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  • #450
    TracyTracy
    Participant

      Al must have had insomnia, thought Becky, as she reviewed the Reality Play Updates in her emailbox. I wonder what he was doing up at 5:00am? Becky had done nothing but sleep for days. She had woken up in the night a few times, once dreaming of Roswell, and once of Galicia. Hhhmm, she wondered, I don’t know why, and boy do I wish I had better dream recall!

      #448
      TracyTracy
      Participant

        Lucius was quite franky exhausted. Building roads, always building roads….endlessly long boringly straight ones. He was fed up with it; the only thing that kept him going was his imagination. If he let his mind wander, he hardly felt his aching back. He didn’t think of Rome, Rome, nothing but Rome, like so many of his compatriots, he thought of other times and places, and imagined what they were like.

        He imagined who had walked this valley before him, and who might walk it after him. He imagined a girl in a swing hung from a fig tree, twirling round and round, and wondered who she was. The image came with a feeling, a feeling of anticipation and excitement, full of enthusiasm and delight. Lucius began to feel a little disorientated, so strong and clear was the image, and wondered why a fig tree was growing right in the middle of the road he was building. He opened his mouth to shout No! We can’t build the road here, this is where the girl swings!….and shut it again quickly. It was getting harder and harder to stay focused on the present and not say anything strange out loud. He looked around furtively, but nobody had noticed.

        Phew! he said, or the Roman equivalent of Phew, and buckled down to the task of building the road.

        #440
        EricEric
        Keymaster

          What do you mean, no mummy icon? asked Al to Sam, when he read back the notes…
          It’s right here

          :mummy:

          Mmm, something tells me it was not here moments ago… I wonder how it appeared, Sam mused.

          #438
          F LoveF Love
          Participant

            I really should do something about this, I think this song may be a curse, thought the astute Arona, as the singing crone took Yikesy from her arms. Yet she found herself unwilling to move, a strange lethargy had overtaken her. Can I move? she wondered. She felt so strange and heavy.

            Slowly Arona turned her head towards Vincentius. Perhaps he had a suggestion as to what she should do. But Vincentius had disappeared. This should be rather perplexing. But oddly it didn’t matter to her. Nothing seemed to matter anymore.

            I am in a dream perhaps? I feel as though I may be in a dream. That’s the answer, I will give in to this sleepy feeling, and then I will be in a dream for sure. When I awaken everything will be alright.

            She lay down on her side on the ground, and pulling her knees up, curled into a little ball and closed her eyes. Laughing with Vincentius seemed such a long time ago. How quickly everything can change, she thought sleepily.

            #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…

              #1573

              In reply to: Synchronicity

              EricEric
              Keymaster

                Ahahaha! In the Drôle’s garden all that I can see is just a yellow lemon tree

                And I wonder now :-?

                “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade”, anyone? Perhaps a quote to add to Armelle’s list :D

                And believe it or not, there’s a mandarin version of the lemon tree by Tracy ! :yahoo_dancing: :yahoo_rofl: :yahoo_whistling: :yahoo_oh_go_on:

                #1571

                In reply to: Synchronicity

                TracyTracy
                Participant

                  Acorn sync! I picked up an acorn from a Holm (cork) Oak a couple of days ago, and left it in the car. Then I wondered what it was, I said Oh, it’s an acorn, haha! and tossed it into the side of the road, and had a thought of it growing there :)

                  #433

                  Vincentius wanted to know where Arona had been heading.

                  She rummaged in her bag and pulled out her map to show him. Then her honestly got the better of her. No idea really, she confessed. How about you?

                  No idea either, said Vincentius.

                  Arona tried to look serious, then cracked up laughing and after a moment Vincentius joined in. Arona could not help but note what a lovely musical laugh he had. Definitely no snorting, and for a moment she thought fondly of dear wandering Sanso. I Wonder where he is now?

                  While they were busy laughing, they did not notice the woman arrive, but all of a sudden there she was, an old, bent, withered crone. An apparition of pure ugliness. Their laughter stopped abruptly.

                  Laughing my little lovelies were you, please don’t stop on my account said the crone. What a perfectly delightful sound. Music to my poor old ears. And she cackled gleefully.

                  oh Lordy, muttered Mandrake, his patience wearing thin with all the, what he considered, unwarranted and unnecessary joyfulness.

                  and what a cute little pussy cat, said the old woman, her long gnarly fingers gently resting on Mandrake for a moment. Mandrake snarled.

                  and a baby, said the old woman, reaching out to Yikesy who was cradled in Arona’s arms.

