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  • #658
    EricEric
    Keymaster

      The new shop was splendiferous. It had all people could imagine about pets and stuff, pets most people wouldn’t have imagined existed. There was even a whole division for the pets health, with permanent vets…

      The “Rent’a Pet Shop, Boy!” was taking a whole building, with no less than thirteen storeys, and when Sidonie entered the huge hall at the ground floor, which was slightly above the waters’ level, she was awed by the quantity of animals which where stored in the facility.
      She didn’t know what she wanted for a start and now she was beginning to feel lost.

      A beautiful tall black woman, with short hair and wearing an ample avocado-coloured boubou and carrying a little dog close to her chest passed by her and Sidonie could hear her muttering apparently incoherent bits to herself
      Come on Chumpy, the doctor said it will be alright after that surgery, here, here little thing, breathe, breathe and say YES… Oh Lordy, I’m gonna be late, and Sam will be bugged if I make him wait in his friend’s flying car…

      Sidonie was mesmerized by the woman, who suddenly turned to face her and said winkingly “I’d rather not go for a squawking parrot if I were you, they can’t keep quiet… and not a magpie either… Al said this new breeds of nine-tailed foxes are great, but I can’t really get used to anything else but dogs… Oh, I must go, need to have the last alterations done on my wedding gown… How can they expect that I remember all of this!

      And the woman went running out of the shop…

      Sidonie was baffled… A nine-tailed fox… Why not, sounded like a nice idea. At least, she could start by renting it, and if it was a nice companion and Tonio was OK with it, she would adopt it…

      She asked a vendor where was the fox section. The vendor took a very professional look to ask her if she meant the new genetically engineered breed of foxes, or the classical breeds, desert, arctic or continental…
      Sidonie was lost for a moment, then remember the lady had said they were new breeds, so she asked for the new ones in an intimidated voice.

      Upstairs, thirteenth floor, on your right after the jump said the vendor and beware of the shrimpigators

      #1997

      In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

      EricEric
      Keymaster

        A cloud-assisted demented rewrite, just for fun…

        PERPLEXED BY THAT PARTICULAR case, THE sheriff HAD HIS glassES floatING BEFORE HIS eyeS.

        SOME mean rather weird beings… THE brotherHOOD OF magic NEEDED TO SEND Elikozoe INTO A space Craft TO CARE FOR THE boy WHO felt six motherSHIPS COMING IN HIS dreams.

        DURING THESE moments easily FORGOTTEN, SOME others young legends WERE sent Aside TO answer AND bounce WITH alone aspects THAT wondered HOW TO keep focused.

        THE trees WERE laughing “yeah!” THEY SAID, AS Anita FELT cold AMONG THE roseS randomLY SCATTERED.
        SOME told HER ABOUT love, AS SHE asked WHETHER dragons REALLY seemed LIKE nothing ELSE SHE HAD SEEN BEFORE.

        Chris turned wondering ABOUT nature THESE days WHEN everyone, Elizabeth INCLUDED, KEPT thinking WHAT THEIR hair looked LIKE FROM behind.

        DEEP inside, SOME help began slightly TO COME TO THE lady AS SOON AS THE dark cloud HAD taken HER TO sleep. THE truth IN particular WAS LIKE A friend WITH purple COLOURS AND A skull IN HIS HAND, WHO sat WAITING FOR HER.
        “let HOPE COME, despite whatever FATE bringS TO THE door! YOU must wait SOMETIMES, AS factS follow!”

        Nice Tina WAS caught floating ON THE STREAM, AND moving ALONG IN A green jogGING GEAR WAS Joe, BOTH full OF IDEAS THAT gave THEIR friends AN experience NEWLY created. BUT THEY needed magpieS AND tried FOR THESE creatureS INSERTION TO work.

        FOR Arona, ALL WAS happening ON Earth LIKE SOME important dream. IT WAS LIKE dancing IN A real play, WITH THE sea NEARBY.
        A series OF dog-EARED BOOKS WERE NEARLY outside, AND deep INSIDE, SHE KNEW THE novelS WERE close TO surface OUR dimension, WITH HER head looking BEYOND, AS perhaps Yurick WOULD AGREE.
        HIS heart often sounds interesting, BUT OF ALL THE ones SHE liked, IT SHOULD BE herself.
        THE Duane SHALL BE rememberED, SHE thought, IN DUE times…

        WITH THE goat, Anna suddenly giveS THE blue busy spiders SOME NEW reality, AND Kay IS getting hot. SHE HAD forgotten THAT handS COULD BE making names, AND SHOUTING HER CreEd, THE voice OF THE girl SAID IT matterED THAT THE story became shouted IN THE sky.
        Eric WAS ENduring Sanso WHO loved THE sandY BEACHES.

        STAYING clear THIS NEW year DEMANDS SOME self AWARENESS, ESPECIALLY ON THE yellow CHAKRA points, TO ALLEVIATE UNNECESSARY physical pain.

        CLAD IN teal, SHE WAS waiting FOR HIS parents’ words TO HAVE moved AND TO BE connected. Franiel HAD FELT within HIMSELF four OLD fatherS’ ADVICES, AND HAD AGREED TO TALK TO Salome’S face AND ANSWER HER call THAT HAD APPEARED quickly UPON THE wall AND HAD BEEN wandering OVER HIS bed.
        HE careD FOR THE past, AND THAT VISION WAS telling. IN THE morning, HE SAW IT AS A gift, SHINING IN SOME DISTANT island, LIKE A moviNG presence.

        Yann VowED TO FIND HIS WAY IN THE soup OF linkS, AND FIND THE OLD godS’ energy THAT kept THE planetS MOVING.
        HE heard SOMETHING, A FUGACIOUS moment following HIS ADMIRING OF THE beautiful weather, UNDER THE Glistening sun. A SINGLE dragon’S hands COULD nurse POTENT writing abIlITIeS, AND soon WOULD open GREAT awareNESS OF joy AND moveMENTS AND music WHICH WOULD MAKE HIM laugh OF ALL THAT HE WAS creating WITHIN THIS focus.

