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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 #281
    F LoveF Love
    Participant

      That morning Fiona knew she needed to change her name. Fiona was a nice name, and she was quite fond of it, but she needed to reflect the inner changes which were happening and it didn’t feel right any more. (Well were there inner changes and did she need to reflect them? Buggered if she knew. All she knew was that it did not feel right.) At that very moment she looked down at the book she was reading and instantly the name “Finn” popped out at her. As this was a variation of Fiona, it seemed perfect to her. So really she wasn’t changing her name at all, just focusing on a different aspect of it, or something.

      in reply to: The Room of Requirements #1472
      F LoveF Love
      Participant

        thanks Eric, yeah i was clicking on the title :face-plain:

        in reply to: Talks on the latest Instalments #1442
        F LoveF Love
        Participant

          bit rude, T, making invisible comments. Couldn’t you just talk in code? :yahoo_rolling_eyes:

          in reply to: The Room of Requirements #1466
          F LoveF Love
          Participant

            Two little things of an assistance required nature, totally not urgent:

            How do you make the blue block quote thingy?
            When I do a search, it does not take me to the highlighted extract, but to the beginning of the story, for some reason.:yahoo_shame_on_you:

            Thank you :yahoo_star:

            in reply to: Join me for a gourd of langoat milk…… #1336
            F LoveF Love
            Participant

              HAHAHAAHA TP :yahoo_oh_go_on:

              in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #277
              F LoveF Love
              Participant

                You are very fat, said Chiara to Roselyn

                And she laughed. Yes, I am

                My Nana is fat, but not as fat as you.

                Roselyn seemed to consider this for a moment, and then laughed again. Would you like to go on an adventure with me?

                Chiara was not quite sure. An adventure sounded quite fun, however she had some beliefs you were not supposed to go off with strangers, however nice they may seem. But Roselyn did seem familiar to her.

                Where would we go?

                We would fly to Fairy Land, replied Roselyn

                This offer was way too tempting for Chiara to decline

                Oh yes!

                Take my hand then, and close your eyes tightly.

                Next thing they were flying through the air. Chiara loved the feeling of flying, she often went flying in her dreams. She giggled with delight as Roselyn, no longer seeming to be impeded by her fat body, effortlessly did flips and twirls in the air.

                The colour of the world around them changed, the blue sky became all the shades of the rainbow. Down below, Chiara could see an island in the middle of the sea, which sparkled like broken glass in a kaleidoscope of shifting colours.

                Roselyn guided them gently down to the island.

                Chiara gazed around, speechless with wonder and delight and then nearly jumped out of her skin as a loud voice behind her shouted “BOUH!”

                ******

                NB: What is Fairy Land like? Well, if you like gigantic flowers, bright colours, and the possibility of unexpected magical happenings, you would probably quite enjoy it. There is loads of spontaneous singing and dancing which can be a little unnerving at first for the uninitiated. You have to be prepared to go with the flow in Fairy Land because the creatures that live there don’t have the same rules as those that come from the “real world” (whatever that is), and many of them tend to be quite mischievous.

                in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #275

                Oh well bugger it, said Arona, I have had enough of this. Perhaps we had better just play it by ear if no one really knows how this thing works.

                Which is really, although not in so many words, if I may be so rude as to remind you, what I was suggesting, said the charming Sanso, rather rudely.

                Well yes, that is true … but whatever, let’s not argue, shall we just get going? Are you ready Mandrake? All of a sudden Arona was feeling unaccustomably energised and assertive, and was totally fed up with herself for wasting time so much time sitting around. This was causing her to be a bit sharp with the others.

                You know my problem? she asked, rhetorically, although of course Mandrake felt compelled to offer a reply.

                Hmmmm and which one would that be?

                Ahahahah Mandrake, laughed Arona, well the one I was thinking of was that I think too much. I need to be more like our friend Sanso here. I mean, what does it matter where we end up, it is all a big adventure anyway.

                Well I for one, would prefer to end up somewhere in the vicinity of food, responded Mandrake.

                Sanso wasn’t really listening but was gazing at the sabulmantium with a look of awe and muttering to himself. This really is a remarkable find. I have never actually used a sabulmantium before but I gather that one uses it as a tool to focus their intention, which is a crucial component of the magical creative process. Tremendously powerful tool and when used with awareness by the pure of heart it has great potential.