                  #424

                  — The legend of Mævel — (Part VII)

                  Today was the Day of the Forgotten. Mævel had slept well, nestled into the soft and warm depth of her dreams, her head resting on the short blue fur of the fox.
                  In sharp contrast with the lovely night, she awoke strangely irritated. Even the birds songs were like noise to her ears, and every sound of the forest she heard with acute intensity and a sense of being submerged by many sensory inputs.
                  Hopefully, the blue fox voice was still very comforting, and she started to wonder how they could come across a Forgotten One in need.

                  — I think I know where we can find some Forgotten One in need.
                  — Where? asked Mævel

                  The fox paused, then answered her question:
                  — Near your human parents’ home.

                  Mævel was surprised. She trusted the fox, and never had really questioned him, because more than that she trusted her own feelings, but now her feelings were telling her that there was something the fox had not told her. Or had told her partially. She was silent, pondering the unseen implications.

                  — Mæ, I’ll try my best to answer your questions, but remember I cannot tell you everything. I can help you remember some things, but there are things that my curse does not allow me to reveal. You have to find them by your own, in order to free us…
                  — Free us? I thought you were the one Cursed?…
                  — Yes I am, and…
                  — How do you know my parent’s home? How much do you know about me?
                  — I know you since you are a baby actually. And even before…
                  — Before? I don’t understand a thing… I feel there are some unseen links, that I cannot decipher, yet they are so close to…
                  — You’re right, there are links, links that are important, and that I cannot reveal.
                  — Why can’t you reveal them?
                  — Let’s go to your human parent’s home…
                  — Why do you always say my human parents?

                  The fox blew in front of him, creating a wobbling sound into the air in the form of a ring large enough for them to go through it. And he hopped inside, disappearing in mid-air.

                  Mævel was perplexed, but did not hesitate. She hopped too into the watery ring in front of her and found herself falling into a void, to reemerge on a bed of dry leaves in front of her parent’s home. Blohmrik the blue fox was seated in front of her, observing a shadowy form at a distance in front of them.

                  — Is that the Forgotten One we will help?
                  — Yes.
                  — Why do you need me? You could help her, couldn’t you?
                  — She wouldn’t see me, Forgotten Ones are usually obsessed by a few people, those who they feel can remember them, and don’t usually see other people. Their perception is quite different than ours.
                  — Hang on a minute… Why do you think she will see me?

                  Mævel looked into the eyes of the fox, and she knew.

                  — We are linked.

                  It was more an affirmation than a question.
                  Mævel wondered who that shadowy figure was. When she focused on her, the form was getting more solid, and she could catch glimpses of how she looked like. And she was surprised. She was about her age, with long blond hair as hers.
                  Mævel’s voice was broken:
                  — My parents had told me I was about to die when I was a baby, then by a sort of miracle, I became healthy… Was that true?… I mean… Was that a gentle way of telling me that I had a twin who died or…
                  — No, Mæ. She is not you. She is not linked to you by blood. You can talk to her, she will listen to you.

                  So Mævel went to see the shadowy figure. She had stopped wandering and trying to find an opening around the house, for there were none for spirits: all openings were locked by stripes of red cloth hung onto the doors and windows.
                  Mævel felt the pain of the Forgotten One as she approached her.

                  — Who are you? she suddenly asked Mævel, raising her head at her approach.
                  — I am Mævel.
                  Mævel… It means marvel of Maÿ… I was born in Maÿ…
                  — What are you doing here?
                  — This is my parents’ home.
                  — How is that possible?
                  — Twenty one year ago, I was taken away from them, given to Shaint Lejüs in place of a fairy princess. But Shaint Lejüs was no fool, he had sent his apprentice to spy on the fairy king.
                  — Blohmrik?!
                  — Yes, Blohmrik… But Blohmrik disobeyed the Elder God, and when he saw the exchange that was about to happen, he let it happen. He wanted to protect the fairy princess from his master. Because Shaint Lejüs wanted the princess as a bride. Ahahaha, how disappointed Lejüs was when he saw that I could not perform the most basic magic spells. I was good at nothing, so he let me go wandering into his Realm. He’d just thought the half-fairy princess had inherited no magic from her father.
                  — How do you know all that?