        Tracy FEELS away OF THE action. IT seems QUITE human… NOTHING IS white DURING twilight, SHE noticed, AND FELT given TO understand.
        AS MRS Bellamy, SHE WOULD HAVE stopPED LONG ago, HAD NOT come THAT powerful mummy.
        WITH Georges startING TO APPEAR, worry BECOMES quietNESS FOR Jib, AND crystal-CLEARNESS FOR Sam.
        MANY years AHEAD IN A GALAXY far-AWAY, ANOTHER Dory IS named AND readS ABOUT DR Bronklehampton’s WORKS.
        HAVING TAKING leaveS, AND BEING gone FOR ALL, OLD Hrih DELVES INTO THE skulls AND HIS eyes SEE A next hope IN A book.
        MovementS HAPPEN FOR Claudio already… THE world woke UP IN surprise.
        A known sense OF TIMESPACE-travel APPEARS IN THE commentS, AS seen THROUGH light.

        Akita’S body AND mind started TO ACT LIKE A saint AND FEEL strange under THE change.
        “TO danGER, bugger!” WAS HIS decision NO longer… HE FELT warm… Towards THE worlds treeS, askING HIMSELF IF IT WAS A game, HE SAW TWO male children PLAYING against EACH OTHER.
        THEY managed TO show HIM THAT THE Murtuane WAS familiar.
        THE whole air WAS speaking. IT sort OF opened ITSELF SO THAT HE knew later OF THAT SPECIAL room OF TIME AND SPACE, AND HAD THE WIND AGAIN BRUSH HIS skin similar TO WHEN HE WAS seeing home IN HIS HEAD.

        Felicity IN THE BEDlam SAW half-formS, COUNTING three OF THEM, INCLUDING Gustav IN THE saloon, AND Becky WHO WAS THINKING SHE WAS AGAIN IN THE wrong PLACE: A monastery!
        SHE’D RATHER HAVE yourself BE A star, AND HERSELF BE HERE TO MAKE THE FUN postS AND playing lost.

        Eight powers smiled: true saying!
        THE sisters focuses IN THEIR caveS HAD SOME fine land TO PLAY WITH.
        Apparently sound WAS key once, BUT THE VOICES IN THE night speak UNCEASINGLY, AND TO write SOME great stories, SPEAK strongLY. THEY seem TO BE feeling yesterday SOME perfect movements…

        THE marmoset HAD FOUND A family, AND funny wordS TO process. IT laughed short GIGGLES
        AS FOR myself, SAID THE cat TO Floyd, I’D create A party-LIKE life, WHERE I DO AS I please, AND LET paper WORK AND feelINGS AND desireS AND tryING AND tellING TO monkey.
        THAT shapeD SOME fun, AND syncHRONICITIES AGAIN happened SHORTLY.

        IN THE FLOWING water, “aum” SOUNDS RIPPLED IN A huge dear dance beginning TO REFLECT himself IN images. HE sighed AS HIS attention GOT INVOLVED IN THE trip AND HE remembered…
        ON THE beach, obviously AWARE OF THE synchRONICITIES, THE creatures wanted TO CLAP THUNDEROUS applauseS.
        LIVING THE dead GUYS’ ideaS…

        #1875
        TracyTracy
        Participant

          I had a whole scenario in my head last night and just couldn’t put a sentence together, I tried and tried, and deleted the whole thing. Mars, or Constable Marhsall, was surreptitiously meeting the robber lad in a brothel, waiting to meet the madame, the leader of the robber gang. darnit, I just couldn’t articulate it at all. Just thought I’d mention it ;) :yahoo_rolling_eyes:

          #1627

          In reply to: Synchronicity

          F LoveF Love
          Participant

            aahahhah Jib! these are great.

            Maya and Raya! – yesterday Maya came up somewhere, hahaha I can’t remember what it was! only hearing the name Maya, and thinking that it was in someway connected to something, I associate the word with May, which is why it made an impression. Funny the Raya name, Eric. I really got stuck on Ray Caesars name yesterday, I kept thinking there is a synch here, but I don’t know what it is yet.

            (actually the reason I read the magazine with the Ray Caesar article, was because of a funny name mixup. Hairdresser man told me there was a mixup in appointments because of 2 men with very similar names booking on consecutive days, something like Tim Brown and Tom Brown … one letter out anyway ….. leading to a double booking, and me having to wait … hence the magazine )

            I spent some time looking at Octopus Girl yesterday, found her quite fascinating :face-grin:

            I have just seen a programme with a whole room of people wearing white robes, because the spirits found it easier to work with people wearing white … well according to the programme. And they were selling bottled holy water. :yahoo_laughing:

            #1620

            In reply to: Synchronicity

            F LoveF Love
            Participant

              Bubbles, skull, 3d software and other miscellaneous type synchs …

              When I left for my walk yesterday, Eric said to me “happy bubbling”, as I left cafe I picked up newspaper off the rack and there was a big photo of a little girl blowing bubbles on the front page. It was a lovely photo, one which had won a photo competition, the child looked very happy. I was wondering what bubbles meant to me, did not think of the 8 thing, but that is a good point.

              Yesterday I had a hair appointment. As I left the house my atttention was caught by a picture which came up on my computer of a skull Dusky Moana (children’s story about a photographer, treasure etc) Later I saw that Eric had started writing about the crystal skull again in the story. Eric’s comment

              As I leafed through a magazine at the hairdressers I was interested in a story about an artist who does his work using 3d software, (I don’t know much about it computer 3d stuff, so was interested to see Jib had been playing with 3d software yesterday. ahahah also George and I are obsessed with flies at the moment, is this a synch? I would love to see the image you did Jib!). It caught my attention because of another image of a girl blowing bubbles. Also because the artist started off saying:

              I was born in London, England on October 26 1958, the youngest of four and much to my parent’s surprise, I was born a dog.
              which I found very funny really, in fact I found his whole Bio very amusing. (ahaha also very amusing none of our numbers in his birthdate, that makes an intriguing change )

              In the interview it talked about how he worked as a photographer in a children’s ward for a number of years, and this greatly influenced his work, endowing his subjects with surreal otherwordly qualities to help them cope with life. Quite a few of them have sort of insect type appendages.

