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  • “So, any of you noticed Becky Pooh at the party ?” Al asked Tina and Sam on their way back to their place, waiting patiently for a gondocab in the crowded chilly night. “Jeeze, with this temperature, they probably will have to get the gondoskaters earlier” Tina managed to say, blowing some air in the hands of ... · ID #1195 (continued)
    (next in 23h 27min…)

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Éric

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  • in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #1211

    It felt like she’d been projecting for hours —in and out of her body, often brought back by the incomfort of the warm and moistly room, where the rheumatic fan was blowing a measly wind full of humidity.

    The rabbit she’d seen a few hours ago was ‘wanishing’, like a gentle feeling of pure joyful happiness holding by a thread that you try to reminisce before lapsing back into the old patterns of self-doubts.

    She didn’t have to strain herself so much, she suddenly realized; it never worked well when she tried to push it. She wanted the clarity of the projection to be deeply anchored within herself, and not some stroboscopic view of her grim reality sandwiched in glimpses of blissful clear lightness.

    So, she decided to wait for the moment to be back. Time didn’t really matter once you projected, but here in this reality time still mattered, and you had to find the proper exit-way. Not all moment seemed to work well.
    There were old books in this room, most of them, her son probably did pile up without even reading them. Some of them evoked the the birth pangs of the new era they were still building, which had started about 30 years ago. Now, in 2038 she was old, but back then she was in her mid-life and fully aware of the good aspects and not so good aspects of this life. She had yearned for the changes, and it had come; she had outlived most of them, and the books probably wouldn’t tell her much that she had not actually lived. Probably her son was keeping them because of his beliefs on wasting his investments.
    She, for one, couldn’t care less about them.

    She picked a little book, with a few words and mostly drawings and symbols on it, and she smiled. She’d seen some of these symbols in her dreams, she related to them; she didn’t need the words explaining them; words were just the authors’ translations, and she trusted her own before them. But the book was making her feel good.

    She leaned back in her bed, maneuvering the rolling bed to be in front of the last beams of light of the day.
    She could see the full moon rise, and she felt peaceful.

    :fleuron:

    When she noticed she was in front of the cave, she wondered how long she’d been out of her body without knowing.
    She could see the moon higher in the sky than when she was in her room, and she could feel an energy of excitement.

    Anita was finally coming out of this underground trip with her parents. Seeing the little girl in the flesh would be such a revelation for her, she was thrilled to the point of even forgetting her doubts about the possibility that she was really becoming insane.
    She didn’t know why or how, but she would convince her son to offer them some shelter, so that they could settle before getting home. She had so much to learn from the little one she could feel. She was really wise beyond her age…

    Voices where starting to fill the silent space:

    “Anu! It’s been hours now we’ve been in these damp corridors, are you sure you know the way?”
    “Yes Mum, we’re almost there…”
    “Here, I can see the light Lily!”
    “Yes, I can see it too Aaron!”
    “Wow, the moon is full, it’s so lovely”

    After the couple had emerged, Balbina could see Anu wink at her. She was seeing her! Now, she only need show her the way to the house!

    in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #1207
    ÉricÉric
    Keymaster

      Veranassesee woke up in a cold sweat.

      She’d just found the treatment!For the stupid trio of the island who went all hairy after the strange experiments.
      Of course, she wasn’t privy to the Doctor’s manipulations, being only here for security reasons, but one of her best assets was a knack for observation, and spotting of details.

      What was the difference between the last seen alive not-become-hairy patient of the Doctor and the three Graces?

      Easy as pie! Number IV had been mummified and not the others! Of course, not exactly disemboweled and put aside for brining… of course not. But wrapped tightly into bandages made of coconut coir. The coarseness of the bandages might have acted as a hair substitute during the transformation.

      She had to find a means to tell the divas before it’s too late!

      “Oh, forget it,” she yawned. She was really too tired for that; and probably praying for them would be the best she could do.

      in reply to: The Best of Lemone’s Quotes #2161
      ÉricÉric
      Keymaster

        “Clarify certain aspects, and take responsibility for how your energy is displayed, and do not rely on the machine to do it.” ID1851

        “It’s all what the plumbing part is about actually; why it feels significant to me now: it’s the connective aspect…” ID1904

        “Modesty is when you know you are perfect, but you never go further than telling that.” ID1904

        in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #1205

        Frankly, Elizabeth didn’t know what had prompted her to start this little fable about talking animools.
        It seemed so ridiculoos, and yet, she couldn’t help continuooing.

