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  • in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #794

    Franiel dreamed of strange eggs being dropped from giant birdlike creatures in the sky. Some of the eggs exploded into flashes of light in the inky darkness of the night sky. He fell to the ground and hid his face in his arms and waited. He could hear the highpitched noise of the eggs falling, getting louder and louder as they approached the ground, and he knew his life was in the hands of the gods as to whether or not he was destroyed.

    At last all became quiet. He raised himself cautiously and began to examine the earth to see what damage had been caused. The dog of Leonard accompanied him, yet all of a sudden it ran from him. All else was forgotten as Franiel followed the dog, fearing for it’s well being.

    As if in pursuit of a hare, the dog ran and ran, eventually coming to a large mansion and running in through the open door. The walls and floors of the mansion were made of marble, ornate pillars and statues graced the wide entrance way. The mansion appeared to be deserted, yet Franiel had no thought for that, only of bringing the dog to safety.

    The dog disappeared into one of the many rooms of the palatial hallway with Franiel in hot pursuit. The room was empty save for a large Bengal Tiger, a magnificent and regal creature, radiating a strange power from it’s shiny yellow eyes. The tiger was about to take the small dog in it’s mouth, and Franiel grabbed a branch from a tree which was lying on the ground (and within his dream he wondered how the branch came to be there) and fearlessly placed it in the mouth of the beast. The branch was woefully inadequate, a mere twig in the jaws of this powerful beast, yet it distracted the tiger sufficiently for the dog to run to safety.

    Now Franiel faced the beast alone, perplexed, yet strangely unafraid.

    in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #792

    Elizabeth Tattler gazed at herself in the mirroor and sighed. Of course she was still stunningly bootiful, but since dear Eddie Foosher, her fourth husband, had decided to descend, she had lost the will to really care for herself. Day in and day out she had been focused on her writing, at first to ease the pain and loneliness, however increasingly she was finding real joy in her work. She looked lovingly towards the stoove where she was hardbooling a couple of mongoat oogs in preparation for some more Oogleton exploits.

    She turned back to the mirroor. I really do have glorioos eyes she reflected, even if still a tad bloodshot. She remembered the one occasion she had met the philosopher Lemone, many years ago now. What was that little loomerick he had written for her?

    Slowly it came back to her.

    There was a Young Lady whose eyes,
    Were unique as to coloor and size;
    When she opened them wide,
    Poople all turned aside,
    And started away in surprise.

    She smiled at the memory, how she would love to meet Lemone again! She remembered fondly how his air of kindly wisdom had far outshone his rather odd appearance and garish taste in cloothing.

    in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #791
    F LoveF Love
    Participant

      You booger! Finnley swore out loud at the Phooto-copy machine. Booger that Mr Arak, forcing her to work with this antiquated equipment!

      ( Technically, said Al, Finnley is only the cleaner, so why she is doing the photo-copying I really don’t know. )

      Finnley was still wondering who this Al was who kept mysteriously, and a bit rudely, interjecting. He sounds a little pedantic, she thought, perhaps he is one of those compooter gooks who have hired an office in the building recently.

      Mind you, she had to give him credit, he had a damn good poont, perhaps she should have a meeting with Mr Arak to discuss the terms of her coontract.

      in reply to: Synchronicity #1732
      F LoveF Love
      Participant

        that’s really cool, I just thought it was a made up word “ooh” word, but that adds another dimension to the synch :yahoo_happy:

        :yahoo_big_hug:

        in reply to: Synchronicity #1730
        F LoveF Love
        Participant

          Two funny number plate interactions this morning on my walk .. my mind drifts all over the place when i am walking, I started thinking about the story and the latest entry from Eric on the Ooh dimension. I looked up and noticed a car going past at that moment .. numberplate POOTY

          The numberplate thing intrigues me, sometimes they seem so specific to my thoughts and often they seem to reflect interactions happening in the story and with you guys. On my trip to Auckland there were periods I felt this connection strongly, TEENA1, EGG555, numerous 57s, 23’s and 53’s etc …. although again it was the timing and interaction with my thoughts which felt the significant things. Three cafes in a row I was given the number “12”, the fourth I was not given a number but I noticed the lady at the table next to me had the ’12”.