              Ray Caesar Bubbles

              also, just on the off chance anyone interested Ray Caesar’s Bio

              The other image which caught my eye in the magazine was this one of the world’s most valuable skull, made of diamonds: The Diamond Skull (Interesting I was getting the skull imagery I thought, because I have not really been able to quite follow the whereabouts of this skull in the story, it has perplexed and bemused me a bit.)

              Sorry to mess up the order of your next comment Eric. I often whisper my comments to myself when I don’t finish writing them in one go, and I was not expecting anyone else to be up writing. But I think that is a tremendous synch, particularly in relation to Tracy’s comment about the 888th comment and a huggy is a nice one for it to be. Tracy’s comment mentioning the 888th comment (Is this a synch or did Tracy already know about the 888th mark having been hit? oh who cares, lovely synch, that was evil twin popped in for a minute)

              I had a Sam synch, well this is getting long. But anyway I was thinking about spiders as I left the supermarket (long story as to why I was thinking about spiders), Anyway Jib and I had talked about spiders in the story earlier, and as I looked up I saw the car plate coming towards me was X SAM X ….. (what does this mean? is it sam surrounded by X’s? or kisses from Sam ? hahah well I think I will go with that one ) :yahoo_kiss:

              #648
              AvatarJib
              Participant

                As soon as Anadron noticed the signal, he sent an energy thread to his friend Goldarny. The whole community was buzzing in the collective innernet of Asaris, the signal couldn’t have been clearer. It was one of the legendary devices sent to this world a few centuries ago. There were originally 9 of them. One had been broken or “lost”. The eight other devices had been silent for many years, and the Asarisi had thought the knowledge of these devices had been lost by the inhabitants.

                Among many collective threads and more private ones, Anadron and Goldarny were exchanging energy.

                The device had been lost for so many years that the Council had suspended the explorations to this world many years ago. Following the Salitre Massacre, their policy was if they were not contacted first they would not interfere. One of the eight remaining skulls had been almost activated for communication. Not quite yet. So they would not send anyone.

                Both friends were thinking the same thing. Andrimiñ was currently away in another dimension, one with many portals… could he loose his way home? They were both quite novice at these explorations and they were indeed curious, very curious.

                :fleuron:

                What was considered a green star was shining upon the land of Nerumyil, giving the purple sand of the beaches some shimmering magpie shades. Falghrus had been observing the human since one of the Daughters of the Sea had brought him here. He couldn’t see any reason for her action… The Zentauras were discrete and respectful creatures… mostly respectful of one’s position in the society, and Falghrus was not one of the few Ambassadors of his People. Interfering would have been very misplaced. All he could do was send a magpie to alert the Council, and it would decide the right thing to do.

                One of his first reactions would have been to kill the man. None of them was allowed in this territory. Nerumyil had been hidden to their perception long ago. If that creature of the Sea hadn’t brought him here, he could never have reached the beach on his own. He had respected his position until now, though he had tried to dissuade the man to stay longer with his mental abilities. He was one of the Gatherer, but he had a few skills that he could have developed if he had chosen the path of a Healer.

                But that creature again had warned him, almost breaking the rule. The man was under her protection.
                The beach was a neutral territory. Between the Land and the Sea, no soul should be harmed. This was usually respected between the Zentauras and the People of the Sea. The humans were not part of this rule. And Falghrus had them in particular distaste.

                This one seemed quite weak. He would have helped him end his suffering without the protection she had decided to accord to him so graciously. But he won’t stop his observation… he would find a way.

                #645

                As soon as she’d come back from her trip, Dory had planned to travel again very soon.
                Of course, she had enjoyed tremendously being home, being with Dan and young Becky… yes, she had… the first day for sure…
                Well… She was a born wanderer, she couldn’t do against her own nature, no need to beat herself for that, and feel guilty for leaving Dan and Becky periodically. Hopefully, Becky was very understanding, and perhaps that the fact that Dory was her stepmother made things easier for them both, without burdening their relationship with useless obligations towards one another.

                On the other side, many exciting destinations were on her list, and she barely knew where to start. One that had attracted her curiosity was the site of Jiroft in Iran, where the famed lost Kingdom of Aratta had been supposedly found very recently. Artifacts had been discovered on this site, predating our commonly supposed invention date of written language, which had fascinated Dory for a while, before she got lost amidst the wide spectrum of her other interests.

                Well, all of this was of frenzying interest, but there were dogs and back issues…
                Somehow, Dory had been struggling with lots of tensions in her back, and the more she forced herself moving, the worse the pain was. Finally beaten by herself, when no one else, friend, family or doctor could accomplish such a feat, she was stuck to a cushioned armchair for most of the day holding to her pain as to a stuck parasitic hated friend.
                And then, there was the dogs.
                As she was barely able to move, Dan had renounced to have her come with him and Becky to see Sabine, Becky’s mother, in Mallorca, where she had invited them for the Epiphany.
                Secretly, Dory was happy to have to stay at home, and not to have to make pleasing faces to the horrid obsessive woman she could only stand a few minutes without having to go out and empty a whole pack of cigarettes to calm her down.
                The only little drawback was that she had to take care of the dogs… And she was running short of dog’s food…

                Before leaving, Dan had left her a phone number of their new neighbours, a batty couple of Brits who had just rented the farm nearby, and with whom Dan was occasionally playing golf and lending a hand in small DIY work.
                Reluctantly, Dory took the post-it and smiled at the familiar handwriting of Dan

                BEATTIE & LEONORA FLETCHER : 933-157-821

                She composed the number in a deliberate slow motion, which strangely felt very empowering.

                — Hello! a quavering male voice answered
                — Err… Mr Fletcher?
                — Ms Fletcher,… herself, what can I do for you?
                — I’m Dorothy Mc Leane, one of your neighbour, you probably know my…
                — Oh, yes! Dorothy, may I call you Dorothy, Dan spoke of you so much that we were very eager to meet you, weren’t we Leo?

                A ruffling sound behind Beattie Fletcher seemed to approve.

