tina all about it, first entreating her again not to tell anyone.

              #878

              Old Narani is becoming too soft.
              While the attraction of the hole was intensely beckoning, Phurt had been appointed by a strange twist of fate to the guard of the prisoners by the Old Mother.

              Bugger Narani whisspered Phurt, why not just kill them, these stupid two-legged animals. Why the pain of keeping them alive? Good thing the daily dose of sedative venom had them quiet now. They would only scare the mooing preys. Stupid, stupid.
              Of course, it would be easy to just sink a little more than usual her sharp tooth into their neck so fragile. A regrettable accident…
              Phurt couldn’t help but smile a grin as wide as her hairy eight-eyed face. But she wasn’t known as the Doctor of Breath for nothing. Her mere breath could be as sweet as a jasmine scent or terribly deadly. She had never missed a target, never could have.
              She was no mere Spinner; how could the Mother have put her to such a slighting task. Degrading. For her, the most promising Hunter of her generation to be doing this while they all were securing the hole perimeter.

              She would have to go. Something was nudging her to move, something like a fluid water sound, that whispered that nothing could happen to those prisoners. No one would be fool enough to dare to enter the Nest.
              Ahaha, why would she care? Nobody would know. And the little ones would alert her in any case.

              With a prodigious jump, she sprung to the forest in the direction of the hole. She couldn’t be denied her destiny.

              :fleuron:

              Is it gone now? a voice whispered under a pile of giant ferns
              I think it is growled Araili’s voice Thanks to the Snoot’s power of suggestion, I suppose… The Snoot might find spiders eggs delicacy enough to help us in our rescue operation.
              Shall we go there now? Kay? Ready to go and report back if everything’s clear?
              Ready.

              :fleuron:

              Rafaela was not finding it very difficult to jump on the rocky slopes. It was only difficult for her to remember to stay physically focused so that Anita wouldn’t fall to a certain death. And of course, even more difficult to resist to the attraction of nibbling a few crunchy thistles and brambles that grew here and there.
              But Yuki’s attention was here to remind her, and so far, their progression had been smooth and easy.

              But all of a sudden, the small pink nose of Yuki raised in quicker spasms sniffing the air intently.
              What? What? asked Rafaela who almost forgot her focusing. What?! Did I fart or something?

              Anu who was having the time of her life jumping on the coarse back of the goat giggled at her clueless question.

              — I think the spiders are moving too. We’ll be reaching the hole before them, and the Snoot tells me they won’t be moving close to it. But they won’t let anything or anyone get out of it. Let’s hope dear Armelle will spot a path for our friends.
              — Not to worry, Rafaela said matter-of-factly, Army is good at spoohtting. She’s the best I know at that.
              — OK, let’s move on…

              :fleuron:

              Claude was finally seeing a pinhole of light, at a close distance. He could just continue to crawl out his way to the light, and he would soon be release. And to cheer him up, he reminded himself that no man nor beast he feared, with his phenomenal strength agility and speed he now had. Too bad he didn’t have any time to get a proper super-hero attire he smiled to himself.

              :fleuron:

              On Tikfijikoo, the Magpie’s energy maze-cloak was now lift. The fury of the cyclone was now in its full power, and the Magpies were starting their swift deployment.
              The item was left unguarded in the operation room, as far as they could tell, and in the chaos of the elements, surely a few magpies would be unnoticed.

              They had to move quick now. The portal would be opened soon too. They couldn’t come back without bringing “it” back with them.

              #875
              TracyTracy
              Participant

                Chris Robin’s brief sojourn in the past had been an interesting one. He’d only spent a couple of hours in the year 2034 and had unfortunately arrived during a rainstorm. He arrived back in the year 2163 soaked to his skin, but grinning like a Cheshire cat. Armed only with the time travellers password, ‘Tarty Nun’, Chris had expected to spend alot more time trying to making contact with a TF, or ‘timetravellers friend’ than he did; he was astonished to see a tarty nun almost immediately upon arrival.

                The girl was giggling to herself, and reciting limericks as she wandered aimlessly through the bushes, looking really quite fetching in an interesting little garment. As she brushed past him, seemingly oblivious to his presence, he heard her whisper the password. “… coming… in … tarty nun…..”

                #857
                TracyTracy
                Participant

                  Another probable Becky hit send on her computer, and grinned wickedly. She had amused herself greatly writing her new storyline for the Reality Play, it had taken her mind off her cold.

                  Becky wandered into the kitchen where Sean was clearing up after dinner and gave him a kiss. That rhubarb crumble was delicious darling, wherever did you learn to cook like that!

                  Aha, replied Sean, It’s a secret recipe of Manon’s, she made me swear not to tell anyone. The secret, he continued, and dropped his voice to an enigmatic whisper, The secret is the groiselles.

                  Sean picked up the empty crumble dish to put it in the dishwasher, revealing a handwritten note that had been underneath it.

                  Sean recognized Becky’s handwriting, and smiled fondly at her. Oh, what have we here! he said, and started to read. Becky was frowning, perplexed. She hadn’t written a note to Sean in THIS probability!

                  #846
                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    Crisp fluttered to the floor as Becky drifted off to sleep. She was having an odd dream, in which she was hugging Sam. I’m so glad you don’t drink Sam, she said, emotionally, in the dream.