          The next numberplate which jumped out at me this morning was ALQ823, this was following POOTY

          :fleuron:

          While I was away I had found myself in a big book barn with sale books. I had just a few moments and decided on impulse it would be good to have a book. I picked up two books at random and skimmed the back covers. One of the books had main characters Gabriel and Maya. I relate to Maya as being another form of the name May and Gabriel of course being the Arch-Agent introduced on Tikijkoo (sp?) Island recently. All the other books seemed to be reduced to $9.99, this one was reduced to $5 (fun), well i thought i could not go far wrong at that price.

          some more on this soon … i have to get dinner :chomping:

          in reply to: Join me for a gourd of langoat milk…… #1432
          F LoveF Love
          Participant

            YA RLY! :creating_magic:

            in reply to: Armelle – meditations, dreams, synchs, thoughts #1949
            F LoveF Love
            Participant

              Finn had a dream about the story:

              Yurick had divided the individual comments/posts from the story and sorted out all the ones which had something to do with dragons. Finn was gathering them up to read them, the comments looked like soft white cushions. They were sort of squarish in appearance. As she read them in the order Yurick had sorted them, she realised they made more sense than she had previously thought. Apparently, Yurick told her, he had taken them to a publisher who said he might be interested in publishing them but they would need some re-working. Then Finn was at some building she did not recognise. She told a lady that she needed to care for the comments. Finn was putting them into a row of terracotta pots and as she did they were changing into plants, some of them were quite large already, others barely showed above the soil, some looked a bit weedy and limp. She thought they would probably need some watering.

              in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #771

              As Franiel walked along the path a beautiful being of light dropped down from the heavens and stood before him.

              — Hello Franiel where are you going?

              — no idea, said Franiel

              — well where do you want to go?

              — if i knew that i would go there. I am not stupid, said Franiel, a bit tersely. I know I can create anything i want.

              — tricky, said the Beautiful Being of Light ….well where don’t you want to go?

              — I know I don’t want to go back to the monastery .. … may i call you BBL? Beautiful Being of Light is a bit of a mouthful.

              — sure, no problem

              They stood in silence for quite some time.

              — I don’t want to live up in the mountains BBL. Detached, far from others, living a cloistered spiritual life. They said there was special magic in the mountains, but my belief is the magic is everywhere. Do you have any special knowledge, being a BBL? You know, to assist me in my path?

              — I do actually, said BBL

              in reply to: Synchronicity #1726
              F LoveF Love
              Participant

                this one is a synch because it suddenly popped into my head “big synch” then next second on the news was this story

                and i sort of thought about posting it then thought “oh bit stupid don’t need to post every damn thing” .. then i noticed a lady surname Finn wrote the article so i decided i would …. synch or no synch .. pretty cool anyway, biggest building in the world and like a dragon too.

                I am noticing that often … thought …. then synch … for example today in cafe i saw man who was in my dream again … i didn’t see him at first and then when I did, and thought “dream” … his friend at that moment said “I had a dream blah blah blah” (the conversation sounded quite weirdo, a bit like i would imagine us sounding if we were talking in a cafe and someone was eavesdropping)

                in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #764
                F LoveF Love
                Participant

                  It didn’t take Tina long to realise taxonomy wasn’t really her forte either.

                  in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #761

                  So then, said Franiel sitting down beside a small mound of earth, what now?

                  The top of the mound of earth was smoothed flat, and with a twig Franiel began to form small spiral patterns abstractedly in the earth. He felt no desire to go back to the monastery and face Aum Geog with the news of the loss.

                  He held the twig high, and then released it to fall to the ground. It fell without sound, landed unharmed on the mound of earth. He closed his eyes and in the dark at the back of his mind, he heard the voice of his grandmother whisper; Spirals make more sense than crosses Franiel my boy, joys more than sorrows.

                  Spirals make more sense than crosses….

                  None of it made much sense to Franiel. The feeling of freedom he felt momentarily slipped away. He was left looking at the space where it had been, feeling empty. The task given him by Aum Geog had given him a feeling of purpose, for a short time had allowed him to forget how lost he felt. Yet now the task had been taken from him, and he was in no hurry to retrieve it, he saw it for the illusion it had been.

                  What would it feel like to want to go somewhere? Or to want to be something, to want to be a monk, to want to be a teacher, to want to be the father of a family? To be able to arrange oneself neatly in a box and say I belong here?