                — And is there anything we could do for you?
                — Well, I’m awfully embarrassed to have to ask you, but I’m stuck at home, and my dogs don’t have much food left…
                — Oh my dear! You did so very well to call us, didn’t she Leo? We’ll be at your home in a few minutes!
                — But…
                — Oh, no need to thank us for that, it’s all natural, after all that your delightful husband did for us! We see you in a moment…

                And with that the line was cut. Dory was a bit disconcerted by the strange couple, but decided to dance with what was coming to her doorstep (wishing it would not be flamenco), seeing that having placed these quaint people in her reality could not entirely be a stroke of wild madness… If only…

                #632

                The movements of the marmoset were swifts and effortless. The creature was moving through space and not in the jungle. That Kay was another expression of consciousness. It was not a creature, it was not of essence. They had not recognized its nature as quickly as they could have if it wasn’t merged so intimately with that focus of Blöhmul. The little mass event of this pursuit was tremendously fun, and they were all getting closer to Anita. The aspects of the 4 essences still focused with her were still. She had just awaken from her last dream with her parents. And was telling it to Yuki and Armelle. The Lynx was sleeping on a rock outside, enjoying the warm feeling of the sun on its fur, and the Goat was busy eating the grass around the camp so no creature or human could hide and sneak around without being noticed. Armelle hooted with amusement. They all reintegrated the aspects they had put together to create that marmoset.

                It reached its hand to grasp an borgulm fruit from the upper branch of the borgulm tree. The Snoot was quite fond of these juicy and intermediate fruits. They were always containing alcohol to various degrees, never the same. They were quite colorful also, many shades that you would discover only when opening them. And the Snoot liked to be surprised. The juice was coloring its liquid fur as soon as it had been absorbed. The Snoot had usually no name. They were quite solitary creatures. Expressions of different aspects of consciousness from an ancient civilization, as some would tell you. The Snoot noticed some alteration of the air. Different elements of the whole were coming… they felt quite different from what it was accustomed to. A strong curiosity motivated the Snoot which was altering his liquid fur and becoming translucent, transparent, almost invisible, and it began to focus on these strange arrangements of consciousness that were so noisy.

                :fleuron:

                Kay saw the marmoset disappear just before they reached a clearing where a Lynx was sleeping and yet not sleeping, a Goat was eating the grass and esthetically shaping the clearing, and inside a hidden bubble were an Owl and a Rabbit that seemingly were listening to a little girl giggling and babbling.

                #627

                Franiel offered his congratulations to Aum Geog along with the others. He did not mind that he was not himself chosen to succeed Hrih Chokyam, and neither would he have expected it, however he felt the physical absence of the Old One keenly. His powerful presence had cloaked the whole monastery in a sweet warmth, and even though Franiel had only been there a short while, he had felt close to the Old One. Of course his spirit will always be here, but the same time Franiel knew change was inevitable, and he was unsure of his own place within the boundaries of the monastery. Happiness and fun were valued highly by Franiel, they were more important to him than all the spiritual ideals others would speak of, and he had felt a slight greyness of late. He found humility difficult and did not enjoy following rules, neither did he enjoy listening to the wisdom of the other brothers. At times his sense of humor would cause them to frown upon him. He knew the Old One had understood this, but now he was gone he wondered how he would fit. He pulled out the note Jog Lam had given him from Hrih Chokyam, Listen to your heart…. it began. What was his heart telling him?

                Brother Franiel!. He heard the voice of Aba Tane calling him. The Brothers were shortly meeting to hear Aum Geog speak, presumably to announce the new direction for the monastery.

                Brother Franiel, Aum Geog has requested you take this chalice to the Village, so the silversmith may engrave it with these words. Aba Tane handed Franiel a cup, and a piece of paper with a seal. He requested you should go right away and that you should remember that the cup is precious. He requested also that I sprinkle you with some Holy Water to safeguard you on your way. In customary manner, Franiel knelt and Aba Tane sprinkled the precious bottled water on his forehead. Love and Light, Brother Franiel. Blessings for your journey.

                It was several days walking down the mountain to the Village. To be honest though, it was a task Franiel welcomed, perhaps to be away from the monastery at this time would give him a chance to better hear what was in his heart, and to miss the meeting was no loss for him.

                He wondered at the haste, and at what the words might be, however it was not his business to question the directives of Aum Geog. He remembered also his dream of the silver goblet. Many things to ponder, he mused, a feeling of excitement growing within him.

                #622

                Somewhere during the 23 rd century

                “aaa AAAA AAAAA Tcheeeew !”

                “Hiiiiii?! Oh Fracking NOOOoooo!”

                The shriek had been heard in the whole facility.

                Phefia Beryl was the first on the spot where Vinya Grey had been playing so exuberantly with her vocal chords.

                — Vinnie? Are you alright?… What just happened?
                — Oh, Pheffy… I think I made an awful blunder…
                — What do you mean?
                — You know, my last experiment?
                — The g…
                — Yes!
                — What?!
                — They poofed away…
                — Away?… You mean, all of them? Oh bugger…

                :fleuron:

                A few minutes later, Vinya and Phefia were around a white table sucking on straws picked into white and red polystyrenoid balls.

                — Vinnie, you look terrible… That last geomagnetic storm had not done very good on your DNA I’m afraid.
                — And the worse is that each time I sneeze, I blow up wormholes… I thought it would go better very quickly, but last one was big and lasted long enough to let the whole experimental herd wander off in another time/space and/or dimension…
                — Yeah, that’s pretty bad… But wherever they went, they probably will die very soon… Imagine… With their stiff legs anytime they see something frightening, I guess a mere mapgie could easily have them for dinner…
                — Such a pity… I was close to doing something great with them… When we discovered these fossilized blue spiders, I knew it was the first step.
                — Bwah, this rehydrated frogrog is the grossest thing I’ve ever drunk… But yeah you’re right, the first results were very promising. The spiders venom could provoke very random and deep mutations.
                — And all we needed was a little more control on the direction of the mutations.
                — Anyway they’re just goats… You possibly can’t have breached a cosmic law with a handful of GOATS
                — Hope so Pheffy, hope so…

                :fleuron2:

                San Demangelo, 1848

                Elroy was laughing… Hey Joe, Twi! he shouted A letter from Uncle Ernie!

