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  • Hilda regretted her decision to fly to the British Isles, now that she was caught up in all the Fuxit brouhaha. The mysterious plague doctor in Chester had turned out to be nothing more than a common madman, looking for a party to crash. The Mexican band with a wheelbarrow full of bricks welcoming the orange toupee’d ... · ID #4062 (continued)
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  • in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #456

    Dr Bronkelhampton could not help but smile as she unwrapped the bandages and saw the peach smooth skin underneath. So far, so good. All was going to plan beautifully.

    Veranassessee had departed ten minutes ago to greet the two latest arrivals off the plane, and more would be arriving on the island over the next few days and weeks. They would have to be handled with care. Dr Bronkelhampton hoped they would be willing to participate in the experiments, or “treatments”, once they fully appreciated the benefits. But, if not…., she shrugged, there was really no way off the island except by her own say so.

    in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #453
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      As Arona started to turn away, Lucille called her back.

      Arona, my dear, I have a gift for you. A story.

      Oh, I don’t think I have time for stories, but thanks anyway, said Arona, anxious to get going.

      A little bit rudely disregarding Arona’s objections, Lucille continued:

      Once there were several people standing around a lake in which the full moon was reflected. They discussed the reflection. One person said it was an egg, another said “No, someone must have drowned, it is a bald head”. “Rubbish” said another, “clearly it is a balloon in the water.” One thought the moon was yellow, another thought the reflection of the moon was very emotional. Someone else thought it was soft. Why they had quite a discussion about the reflection of the moon and each one had a separate and disparate view of things. Of course they did, they were looking at it from different perspectives. All were looking at the reflection and not the the moon itself shining in the sky.

      Arona, Lucille said intently, Each person’s perception of the moon reflected in the water, tells us as much about that person as it does about the moon itself. Remember that.

      Arona tried not to giggle, she felt Lucille was getting a little carried away with this moon talk.

      Lucille, undeterred, continued; That’s the best any of us can do, is offer our own perspective. But it is just a point of view. Don’t you worry about who others think you are, unless that’s what you choose also. You be free. You trust yourself Arona and you will shine brightly like the moon.

      I understand, said Arona, as the flork cried out again, with incredible and stunning synchronistic timing. And she did, although she really did think Lucille had got a bit garbled in the telling of it, yet she did get the gist of the unusual little story. And after all, she realised, her own perception of Lucille had changed rather dramatically since that first encounter. Why, now she seemed like quite a sweetie, and really quite profound, in a complicated way. How very odd

      Lucille cackled and winked. Hmmm thought Arona, well, buggered if I know….

      in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #452
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        The orchard was silent apart from the sweet cry of a flork. Arona particularly loved these mysterious and rare birds with their brightly coloured plumage. A late afternoon chill was in the air, and the shadows were lengthening. She shivered and wished she was sitting by the fire in the cave.

        Lucille was silent and seemed to be waiting for Arona.

        With a flash of clarity Arona realised she knew the answers to her questions already. She had no need to ask Lucille.

        I have to hurry home now, she said to Lucille. “Home, hmmmm, what a funny word to use” flashed through her head, as the flork cried out again. She couldn’t wait to tell the others what she had learnt, even grumpy old Mandrake, who would surely say he knew it all already.

        in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #451
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          Finn decided it would be fun to make a dancing video for her friends.

          The Finckelita

          She was having so much fun she even managed to persuade a friend to join her:

          The Finckleston

          in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #446
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            About time you woke up, came a familiar grumpy voice from behind a pile of logs. Mandrake emerged. And I don’t have fur balls, he added, haughtily.

            Mandrake, thank God! Arona had been a little concerned that , given the amount of time presumably had passed, Mandrake may no longer be with them. Tactfully she kept this to herself, given Mandrake’s especially truculent mood.

            Please tell me what happened now, she said to Vincentius. I think I am ready to hear.

            Vincentius looked uncertain, sighed , but agreed to tell her the tale. Afterwards, Arona was silent for quite some time. She stared thoughtfully at the fire, mesmerised by the dancing flames, gently stroking Mandrakes silky black coat.

            Oh bugger, she said eventually and stood up decisively. I really think I have to go and see that old lizardy croney woman, and without delay.

            I wish you wouldn’t, but I do understand, said Vincentius sadly.

            I don’t understand, said Mandrake crossly, twitching his tail impatiently and narrowing his green eyes

            Arona went over to the sleeping Yikesy and studied him with fond interest. He is not getting any better looking with age is he? She kissed him tenderly on the cheek and whispered in his ear.

