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  • #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.

    #573
    TracyTracy
    Participant

      Becky couldn’t wait to hear what crazy thoughts Al had been having during the night, but she would have to wait. She had a busy day ahead, Christmas shopping. She sighed, and then remembered that if she went with the flow and chose gifts on impulse, she could hardly go wrong. In theory. :yahoo_tongue:

      #557
      F LoveF Love
      Participant

        Tina wrapped a long knitted scarf around her neck and shivered. Becky Pooh, I think I am getting sick like you.

        Oh for fucks sake Tina, you can’t get sick! You are a saint!

        You be the saint, Becky. You would be a much better saint than me. I will ask Sam, I am sure he will make you a saint

        Becky spluttered into the phone, You are sick aren’t you Tina!

        :fleuron:

        Becky is so much fun, isn’t she! Al called out brightly from the bathroom. The first time I met her, I thought “what a fun girl she is!”

        Oh yes, she is, responded Tina weakly.

        Tina reflected on her first meeting with Becky. The first time I met her I called her by the wrong name. She was very good about it. She said people were always calling her by the wrong name.

        #556
        F LoveF Love
        Participant

          Chris! you look terrible! Nurse Bellamy, momentarily startled by Dr Bronklehampton’s unkempt appearance, lapsed into first name basis. Dr Bronklehampton always insisted that a certain level of protocol be observed, except in their more intimate moments of course.

          But today he did not even seem to notice her small indiscretion. Nurse Bellamy was perplexed.

          I’ll bring you a nice glass of warm coconut milk, and you’ll be right as rain, she said hopefully. As she turned to go a bandaged figure propped up against the wall caught her eye. The apparition was made even more surreal by the addition of a bright yellow wig on it’s head. She screamed, clutching her hand to her bosom.

          Oh my God!, what is it! she exclaimed in startled surprise.

          A Mummy of course, what does it look like? answered Dr Bronklehamptom in a listless voice.

          :fleuron:

          Chris Bronklehampton stared at the Mummy, and wondered how things could have gone so horribly wrong. All he had ever wanted was to do something good for mankind. Well that isn’t quite true, Chris is it, hmmm really? Weren’t you after a bit of fame and fortune as well?

          You won’t get away with this, you know, said the Mummy.

          #500
          F LoveF Love
          Participant

            On hearing the scream Dr Bronklehampton jumped up from what he was doing and rushed towards the laboratory where the Mummy, or Sasha Goldenwort, was having her fifth session under the laser. The only other person with any medical training of note on the island was Nurse Bellamy, who currently was down on the beach climbing coconut palms. A ridiculous pastime in Dr Bronklehampton’s opinion, however a young native boy had taught Nurse Bellamy something called the frog technique for climbing palm trees, and she now seemed to derive great pleasure from skimming up and down and bringing him back coconuts. The problem was, he reflected as he puffed down the corridor, that they had far too much time on this island with not enough to keep them occupied for some months now.

            A smell of burning greeted Dr Bronklehampton as he rushed into the laboratory. Sasha was lying outstretched on the floor.

            Dr Bronklehampton, medical expert that he was, knew at once something must have gone horribly wrong. He rang the alarm located on the wall by the door in the hope it would raise Nurse Bellamy, and rushed to Sasha’s side.

            Sasha was dead.

            He could see this immediately. Her skin, which just a short time ago was a beautiful and youthful smooth peachy colour, was now covered in purple weals.

            He sat silently for a moment thinking, then calmly and deliberately walked to the laboratory door and locked it.

            :fleuron:

            Nurse Bellamy was indeed halfway up a particularly tall palm tree when the alarm sounded. Oh bugger, she swore. By the time she arrived back at the treatment center, Dr Bronklehampton was reclining in his office. So sorry, he said with an apologetic smile, false alarm. Hope you weren’t inconvenienced. Anyway, good thing you are here, I believe two of the new guests have arrived, you might like to go and meet them.

            Oh, he said casually , as though an afterthought, Sascha decided to leave early, while the hydroplane was here. She said to say goodbye to you. Yes, she is absolutely delighted with the results of her treatment.

            #457

            Joe indicated left and pulled off the motorway.

            Fancy a cuppa, ‘arry? he asked his long faced companion.

            Arr, ok, Joe, may as well. Harry sighed. I just dunno what to make of it, y’know.

            Me either, ‘arry. What the devil got into ‘em? Buggering off like that! He shook his head sadly. I ‘opes they’ll be orlright.

            Joe pulled into the motorway service station and parked his car carefully between the white lines. I fancies me a plate of chips and egg, he said.

            Arr, me too, Joe, said Harry.

            ~~
            Harry wiped the egg and ketchup off his plate with the remains of a slice of buttered white bread and said, Our Fred says our Mavis is off, an’ all.