                Oh great! shall we just get going then, said Arona picking up the Sabulmantium, and next thing you know, after a little bit more wandering down a few more tunnels, which isn’t really that interesting to write about, our three intrepid adventurers found themselves gazing in astonished delight at a most wonderous sight.

                in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #274

                Pssst Arona, over here, Mandrake hissed

                Mandrake there you are, what ever are you doing. I was so worried I had lost you!

                Mandrake was quite touched, but managed not to show it

                I couldn’t stand all the snorting anymore.

                Ahahhaahh laughed Arona, I know, so funny, he sounded like a little pigbouh

                Anyway Mandrake, don’t you worry, I am no fool, no way would I just blindly trot off after someone who said ‘when I gets an urge, I gets an urge, and I follows it.’ That’s mad.

                Sanso, realising that Arona was no longer following him, returned.

                Well I think we should use the power of the sabulmantium rather than just blindly trot off down endless tunnels said Mandrake

                Good thinking! said Sanso enthusiastically. Yes, much better than my daft idea. Good plan Madrake!

                Mandrake actually corrected the cat, huffily

                To be honest, said Arona honestly, I didn’t really understand all that technical stuff Sanso. So how exactly does this work? Hmmm wish that dragon or someone would turn up now and explain it clearly and succinctly in plain language that we can all understand. I get how to move the sand but then what? How does the compass thingy work?

                in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #268
                F LoveF Love
                Participant

                  Fiona had more or less given up on getting the pebbles from Yann, deciding they must have got lost in the post, so that evening when she happened to check the mailbox when walking past she was very surprised and delighted to see a package from him. It was way too late for the postie to have been, so she was intrigued as to how they had got there and where they had been all this time.

                  The three pebbles, well a couple of them were more like small rocks really and she was most impressed that Yann had sent them, were from the cave in Scotland he had visited a few months ago. Yann said the small one was from the cliff, the red one was one of the pebbles outside the cave and the grey one was from the stream inside the cave.

                  Fiona held each of them in her hand and got quite a strange feeling from them, and some interesting pictures came into her head…..

                  Yann had also sent a furry toy, a little scottish hairy cow. Apparently on his trip these hairy cows had reminded him of her. Fiona was a little perplexed by the seeming similarity but decided to believe it was a good thing. how quaint! she thought bless him :yahoo_big_hug:

                  in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #267

                  AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA laughed Arona, and then when Sanso kept snorting she laughed even more.

                  Mandrake sighed heavily and retreated to a safe distance to sit it out.

                  in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #265

                  After Sanso heard the voice “the reason you are looking for is right under your nose” he thought he had better go and have another look at that smelly, well was it smelly? hmmm perhaps not, just a bit mouldy, old cape. Just in case it was a clue and he had missed it.

                  He was surprised and delighted to see Arona, who was still sitting quietly meditating.

                  Oh, goodness, said Arona startled, Who are you?

                  I am Sanso and some people call me a wretched outcast madman wanderer, and Sanso laughed heartily.

                  Arona laughed too, out of politeness and a bit hesitantly, unsure if Sanso was joking or not. Well your words not mine she said

                  Sanso laughed heartily again which Arona found a bit odd. My words indeed he said And who are you and what brings you to explore this cave?

                  I am Arona, and this is Mandrake. I popped in to find the source of the beautiful music I could hear, but my overall mission is learning about magic.

                  Sanso had stopped listening and was gazing at the round glass ball filled with the sand shapes.

                  Good Lord! he gasped, Is that a sabulmantium ! And a very early model too. This is a classic! The later models are much more complex, this is very fundamental, but beautifully made.

                  Oh really, well it is great fun

                  Sanso explained to Arona at length the more technical details of how a sabulmantium worked, and how it could be used like a compass.

                  Fascinating she said, and Mandrake rolled his eyes.

                  in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #262
                  F LoveF Love
                  Participant

                    Fiona woke suddenly from a dream. In her dream she had been communicating with her online friends, through drawings and messages. She had been trying so hard to convey something, and the more she tried to say it, the more distant they felt to her.

