Search Results for 'yourself'

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  • #5928

    Hello Whale,

    I don’t keep track of the days since we have been forcefully encouraged to stay home. I have plenty of carrots and chocolate mousse. Talking of mousse, I might have a mouse keeping me company. Let’s not hope it’s a family. But I heard that animals are coming back into town now that we are all cozy in our burrows. There have been mentions of chicks on the ring road. Not the kind of chick with makeup, the real fluffy and yellow ones. And one of my friends saw a fox roaming the streets while going to the supermarket. I bet he had a bag full of carrots. Now I wouldn’t be surprised having rabbits everywhere with all those carrots around.

    I may sound confusing but I guess that’s what being confined does to people. I even had day dreams of birds flying in my bedroom. I swear I really saw one. Well, to be fair I only saw its shadow, but it was a shadow in the air, not on the wall. I wonder what kind of bird it was. My little pinky said it was a finch, the one my mother loved looking at in her garden. She will be part of the numbers soon. Either with her death or with her survival. Now when I think of her I see her surrounded by a bunch of animals. I even saw the fox, but I don’t think it would count amongst the animals I see in town.

    Since I’m not trying to be analytic, I’ve found a strange poetry in life around here. People are talking like senators, all trying to give their certainties to the world, but I can tell you nobody knows shit and nobody has a clue. You might as well welcome the virus for some tea to get to know each other and have some interesting stories about yourself and your relation to nature.

    I’m raving again. Someone told me a joke recently. The national board of psychologists published a official communiqué because they received too many calls from people. They said it was normal in this time of confinement to talk to the walls or the objects in your house, and to call them only in case the objects talked back.

    What would they think if they knew I’m talking to a whale and it’s giving me advice for my writing? I can even hear them as it sends me short audio. I haven’t been able to figure out what they said in the audio though. I’m glad the advice for my writing do come directly translated and not in the form of a whale song. I’m grateful for technology in that case.

    Oh and one last mention. A friend told me about the current roller coaster of the stock market. I dreamt of a stocking market. I must say it was very colourful and the seller used their stockings in very creative ways.

    Keep the connection going! Talk to you soon Whale. I’ll have to find you a name. My pinky suggested Jorid so it will be my name for you.

    #5830

    In reply to: Tart Wreck Repackage

    “Well, that was certainly enlightening.” Star said, once they got out of the bushes where they’d fell.

    Tara looked at the bushes and mused “Must be what they mean when they say it all went pear-shaped from now on…”

    “Nonsense, Tara. At least we now know there’s a good chance the real Vince was planning to spread some pathogen into the cult, got caught and sent into a coma for it.”

    “Shouldn’t we leave Rosamund with those silly conspiracy theories? After all, we were hired to find Basil, not to save the world.”

    “Thank the Mother for that, we’re not equipped, and it can’t afford our saving.”

    “Speak for yourself!” hissed Tara. “So, Basil? Any idea where he might be now?”

    “My guess he’s held prisoner at the cult. We should give it a second look.”

    “Might be tougher now it’s in lockdown.”

    Star grinned widely. “I always knew I’d find good use for those nice fancy party nurse dresses.”

    #5574

    June was impatiently waiting for the Oober, and asking April every second where the driver was.

    “You should get the app if you’re so damn impatient!” finally snapped April who had watched a video on how to stop being a crowd pleaser and start asserting herself. Might as well be with June, as she was the kind of bossy britches who would let the light shine anywhere else than on herself.

    June looked at her and raised an eyebrow. “Good, you’re learning from our dear Pdt Lump, be yourself. Have you tweeted it already?”

    “Why do you always have to make everything a political statement?”

    “Because everything is, dear! Don’t get me started on that… Look, I think that’s our driver! Whoohooo!” She waved at him in an outrageous fashion.

    “Stop that! Or we’ll have to find another ride, or worse, get assaulted!” The driver did actually look a little bit started by the two in their matching red tracksuits. They had a street dance planned with the Chinese maids from the Chinese Embassy where the party was planned during the time it was empty, due to Chinese New Year.

    “Anyway, I hope the kid is going to be fine.” April sighed a little concerned.

    “Oh don’t worry about that, what could happen, really? Let’s enjoy our Friday night out, shall we.”