                  — I told her, the blue fox said. I was hoping to bring her relief. But she started to look for her parents, and Lejüs discovered the truth… Because she was not looking for a fairy king. She was heading here, year after year.
                  — That’s the reason of your curse, is it?
                  — Yes. She can’t see me because I was Forgotten too, in that form of a blue fox. But as Forgotten Ones don’t forget, I didn’t forget. I couldn’t tell her, because she couldn’t see me.
                  — So, I am that fairy princess you are talking about… that strange idea was starting to dawn on Mævel.
                  — Yes. When Lejüs discovered who you were, he wasn’t interested in you any longer, because he thought your magical potential had been irremediably damaged by all those years spent in human company.

                  — Who are you talking to? the shadowy figure asked, bemused.
                  — Blohmrik, he is here. But it’s untrue, Mævel said, there is magic in me.
                  — Yes there is, answered the blue fox, and you can undo what has been done with it.

                  Mævel remembered the useless key she had manifested when she had tried to go out of her human parents’ house. She had not even looked at it closely.

                  — You can manifest it again Mæ, said the fox. It is with you. You are its lock.

                  And no sooner had Mævel thought of the big rusted key, than it appeared in her hand again. But this time the rust on it was crackled, and it started to disintegrate, and a brilliant shiny metal started to show beneath it.

                  Scratching what was left of the rust, Mævel started to look at the beautiful key, it was shaped as a musical note, and it had some word written on it, in an ancient language she didn’t know how to read. But she knew the sound when she ran her finger on the surface of the word.

                  « Araoni »

                  That was her. She was remembering, and everything started to change.

                  :fleuron2:

                  The wedding of the God Blohmrik, son of Mirÿnda, Goddess of Mirth and of Bälias, God of the Sparkles with Araoni, daughter of the Fairy Queen Theÿa and the Fairy King Aldurion was pronounced on a bright day of Maÿ, in a beautiful orchard in the presence of Araoni’s human parents and sisters and brothers.

                  Even Lejüs had been invited, even though he would have preferred to be Forgotten…

                  :fleuron:

                  And so my story ends… said Captain Bone to Tomkin.

                  — And was the shadow remembered by her true parents? had asked Tomkin.
                  — Oh, yes she was… Of course. She just didn’t want to steal the limelight from Mævel, you see. Her parents were happy of course to find back their true daughter.
                  — You didn’t tell me the name of the true daughter, did you?
                  — No, I didn’t, said Captain Bone with a wink.

                  #1566

                  In reply to: Synchronicity

                  AvatarJib
                  Participant

                    :yahoo_rofl:

                    If you can make money with them that’d be wonderful :bounce:

                    #1564

                    In reply to: Synchronicity

                    TracyTracy
                    Participant

                      Well I wonder how much the magic fossil is worth from the Giant Farting T’Ngzat A’ngat Illi ‘Ult Mummy’s Tomb then? Probably millions, especially after the movie premiere……

                      #414

                      Mmmm, Captain,… isn’t that legend a bit long-winded? Tomkin had asked to Captain Bone.

                      It had been six nights now that the Captain had told bits of that legend to Tomkin, and even if it was entertaining, Tomkin was more and more impatient to get back to meatier stuff, like galleons full of ancient magical treasures, corsairs from the Warring Kingdoms coasts, strange unknown races from far-off lands… that would be more mouth-watering than this endless legend…

                      Captain Bone had laughed.

                      — Aaaaah, Tomkin… of course you know I like to tell long stories, and make them longer each time I recall them, but you see, there is also a point in all of that adventure. Mævel’s story is also the story of all of us in a way. Of course, I could tell you how it ends, but in a way it never really ends. More important is for you to see it unfold and that you appreciate the unfolding. The ending is not important in a way. Each and every time this story is recalled, it is different, because it adapts to what is happening right now. Do you see?
                      — So what is the point of telling me that story? It was supposed to tell me something about this strange knotted object, but I don’t see any link.
                      — Ahahahaha, the point is precisely that Tomkin. I am telling you my story, but this object makes you hear your own story through my words.

                      Now, Tomkin Sharple was squatting on the sand near the bonfire lit by Badul’s crew, and he was recalling the words from the Captain. At that time, when he didn’t know a thing about that strange magical object, he had not understood a thing of what the Captain had said.
                      But now, it started to make sense, some sense at least. Each time the Captain had told him bits of the legend, Tomkin had been fidgeting the strange object, making the Captain smile. Perhaps the object’s magic was not only acting as a translation device…
                      There was something more about it. He was no longer sure that the Captain’s story had been what he was recalling. Perhaps it was completely different, and he had translated it…
                      Still, the object had apparently helped him understand what Badul and his men wanted, so it was translating truthfully. But what was a faithful translation?