                    Well, I do have an occasional pint down at the Duck and Firken, you know, he replied.

                    You know what I mean, Sam. All those years with Sean, hoping it would all work out…her dream voice trailed off sadly….

                    Hey Becky, it wasn’t a waste! Look at all the lovely children you had!

                    Becky felt her dream self smile ruefully. Well, it hasn’t exactly been a picnic either, you know….

                    She woke up sweating and confused. Good grief, all WHAT children! What a dreadful nightmare!

                    She was wiping the beads of sweat from her forehead when Sean popped his head round the door.

                    I’m popping out for a beer, Becky, won’t be long.

                    Holy Moly, Becky whispered under her breath.

                    #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…

                    #830
                    TracyTracy
                    Participant

                      Holy Moly, that was quite a ride! whispered a beaming Ella Marie, who had been enjoying herself immensely. The dinghy and its strange cargo drifted on the open sea, the storms passed and the ocean calm and moonlit.

                      The floodwater currents had swept them along and Ella focused on avoiding obstacles like signposts, feeling exhilarated and alive with excitement.

                      Oy, we’re in the Gulf of Mexico now! she cackled, Lordy, I wonder where we’ll end up.

                      Elioctyl grinned.

                      #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?

                      #817

                      How restless that dragon is, thought Arona. Always shifting this or that, always talking in his damn riddles. She thought fondly of Buckberry, and how peaceful and content he seemed by comparison.

                      She was no longer sure where she was. She had gone over it a few times in her mind, but try as she might she could not make sense of Leormn’s cryptic explanations. Or that Malvina either, although at least she is a bit more pleasant about it.

                      Anyway, wherever it is, it feels a bit grey, she decided matter-of-factedly. And I am missing the others, even that grumpy Mandrake if the truth be told.

                      She closed her eyes and began to paint colours over the grey. She was not sure what to paint at first, so she just dabbed bright blobs of colour haphazardly onto her mind’s canvas. The colours began to run into each other and form shapes and it it seemed to her they wanted to take on a life of their own. So she let them, and it was not long before she found herself in a meadow of spring flowers.

                      That’s much better, she thought, taking a deep breath and lying back in the soft green grass.

                      :fleuron:

                      As she lay there her mind drifted sleepily, butterfly thoughts every now and then resting on some bright petal in her field of flowers.

                      Just living is not enough, said the butterfly as it danced by her head, one must have sunshine, freedom and a little flower.

                      Oh! said Arona excitedly, recognising the words from a far away time, You must be the butterfly of the story! The one my grandmother used to tell me when I was a little girl in the Village.

                      Perhaps I am! danced the butterfly and it whirled and twirled and swirled in the sky.

                      Arona rolled her eyes in exasperation. Now you sound a bit like that wriggly dragon. A simple yes or no would suffice.

                      The butterfly landed on her nose. Now listen here you! Don’t go blaming me. I am YOUR imagination!

                      Oh good point Butterfly, said Arona graciously. She pondered a moment … Well in that case …

                      And next moment Mandrake, Vincentius and Yikesy were sitting in the meadow with her.

                      Oh THERE you are Missy, said Mandrake. Might have known you would be lying around in some spring meadow leaving Vincentius and myself to look after your little sprog. Tsk Tsk, he tutted.

                      hmmm, thought Arona, that’s not quite what I had in mind ..

                      I would have said it’s exactly what you had in mind, whispered the butterfly, fluttering by her ear and then off again until it disappeared into the field of colours.

                      Arona turned her attention to Vincentius and Yikesy, sitting a short distance away in the meadow. She noticed how smooth and golden Vincentius’ skin looked in the morning sunlight, and how deep and melodic his voice was as he told Yikesy one of his seemingly endless repertoire of stories. Imagining a gentle hug and a kiss on his sweet, but it had to be said incredibly ugly face, she sent Yikesy into a peaceful sleep.

                      Oh great idea, smiled Vincentius with a wink. What I had in mind all along really. Perhaps you could also imagine Mandrake chasing a field mouse or something?

                      #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:

                        #1738

                        In reply to: Synchronicity

                        F LoveF Love
                        Participant

                          MORE ON ANGELS

                          I have been seeing a large number of “444’s”. I googled the number and found that one association with this number is of angels (there were other meanings as well, for me it is about choosing one which resonates with me, or creating a meaning). Well, i sort of liked that interpretation so now whenever i see 444 i think of “beings of light” and the support of the universe.

                          Mr X’s friend Kelvin said to him one day recently that Finn would suit driving a “??????” car (some rare and exotic make of car). :yahoo_eyelashes:

                          AHEM, okay to be technically accurate I made up “rare” and “exotic” … what i mean is I am not sure what car it was, (perhaps I will ask later and google it and hopefully I won’t be too offended), however that doesn’t mean much as I am one of those people who refer to cars by their colour rather than their make or model.

                          At the movies yesterday my attention was caught by a car in the picture, the numberplate was 444. At that moment MrX whispered to me and told me that was the car Kelvin said I should drive. Well I still have no idea what the car was as I was busy noticing the numberplate, but I thought that was such a cool synch, sort of really reminding me to trust in the support of the Universe.

                          Also on the way home, while driving home thinking about it i saw the the numberplate ANGILZ. :yahoo_angel:

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