    #4862

    “Init been quiet as being caught in the doldruffs, my Mavis?” Sha was sandwiched in the cryogenic apparatus like a tartine in a toaster, with her ample person protruding like cheese squeezed in too much.

    The door flung open.

    “Good Lord, aren’t them splendigious, those little tarts, meringue and all.”

    Berenice, Barb’s niece, trotting in his steps, taking her role as the new temp assistant very seriously was about to voice a response that he quickly tutted away. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

    “Took me a while to find out the thread though, buried through all that poubelle creative thinking and monologues, and bla and bla. Action all gone missing safe for a little excitement in Tik…” He stopped, looking around suspiciously. “They’re here, I know. Stop it, now. Hey. Shut up!”

    He turned to Berenice. “I wasn’t talking to you. Who are you by the way? Has Liz or Lucinda written you in?”

    Sha, and Glo, and Mavis, all squeezed in the cryotanks were not wasting a drop of the show.

    “He’s been acting all strange, since he cracked that red crystal.”
    “Shht, Glo. You don’t want him to get mad and stop all our beauty treatment. I can feel my skin tighten and dewrinkle.”
    “T’is like ironing, fussure. Some steam and a good hot iron to remove the wrinkles.”
    “Ahahah, wrinkles yourself, they’re more like crevices, hihihi!”
    “But first, nuffin like a ice treatment to tighten the glutes.”
    “Oh uhuh, haha, she said glutes like a snotty beauty specialist. Next she’ll say we need to do Pontius Pilates…”

    Berenice couldn’t help herself. She blurted out in one quick sentence “But what are you planning to do with them, Doctor?”

    He paused a moment his conversation with the invisible guests then turned nonchalently at B.

    “But just… perfecting them, sweet thing. Oh, and love what you did with the beehive.”

    #4825
    TracyTracy
    Participant

      “I’m so glad you’ve forgotten all that silliness about writing a book, Finnley dear. Now run along and put the kettle on, and why don’t you have one yourself,” Liz added in a surge of indulgent affection. “Come and put your feet up, you’ve been too hard at it, taking too much on. You can have the rest of the day off and sit with me, we can have a nice cosy little natter.”

      Godfrey smirked in the shadows as Finnley blanched. Roberto was peering in the French windows imagining Liz in pink satin with pom poms.

      “Please, don’t any of you dress me in pink satin again,” Liz announced to whoever was listening.

      But nobody was. They were all in the lavatory inspecting the woodwork. Or so they said.

      #4791

      Once he’d finished to tell the story, and let the kids go back to the cottage for the night, Rukshan’s likeness started to vanish from the place, and his consciousness slowly returned to the place where his actual body was before projecting.

      Being closer to the Sacred Forest enhanced his capacities, and where before he could just do sneak peeks through minutes of remote viewing, he could now somehow project a full body illusion to his friends. He’d been surprised that Fox didn’t seem to notice at all that he wasn’t truly there. His senses were probably too distracted by the smells of food and chickens.

      He’d wanted to check on his friends, and make sure they were alright, but it seemed his path ahead was his own. He realized that the finishing of the loo was not his own path, and there was no point for him to wait for the return of the carpenter. That work was in more capable hands with Glynis and her magic.

      His stomach made an indiscreet rumbling noise. It was not like him to be worried about food, but he’d gone for hours without much to eat. He looked at his sheepskin, and the milk in it had finally curdled. He took a sip of the whey, and found it refreshing. There wouldn’t be goats to milk in this part of the Forest, as they favored the sharp cliffs of the opposite site. This and a collection of dried roots would have to do until… the other side.

      To find the entrance wasn’t too difficult, once you understood the directions offered by the old map he’d recovered.

      He was on the inner side of the ringed protective enclosures, so now, all he needed was to get into the inner sanctum of the Heartwood Forest, who would surely resist and block his path in different ways.

      “The Forest is a mandala of your true nature…”

      He turned around. Surprised to see Kumihimo there.

      “Don’t look surprised Fae, you’re not the only one who knows these parlor tricks.” She giggled like a young girl.

      “of my nature?” Rukshan asked.

      “Oh well, of yours, and anybody’s for that matter. It’s all One you, see. The way you see it, it represents yourself. But it would be true for anybody, there aren’t any differences really, only in the one who sees.”

