Search Results for 'whispered'

flower synch! but her mind was dulled with tiredness and she could not explain, although they questioned her relentlessly.

“Just align with whatever path you are on… it is by far the easiest way” she whispered as she dropped off to sleep.

She woke to find herself on a path. It was dark and only the ground directly beneath her feet was visible. It was hard to move forward under these conditions and she desperately wanted to see more. She fought with the darkness until, eventually, she realised the darkness was an illusion. With that realisation she took hold of the darkness and it fell away in her hands revealing a stage.

The stage was bare, other than an old boot and a plain wooden chair. She sat on the chair and looked around.

“This is a bit gloomy” she said. “I want flowers”. And deep crimson wild sweet peas appeared. “I want lots of flowers! And I want blue sky and sunshine and a few fluffy white clouds and a gentle sun shower for me to dance in and a rainbow to fill the sky with wonder.” And as she wished, the bare stage was transformed to a landscape filled with a vibrant profusion of colour and life.

meanwhile in South Africa, an alphabet slaughtering surge made landfall, scattering the inhabitants, celebrities and everyday heroes alike. Some suspected the elusive Wordblade

“Alliteration ascends the assonance of abseiling abstract aspects of anterior antiquities from ancient altars,
Bouldering down blocks of brooks that break the boring & bland borders of bondage,
And blinking through bleak and black boxes of brisk bravery.
Creeping into crops of crooked crocks with crotches of cockroaches cramming into cans of calamity, the crisp cat crackles the calling.
Dreaming of damning devils and demons dancing in droplets of dreary darkness drags the drunken diligence from the draught’s damnation,
Even the everlasting ethereal elves ebbed and eased into the effervescent eloquent estate of eternal elitism.

For the feeble and fumbling fatuous frontiers, the folly frolicked and fornicated with the familiar friend from foes’ fervent fevers;
Greater than gradient grand gestures of gestaltic granite grasses,
The gruesome grizzle grabbed the gore by the gripped grunting.
Higher than homelands of hands in horizons,
Heavens and Hells or Hades hazily hear the honing of the horses and horns-
In internal infernos of inflicting infringes of institutional insurrections Interrogations instigated imminent innate innovations.
Jacknives of jaundiced and jilted jokers jabbed at the jumping jingles of the jesting jackals that jet over jerseys of jeering,
For the Killer Krakens kelp the kites from kids who keep kaleidoscopes of kind and keen keepers.

Longer than languid lads that laze in lost latitudes the lieutenant lounged behind lines of lingering losses-
Maids mellowed around mazes of men and manners of mad moments and made for mates on mattresses on mothered matrimony.
Noisy & never-ending neckties on nests of nicked numbers never nominated the nurses that nosed the nuns for nuns’ nihilism
Beyond the Oligarchs of overt operations of obligating omnipotence ostracizing the omniscience & omitting its ownership to the omnipresent order.
Pilgrims to pentagons by people from poached & palpitated places of placards of propaganda pondered their positions in this power polarity
When quivering quills of quavering queens quelled the quarterly quests of the quaint quarrels.

Because roving rivers of raging ravines and raving reviews raced to the rest of the ripped rampant ravages and revelled at the rambling randomness
Structured subsiding and subsidized societies should string the strongholds of the supreme sultans of seeded senses.
Taking the trusty treaty the trussed toppled truants took the trickling ticking of time to the tables of trampled trees of timber,
For under the ubiquitous umbilical umbrellas of ultra-sounds from upper-level ulcers underground underworlds underestimated the union.

Vivid visions of voracious vampires of vexing vacuum vortexes vilified the vindicated vindictives from the violent vapid vanity
While wild & wily whiskers of whispered whisky whisked the wailing widows
From the wells of wanting when the wanton warriors walked on waters.
Yards of years of yearning the yesterday’s yonder yarns of yellow yolk yawned Into the youth’s yoked yams
For zigzags of zapped zebras to zip the zest in zealous zones.”

“Arona, look at that old parchment”, whispered Vincentius with his melodious voice, “I think it can be of help, it looks like a map. I grabbed it when we went out of that portal.”