                    She had woken feeling saddened. Her energy was greatly disturbed, and, unable to get back to sleep straight away, she meditated. She felt herself connect with the energy of a Snowy Owl, who invited her wordlessly to ask her questions. The Owl’s eyes seemed to have such a depth of wisdom and kindness, and no sooner had her thoughts begun to ask their questions, than she would feel the Owl’s answer merge with her own knowing.

                    She felt herself being able to say without words what she had tried so hard in her dream to convey, and understanding there was no need for any effort, she felt greatly comforted, and peaceful sleep swept over her again.

                    in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #260
                    F LoveF Love
                    Participant

                      Arona and Mandrake sat side by side looking into the glass ball filled with sand. They had been practising for some time, and had both become quite proficient at shifting the sand.

                      So what shall we make now Mandrake? Something we both like maybe?

                      A fish perhaps? suggested Mandrake

                      Oh excellent idea! and no sooner was it thought of than the sand would shift accordingly.

                      Scrambled eggs I think too, on chunks of homemade bread, said the still hungry Arona, and chocolate!

                      Some milk for me, said Mandrake

                      Hmmm not sure about that Mandrake. Lots of cats have allergies to cows milk.

                      Mandrake rolled his eyes And chocolate might make you fat, he said, but was I so rude as to mention it? and Mandrake created a hairy cow, and a farmer to milk the cow.

                      Arona laughed, and created a little sand langoat, just in case the stubborn Mandrake changed his mind. Langoat’s milk would be much better for him she thought.

                      The glass ball was now filled with a miniature world of sand objects.

                      Arona leaned back against the wall and stroked Mandrake. She felt very fond of the grumpy cat. The feeling of being able to create whatever she wanted had been fun. Perhaps, she thought, her creations were rather rudimental at this stage, but then already she could feel bigger things brewing within her as her confidence grew. She felt as though the sand game had focused her, like a beam of light which shone only on that which was intended.

                      Arona closed her eyes and allowed her mind to open and reach out, something she knew she had always been able to do easily, but her fear of the “madness” had made her cautious and hide these abilities, till she became unsure of them. The “madness” was the term the people in her Village had given to the poor wretched wandering ones, who claimed to hear voices and communicate with Gods. Once as a child she had seen the Villagers drive one of these poor souls from the Village, shouting and abusing him. She did not really understand what he had done, only that the Villagers were afraid of him. So Arona had felt it was better to keep some things to herself.

                      Arona left her mind open and allowed images to enter. Some of the images she did not understand, and she let them flow on, enjoying the energy of them notwithstanding. She saw a dragon, it was not the one with the mouthful of riddles, but another one, a baby one she felt. Her ability to see pictures was quite rusty, but she felt a connection with this baby dragon and a great fondness for it.

                      She felt a great peacefulness in her body, a knowledge that walking in the world of magic would be easier from now on

                      in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #259

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

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

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

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

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

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

                      ***

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

                      ***

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

                      ***

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

                      in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #258
                      F LoveF Love
                      Participant

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

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

                        India Louise looked up from her drawing.

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

                        It is beautiful India Louise.

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

                        It is just an old letter, India Louise.

                        Yes it looks very old. Was it bad news?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                        in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #253

                        Everywhere Jadra went he could feel hostile eyes upon him. He knew why of course; he knew they were jealous because he had been favoured by the Gods. So he kept his hand safely hidden, wrapped in his shirt

                        Jadra had a plan. He put his shirt back on and pulled the sleeve on the left arm down as far as it would go, till his left hand could no longer be seen. He modelled a new hand roughly out of twigs and plants and walked to the river. On the way he shouted at the top of his voice CURSED HAND, YOU HAVE GIVEN ME NOTHING BUT GRIEF. I WOULD RATHER NOT HAVE A HAND THAN HAVE SUCH A WICKED, EVIL APPENDAGE ATTACHED TO MY BODY.

                        After shouting such sentiments till his voice was hoarse and he knew he had drawn sufficient attention he threw the hand in the river. He had cunningly weighted the hand with pebbles he had found in a cave so it would sink to the bottom of the river.