        She sighed a breathe of relief thinking of all the amount of twooddle she’d written in the past and managed to boost into best-sellers. Of course, that was probably thanks to the commercial genioos of dear ol’ Bronkel. She may have been making a dear mistake in firing him just because Piggy Sooffleston (she couldn’t even write his name prooperly) had a catchy name and a nice smooking suit.

        “Always the troolloop you little devil”, she chuckled to herself.
        “But now, look at this… The critics will lacerate me if I can’t make it more appealing… I can’t really resort to that old soox trick again; it will all start to look a bit oosy; ahhaah, oozy poosy, she was funny…”

        Let’s see what Lemone had to say for tooday:

        It’s all what the plumbing part is about actually; why it feels significant to me now: it’s the connective aspect…

        It was in his last inspirational work “Tools for the Cooties” and it had the wooirdest drawing together with it. Something looking like a woman’s broo, or a piece of white plastooc ploombing… She would have preferred some coonnected watermeloons instead…

        Oh this one looks better; her to a Tooh!

        Modesty is when you know you are perfect, but you never go further than telling that.

        in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #1204
        ÉricÉric
        Keymaster

          “What did you do with Baba Yolanda?” the usual gang asked Angela Goose when they saw her coming alone.

          “Oh bugger Baba the Loon, I’ve put her in an Eiders Nursing Home, she’ll be comfy there and I’ve got enough feather ruffling at home, I had to admit the Eiders Nursing Home are more equipped than I am.”

          “Oh, zheers Angela, good zing for you” Jobby the baby pygmy hippo wanted to applause. “Now we can go see Barry the White Bear!”

          “Hang on a minute,” Angela interrupted “Don’t you think we should enroll Baboona and Obaboon? They are quick-witted and smart like humans those two, could be helpful to worm a bit of information out of Barry…”

          “Oh, that’s it, you don’t think we’re good enough, how rude” Weirdy the Weasel feigned being hurt

          “Oh, stop it Weirdy, we’re all fine, you’re right; let’s go now, we’ll see what comes when it comes…”

          in reply to: Synchronicity #1825
          ÉricÉric
          Keymaster

            A synch worth noting:

            A few minutes or hours after I had written this comment T.P. came back online and she told be that

            • she had received a phone call earlier in the morning from a Yolanda who had repeated twice her name, like it was something important
            • While she was driving with her guest, she mentioned loons (birds looking like ducks) and they discussed yodeling (loons have a cry similar to these sounds)
            in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #1202

            “I can ‘ear someone comin’! Sha!” Mavis was pointing the door with an alarmed look on her face

            “But it’s their lunch break, nobody’s supposed to be ‘ere”

            “Then, that’s our chance! Prepare the ropes and the snet!”

            in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #1201

            It wasn’t very difficult for Akita to have the door opened. Having Kay roam unnoticed in the rooms and corridors next to his cell made things very easy actually, giving him enough time to do his things.
            He’d known the art of lock-picking since he was a child, and he would have been able to open that door’s latch blindfolded, hands tied behind his back, with only his big toe and dental floss… so old this one was.

            So in a few minutes he was out; a few minutes later, he had found a proper military outfit in the lockers, Kay had been giving him the codes of, and as everyone was gone for the lunch break, the whole area was deserted.

            The greenhouse room was open, and a blinding light was pouring into it.

            “You didn’t tell me what made these watermelons special” Akita turned to the phantom dog.

            “Why don’t you have a try by yourself… Take a little one over there, and throw it on the opposite wall”

            Akita did as instructed, then backed off quickly blown off by the explosion .

            “Watermelbombs? are you kidding?”

            “Not really; it’s sad, but people have done lots of researches here to produce bio-degradable weapons easily grown. I think it wasn’t a coincidence you and the others have been brought here”

            “The others? You mean… Oh sh*t, I forgot the ladies, don’t tell me they’re still here?”

            “Yep, they are here. And they’re quite ready to fight for their survival too, believe it or not”

            “Oh, I don’t have any trouble seeing them as fierce warriors!”

            in reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud #2032
            ÉricÉric
            Keymaster

              Creating shifting themselves
              Tree feel sand reach whole ago
              Anita light closer step
              Jose closed near merely hill
              Far lots began

              in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #1197

              “That’s so disgusting” Gloria was complaining, as their first ‘snet’ (that’s short for ‘snot net’) was nearly completed.

              “Not to mention ‘aving to knot with bloody chicken bones! How low can you go…” Mavis echoed with a snuffle.