“It’s just a jump to the right, Mari Fe” whispered Bee, trying not to giggle. Mari Fe was giggling so hard the tears were rolling down her face.
“Give me a minute Bee” she gasped, wiping her eyes. “I need to get a grip before I can continue.”
“SHHH! they’ll hear you! They don’t know you’re in here!”
“In ~ where are we, Bee?” asked Mari Fe, looking around at the strange dimensions and shape of the room. “Where are we?”

Sanso rubbed his sore head.

“Oh well, just one of the hazards of the job, I suppose.” he said philosophically.

“Okay, coast is clear,” he whispered into the portal.

One by one, Arona, Vincentius and Yikesy piled into the small bathroom.

“Don’t forget me!” hissed Mandrake.

“You know,” Mandrake continued, snootily, “there are some who will say we should not be here. There will be some who will be tsk tsking for all they are worth.”

“Positive energy, please Mandrake.” smiled Arona. Mandrake rolled his eyes.

“It will be fine, just remember: nobody must know who we are or why we are here, and positive intentions at all times.” Sanso was tremendously excited. It was a long time since he had had such an exciting mission.

“Why are we here, again?” asked Vincentius, in his deep melodious voice.

Cornella had been enjoying the bamboo shoots until she found out about the dog leg broth they were cooked in. “Really, I can eat no more” she said unhappily, pushing away the bowl and glancing around the room. “What the devil is that?” she exclaimed as her eye fell on the tall dark mysterious cabinet. “Where did that come from?”

Lord and Lady Appleton glanced at each other. “I told you to be more careful, Jedward” whispered Mirabelle. “What’s that doing in here?”

“Oh, ha ha, why that’s just a little trinket I picked up in Long Poon, Cornella. It’s nothing, nothing at all.” Lord Appleton cleared his throat noisily. “Just an old cabinet, nothing really.”

“What’s inside?” asked Cornella, moving towards the dark wooden doors. “What an interesting insignia, it reminds me of something.”

“Don’t open it!” shreiked the Appletons. “It’s, er, full of dog legs.”

Cornella frowned, wondering why dog legs kept popping up.

Falling…
Falling…
Falling…
Like an overdue meteorite that suddenly usurps the earth’s unaware atmosphere, Jennifer and her greatly interested boyfriend suddenly found themselves on the filthy ground, after the tree in which they were concealing their frivolous touches of childish passion gave in to the ground on account of an astonishing hole manifested the earth.

“Canaria,” Jennifer whispered as she dusted herself, resurrecting her fallen self from the earth. Jon had informed her that it was due to rise any moment after the great meeting of the Tw’Elves, but she wasn’t expecting it to occur so suddenly. Jon was the physical host of a channeled entity that synchronized itself with the initial dimension and the alterversity. She had first encountered this entity while wandering around in a dream, looking desperately for lucidity. It was like a vision: there was a blinding flash of purple light, and then when it fizzled, a gentle, yet booming voice manifested itself in the atmosphere and enlightened her of the shift in physical and metaphysical consciousness that was going to occur in the form of risen continents (five in total)- a shift in consciousness that would even out the blurring lines between illusion and reality.
The young, nameless one stood up, uttered an awkward cough and muttered: “What?” but Jennifer was already walking in the opposite direction, towards a large, circle rock she termed “Sepritrella”, meaning “place of silence” in the language of the Tw’Elves. “Jenni-” the young man called out hopelessly, thinking that somehow his voice would bring her back to him. Little did he know…

“I must call an emergency OOB meeting at the library,” she whispered as she placed herself upon the rock of Sepritrella and begun her meditative state. She fell into a relaxed trance, and suddenly her token colour of blue beamed itself loudly, zooming towards the Vatican Library to meet the others.

Shelly Dwelling, horrifed ~ naturally enough ~ at the mention of butter and parsley, was immensely relieved to see Frobisher the frog gliding along in his electric wheelchair. “Hop on, Shelly!” he whispered urgently “My wheelchair is super fast, I’ll get you out of this pickle in a jiffy!”