      She reappeared behind his back, making him turn around. “So tell me,” she said “what do you see here?”

      “It’s where the oldest and strongest trees have hardened, it’s like a fence, and a… a memory?”

      “Interesting.” She said “What you say is true, it’s memory, but it’s not dead like you seem to imply. It’s hardened, but very much alive. Like stone is alive. The Giants understood that. And what are you looking for?”

      “An entrance, I guess. A weak spot, a crack, a wedge?”

      “And why would you need that? What if the heart was the staircase itself? What if in was out and down was up?”

      Rukshan had barely time to mouth “thank you” while the likeness of the Braid Seer floated away. She’d helped him figure out the entrance. He touched one of the ring of the hard charred trees. They were pressed together, all clomped in a dense and large enclosure virtually impossible to penetrate. His other memories told him the way was inside, but his old memories were misleading.
      Branches were extending from the trunks, some high and inaccessible, hiding the vision of the starry sky, some low, nearly indistinguishable from old gnarled roots. If you looked closely, you could see the branches whirring around like… Archimedes Screw. A staircase?

      He jumped on a branch at his level, which barely registered his weight. The branch was dense and very slick, polished by the weathering of the elements, with the feel of an old leather. He almost lost his balance and scrapped his hands between the thumb and the index.

      “Down is up?”

      He spun around the branch, his legs wrapped around the branch. He expected his backpack to drag him towards the floor, but strangely, even if from his upside-down perspective, it was floating above him, it was as if it was weightless.

      He decided to take a chance. Slowly, he hoisted himself towards his floating bag, and instead of falling, it was as though the branch was his ground. Now instead of a spiral staircase around the trees leading to heavens, it was the other side of the staircase that spiraled downwards to the starry night.

      With his sheepskin and back still hovering, he started to climb down the branches towards the Giants’ land.

      #4778
      ÉricÉric
      Keymaster

        “Oh, that can’t be THAT hard, give it to me Godfrey!”
        “Wait Liz’, you could harm yourself!”
        “Oh come on, hand over the darn thing, I’ve seen her do it a thous… well at least once or twice. And the second time, I was so drunk I thought it was the parrot who’d done it.”
        “Alright, but remember you were the one to ask for it!”

        She glared at him sideways. “What is this thing Godfey?”
        “Well, it’s called a broomstick, I thought you wanted to do some cleaning. For sure the place is in dire need of it.”
        “I know what a broomstick is, thank you very much. Is this your idea of a practical joke, G?”
        “Oh no Liz’, I could just have called your Mother for that, she would have loved to come and teach you.”
        Godfrey, you better stop all this nonsense now, or I’ll have you put in a story oubliette, with only water and half a peanut a day for sustenance.”
        “That’s torture! But, wait, if you didn’t want the broomstick, what was it, that you said you needed Finnley for?”
        “Oh don’t you make me say it Godfrey! Just give me the red marker, and let’s get over with all the editing. That manuscript is really worth poubelle.”

        #4776

        When Albie woke up, it was shaking all around, as if the ground was quaking under him. It took him a moment to realize he was at the back of the jeep, and the jeep was careening on the dirt road, with none other than Mandrake at the wheel.

        “Don’t stare at him like this, kid, and make yourself useful!” Arona shouted in the action, taking a Jiborium Emporium pellet gun while pushing a bag of ammo at him.

        WHAT?!”

        “I’m not sure you realized, but we’re being chased!”

        The sound of a bullet flew by, missing the car window only thanks to an agile quarter turn of the wheel by Mandrake, followed by a sudden acceleration back onto the road.

        “Who’s chasing us!!?” Albie was confused.

        “Unclear!” Arona shouted, aiming at the black and white corvette behind them, with Ugo the gecko trying to keep stuck onto her head despite the shaking.

        She fired three shots of her magical Owl Pellets, reloading after each one.

        “We’re going to be short of ammo, Mandrake! How far?!”

        “I DON’T KNOW” the cat meowed, braking to avoid running over a loitering marsupial.

        HOW FAR Mandrake!?” Arona said, taking three new shots, managing to hit a headlight and the windshield.

        “You have no idea how difficult it is to find a body of water in this place, do you?! We missed the turn to the waterhole about 30 miles ago, at this speed!”

        “Better not to risk it, not enough water depth! We need the river.”