              “Yeah, it looks mighty indestructible that knitting, ladies” an appraising Sharon said to the other divas. “Now, the ropes!”

              in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #1196

              Sure I do ,” said Kay to a disbelieving Akita. “Did you notice the bio-hazard facility next to the psych-ward?”

              “That strange greenhouse sort of room where they seem to grow stuff?”

              “Yeah, not any stuff they grow…”

              “Try me?”

              “They grow very special watermelons there…”

              in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #1195
              ÉricÉric
              Keymaster

                “So, any of you noticed Becky Pooh at the party ?” Al asked Tina and Sam on their way back to their place, waiting patiently for a gondocab in the crowded chilly night.

                “Jeeze, with this temperature, they probably will have to get the gondoskaters earlier” Tina managed to say, blowing some air in the hands of her costume. “Well, I’m not sure, though there was some distinct feeling that she was around” she said, going back to the question.

                “I don’t know why, but I had that distinct feeling that she was a time-travelling goose” Sam said when their eyes asked about his impressions.
                “Well, sounds daft like her, if she tried to pop into that fat lady under the white goose costume with the big watch pocket at the hall” Tina said with a chuckle.

                “Don’t laugh at those pop-ins,” Sam said ruefully, “They can really be something!”

                Al chuckled with Tina as he was remembering Tina’s uncanny knack for projecting herself temporarily into unsuspicious Lewis-Writton-bags spy-ladies.

                “So a goose, eh… why not after all…”

                in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #1194
                ÉricÉric
                Keymaster

                  “Barry the White Bear is the last person having seen Arky the missing Aardvark “ Mlle Mongoose reported back to the team of worried animals.

                  “And did he say anything more?” Angela Goose asked, interrupting busy-looking Mlle Mongoose in mid-sentence.

                  “Well, if you’d let the Director speak, perhaps we could hear what she knows” said Freaky the Ferret.
                  “Don’t be zo mean to Angelipooh” Jobby the Hippo said compassionately “You know poor Angie is zo buzzy with Baba Yolanda coming over”
                  “Who?” asked Weirdy the Weasel distractedly
                  “Baba Yolanda the Loon !” answered Angela with a hint of exasperation “You’re not paying attention my dear? I told you ages ago she’d be coming this week to the Zoo to spend her winter here… I figure it’s getting too difficult for her in the wild given her age.”
                  “Well, I hope it’ll be better this time; last time she came, she left you in a pretty bad shape, it took us months to get you back on your feet. It should be time for her to get over that old ugly-duckling complex…”

                  “Ahem”, managed to say Mlle Mongoose who was however following the discussion with great interest
                  She continued “As far as Arky is concerned, perhaps you should go see him yourselves. You’ll probably get more from Barry White than I did; He’s bearing the management a grudge since we decided to raise the temperature of his room because everybody around was catching colds after colds.”

                  “Oh, great… my time of hitting the spotlight has finally come, and I’m stuck with dear ol’ Baba Yolanda” sighed Angela Goose.

                  in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #1193
                  ÉricÉric
                  Keymaster

                    Georges and Salome’s journal

                    From Salome’s account of her introduction to the Turmak People (Part 3)

                    Cil and I have stayed on the Murtuane longer than was required for the report on the events occurring here. Though it was not required, it proved invaluable for me to gather much information on both the planet itself, but more important, on the interconnections with the other planets and the Guardians themselves.

                    A pivotal point in this exploratory mission was the impressive encounter with one of the few still focused Nirguals of this dimension. N’meôrl, as he introduced himself to us, out of concern for the current events came to contact Cil despite his looking askance at the Guardians on the whole.
                    As it appears to be, due to their acute awareness of how energy can be manipulated to create one’s own reality, some of the Guardians became to view themselves as superior in knowledge and skills as to the other conscious creatures roaming on this dimension —most of whom already having far more understanding of things deemed “magical” in my own earthly dimension of origin. However, viewing themselves as such (though by no means the standards in the Guardians societies) had them manipulate some of these others; mostly to entertain themselves or to experiment, without concern as to the others’ reactions.