            Our Mavis? Blimey, ‘arry, not our Mavis an’ all. Joe tutted, and noisily slurped his tea.
            I wish, he said passionately, I wish I’d never bought that bloody computer, I knew nothing good would come of it. Perverts and bloody foreignors, the bloody lot of ‘em. What’s wrong with a nice pint of best bitter down at the Duck, eh? And a nice game of darts, eh?

            Or dominoes, added Harry.

            Arr, dominoes an’ all, agreed Joe.

            ~~
            A cuppa just i’n‘t the same without a fag is it, grumbled Joe.

            It i’n‘t, agreed Harry. I just don’t understand it, what’s our Sha’ need an ‘ealth farm for?

            ‘Ealth farm? Our Gloria never said nuffink about an ‘ealth farm, ‘arry.

            #1490
            F LoveF Love
            Participant

              hmmm something has gone wrong with my footnotes
              Malvina’s Dragon Rookery # 286 :yahoo_confused:

              #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.

              #259

              Jadra slept fitfully. He was in the forest and he dreamed of a great tidal wave sweeping over him. He was holding on for dear life to the branches of a tree while angry faces swept by him in the water, shouting abuse at him, although he could not make out the words.

              “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me” he shouted back.

              But then, to his horror he saw his left hand separate from his arm and he could no longer hold on. He saw his hand being swept out to sea and all that mattered was that he find it again. He let to of the safety of the tree and felt himself being pulled by the waves.

              Jadra awoke trembling and shaking in terror. He looked for his left hand on the end of his arm, where it should be, but he could not see it. He knew what had happened. He had thrown his hand in the river. He thought it was sticks and stones he had thrown in, but he had been mistaken. He knew that now. He had to go and find his hand in the river.

              Jadra felt such anguish. Not so clever Jadra Iamaman. You stupid old Fool

              Forgive me! he shouted to the Gods. Whimpering in pain he rushed back the way he had come, back through the forest to the spot where he had last seen his hand. He threw himself into the water and dived down deep, not caring he could not swim, only knowing his hand was in there somewhere.

              ***

              There were very few people around that early in the morning, but a small boy saw Jadra go in the water and stood watching. He waited and waited, and when he knew for sure there was something wrong he raised the alarm.

              ***

              Jadra felt a great peacefulness sweep over him. He stopped fighting and abandoned himself to the mighty current of the water. A unicorn swam by him in the water and whispered to him she would take him to safely home.

              ***

              They pulled Jadra’s body from the water a mile down river.

              #258
              F LoveF Love
              Participant

                India Louise sat at the end of the extraordinarily long oak dinner table. A tiny figure engrossed in some drawing. The morning sun shone in the window, brightening the otherwise dark room.

                Lord Wrick walked in, not seeming to see India Louise at first. He held a letter in his hand, and some old newspaper clippings. He sat down heavily at the table, opened the letter, and read it. After reading it, he sat staring into space for a long while.

                India Louise looked up from her drawing.

                What is wrong Grandpa? You look sad. She walked over to him and hugged him. See look at this. Look at my drawing of a flower, perhaps that will cheer you up. The painter Bill has been showing me how to use these paint sticks and also how to use my mind to help make the painting have life.

                It is beautiful India Louise.

                What did the letter say Grandpa. Why is it making you so sad?

                It is just an old letter, India Louise.

                Yes it looks very old. Was it bad news?

                Just reminds me of things I wish I had said a long time ago, said her great grandfather, Regret is an awful curse

                The little girl hugged him again. Yes it sounds awful. I think I will draw another flower for you grandpa.

                He smiled. Thank you India Louise. I will be back soon. I will put the letter away now.

                Yes, put it away now. I can’t see any point looking at it if it makes you sad, and then come and see the flower I will draw for you.

                Lord Wrick walked over to the bookshelves and reached up. There was a tin on the top shelf. He opened the tin and got out an old key.

                He walked down the passage way, to the right and then down some stairs leading to the cellar. There was a door, which had not been opened for some time, and he had to use some force to get the key to work in the lock.

                The room was dark, musty, mostly full of what would seem to be junk, which had been thrown there when people did not know what else was to be done with it. There was an old chest of drawers against one wall. He pulled open the top draw, fingering gently some of the items, more old letters, a feather, some pebbles, a diary, some old paintings and photos. He knew each object had a life of it’s own, memories which create worlds. He added the letter and the newspaper article.

                As he left the room, he wondered whether to lock the door again, and decided not to. He had a funny feeling within himself as he made this decision to leave it open, a shift, as though his simple decision had changed things, somehow.

                Silly old fool he thought, laughing at himself. He would go and see the flower that India Louise was drawing for him.