        “Todd River should be around that cliff there,” he pointed. But the road ends… heEEere!!”

        “GO FOR IT!”

        :fleuron: ** S PLASH ** :fleuron:

        The other car had braked just before the cliff, while the jeep was sinking slowly into the river which was carrying them near the shore.

        “Quick Mandrake! The pearl!”

        All Albie could see next was the swirl of pouring light mixed into the water vortex.

        He held his breath as tight as possible, for as… long… as… possible.

        GASP!

        “Mmm, that was entertaining. But it ruined my dinner.”

        The dragon was there, looking at the three of them drenched near its pool. They were back at the Doline.

        #4745

        Eleri was dressed in—too short— fairy garments and had sad looking transparent wings hanging on her back. Her hair was full of twigs and red and yellow leaves fallen from the trees.

        “Have you been rolling yourself into the piles of leaves Ollie had gathered this morning?” asked Glynis.
        Eleri looked like a child caught in the act.
        “Guilty I guess, that’s my little pleasure these days. I recall when I was a little girl and my mom was handing me candies for being a good girl.” She sighed of relief. “Gosh! How I hated that period. I got rid of that neat little girl long ago and now I’m just being myself.”
        She turned around and went back into the forest shouting like a tookantipooh trying to catch a young kakapo, leaving Glynis crestfallen with all the dish to clean again.

        #4653
        F LoveF Love
        Participant

          “Come on now,” said Ricardo. “Nobody has put anything out there about the dolls. Come and sit down on this nice comfy office chair and tell us what is going on. You will do yourself an injury running in those heels. Lovely shoes of course,” he added quickly.

          Miss Bossy Pants glared at him suspiciously but allowed herself to be coaxed to the nearest office chair while Hilda and Connie raised their eyebrows and Sweet Sophie snorted.

          “That’s right,” he said. “Just let me wipe that chair for you before you sit. Now, you tell us what’s going on while I make the tea. One sugar?”

          Hilda and Connie made gagging noises.

          Slimy creep, hissed Connie.

          “No hurry then,” said Hilda. “We’ve only been waiting half an hour for tea already.”

          Miss Bossy Pants wiped her forehead with a tea towel, too relieved to question what a tea towel was doing on the desk. She pulled her phone out and scrolled through her messages.

          “I received this,” she said. “Read it out will you, Ric. I can’t stand to look at it again.”

          “Put a lid on the doll story or you will be sorry. And I mean very sorry Very very sorry,” read Ric. “Hmmm rather unimaginative as threats go, don’t you think?”

          “Scroll through to the next one.”

          “By the way, it’s the DOCTOR sending this, in case you think for one moment this is an unimaginative idle threat.”

          #4642
          F LoveF Love
          Participant

            Finnley, how on earth did you manage to insert yourself in the kitchen and do the dishes while I was standing here twittering about doctors and whatnot. And here you are and the dishes are done but when I started my comment, I swear they were still on the bench.”
            Liz peered at Finnley suspiciously.
            “Do you have magical properties you aren’t sharing with us?” she asked.

            #4628

            “Take your pills dear, you’re starting to sound like an old crone again. I think I’ve seen the little girl they speak about, Nesingwarys. She’s in the same class as Tak; with a name like this, hard to forget. Anyway, I’m also not sure what we are doing in this tavern. Wait! Now I remember” Glynnis leaned towards Eleri with an ironic smile on her face “it’s because you said you had a clue there was something fishy happening here. Always fancied yourself the knight in shiny armor, defender of the widow and the orphan, or simply enjoying sleuthing, I couldn’t really figure it out.” She stopped to catch her breath. The gin tonic from the tavern seemed to make her more prolix that she was used to.
            It was also a rare occasion for her to travel to the nearby city for other than groceries and school matter for Tak.

            They had rebuilt the cottage in the past few months, but it had been a long and painful process. Parts of it lacked convenience; the loo was still a hole in a ground in the garden. At least she was happy the back and forth trips to the blacksmith and the carpenter were over. Mostly now the joiner was a pain. He’d sent a telebat last day again that his cart had been impounded and not a few hours later, that he’d broken his hand with a hammer. She could swear he was making those excuses on the fly and meanwhile, they were all missing a modern and convenient loo. And there were only so many fragrant oils one could use…

            Glynnis!” Eleri looked alarmed. “You look like you had a bit too much, maybe we should go back.”