                    Frown upon by many Guardians, this practice was tolerated notwithstanding, and had created a few pockets of what the Guardians called “slaves”. Inquiring to Cil as to how people with such thin veils between their subjective creative source and the objective realizations could become “slaves” to others, she had struggled a bit to explain to me at first. Allowing her to reach into my awareness for associations or analogies with similar energetic displays, she surprised me —surprised is even a mild word for my initial reaction— by telling me it was the same as our religions. Struggling initially to understand her point, I find myself, if not entirely agreeing with it, at least being able to explain what she meant by that. To her, people were ultimately free unless they themselves were tricked into bondage. But bondage could be of various nature, and she continued to explain, physical bondage was the less efficient of all. “Guidance”, on the opposite, with the proper construction of suggestions and beliefs, could yield very efficient results.
                    So, those “rogue” Guardians were nothing else but priests? The difference between this association and Cil’s distaste for them seemed too strong. Perhaps I would have to reassess my own beliefs.

                    So, apparently some of these Guardians had been responsible for disturbances. Cil seemed to understand that something grave was happening, but when she tried to explain to me, once again words or clusters of thoughts seemed to fail her. She found in my memory some analogy which seemed again quite besides the point, though very intriguing.
                    She said it was similar to what our medicine men were doing with their needles. She probably had reached into my memories of traditional acupuncture medicine. She went on to compare the planets as a single body, with bumps and hollows in energy; usually, the body knows how to harmoniously balance both of these, and a bump can reflect into a hollow and vice-versa. Sometimes, when people create illnesses, the practitioner will move these to help. But something else was happening here: the flow was artificially changed, she said.
                    “What was the point in that?” I asked. She pondered for a moment, then answered without judgment that it was probably for the sake of the experience.
                    “The Nirgual is mostly warning us that this experience may not lead to an equilibrium before long. That it may profoundly modify the energy on the planets, and not for the better. The Murtuane and its Turmak people have mostly had a stabilizing impact on the very energetic events happening on the Duane. Modifying this could quickly take things out of our hands” she said worriedly.

                    in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #1191

                    When the two strangers were gone, the silents observers were left with many new questions.

                    “This was important for you to see,” finally conveyed N’meôrl to them. “Now,” he continued “let me bring you back to your own timeline, on that same location, many many years after these events; this will make it easier for you to rejoin your home. You will travel safely into my own awareness.”

                    And as they had understood what was to happen, they all felt stretched around, and the scenery started to flow away like a purple sand dune moving under strong winds.
                    Moments later, they were still on the Kandulim, though the scenery felt distinctly more focused than before.

                    Leormn was back, at the place where the giant bird-like creature once was.

                    in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #1188

                    — “I’M FRIGGINCOLD!”
                    — “I have to agree with Glor”, said Mavis, as Sharon was about to object to the loud whines
                    — “Oh, bummer, you two peas in a pod! How can you be cold with all that fur on you! And how do you want to break out this prison you whiners eh?”
                    — “You’re the bloody genius Sha, you tell us! Had you not signed us up for those stupid beauty treatments…”
                    — “Now that’s a bit late for what-ifs, init? Let’s make the best of what we’ve got; had it not always worked out that way?”

                    The two others Yeah’ed in unison.

                    — “Do you mean we’ll burn our fleece to make us warm?”, Glor asked sheepishly
                    — “Don’t be bloddy silly! If we want to escape, better keep that fur as long as we’re in penguin land !”
                    — “So what?”
                    — “What ‘what’?! Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed?” Sharon’s voice trailed off with a hint of hopelessness

                    WHAT?!”
                    — “You’ve been snotting all around for hours, and you haven’t bloddy noticed?!”
                    WHAT?!”

                    — “Our snot, bloddy ‘ell! It’s sticky like those goddam spider webs! With a bit of training, I’m sure we can knit a solid net and ropes and stuff to get out of ‘ere!”

                    in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #1186

                    Arona was fretting.

                    “Now, what is this all about? Can someone explain me? The purple sand is pretty, the green sky too, however it looks just like an insane dream from a deranged mind having abused smoke of robjane leaves.”

                    Framing Irtak —who was having a funny pout on his face— the dragons Heckle and Jeckle were too busy considering with an amused attention the new form and energy field that their progenitor had taken.

                    No words were spoken to answer Arona’s plea for answers, but answers were starting to come to them in the form of a bundle of energy which would be difficult to translate in a linear manner.

                    They started to understand a few things. That for one, N’meôrl the Nirgual was not here by chance, at this place and time. Again, they had travelled far in the past of the history of their dimension, and events of great importance were in motion, that they were given to witness.

                    At first, the flow of information they were having was like a stream they thought they had no control of, but as questions were forming they noticed that it was altering the flow which was then encompassing the answers to those questions.