                      Then, a flash came into Tomkin’s mind. The Captain had given the object to him. He’d said it was about connections. Being connected.
                      Till then, Tomkin had been the only one to touch it. He had not even revealed the source of his gift to Badul.
                      But in the Captain’s case, both of them had been touching it. In sharing that link, they had extended trust to each other, and somehow, they had been mirrors for each other. Perhaps that was what Captain Bone meant when he said that Tomkin was hearing his own story through the Captain’s words.

                      Tomkin laid down on the warm sand, looking at the clear starry night.

                      ***

                      — The legend of Mævel — (Part VI)

                      Inside the warm burrow, Mævel found a bed of dry leaves and tender moss. She could see some light from the moon, coming through holes in the ground, which were bringing in some fresh air too. Cuddling comfortably into the makeshift bed, she started to sleep peacefully, waiting for her friend the blue fox to come back.

                      ***

                      Half-asleep on the beach, Tomkin was wondering… What had happened the next morning… This was fuzzy in this memory, as if the events were moving and reorganising themselves. All that he remember was that Mævel had met the blue fox, but there were myriads of possible events, and all of them were possible, dancing now in front of him.
                      He could chose any of them… But, would that make the story the same?
                      Then he recalled that it was his own story… So why make it difficult then…

                      The voice of Captain Bone was resounding in his ear “You find value in hardships, and value is important to you and our kind. In these lands full of magic, we could just do anything, but somehow you’ll find that rare are the people who constantly use magic. Because when magic is used to make things happen instantaneously, it shifts everything around it to accommodate the changes asked by the summoner of the magic. And it can be overwhelming when too big are the differences between the too states, as we are accustomed to live within a continuity. That’s why I tell you to enjoy the ride of that legend.
                      Think of it… You could be Emperor of all Lands if you knew how to use magic for such a feat. But would you do that instantaneously? Slim chances. You wouldn’t know how to behave as an Emperor, and on top of that, you probably would find the new aspect of you who is an Emperor to be overwhelming to your present aspect of little Tomkin.”

                      Okay, Tomkin said… No need to skip directly to the last part… she meets the blue fox in his den, and Mævel learns about the curse of the fox.

                      ***

                      — Oh, really? Mævel was saying
                      — Yes, I was a bit of a fool… the blue fox was telling her. But, the silver lining is that there is a way to counteract the curse. But I will need your help again, if you want.
                      — I want to help you.
                      — Fine. You know about Shaint Lejüs Festival?
                      — Mmm, yes, my parents told me about that. It’s the Day of the Forgotten, isn’t it?
                      — and of the Accursed Ones.
                      — Oh…
                      — That special day of the year, the Gates of Lejüs’ Realm are opened and Forgotten and Accursed Ones are given a chance to be Remembered or Graced.
                      — Every year? Why then aren’t all of them Remembered?
                      — Mostly because the Living Ones dread this day. They are the only ones to be able to free the Demanders, and they quickly felt haunted by the Demanders. So they did rituals to keep the Demanders away from them, as certainly your human parents did.
                      — Yes, I remember now…
                      — There is another reason actually. Forgotten Ones can only be Remembered when they recover their true name, and only a strong bond like love or some potent magic can force it out of Lejüs’ graps.
                      — And Accursed Ones?
                      — For them to be Graced, they need to do one pure act of altruism.
                      — A simple act?
                      — Don’t be fooled, it’s not as simple as it seems. See, I tried to rescue a woman who was drowning herself into the river, but that hunter thought I was attacking her… The fact was that she was willing to be Forgotten, and that my act was not purely altruistic.
                      — How so? You probably saved her life?
                      — Yes, but that was not what she wanted, and when she cried that I let go of her, I only wanted her out of the waters, because of me…
                      — I understand. And how can I help?
                      — One altruistic act for me would be to help a Forgotten One to be Remembered. That’s what they ask for, but it’s difficult for them to get past the barriers of the Living Ones.
                      Shaint Lejüs Festival is tomorrow…
                      — Yes, have as much rest as you need, Mæ. We will see tomorrow what will occur…

                      #405

                      The mummy opened her eyes.

                      She had that uncomfortable feeling… hunger that’s it… she was very hungry.

                      :yahoo_skull:

                      She wondered a moment how to open the sarcophagus and just imagined it open.

                      She went out slowly… regaining slowly her bodily sensations.