                — Uncle Ernie? How’s the old bat doin’? asked Twilight
                — He’s sending his greetings for the new year, and babbling about last dead people in the neighborhood. But there’s something funny. He’s saying that he’d just acquired some funny goats. Like popped in, out of nowhere. At first he’d thought of a joke, but apparently no one’s been claiming them. He’d thought them dead, they were a dozen laying stiff on the ground, but when they started to wake up, they went down again like broken dolls. Apparently the magpies on top of the tree had been scaring them. Ahaha… Where does he get such strange stories…
                — Well, magpies are scarey, Twilight said meaningfully, with a side glance at Joe
                — Whatever… At least he’d been giving us a good laugh. He’s saying he’s gonna breed the horny beasts, and start a Fainting Goat Fair (or FGF) in Marshall County. Perhaps we could get there next Thanksgiving…
                — Depends when the Freak Show’s coming to town, mused Twilight, I hope to see them soon…

                #612

                It’d been two hexades that the Abbot Hrih Chokyam Lin’potshee had been laying in bed in poor condition.
                At first, he had wanted to be as strong as he had always been towards hardships, but he’d finally admitted that quelching the pain wasn’t doing any good to him. So he had agreed to be taken care of by a young monk, and to lay in bed as long as was necessary.
                He knew that he was very likely not to get out of that bed but with his body covered by a white sheet, nevertheless, the thought was still something distant. The pain in his body was making him so present to himself that the only thing that was still blatant was that he was.
                More than the body, it was all his faith that was shaken. He had thought he would leave this life without mess, without pain, probably very discreetly in his sleep… But now, his head was wincing at every noise, even the nature’s sounds that once felt like music to his ears, he was eschewing them now as much as he could. His very skin was hot and couldn’t bear even the soft contact of the bedsheets.
                What was the point of all of this? He had never doubted that everything had its purpose, but now, he was doubting…
                He was even trying to find some reasonable reasons for what was happening, he who never trusted in reasonable reasons in the first place. Perhaps that was because of his seating under the chilly air and the warm sun in front of the Meditation Wall, reading for all of the poems that had been written by the monks who had dared to write. Perhaps he had “taken cold”, whatever that means…
                “Perhaps not” the voice kept saying softly in his head.

                Now, his whole succession was feeling like a moot point. After all, he was not even capable of saving himself from anything, then how could what he created make the slightest difference? These were all like an extension of his body, bound to decay and come back to Earths.

                Not so many monks had dared write upon the Wall about their highest truth. A few jokesters had begun at first, helping the others to participate.
                One in particular had had Hrih laugh for quite a while.

                A toad is a toad
                Unless kissed
                Endless Bliss

                Then a dozen of others had flourished upon the wall, until Aum Geong decided to write his own. He’d not wanted to go first, to allow the others to express without the burden of comparison, and also to have some more time to write something deep and thoughtful. But that profusion of nonsense between some occasional pearls of wisdom made him write his own.

                Unattainable is the Truth
                For in the Dust of things
                All in our View is bleak

                Doing Wrong we forswear
                For Dust to be lifted
                And Wisdom we seek

                In the deed of the Elders
                And the Faith in the Community
                Light and Trust bespeak

                All the monks had been quite impressed, but Hrih had not been entirely satisfied by it… To be honest, he even completely disagreed with it.
                Now, however, stuck in this bed, the poem was playing in his head and suggesting that the Worlds were something terrible that he had not yet understood, or be willing to avoid seeing. Perhaps Aum Geong was wiser than he was.
                Perhaps all that Hrih had put as foundational to his life had all been Dust…
                “There is no Dust, and you know that” the voice whispered softly.

                Now that he is about to die, what difference will it make anyway…
                He reach out for a bowl of water, and almost let it fall, as the weight of it surprised him. He was becoming so weak… He never had been so self-conscious in many many many years.

                After he had propped himself up to drink a few burning swallows of the lukewarm water, he noticed something folded on his bedside, that had been put under the bowl… Young Franiel had been the one attending him with Jog Lam, so it must have been the doing of one of them. He intuited that was Franiel.

                As he read the stanzas, tears were in his eyes…

                I am the driftwood
                the wave carried me
                I was buried in sand

                I am the flower
                the butterfly touched me
                I fell in love

                I am the raindrop
                the cloud released me
                I became the ocean

                The Young monk had probably not dared write it on the Wall, especially after most of the monks’ vocal appreciations of Aum Geong’s poem…
                “Perhaps not” the voice again spoke.
                Another reason for it formed into Hrih’s mind. Franiel perhaps didn’t feel ready for such responsibilities and his role and fulfillment in this community was not form rules nor to continue it.
                It was more to inspire them, and perhaps to start his own discoveries.

                Hrih wrote a note behind the paper. He wanted to leave something for Franiel, for him to keep faith in his coming adventures during these coming times of change.
                After a deep breath, he took another paper that was with him for already such a long time, wrote down some words, and signed it, the aura of his hand burning a glyph that was his signature in the paper. He then called for Jog Lam.

                — Jog Lam, my friend…
                — Elder?
                — I’m dying…
                — I know Elder
                — Let me continue. (Jog Lam nodded)
                First, will you give that paper to Young Franiel after the cremation ceremonies. (Jog Lam nodded again)
                Second, I want you to relay that I have made my decision, and that Aum Geog will succeed me (Jog Lam’s surprise was noticeable in his eye). He is, to date, the most adequate successor for this monastery.
                — I will do as you want.
                — Thank you my friend.
                — Elder…
                — Farewell, my friend, I am always with you.

                When Jog Lam stoically left the room, Hrih Chokyam laid down, his eyes on the ceiling. His body was so weak that all he could do was to project behind his closed eyelids and see the starry sky, even if he would have wanted something different for his death. He would have loved something like a nap in a sunlit meadow with a little singing brook.
                But seeing the actual World was something even more precious to him. The barren mountains of the icy season, the clear unclouded sky. His mind was so full of energy that his body lacked.

                With a deep feeling of gratitude for his body, he bid it farewell.