            Thank you so much for caring for him, she said to Vincentius and gave him a huge hug.

            On the way out of the cave she ran into Leormn.

            Oh, she said, Vincentius said you allowed us to use the room. Thank you so much. And she kissed Leormn on what she thought would be his cheek, however, a little unsure of Dragon anatomy, it may have been technically a snout or something.

            Arona walked rapidly for several hours, trying to concentrate on the directions given to her by Vincentius and hoping that she was headed in the right direction. Eventually she started to tire and her determination faded. She sat down on a rock and closed her eyes. Her shoulders slumped in weariness and she despondently wished she was back in the cave with the others. She felt deeply sad.

            And is this something you really must face? asked a kindly voice in her head.

            I have no idea really, she answered despairingly. I don’t know. I mean I thought I knew. I thought if I didn’t then I would always be in fear. When I looked into the flames of the fire it all seemed clear. I needed to understand and face it, I thought anyway….

            hmmm, said the voice. Well the best advice I can give you is to trust yourself.

            Arona opened her eyes and saw, to her surprise, a small cottage in the distance. Why, I don’t remember that cottage being there a moment ago, she thought. It looks just as Vincentius described. How remarkable. I was closer than I thought! Her spirits rose.

            Outside the cottage the old crone was bent over, digging in a small vegetable plot. A basket of cabbages sat by her side. She stood up at Arona’s approach, wiping the dirt from her gnarly hands on her apron.

            Hello Arona, she cackled. I have been expecting you. I don’t believe we were properly introduced last time. My name is Lucille. And she held out a hand for Arona to shake.

            I have come to get some answers from you, said Arona, firmly crossing her arms and ignoring the outstretched hand.

            Lucille sighed and dropped her hand. Her pointy chin quivered, and Arona noticed a big wart, with one thick black hair growing out of it, right on the tip of lucille’s chin. She tried not to stare.

            Alright little one, Lucille said soflty. Why don’t you go and wait in the orchard. I will go and fix us a nice, cool drink of lemonade.

            The orchard was full of old fruit trees, their twisted trunks reminded Arona of Lucille herself. From one of the trees hung an old swing. Arona sat on it, holding the rope, and gently rocked herself back and forwards, thinking. She had to admit, she was, quite frankly puzzled. The visit so far wasn’t going as expected.

            She kept rocking, faster now.

            She hit her heels into the hard earth again and again.

            I don’t know. She tried to dig these words into the earth with her heels.

            Then she sidestepped her feet in crab-like movements in diminishing circles. The ropes of the swing twisted tighter and tighter.

            Arona leant backwards and stuck her legs out straight in front of her. The ropes unwound and sent her spinning. weeeeeeeeeeee hoooooooooooooooo!

            She looked up into the sky. Blue sky through the trees with racing spinning clouds. She felt dizzy.

            She stood up and braced herself against the seat of the swing. She held onto the ropes and pushed hard against the seat beneath her. She bent her knees under the swing. She kicked her feet forwards.

            She wanted to go higher. She bent her legs back under the swing. Then kicked them outwards. She stretched her body backwards and arched her back.

            I don’t know, she whispered.

            She sat upright. She bent her legs back under the swing. Then kicked them as hard as she could. She leant her body backwards. She stretched as far as she could. On the rebound her heels hit the ground hard, but still she wanted to keep going higher and higher.

            I DON’T KNOW! she shouted, as loudly as she could.

            :fleuron:

            Lucille returned with the lemonade.

            How do I know if it is safe to drink this? Arona asked. You have cast one spell on me, how am I to know this is not another?

            Lucille cackled. Dear little Arona, she said, if I wanted to cast a spell on you I would have done it before now.

            Okay, well that makes good sense, thought Arona, gratefully drinking the lemonade.

            in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #445
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              Marshmallow? asked Arona, suspiciously, taking the cup from Vincentius and sniffing the steaming brew.