                      #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:

                      #401

                      The Yellow Princess Chapter Book — Part I

                      The singing birds awoke her. She was feeling numb for a few days and was wondering what was happening to her. Princess Atiara, often called the Yellow Princess was 20, a very important age among her people. She was the heir of Landgurdy, the richest of the 7 remaining Warring Kingdoms. Her father, the Yellow King Namiarad Tschãõ, had organised a birthday party for her. Inviting all the warring clans of Landgurdy and some of their allies among the other Warring Kingdoms.

                      Though she couldn’t calm that waruki, or bad feeling… something was going to happen… and it was not something pleasant.

                      #1386
                      TracyTracy
                      Participant

                        ……wondering, actually, if it’s the 55th comment or the 57th one, as there seemed to be some confusion. Confusion! There’s that word again…..:yahoo_idk:

                        #1385
                        TracyTracy
                        Participant

                          :yahoo_star: :yahoo_star: :yahoo_star:When Tracy woke up it was the middle of the night and nobody was up. Alone in the Page Two Dimension again…..wondering what to write, but determined to make the 57th comment notwithstanding……:yahoo_peace_sign:

                          #392

                          — The legend of Mævel — (Part IV)

                          Mævel’s mind was made up, she was leaving tonight. She took a few of her belongings in a little bundle, and all very silently, moved to the door, the bundle in one hand, and the key in the other.

                          But when she tried to put the key into the lock, she noticed something was wrong. The key was way too big for the small lock. What was the purpose of materializing a big key unfit to the locks that were in front of us? she wondered.
                          Perhaps the key will have another use, she said to herself, and she put it into her bundle, and wondered whether she could find another way to get out of the bedroom.

                          « Use your magic,… you don’t need to play by the rules » a tiny voice whispered in her ear.
                          « What does that mean? » she asked, befuddled, as perhaps her parents where right after all, she was becoming nuts… Well, that might attract squirrels and have them gnaw a hole in that wall, she said giggling to herself.
                          « You don’t need draw squirrels,… you can draw a door directly »

                          What a strange idea, Mævel thought, drawing a door… It sounded so funny at the moment, that she could feel her heart lift and her spirits as well. What could she use to draw that door… Her gaze ran quickly through the bedroom, looking for a bit of chalk, or charcoal, or whatever else. What a terrible thing that she was so obsessed by dusting, as there wasn’t even a single dust bunny left to draw that door.

                          « Now, will you pay attention? »
                          « I beg your pardon? »
                          « What did I told you? »
                          « Mmmm, let me think… Oh! I don’t have to play by the rules… »

                          So, in a bout of genius, Mævel ran her finger on the wall, starting from the floor, straight upwards, then to the right, and straight down again, until… well, nothing happened.

                          « That wall hasn’t budged any! »
                          « Are you sure?… Look closer »

                          And Mævel saw that the wall had become like a shiny surface of water, right inside where she had drawn the limits of that imaginary door. And when she pressed her finger, it was simply going through it, as though the surface had just been an illusion.

                          With a thank for the helpful voice in her head, she was about to cross the surface, but was stopped in her track by a moment of hesitation. Could she change the destination behind the wall as well?
                          Why not, after all, she didn’t have to play by the rules.

                          « To the forest! » Mævel ordered intently to the wall before jumping in.

                          The voice smiled to her fondly.

                          #391
                          F LoveF Love
                          Participant

                            Tina was so happy Becky had sorted her hair problems so creatively. She wondered if she should tell her she had missed a bit at the back of her head. Yes of course she must.

                            She also wondered if she should get changed before she met the others. Al had said he liked her new dress and then winked at her. What did that mean? Winks always made her a bit uneasy. They were so ambiguous.

                            Oh that’s right, she could configure it anyway she chose she remembered. So she spent a few happy minutes remembering how fantastic she looked, like a supermodel actually.

                            She would give the gift voucher to Sam for his birthday now Becky didn’t need it, she decided. No matter his birthday was months ago, she was always late with birthday gifts and preferred to do things on impluse. Not that Sam had any hair issues that she knew of, she just thought he would enjoy meeting Hari. :face-wink:

                            She thought how great life was. Really it was all just about having fun. She felt so much easier with the play they were writing too, no longer concerned she could not follow the plots, plots? what a funny word to use, of the others, content just to follow her own unique path.

                            #1382
                            TracyTracy
                            Participant

                              All alone on page two, Tracy wondered if she had slipped into another dimension, the Page Two Dimension…..:yahoo_idk:

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