                #609
                EricEric
                Keymaster

                  — So he wants us to paddle down a river of pea-soup, is that it, sweetie?
                  Al was asking Tina, while playing with his teeth and gums…

                  — Oh, I don’t have any clue really, sighed Tina who began to feel annoyed by Al’s constant fiddling with his mouth.
                  — Well, not to worry then, except I’ve got focuses dead from poisoned pea-soup as far as I remember, so I am not overly enthusiastic about the whole pea-soup adventure… Better make it some more fluid…
                  — And will you tell me what you’re doing now with that mouth of yours Albert? Last time that was the hair, then the nails… it seems you can’t get enough of these explorations of your body consciousness, can you? Tsss… Tumold aligned people…
                  — Oh, this is fascinating, can’t you see, how fluid this all area is, despite the appearances.
                  — If you say so…
                  — Look!
                  — Oh now, you’re being gross! Tina was positively appalled by Al’s behaviour
                  — Oh, it’s funny, look… I can make my gums as malleable as marshmallow, and have my teeth float on that gum-soup…
                  Yikes!
                  — Entirely fascinating… And I can also grow some new ones, what would you say of pointy teeth like cannibals?
                  — Oh, come on, Tina was now no longer impressed… Have fun as you want, I’m going for a walk to help Becky buy her wedding dress… She wants something that looks “tribal” she said…

                  Tina went outside shrugging at the toothy grin Al gave her.

                  #534
                  EricEric
                  Keymaster

                    Well, to me, it was rather obvious it was a bleedthrough from one dimension to another… sighed Al, who had now half-long teal-coloured hair in perfect shape, as he was filing and shaping his nails turned back to a reasonable size.

                    Oh, that FLOYD treatment did well on you marveled Saint Tina.

                    FLOYD what?? looked back Becky, who was still fumbling into Sam’s hair, at the sound of the strange word that might have been a clue.

                    FLOYD: Focus Lots On Yourself, Dimwit that’s the name of the treatment… It’s made of extracts of Fuckus Rapidus, a new plant that has been blooping in Russian taiga recently. It had covered a whole region in a fortnight. People wondered what they could do about them, but apparently, some old crone found an interesting use for them… But we’re getting side-tracked, aren’t we?

                    Oh, this is fascinating Becky said, wondering if she would look better now with a mane of luscious raven hair on her beautiful dark-skinned head… What’s the name already? BOYF?

                    No! BOYF is the exact opposite, it’s Blame On Your Friend it’ll have all your hair and nails fall in a few days, even your pubic hair I fear… I still don’t know what’s the use of that though there might be some customers for it… :-? Al was puzzled.

                    #468

                    Yann had been gloomy for a few days. Actually it was not really gloomy, his mood was changing quite quickly and he’d had hard times to follow himself. He didn’t want to impose his mood on his friends and even with Yurick it had been up and down. Nothing to worry about, he thought. He’d been told by Malika it was a clearing of sort, old aspects to let go, they had served their purpose and it was time he accepted the change in himself.

                    It was easier said than really done. Last Sunday he felt he was “fragmenting”, he felt part of himself gather and do something he couldn’t really define, he felt like they were moving their own way, leaving for their own exploration… but he had still the experience of it. And in the following days he could feel that he could easily tap into these aspects when he wanted to.

                    The other unusual thing that happened was that he was feeling many inputs from many sources he couldn’t always define. Most of the time he could associate easily a face or a situation, at the beginning it was still singularly focused. The more he allowed that, the more multi-layered it became, it was blending with stories of sort, different aspects of himself he felt, and also aspects of his friends or of perfectly unknown people. Some could be translated as famous individuals, some as homeless people, some as future and some as pasts… and the weirdest was that there were not one version of each, though he was in a way more inclined to focus on one of them… there was a theme behind all that… He hadn’t found it yet though.

                    He was feeling like evolving in a sticky atmosphere and he could fill it with his fears, so they could express, but the stickiness of this energy was in a way holding them tightly and he had difficulties to let go of these fears. Fears to be abandoned, fears to be less than, to be uninteresting or just not as interesting as… well all that was about comparison and self worth, he was feeling that it was not about the whole of himself, it was particular aspects still holding to these separations from himself. He was feeling he was to accept that in order to let go of this separation. But the non separation was also frightening him because he was frightened by the vastness of his being, the vastness of the connections he was feeling… “and what if I loose my beloved Yurick in the process?” he thought. Couldn’t he just trust himself that he would always be connected to his friend, because that was what he wanted?

                    He looked at his cat Arona. She seemed far from all those concerns, and he noticed she was purring more strongly than usual. He smiggled… hahaha, what a funny word. He stroked her fur and she moved her body with grace and abandon, how lovely of her to allow such an openness and such trust that it is safe and pleasurable.

                    He smiled broadly and stroked her belly, full of this joyous and wondrous feeling of love of himself. He felt how it was radiating from him to all his friends and all beings.

                    :yahoo_love_struck:

                    #467

                    Jose Maria couldn’t sit still. It seemed as if more had been happening in the past few weeks than had happened in the whole of his 49 years. His mother dying and unexpectedly leaving him 123,000 euros would have made little difference to him had he not re~aquainted himself with Paquita. She was the real treasure; if he had had to choose between the money or her, he knew he would have chosen her. Thankfully he had both, and now they could both go to Tikfijikoo together. If the treatments worked, all well and good; if not, they had each other, and they would return to a quiet life on the old family farm in the Andalucian mountains.

                    #1406
                    TracyTracy
                    Participant

                      I just ADORE the mummy icon!:mummy: :mummy: :mummy: :mummy: :mummy: :mummy: :mummy: :mummy: :games:

                      OMG a whole busload of Italian mummys just came in wanting to play poker…..

                      #1938
                      EricEric
                      Keymaster

                        Yurick wondered for a moment what action was required behind “floating downstream”, the motto that his friend Finn was brandishing with renewed fervor at each of their encounters.

                        Perhaps it was actually a “non action”, and that reminded him of all the Taoist texts he had loved to read when he was younger. One of the tenets of the philosophy of Taoists was wu wei 無為 or “non action”, but this was not meant as being lazy and passive, quite the contrary… A bit of a mind-stretching concept:

                        WU WEI (from the 道德经 Dao de jing, attributed to Lao Zi)

                        The Sage is occupied with the unspoken
                        and acts without effort.