            “Look, now who’s the boring one! OK, OK, but before we go back, we still have this letter to deliver Margoritt in the city. Let’s go.”

            #4611
            ÉricÉric
            Keymaster

              “What is Bronkel’s on about, like we’d need pairs of pyjamas with this unbearable heat? Must be his odd Kiwi streak talking. Although an early Christmas is a nice thought.”

              Godfrey!” she bawled though the halls “Make yourself useful and bring me my mustard seed & sag paneer ice cream”.

              #4588

              Granola felt a bit stupid in her squishy giraffe suit, lying deflated on the carpeted floor of the entrance.

              Ailill!” she called for her afterlife tech support guy in blue.

              “Up here, darling.”

              She looked up, and sure enough, he was there, a blue pompom ball dangling from the ceiling. It landed quite gracefully next to her giraffe, and turned into a small guy in blue overalls.

              “Got yourself again stuck in rut, haven’t you?” he smiled at the giraffe, propping it up on its elastic legs.

              “You can say that. It feels like days I’ve been stuck in a loop, observing the same people doing the same things. When I think I’m moving on, I’m actually just switching to the next one, but it’s always the same moment.
              Lucinda blathering on the phone while I’m her cushion, and next I’m a paper roll in Jerk’s cash register, and the moment after, I’m the blank page that Shawn Paul stares at for hours, or one of Maeve’s unfinished dolls next. Actually, the giraffe feels kind of an improvement.”

              She looked musingly and a bit enviously at Ailill’s form: “I didn’t think it’d be that tough to graduate to human form. Blobs of red lights were fun enough, but… things! This!” The giraffe looked at its chewed legs and wobbled precariously.

              “In actuality…” Ailill started loftily

              “Oh dear… make it simple please.”

              “It’s part of the evaluation of attachments. You need to move beyond them, then you’ll be free to do more things, to be more. For now, you still see yourself as a props in these characters’ dramaless lives. But try to think about that one: what if they were the props of yours? You are trying too hard to move around the wrong things. The journey is inwards, always my friend.”

              Something squished into the small giraffe, as if it something in Ailill’s speech had made sense to Granola.

              #4549

              A deep guttural roar echoed through the mountains, ferocious and hungry.
              Fox’s hairs stood on his arms and neck as a wave of panic rolled through his body. He looked at the other his eyes wide open.
              Olliver had teleported closer to Rukshan whose face seemed pale despite the warmth of the fire, and Lhamom’s jaw had dropped open. Their eyes met and they swallowed in unison.
              “Is that…” asked Fox. His voice had been so low that he wasn’t sure someone had heard him.
              Rukshan nodded.

              “It seems you are leaving the mountains sooner than you expected,” said Kumihimo with a jolly smile as she dismounted Ronaldo.
              She plucked her icy lyre from which loud and rich harmonics bounced. The wind carried them along and they echoed back in defiance to the Shadow. It hissed and hurled back, clearly pissed off. The dogs howled and Kumihimo started to play a wild and powerful rhythm on her instrument.
              It shook the group awake from their trance of terror. Everobody stood and ran in chaos.
              Someone tried to cover the fire.
              “Don’t bother, we’re leaving,” said Rukshan, and he himself rushed toward the multicolour sand mandala he had made earlier that day. Accompanied by the witche’s mad arpeggios, he began chanting. The sand glowed faintly. It needed something more for the magic to take the relay. Something resisted. There was a strong gush of wind and Rukshan bent forward just in time as the screen and bamboo poles flew above his head. His chanting held the sands together, but they needed to act quickly.

              Lhamom told the others to jump on the hellishcopter whose carpet was slowly turning in a clockwise direction. Fox didn’t wait to be told twice but Olliver stood his ground.
              “But I want to help,” he said.
              “You’ll help best by being ready to leave as soon as the portal opens,” said Lhamom. Not checking if the boy was following her order, she went to her messenger bag and foraged for the bottle of holy snot. On her way to the mandala, she picked the magic spoon from the steaming cauldron of stew, leaving a path of thick dark stains in the snow.