“Frobisher! Oh my godfrogs, it’s good to see you! What timing! But I can’t hop!”

“Well neither can I now, without my legs” he replied, “But you can climb up my wheel, can’t you?”

“Well ok, but don’t move, I’m on my way, this may take a while…”

“Hurry, Shelly! Hurry up! I can smell butter melting, there’s no time to lose!”

Unfortunately for Shelly who was a quarter of the way up the left wheel, Frobisher engaged his electric motor and sped off into the long grass. It would have been far too risky to wait.

“Hang on, Shelly! This will be the ride of your life!” he called, as Shelly spun round the giant Ferris Wheel.

“I suppose this is why your name is Frobisher Ferris” she replied through gritted teeth.

“Grandpa’s transitioning strongly again, Cuthbert” India whispered. “Grandpa” she said loudly, “The beginning was the snowflake, and the end was the reverse dandelion puff.”

India frowned, perplexed. “Do I have to have a beginning and an end in every comment?”

fun summer somewhat hand free random wish heard whispered seen yurick alone life hear suppose raucous

“surprise others!”

“cave heads suddenly body!”

“sudden self popped!”“ come words, following wondered told often; replied:

~ “thinking thank fingers!” ~

certainly thread moment, perhaps lovely away…..

portal word
giving pee
sudden needed
lost shar seen away able
shall laugh
gone ancient stop
mother ones
clue whispered
nothing

“Now you’ve gorn and done it! They’ll all know that Shar is really one of ‘them that shan’t be joked about’!” exclaimed Mavis.

“What the fuck are you on about, our Mavis?” asked Gloria. “You mean the Shards what started off as Windows? Is our Sha one of them Shards then, what’s doing them chemtrails?”

Mavis gasped in horror. “You mustn’t talk about the Shards like that” she whispered, looking nervously behind her.

“I happen to know that this is the Lupin Express” replied Gloria, who was transitioning strongly.

Peanelope wiped a tear from her eye as she looked at her mantelpiece. She had removed the blubbit chasing trophies, Pee’s pride and joy, and replaced them with the four heads of her dear family.

“Come home safe, my pretty ones’” she whispered.

A moment later, spying something on Pickle’s chin, she leaned forward for closer inspection.

“Marmite dribble! Good Lord boy, you aren’t going through the portal with marmite dribble on your chin. They will say I am an unfit mother!”

With a hanky she wiped the offending spot away, relishing the fact that, for once, Pickle could not answer her back. Unfortunately Pickle, although endowed with her own fine looks, had inherited his father’s raucous voice.

“That’s much better,” she said proudly, “What a fine looking family you all are. Even you, Gnarfle,” she added after reflection. “Sometimes I forget you are a dog, you certainly feel like one of the family.”

Ann realized she was late for her Flimsy Unravelled Continuity Knowledge class. A couple of months late, in point of fact, as Worserversity classes had resumed two months previously.

“Where have you BEEN?” Lavender whispered as Ann slid as inconspicuously as possible into the seat beside her, while the professor at the front of the class was facing the blueboard.

“Do I know you?” asked Ann, with a puzzled expression. The girl beside her did look vaguely familiar.

“Oh how rude you are, Ann. Are you trying to be funny?”

“Oh no, not at all!” Ann’s eyes filled with tears.

Lavender frowned. It wasn’t like Ann to start blarting and blubbering in public. “What’s the matter?” she asked kindly.

“I’ve lost my memory!” exclaimed Ann. “I can’t remember a thing!”

“Oh, is that all,” replied Lavender dismissively. “I’d have thought you’d be used to that by now.”

“No, no, you don’t understand! I can’t remember anything at all now, it’s all gone, poof! Gone!” Ann wept and started to wring her hands.

“Well the first thing you need to do is stop that bloody snivelling and wipe your nose. Here” she said, handing Ann a tissue. “And the next thing you need to do is stop worrying about it, and just fake it until you get your memory back. Worrying about it won’t help, you must focus on the things you do remember.”

“But it’s all jumbled up and muddled in my head, I remember bits, you know? But I can’t fit them all together. I CAN’T FIT THEM ALL TOGETHER!”