                        Teaching without verbosity,
                        producing without possessing,
                        creating without regard to result,
                        claiming nothing,
                        the Sage has nothing to lose.

                        When he had asked his friend Elias about this, Yurick got that answer,

                        “We have spoken previously of how you each have divorced yourselves from essence, and subsequently have forgotten your own native language. You now incorporate a desire to be connecting with essence, to be dissolving of the veils that exist between the focus and the entirety of the whole. In this, it communicates to you, but you have forgotten your language! Therefore, be not in distress; and allow yourself the opportunity to be assimilating a new language, and not pressing yourself to be attempting to interpret within your present language.” [session 100, June 16, 1996]

                        and that completed nicely another thing he had previously heard from him, speaking about our natural language in essence:

                        “Be listening to your impressions and be recognizing of your impulses, and DO NOT be denying of your impulses! This is your language to yourself from essence, and it is not harmful to you. It naturally moves you into the most efficient directions, but you are taught within your belief systems to be discounting of your impulses and to be suspect of your impulses, for they are bad. They are not! They are your natural language to yourself. Therefore, be listening to this language.” [session 294, July 01, 1998]

                        So basically, floating downstream, or being in the wu wei state of mind required only one thing, to be focusing and acting upon our impulses, and not judging or denying them… Probably the most challenging thing we are learning to do now…

                        #410

                        On Mount Elok’ram, the old abbot Hrih Chokyam Lin’potshee was gardening.

                        Despite his old age, and his being at the head of the Monastery, Hrih Chokyam was always doing his hour of gardening with great application and talent, as was asked to everyone, from the youngest to the oldest monks studying here.
                        The Monastery was a place of healing and teaching, dedicated to Margilonia, the Elder Goddess thought to have created the Earths. As a matter of fact, gardening was the simplest —yet most effective— way to fully appreciate the grandness and the interconnectedness of the whole of creation.

                        Hrih Chokyam remembered when he was a little child in the vast fertile plateaus in the Eastern part of Dam Adbor, bordering the high mountains. He had always loved the mountains, better than the plains, or the towns where the wars and plots were fomented endlessly. So he was wandering many times in the mountains, to collect herbs and also just for the fun and exhilaration of climbing higher and higher, and seeing the world as a small thing that could be placed into his hands.
                        His parents had wanted him to become a farmer, but some wealthy neighbours had thought he was showing signs of being able to do much better, and even proposed to have him pursue a career in the administration of Dam Adbor’s capital.
                        Young Hrih had considered the proposition for some time, and one day, went deep into the mountains to make his decision.
                        There he’d got this powerful connection with an enveloping warm manifestation of Margilonia, who prompted him to go higher than anyone had ever been on the top of the mountains, were a natural point of great potential magical energy was. Here, she had conveyed to him, he would have a monastery built, a perfectly clear channel for this yet untaped magical energy.

                        Ninety nine years ago that was.
                        Hrih had been higher than any human had ever been, in the search of this point, knowing he would feel it resonate with him. The mountains, he had learned were not as empty as humans had thought, and there were many other kinds of sentient beings living here, far from the wars below.
                        Interestingly, assisted by these magical sentient creatures and Margilonia’s energies, building the structure had been easy. He had never thought harnessing magic would be that easy, perhaps just because the traveling magicians coming at times in the village to do some healing or just funfair exhibitions were making that very difficult, and requiring lots of training.

                        The truth was, magic was everywhere, only people had become blind to it, or just lazy to use it. But old Hrih, even if his eyes were not as sharp as they used to be, could see it clear as day. Magic was in everything. Especially in one’s own very existence.
                        That was the first of the things people coming to learn in the monastery had to understand. Deceptively simple, yet the most difficult lesson for many of them. He had to admit, he had struggled quite a bit with it too, during the endless wandering into the vast mountains. But there had always been a root to eat, or some fresh mushrooms or eggs apparently left here just for him… He laughed now, thinking of it.

                        Hrih’s life had been so fulfilling. He knew he was weak now, and would not see the springing season, and he was thinking he had to choose someone to take care of the monastery. Few people went to stay here, for as they had learned and applied what was to learn, their own passion was coming back to them, and they would not need to stay any longer.

                        But a few days ago, a young one had come, announced to old Hrih by a singing rosy finch.
                        As usual, all was provided when things were ready for it.
                        Hrih had no doubt that the hesitant young man would be the next one to hold the title of Lin’potshee, or “Precious Elder”.

                        #403

                        November, 1 st 2057

                        Sean took another glass of scotch to give him some courage to call.

                        — It’s your twelfth now, that’s supposed to give you courage
                        — Oh, Maggie, my live is such a mess…
                        — It’s not, and you know it. Look at all our beautiful children, and Becky who went through so much just out of love for you…

                        Sean didn’t know whether he was actually seeing the ghost of his deceased wife, or a projection of her, still alive in another part of the Universe, but she always had been a comforting presence.
                        He had started to see her a few months after her disappearance.
                        Yes, during that T.R.A.P. expedition, yeah, “live-changing experience” they had said… True, too true… Perhaps the electromagnetic field had messed up with his brains, but now he could see her clear as day.

                        That had been a bit freaky in the beginning, and when they made love with Becky, he was a bit anxious to see her appear not invited. But Margaret had been discrete, well mostly. At times, he wondered if she had not sneaked into the bedroom and merged her energies with Becky’s, just to be closer to him… Becky’s acts did not always make sense anyway, so that was hardly a criterion to judge of that.

                        All his live had been like that. A jumble of incoherent stuff. Oh, he had enjoyed it, especially at the beginning. His father Lord Wrick was obsessed with the Shift, and had found some ancient knowledge in his youth. Mostly rubbish by nowadays standards, bunches of rotten books of prophecies handed down to a few chosen ones, who were supposed to be forewarned of doom to come. Now, they knew that they were only a wake up call, but at that time, it was another thing altogether.