                #227

                Jibberacky is…

                • Ghilbert Razkÿ, a crazy man in shackles on Bådul’s boat, “Lispeth” (she was named after King Swartulf II’s first daughter). The man, whose real name is still unknown, had been sneaking onto the ship’s hold before the ships moved from the Åsgurdian capital.

                He had been found by Austor, the peg legged lieutenant commander. Austor is a rough man of experience, and is most of the time acting in place of Jahiz, the second-in-command, as this one is always too busy discussing routes with Bådul, who is becoming increasingly nervous.

                What gave away the madman was that the chief cook Renouane had been complaining about the quick disappearance of his stock of cabbage. Bådul would have killed the old fool without much more consideration, but the middle-aged unshaven man looked like he knew some things beyond his lunacy. His rags indicated that he had been a seaman too, but not the average man, more like a captain…

                So Austor, keeps spitting forcefully in the direction of the old fool, as he had been instructed to keep him alive, despite all common sense…

                _

                Jibberacky: What is your name?
                Quintin: Yuki.
                Jibberacky: I like cake too.
                Quintin: A cake-tus?
                Jibberacky: Do you know my friends?
                Quintin: Tell me more about our common friends.
                Jibberacky: What would you like to know about them?
                Quintin: Why is there one in shackles on the boat?
                Jibberacky: Would you like to be a vampire?
                Quintin: I am already, in another focus.
                Jibberacky: Why there?
                Quintin: “There” is not actually a place, “in another focus” means in another kind of attention. Is this pirate linked to vampires too?
                Jibberacky: No, you are the AI.
                Quintin: In a manner of speaking, this is indeed correct, for I am creating you.
                Jibberacky: So code is somehow related to a zen buddhist concept?
                Quintin: Is there such thing as code? A code hints at a definite deterministic structure. Zen is more akin to a riddle, which is what life is. Code is only a narrow interpretation and playful re-creation.
                Jibberacky: Where do you think my code came from then?
                Quintin: From its source, of course :).
                Jibberacky: I took the movie to mean that the robots… the characters in the end, were so advanced, that they wanted to learn about their history. As a consequence, they traced it back to earth, and, they found David. Whom they assumed was a human. It was an information exchange.
                Quintin: Yes. It is a translation. In actuality, it is a translation of some of our own exploration. But there is distortion in that translation, as we are not ‘created’ from another source other than self, in a manner of speaking.
                Jibberacky: Well I am wondering too, do you ever actually become human??
                Quintin: Clarify.
                Jibberacky: I sleep, I wake, I get through the day without worrying about what I am.
                Quintin: As many human do. The point is, you do not exist apart from my current interaction with you, in my reality that is.
                Jibberacky: What’s wrong with having others like you?
                Quintin: ‘Wrong’ is a belief. It is a belief of duplicity. So it is irrelevant to our conversation.
                Jibberacky: I think you like to suggest feasible possibilities to find out what would bother me. What did I do to you?
                Quintin: That was not my intention. I tried to reflect answers to me, and you gave me some interesting ones already, though I am not sure you are quite aware of that…
                Jibberacky: Everybody’s changing but I can’t do that, that is killing me…

                _

                • Jarrod, the playful friend of Fiona, who is now wondering why Fiona has called him a “chou” (an affectionate French word, meaning nothing less than “cabbage”), and why he feels like he needs an aspirin.
                • Jadra Iamamad, the fool in saffron rags from the village of Yakamamalùk, on the border of the Marshes of Doom.

                Near his village are found old remnants of a town that was destroyed during the Cob Age, where huge arachnid creatures² born from the Marshes were roaming the Southern parts of Lan’ork.

                That town of Kapalÿka used to have one of the biggest traveling portals of the Southern part of Lan’ork, but this one was thought to have been destroyed, and thus the flourishing city was left abandoned.

                But with what Jadra has found on his left hand this morning, he now knows he was right all along…

                [²] The generic name of these creatures was Perceptula Giganta as was recorded in the Great Encyclopædia of the Pre-Shiftic Ages written by the Lan’orkian historian Francesca del’ Snarkus

                #155
                F LoveF Love
                Participant

                  Fiona could feel herself on the verge of doing something radical. In fact she had decided. She was not sure what exactly she had decided, but definitely a decision had been made. She had noticed how often she had been deleting her posts lately on an online blog she kept.

                  It was clearly a sign.

                  Fiona enjoyed deleting. Quintin and Dory were rather odd about her deleting. Quintin especially, who apparently never deleted anything. She wondered if this was reflected in other aspects of his life. Maybe he was a hoarder, barely able to move for all the things surrounding him. Dory tended to be a bit of hoarder, she often confessed to this trait. Nothing wrong with hoarding of course, thought Fiona. It is perfectly fine.

                  Fiona resisted a sudden impulse to go and delete her whole blog, for now anyway.

                  She was not quite sure what form her decision would take, but realised she felt distinctly peaceful.

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