“SHHH!” snapped Lavender. “Try not to draw any attention to yourself! I’ll help you, don’t worry.”

“You’re so kind” Ann smiled weakly. “What did you say your name was?”

“Lavender. My name is Lavender, and I’m going to help you remember. Just remember this, for now: what you can’t remember, don’t worry about, the important thing is to carry on. Just CARRY ON REGARDLESS, ok?”

“OK.” Ann sighed with releif. “What’s the Professor going on about?”

“The next assignment. We’re to read that cryptic old classic book Circle of Eights and try to decipher it.”

“Good greif! Nobody has ever managed to decipher that book!”

“You see?” said Lavender. “You can remember that! Well done, girl!”

“The fact of the matter, Finnley,” Liz whispered confidentially to her dear freind, “ is that I feel scared to say something discontinous now, which results in me saying nothing (or rather, not all that much).”

“Leave it with me, Ann dear” replied the resourceful Finnley. “I’ll have a word with God about nonsense.”

“Liz” corrected Liz.

“Oh dear. I think you’ve been infected with the continuity virus.” Finnley looked worried.

“Jig up in a tree!” Armelle said quickly, scratching her wings on top of the grinning Snoot.

“The Snoot has been expecting those nasty buggers”, Gloria said sadly as a magpie started to wave.

“STAY CLEAR!” the magpie giggled. She beamed at Gloria. The confusion was now clear. She could feel it. She could consume it and become one with Armelle and the Snoot and Yuki and Rafaela , Anita, the spiders, Akayli, the werelynx, the mummified parents, Claude.

“The good thing is”, the Snoot whispered to Armelle, “you may have noticed i am twice my usual size and I may be more than happy to lend Al Becky’s children, ingested a few days before the conception”.

Ann had to admit it wasn’t a bad idea. She wondered why she hadn’t thought of that herself. Why haven’t I been expressing more of the perecption in front of my eyes, I wonder? The more she thought about it, the more confused she became. It did sound like a good idea, and she was pleased that she had created another ‘her’ as it were, to mention it.

On the other hand, of course, there was nothing stopping Walter (or was it Gordon? No, Godfrey…wait, wasn’t it Al?) from creating another one of his ‘hims’ masked as an Ann to express more of her perceptions in HIS own ‘It’s All You’ story.

Am I getting this right? Ann whispered to her left ear.

Ann spent the morning (or a mere half hour, if truth be told) enjoying her physicality in the gentle autumn morning sun before returning indoors. The drop in temperature was still new enough to remember to appreciate fully. She felt at peace with her world, a happy balance of words and sunbeams, that is until she perused the latest additions to the BA (Bash Ann, by the looks of things) group project.

Ann frowned. Who the heck was Harvey? It was almost the last straw, despite Ann’s sunny mood. The very idea of trawling back through the paperwork to find out who he was, and indeed who everyone else was, was too daunting. “If it’s not fun don’t do it!” That’s what they all said. Over and over again they said “if it’s not fun don’t do it”.

The writing was fun, and the random reading was fun, but it wasn’t fun ~ in fact, it gave her a headache ~ to try and remember who and when and where everyone was. Perplexed, Ann wondered if she simply wasn’t cut out for working in a group. On the other hand, she simply wasn’t a loner either.

“Be remebering,” the disembodied voice whispered in her left ear, “That they are all YOU.”

Oh! Right, yes….herm….well where does that leave me?

“Right at the centre of it all, as always,” the voice replied.

Er, so it’s all MY story, then? The whole thing is all me, all mine? All the characters are ME?

“Quite!”

So I can do whatever I want, then?

“Of course!”

Right then, so I can write whatever I want, which is fun, and not write what I don’t want, which isn’t fun, and that will be quite alright, will it?

“Correct!” the voice chuckled indulgently. “And it may behoove you” it continued in a conspiratorial tone, “To remember than any flak from the others in the group, is in fact, YOU giving YOURSELF a flakking reflection.”

Oh. Well Right Ho, then. Toot! Toot!