              Isn’t that good for getting rid of furballs in cats? Oh cat! oh, where is Mandrake? Arona started to panic, it was too much for her. She looked at the funny looking sleeping child, wiped her brow dramatically and lay back down again. Give me a moment will you? This is all rather a lot to take in.

              in reply to: Synchronicity #1582
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                in reply to: Synchronicity #1577
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                  straight after i said i had no turkey synchs i read this in my Yann book

                  “What a stunning creature. How apt that in full it is a Royal Bengal tiger. I counted myself lucky. What if I had ended up with a creature that looked ugly or silly, a tapir or an ostrich, or a flock of turkeys “

                  (that’s a bit rude to Turkeys)

                  hahhahahah when I looked at the word “Turkey” for a moment I read “Tracy”

                  A rose for the maligned Turkey :yahoo_rose:

                  in reply to: Synchronicity #1575
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                    A Deep Purple synch with Eric’s Roger Glover, lovey dovey joyous song because Deep Purple may have been in my dream Armelle – meditations, dreams, synchs, thoughts # 2”. (Rod EVans being the name of the person who handcrafted the wand and a member of Deep Purple for a while, of course I don’t know that the Rod Evans in my dream was THE Rod Evans, actually I only knew that about DP because I googled the name, oh Paris is on the news as I write this, is that a synch? Also where is Rod Evans now? nobody knows. Maybe he is going incognito as that mystery stone carver bloke. And then of course there is the purple thing with Jib :yahoo_devil: purple, not devil).

                    Hmmm well that is a weirdo synch, :yahoo_feeling_beat_up: but no stranger than some of them. :yahoo_oh_go_on:

                    oh this is a truly rubbish synch :yahoo_blushing: the things I say to entertain you guys. :yahoo_chatterbox:

                    And a rose for the maligned Rod Evans :yahoo_rose: wherever he may be hiding out now.

                    :yahoo_peace_sign:

                    Did Tracy notice her orange synch was comment 57?:yahoo_clown:

                    I think you can overdo the icons.

                    in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #438
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                      I really should do something about this, I think this song may be a curse, thought the astute Arona, as the singing crone took Yikesy from her arms. Yet she found herself unwilling to move, a strange lethargy had overtaken her. Can I move? she wondered. She felt so strange and heavy.

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

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

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

                      in reply to: Synchronicity #1574
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                        :yahoo_thinking: not very nice to lemon trees, this song, also now I can’t get it out of my head. :yahoo_not_listening:

                        :yahoo_rose: for the maligned lemon tree

                        in reply to: Synchronicity #1572
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                          hmmm lemon synch, a neighbour just gave me a HUGE bag of lemons :yahoo_thinking:

                          in reply to: Synchronicity #1570
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                            youtube of the Veils

                            Finn and baby synch :yahoo_oh_go_on:

                            Advice for Becky :yahoo_tongue:

                            WELL I thought this was hilarious.

                            :yahoo_alien: yes, but everyone knows you are weirdo

                            in reply to: Armelle – meditations, dreams, synchs, thoughts #1936
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                              9/11/2007

                              :yahoo_thinking:
                              Finn’s raft has mysteriously disappeared. This can’t be good for floating.

                              Oh no, it is just slow to load .. so Finn thought her raft had disappeared, but in actual fact it hadn’t at all. All is well.

                              in reply to: Rafaela’s Random Ramblings #1864
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                                :yahoo_applause: :yahoo_applause:

                                in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #433

                                Vincentius wanted to know where Arona had been heading.

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

                                No idea either, said Vincentius.

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                in reply to: The Room of Requirements #1490
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                                  hmmm something has gone wrong with my footnotes
                                  Malvina’s Dragon Rookery # 286 :yahoo_confused:

                                  in reply to: The Room of Requirements #1488
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                                    :bounce:

                                    in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #426
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                                      And so my story ends … said Vincentius to Yikesy.

                                      Arona laughed to herself. Vincentius had insisted on telling a story to Yikesy, and certainly his deep melodic voice did seem to soothe the little baby, but really it was Arona who enjoyed listening the most.

                                      in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #425
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                                        Finn opened her eyes for a moment, not to look where she was going, but just to marvel at what a golden day it was. For a moment she thought she saw a large bird in the sky , but, being rubbish at identifying bird species, she had no idea what it was. How cool is that, she thought.

                                        She felt less bemused and perplexed than she had for ages. After all there was nothing to do but relax, and follow the current of the river.

                                      Viewing 20 replies - 801 through 820 (of 909 total)

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                                      • Hilda regretted her decision to fly to the British Isles, now that she was caught up in all the Fuxit brouhaha. The mysterious plague doctor in Chester had turned out to be nothing more than a common madman, looking for a party to crash. The Mexican band with a wheelbarrow full of bricks welcoming the orange toupee’d ... · ID #4062 (continued)
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