                  Spirals make more sense than crosses …. day becomes night becomes day, lives come into being, and go out of being … there is always new life coming into being …… around and around

                  He began to walk along the path, away from where he had already been …. towards something new? He caught sight of a dead blackbird lying in the long grass to the side of the track and knelt down to look at it.

                  It is quiet and still.

                  He dug a hole, scraping in the dirt with his fingers and then using a stone to lever the lifeless body into the hole. The bird’s brown eyes are still open. Franiel covered it with dirt, looking deep into it’s eyes, until there is no sign of it, just a mound of earth.

                  He traced a spiral in the dirt.

                  Joys more than sorrows…

                  He sat back on his heels, and keeping his mind empty, he sang to the dead bird.

                  in reply to: The Story So Far #2147
                  F LoveF Love
                  Participant

                    The Ooh Dimension

                    to be continued

                    in reply to: Yurara Fameliki’s Story ~ Glossary #1517
                    F LoveF Love
                    Participant

                      The Ooh Dimension:

                      It would be outside the constraints of this discussion, and the motivation of this writer, to list all the words within the Ooh Dimension so the writer will attempt to briefly summarise.

                      The language of the Ooh Dimension is distinguished by its spelling, vocubarly and pronunciation.

                      While those from the Ooh dimension have a verbal and written communication very similar to the language written and spoken in the Earth Dimension, the main distinguishing characteristic is the recurrent use of the sound “ooh”. This use of the “ooh” tends to be arbitrary and random, at the discretion and whim of the one doing the communicating. The randomness of the use of the “ooh” is one of the more delightful qualities of this language.

                      Grammatically the language of the Ooh Dimension is very similar to that of the Earth Dimension. This could change, of coose.

                      in reply to: The Story So Far #2146
                      F LoveF Love
                      Participant

                        Tikfijikoo Island Thread:

                        see Erik’s comment below

                        in reply to: Synchronicity #1719
                        F LoveF Love
                        Participant

                          I have just said goodbye to my italian guests and there was another funny synch I kept meaning to tell you, Gaby’s husbands name is Georges. oh it is 8:53

                          Yesterday in the newspaper was a section on crime writers. There was a very funny synch regarding Quentin, agents, italians and angels. If I can find the newspaper I especially purchased, I will post it later.

                          in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #757

                          After all what did he care about the chalice? he eventually asked himself. It was will of others he had been following, and now the cup had been taken from him Franiel noticed a feeling of freedom within himself.

                          in reply to: Synchronicity #1717
                          F LoveF Love
                          Participant

                            that’s interesting Jib, reading this bought back vivid recollection of a book I had as a kid of the “golden age” actors and actresses. I found a number of funny little synchs when reading the Deborah Kerr link … this one made me smile “Her first acting teacher was her aunt, Phyllis” …. as when I was writing the comment for Shar and Glor yesterday, (it is comment number 1233) one of them said she got her psychic abilities from her Aunt Phyllis, a name not based on anyone, it just came to mind with a certain luminosity …. (although I then changed the name to Aunt Philly to be more in character :yahoo_laughing: ).

                            in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #756

                            Franiel awoke, it took him a few moments to get his bearings. He stretched, and slowly adjusted to his waking state. He wondered how long he had slept, it was quiet and dark. Although he couldn’t see much, he could feel that dawn was not far away. The ghost hour.

                            He must have slept for hours.

                            Remembering Leonard he looked around and softly called out. There was no reply, and unless Leonard was sleeping, Franiel was alone. “Aye” he sighed, and finding the blanket from his pack, fashioned it into a tent over his head and took shelter in it. It was nearly day, another day.

                            Thinking of his encounter with Leonard, the strange dancing and especially the sweet taste of the nectar, Franiel reached into his pack again to retrieve the chalice.

                            It is no longer there

                            Franiel was not quite sure if he heard a voice utter these words, or if it was just a strange sense of knowing. He still felt around, taking out each item carefully and methodically, emptying the pack, not really wanting to believe the chalice has gone, nor to consider what the implications of this loss might be.

                            Perhaps he did not put the chalice back in the pack after all? He crawled around his surrounds, squinting into the half light of the morning, feeling the dew damp ground. Deciding to trust what he knew in his heart already he sat back and quietly watched as the sky eventually flushed brilliant crimson.

                            Red sky in the morning. A warning ….it is only weather words but ….

                            Reluctant to consider his options, he instead considered some dandelions, how luminous they looked in the morning light.