                        Of course, the wealth accumulated over the centuries by the Wrick family had been helpful to access these precious archaeological documents. A few of them had played a key role.
                        For instance, the in-extenso Life and Deeds of Lord Gustard Willoughby Fergusson, a rare version of the diary of Lord Fergusson, annotated by his daughter, Illi, was telling an account of history much different than the one romanced after his death by his wife Floribunda von Grott.
                        Thanks to it, Lord Wrick had been able to acquire some inkling as to ancient treasures. Old fool…
                        It had killed his wife, Artemisia, devastated by the madness of her husband, and it had alienated the other part of the family too.
                        But all that counted was to make the discoveries, and perhaps enlight the masses.

                        Sean had never really forgave his father that he wanted to utilise Margaret and have her fit into his plans of grandeur. Of course, his father had willingly accepted the union, and despite all appearances (for the sake of those rapacious journalists) he had even pushed Sean to do it quickly. But all he was really interested in was her precious discoveries.

                        — Oh, but I was not innocent, Sean
                        — I know Maggie, you were obsessed by what we could offer to you, especially when you read about the botanical experiments in the deserts, which were related in that old book. But still…
                        — We all had grown up through that, you know…
                        — Yes, and what showed me that, was that I was concerned that the old vampire would suck my own children into his web, but Peregrine was too free for that, and Guinevere preferred to live her live outside of this madness too.
                        Becky had a good influence. Do me a favour, be kind to her.
                        — You know what?… Yes of course you’d know,… but let me tell you, so that we can laugh together… I found myself really happy and free when I stole the two magical books out of the Old Fool’s clutch. God knows how he acquired them, but one thing was sure, he was obsessed with them. I couldn’t get the mummy, but the books were a great take.
                        — And a funny idea to give them to your cousin…
                        — Yes, Dorean was the perfect person. I couldn’t leave them anywhere, my father would have found them again. At least he wasn’t in good terms with his brother and sister-in-law, so they were safe in their care. And at least, they were more grounded than my father, the perfect keepers for the books… I’m wondering what happened to them…
                        — That will upset you, but Perry’s twins got them.
                        — Oh really?
                        — Yes, and they are having fun with them, as was intended.
                        — That’s fine then, and we are less obsessed now than we were before, so I guess my father isn’t as much as a pain in the butt as he was…
                        — You father meant good
                        — Yes, like everyone, but why can’t we leave people alone at times? People can sort out their issues without the commiseration, and the good intentions… It’s poison even worse… Like I can drink and still be healthy, and nice, and…

                        Sean started to sob.

                        — I know, darling, but you’re as much of a sore as your father was… You focus so much on what’s not going right, and you don’t even appreciate that you can talk with your departed wife… That was nothing as easy in the old days.
                        — Do you think my father talks with mum to?
                        — I think he would be too proud to admit he is sorry… That may hinder the communication… But Arty wouldn’t bear grudge now. When we let go of the physical, things become so clear, we can only be accepting of everything. Perhaps you prefer to wait for your father to cross over? I can tell you something, that won’t be easier. That much I know.
                        — You’re right. It’s just that I don’t know how to start…
                        — Be yourself, talk about what you enjoy, where is your passion now… Perhaps that is the problem. You’re drowning your passion in your scotch.
                        — You’re right… I’ll tell him Léan will have a baby.
                        — Oh, he’ll love it!
                        — How time flies… sighed Sean, I still remember the little sweetie as a blue-eyed laughing baby herself, with Oliver and Illana. She was the only one of the triplet to have inherited her mother’s dark complexion. She’s so beautiful…
                        — Let’s call your father darling
                        — Yes, let’s call him.

                        ***

                        Lord Wrick had not expected to received that call. Well, he had renounced it so long ago.
                        He had been a bit shaken, but also relieved. He had proposed, on an impulse, to invite that whole part of the family he barely knew, Sean’s new partner, and all their children for next Christmas in the castle. Sean had told him they would probably come with Becky but that the children were now having their own lives, and it would have to be for another time.

                        ***

                        Lord Wrick went to see Bill, who was now painting the portraits of Peregrine and Linda in the veranda.
                        He would probably have to stay longer, to paint a lot of new family portraits.

                        That probably would come perfectly, as ever, as the Lord could tell India Louise loved to spend time with the painter. Perhaps she would become an artist too… :sumari:

                        #400

                        Even with the help of the buntifluën, which translated the foreign expressions between the men of the Seas and him, young Tomkin had some difficulty to explain some concepts to the men.

                        When the three boats had landed on the warm shores of Golfindely, Tomkin had been a little anxious about the ominous looking men, especially the giant one, with the big ugly baby face who seemed to be in command.
                        But apparently, Tomkin had found a faithful friend in the black and white myna, and the ugly baby-faced giant had been interested by his unusual talent of being able to understand and communicate with them.

                        I had been two weeks now that the men had arranged a settlement for themselves on these friendly shores, and Tomkin had been quickly adopted by the whole crew.
                        He soon made friend with Jahiz, Austor and even the wild man in shackles —who had told his name unwillingly in energy, that the buntifluën had helped to translate. Tomkin was finding that the wild man, Cpt. Razkÿ, had been a greatly interesting adventurer and had known many places of the lands from where the men came. In fact, he reminded him of Captain Bone.
                        The most difficult to deal with was the chief cook Renouane, who was complaining about the lack of some kind of unknown vegetable to do the meals. Jahiz had comforted Tomkin saying they were all fed up with “cabbage” anyway.

                        The villagers around had become slowly aware of the presence of the foreigners on their lands, but they were relatively accustomed to seeing strange people, and upon seeing that these ones were friendly with Tomkin, they returned to their Scotch bonnets harvests, without much more of an afterthought.

                        Tomkin had helped them to learn basic words of their language, words of greeting (“wallahu”), of thanks (“alami”) etc.
                        But the ugly baby-faced giant (who had said he was “Badul”) was interested in many other things.
                        And the concept Tomkin was now struggling with, to clearly explain it to Badul, was that of the traveling portals.

                        Badul had somehow intuited that the strange shift in the environment they had met in the middle of the Rift, was something due to Unseen action. And when he had heard Tomkin speak about these methods for traveling easily, he had been interested in understanding more of them.
                        Until now, it was a frustrating experience, as the young boy only knew such and such, probably told to him by some others, and not having actually experienced one himself.
                        But the information was good to learn.

                        Bringing back this technology to his land would probably be more interesting than some decorative glowing egg, he was thinking…

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