                    Like when Jeckle wondered if he and his twin had big birdies counterparts like this one to merge with, and got the following answer “No. For you are quite new essences fragments, and thus do not yet hold focuses in similar extent to your progenitor.”

                    Arona was quite pleased by this new mode of getting answers, especially as she could visibly get the answers she was genuinely looking for, not those coming from questions she was only remotely interested in.

                    N’meôrl was showing them also, that unlike him, they were not quite physically focused into that environment, and were not noticed by the small surrounding creatures like the little red scrabs crawling in the sand. They were mainly there to observe and draw their own conclusions, as soon some events would occur.

                    As they’d finished absorbing the information, they started to notice a feeling of expectation in the air. N’meôrl conveyed to them that they would have to stay quiet in his peripheral awareness for “they” were coming, and he was on a delicate mission.

                    :fleuron:

                    Footsteps on the beach.
                    A man approaching. He looks like Irtak and Arona, as if he had just come into this alien world from the same door they had taken. But he fails to notice them.

                    He stays, facing the deep green waters of the ocean brushing the shore, as if expecting someone.

                    A strange buzz starts to fill the space. A point of focused light the size of a pinhole appears in front of him, expands quickly with an elastic quality, and pops with a soft sound, revealing an improbably tall figure under a cloak.

                    The man greets the new-comer with deference
                    “Master Sinadron”
                    “Jarvis, my good friend.”

                    They start to walk on the beach at the unspoken invitation of the one with the smooth voice named Sinadron.

                    “So, I’ve been told our little matter is going very well.”
                    “Yes, very well, Master; I am deeply grateful for your intervention; without your help I’ve been told, my dear would not have been allowed to…”
                    “Let’s not talk of such things any longer; it was such a delight to help two sweet young souls so deeply in love”

                    Somehow, despite the words of kindness which are slithering with ease, the invisible witness got the uncanny feeling that they are but a deceptive fragment of the truth.

                    “Now. Tell me”, the one named Sinadron continues in a mellifluous voice “Why have you called me for?”
                    “The settlement you have suggested us to start on this land…”
                    “Yes, I am aware, please go to the point instead of labouring things I am well aware of.” The voice had sharpened a bit.
                    “I am sorry Master.”
                    “Continue”
                    “There is a growing dissent that…”
                    “And from who that shall come?”
                    “Err… I hear Pelorus has spoken to the Zentauras…”
                    “Pelorus is but a nuisance.” The voice wasn’t asking for contradiction, though an imperceptible grin was floating on the half-hidden face.
                    He continued “But I shall help you, once again
                    “Master, you are too generous…”
                    “Let me finish. I will provide you with more men and women, willing to start a new life under your command, to help you grow your settlement. There are a few slaves on the Duane, that place from where you come who will do great.”
                    “Master…”
                    “They will be there in an hexade. Make sure you stand your ground until then, even if that means confronting those nasty Zentauras.”

                    And without waiting for the confused thanks, he disappeared, grinning widely.

                    in reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud #2031
                    ÉricÉric
                    Keymaster

                      It’s quite poetic today:

                      Already expect work
                      Shall black round focus
                      Watermelons times
                      Window night
                      Movie hope
                      Creation form
                      Georges met hot Madame
                      Theresa floor

                      in reply to: Ancient Channeled Recipes – aka Tavern’s specials #2165
                      ÉricÉric
                      Keymaster

                        And the famous “keeg soufflé” I shall add.
                        Definitely off menu ;))

                        Also “watermelon rind purée”

                        in reply to: The Best of Lemone’s Quotes #2160
                        ÉricÉric
                        Keymaster

                          “When it’s too elaborate, it’s too weirdo, and when it’s pure delirium, it’s increasingly rubbish” — ID1776

                          “Clarify certain aspects, and take responsibility for how your energy is displayed, and do not rely on the machine to do it.” — ID1851

                          “You all notice a change in vowellness of your Ooniverse. Even those who are unaware notice a changing shift in vowellness. This is a new emergence into a wonderful vowellness that you have all agreed and decided to accomplish.” — ID1857

                        Viewing 20 replies - 1,241 through 1,260 (of 1,727 total)

                        Daily Random Quote

                        • “So, any of you noticed Becky Pooh at the party ?” Al asked Tina and Sam on their way back to their place, waiting patiently for a gondocab in the crowded chilly night. “Jeeze, with this temperature, they probably will have to get the gondoskaters earlier” Tina managed to say, blowing some air in the hands of ... · ID #1195 (continued)
                          (next in 23h 27min…)

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