                            in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #755

                            — “Sha! I think I’ve had one of them bloody brainwaves of mine!”

                            — “You are the smart one Glor … ‘ang on, I’ll just light my fag then I can listen proper.”

                            — “Well you know how Vessie has been so good to us and I still feel a bit awful about breaking that bloody door down.”

                            — “We meant well though Glor. Our hearts were in the right places.”

                            — “They were Sha … but then her bloke being there and all …. well that dress she was wearing Sha, it barely covered her privates.”

                            — “She’s a native girl though Glor,” Sharon giggled, “She’d have grown up wearing them little grass skirts and not much else I reckon …. mind she’s ever so nice though ain’t she.”

                            — “Oh she is …. and there’s nowhere to buy clothes on this bloody island neither, she must have to make do, bless ‘er little ‘eart.”

                            — “It could do with a mall I reckon Glor,” said Sharon reflectively, “this place would really take off if there was a small mall.”

                            — “I think you’re onto something there Sha, oh that would be bloody marvellous I reckon, a small mall.”

                            — “Anyway what’s your brainwave then Sha? I’m all agog with curiousness.”

                            — “Well I reckon with all the eating and lying around we’ve been doing I’ve gained a bit…. what do you reckon Sha?”

                            — “You might have done a bit Glor,” said Sharon eyeing her friend thoughtfully, “you can carry a bit extra though, and it goes to all the right places on you, you look right sexy, I reckon our Harry would think so anyway”

                            — “Oh give over Sha! “ Gloria blushed and giggled. “Anyway back to my brainwave … well that Vessie is quite slim … “

                            — “A bit on the skinny side really, Glor, needs a bit of meat on them bones of ‘ers to be what you would call proper sexy like us, and very tall with it ain’t she.”

                            — “Yes athletical, most of them island girls are I reckon. Anyway, listen up Sha, a few of my things ain’t been fitting so well and …and ‘ere’s my master plan Sha …Da da ….” she paused dramatically, “I thought I could hunt out something nice for Vessie!”

                            — “Oh that’s bloody genius Glor! you’ve got a real kind heart you ‘ave! You’re a bloody saint even … did you ‘ave something special in mind?”

                            — “Did I what Sha!” Gloria’s eyes were shining with delight at her own generosity. “You remember that pink frock, the one I wore when you and Harry got ‘itched, with the wee roses on it. Well I bought it with me! I thought you daft fool! when I packed it, what you taking that bloody thing for? … I reckon it was my psychic abilities I got ‘anded down from my Aunty Philly, God rest her soul, made me bring it.”

                            — “Oh you’ve still got that frock! That were bloody gorgeous …. well bless your bloody heart Glor!”

                            — “Well its got sentimentical value of course,” said Glor looking serious. Her voice lowered, “ Between you and me though Sha, I do feel for that poor girl. I mean she’s pretty enough .. but she’s got no bloody idea how to make the best of what she’s got. It’d be a bit on the short side mind …. but I don’t think she’d mind that, not if that last dress is anything to go by, and I’m right handy with the needle and thread if it needs any fixing” she paused for a moment thinking, “Sha! I think I’ve ‘ad another bloody brainwave! We could give her a full beauty makeover, the bloody works, with all our beauty know-how … that lippy she was wearing ..” her voice trailed off and she shook her head sadly.

                            — “Wrong shade of red weren’t it,” Sharon nodded understandingly. “She’s going to have to make a bit more effort if she’s to keep that bloke of hers.”

                            — “Well I’ll ‘ave him any day,” giggled Gloria

                            — “Oh you’re bloody wicked, you are Glor! If your Joe could ‘ear you now! …. ‘ere you’ll ‘ave to fight me for ‘im though! … ere,” she said looking around and lowering her voice conspiratorily, “maybe we could have one of them threesomes!”

                            — “Oh stop Sha, you’re too bloody much you are!” spluttered Gloria, barely able to control her mirth. “Serious now though Sha, that Vessie might be a bit overcome and shy like, with all our generousness and kindheartedness, we have to make sure she knows we ain’t taking NO for a bloody answer!”

                            in reply to: Snooteries #2127
                            F LoveF Love
                            Participant

                              :yahoo_rofl:

                              You guys are hilarious!

                              ahem :yahoo_nerd:

                              I mean wise and profound

                              yours always, Anoonymoose

                            Viewing 20 replies - 661 through 680 (of 905 total)