              Lhamom stopped beside Rukshan who had rivulets of sweat flowing on his face and his coat fluttering wildly in the angry wind. He’s barely holding the sands together, she thought. She didn’t like being rushed, it made her act mindlessly. She opened the holy snot bottle and was about to pour it in the spoon covered in sauce, but she saw Rukshan’s frown of horror. She realised the red sauce might have unforgivable influence on the portal spell. She felt a nudge on her right arm, it was Ronaldo. Lhamom didn’t think twice and held the spoon for him to lick.
              “Enjoy yourself!” she said. If the sauce’s not good, what about donkey saliva? she wondered, her inner voice sounding a tad hysterical. But it was not a time for meditation. She poured the holy snot in the relatively clean spoon, pronounced the spell the Lama had told her in the ancient tongue and prayed it all worked out as she poured it in the center of the mandala.
              As soon as it touched the sand, they combined together in a glossy resin. The texture spread quickly to all the mandala and a dark line appeared above it. The portal teared open. Rukshan continued to chant until it was big enough to allow the hellishcopter through.

              COME NOW!” shouted Fox.
              Rukshan and Lhamom looked at the hellishcopter, behind it an immense shadow had engulfed the night. It was different from the darkness of the portal that was full of potential and probabilities and energy. The Shadow was chaotic and mad and light was absent from it. It was spreading fast and Lhamom felt panic overwhelm her.

              They ran. Jumped on the carpet. Kumihimo threw an ice flute to them and Fox caught it not knowing what to do with it.
              “You’ll have one note!” the shaman shouted. “One note to destroy the Shadow when you arrive!”
              Fox nodded unable to speak. His heart was frozen by the dark presence.
              Kumihimo hit the hellishcopter as if it were a horse, and it bounced forward. The shaman looked at them disappear through the tear, soon followed by the shadow.
              The wind stopped. Kumihimo heard the dogs approaching. They too wanted to go through. But before they could do so, Kumihimo closed the portal with a last chord that made her lyre explode.

              The dogs growled menacingly, frustrated they had been denied their hunt.
              They closed in slowly on Kumihimo and Ronaldo who licked a drop of sauce from his lips.

              #4527

              The trial run was not a complete success, and so it was back to the cooking pot and the agonizingly slow wait.

              The spell and the magic concoction had rendered the three women partially invisible: it seemed that anything with the colour yellow in it (including of course green and orange and so on) remained plainly visible. Pathways of bile had been illuminated like never before: it was not a pleasant sight.

              “I always have trouble with the damn yellows,” remarked Eleri with a despondent sigh, as her hand absentmindedly rubbed her solar plexus. “Hey!” she elbowed Glynis in the ribs, “I just had a thought! Maybe you need to put something purple in the pot.”

              Glynis predictably enough rolled her eyes at Eleri and asked with a snort, “Such as?”

              “I don’t know but you know how they always tell you to twirl your yellows with purple.” Eleri’s face fell and her shoulders sagged. “I don’t know, Glynis, it’s all so discouraging. I miss the others, it’s too damn quiet around here these days. You’d think we’d be able to amuse ourselves, and that makes it even more depressing, doesn’t it? How on earth are we going to snap out of it?”

              “Speak for yourself you miserable tart, I’m busy trying to make this potion so we can get out of here. Just try to buck up, will you! If I had time I’d make you a Buck the Fuck Up potion, but can’t you see I’m busy!” Glynis slammed the wooden spoon down on the counter and burst into tears.

              Eleri raised an eyebrow and said sagely, “Who’s calling who a miserable tart now then, eh!” and then ducked as the wooden spoon came hurtling towards her.

              “Now now,” said Margoritt, “We’re all a bit stressed, no need to take it out on each other. Group hug!”

              “Oh piss off,” replied Eleri and Glynis in unison. “We’re not that desperate,” added Eleri.

              #4499
              ÉricÉric
              Keymaster

                Not a second after they’d all entered the room, one after the other, the door suddenly slammed shut, propelling themselves down the stairs into the hallway, soon trampling and trampolining upon one another.

                “Aaaah!” exclaimed Liz’ pointing at Godfrey’s face.
                “Aaaahaahahah, yourself you old hag!”

                Soon, FinnleyAAAhh“ed herself too, realizing but too late that they had all turned into very old versions of themselves.

                #4497
                ÉricÉric
                Keymaster

                  It was a dull day at WholeDay*Mart. Jerk’s yearly week of holidays had gone so fast it felt he hadn’t gone at all.
                  He had slipped back into the routine, and apart from some subtle details that indicated the passage of time, all but felt the same. It didn’t help that summer holidays were upon them, as the early workers were less in the morning. The city would soon quietly become a summer desert.

                  He looked lazily at the posters on the windows. One seemed out of place. The midsummer night’s dream biennale . That was new… Could be something the city council would have cooked up to drive tourists up here. In any case, it felt intriguing.

                  “Are you preparing a corso for the parade?”
                  “A what?” the blond customer caught him off guard while he was mechanically scanning her shampoo bottles and dog food packs.
                  “A bloemencorso , that’s Dutch for float, you know… car with flowers and decorations… If you’d like, you can join mine. I’ll call it Beeee Yourself.”
                  She extended her right hand “My name is Lucinda, by the way.”

                  #4473

                  Margoritt looked at the spot where Tak was nestled, under her desk, with a concerned puzzled look albeit mixed with a repressed laughter sparkling beneath the surface.
                  No matter how stern she wanted to look, she had a soft spot for the antics of the youngling.
                  “What have you done this time, dear? You have as guilty a face upon you as when you pilfered the raw mangoes that Mr Minn brought us, and got yourself an indigestion as a result…” she almost chuckled, but paused and squinted her eyes.
                  “Well except you didn’t look so… green.”

                  She craned her neck to see better the little face behind the mop of tangled hair.

                  “My, my, my… what have we got here!”

                  #4446

                  Margoritt’s left knee was painful that day. Last time it hurt so much was twenty years ago, during that notorious drought when a fire started and almost burnt the whole forest down. Only a powerful spell from the Fae people could stop it. But today they sky was clear, and the forest was enjoying a high degree of humidity from the last magic rain. Margoritt, who was not such a young lady anymore dismissed the pain as a sign of old age.
                  You have to accept yourself as you are at some point, she sighed.

                  The guests were still there, and everyone was participating to the life of the community. Eleri, who had been sick had been taken care of in turn by Fox and Glynnis, while Rukshan had reorganised the functioning of the farm. They now had a second cow and produced enough milk to make cakes and butter that they sold to the neighbouring Faes, and they had a small herd of Rainbow Lamas that produced the softest already colourful wool, among other things. Gorrash, awoken at night, had formed an alliance with the owls that helped them to keep the area clear of mice and rats and was also in charge of the weekly night fireworks.

                  The strange colourful eggs had hatched recently giving birth to strange little creatures that were not yet sure of which shape to adopt. They sometimes looked like cuddly kittens, sometimes like cute puppies, or mischievous monkeys. They always took the form of a creature with a tail, except when they were frightened and turned into a puddle. It had been hard for Margoritt who mistook them for dog pee, but Fox had been very helpful with his keen sense of smell and washing away the poor creatures had been avoided. Nobody had any idea if they could survive once diluted in water.

                  The day was going great, Margoritt sat on her rocking chair enjoying a fresh nettle lassi on the terrace while doing some embroidery work on Eleri’s blouse. Her working kit was on a small stool in front of her. Working with her hands helped her forget about her knee and also made her feel useful in this youthful community where everybody wanted to help her. She was rather proud of her last design representing a young girl and a god statue holding hands together. She didn’t think of herself as a matchmaker, but sometimes you just had to give a little push when fate didn’t want to do its job.

                  Micawber Minn arrived, his face as long as the Lamazon river. He had the latest newspaper with him and put it on Margoritt’s lap. Surprise and a sudden sharp and burning pain in her knee made her left leg jerk forward, strewing all her needles onto the floor. Margoritt, upset, looked at the puddle of lassi sluggishly starting to covering them up.
                  “What…” she began.
                  “Read the damn paper,” said Minn.

                  She did. The front page mentioned the reelection of Leroway as Lord Mayor, despite his poor results in developing the region.
                  “Well, that’s not surprising,” Margoritt said with a shrug, starting to feel angry at Minn for frightening her.
                  “Read further,” said Minn suddenly looking cynical.
                  Margoritt continued and gasped. Her face turned blank.
                  “That’s not possible. We need to tell the other,” she said. “We can not let Leroway build his road through the forest.”

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