                        GOOD RIDDANCE HAND. MAY YOU ROT IN THE BOTTOM OF THIS RIVER AND NEVER AGAIN INFLICT YOUR EVIL ON ANY OTHER POOR UNSUSPECTING SOUL.

                        HA! He thought, tremendously pleased with himself for executing such a perfectly clever plan. That should throw the evil hounds off the scent of Jadra Iamamad.

                        He felt he was not far from the cave now.

                        in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #249
                        F LoveF Love
                        Participant

                          Fiona was feeling a bit weird.

                          She was wondering what was real. Was she real? Wow I am starting to sound like Dory she said and then laughed

                          Oh my goodness and now I am laughing out loud and talking to myself. Jarrod does that and they put him on medication for it.

                          And were her online friends real? I mean what evidence did she have. There were these pebbles of course Yarn said he was sending, but where were they?

                          The other day she had been talking to her friends via the internet, and she found herself telling this ridiculous bird story, which basically boiled down to “I saw a bird and a cracked egg shell”

                          AHAHAHAHAHA

                          Ooops better stop laughing out loud so much. But at the time of seeing the bird it had felt really significant, as though something of importance was being communicated to her.

                          And the online story they had all been writing — well was it all of them, or was it really just her writing it? — whatever, it was getting weirder and weirder and quite rude at times too actually. Or was it??? Was that her imagination again?

                          And lately she kept winking. Good grief, I never wink, what is all that about? What the does a wink mean anyway?

                          Fiona patted her dog George. He was so funny and uncomplicated. All he wanted to do was eat and play and have as much fun as possible… so cool. Actually that is all I want really too, she decided, and felt much better.

                          in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #242
                          F LoveF Love
                          Participant

                            So the lady whispered the answer to the riddle of the hand into Arona’s ear.

                            Oh brilliant, thank you so much, said Arona, hugging her. Her hand felt so much better already.

                            ***

                            No longer fearful, Arona looked into the glass ball. The coloured sand was shifting. Shapes were forming. At first they appeared to be random and rather vague, just movements without any clear form. After a little while Arona went into a trance like state, and she could feel energy flowing through her body. She noticed that she was able to influence the movement of the sand with her thoughts.

                            She stared at the sand for so long that she felt the edges of herself to be blurry. She had strange thoughts that she was a grain of sand herself and that she was being influenced to influence the sand. It was all quite surreal actually, but fun too, so did it really matter?

                            in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #241
                            F LoveF Love
                            Participant

                              Fiona woke up smiling from her dream.

                              She had been in a new house, scrubbing the wooden floorboards, rearranging furniture. There was a nice garden, very green. Anyway all these ducks flew into the garden, well ducklings really, because they were cute and yellow, like cartoon ducks.

                              It had been drought conditions for so long that Fiona was concerned for them. So she filled a glass with water and threw it over them. She kept doing this, and the ducks were hopping happily around in the water. Then they all started clapping their wings together to thank her.

                              Fiona had been having lots of duck imagery lately. A funny thought crossed her mind as she thought of Rose, a friend of Dory’s who was into birds. Well she was a friend of all of them, but Fiona associated her with Dory, because Dory was always saying “Rose said this… or Rose said that”…

                              Quintin said ‘ducks and drakes’ was a game where you threw pebbles into the water or something. This cast a slight shadow over Fiona’s day thinking about it, because sadly her pebbles had still not arrived from Yann.

                              Anyway when they did get there, no way would she be throwing them away into the water. Not after this long a wait.

                              What was the time anyway? she wondered looking at her watch 1:11, cool time for some more housework.

                              in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #239
                              F LoveF Love
                              Participant

                                As soon as Arona said “sand” she noticed an object sitting at the base of the coatstand.

                                Funny I did not see that at first.

                                It was very beautiful, a glass globe, with coloured sand in it.

                                Yet she found herself stepping back, hesitant, wondering if it was some sort of a trick the dragon might be playing on her.

                                Someone else joined her in the tunnel, it was the older lady who had soothed her to sleep and told her to use her magic. Her energy felt very beautiful to Arona, it was gentle and yet powerful, and it also had the feeling of laughter.

                                Hello Arona, how is your hand?

                                Oh, my hand is fine thank you, said Arona, feeling the pain in her left hand throbbing.

                                The lady smiled. And how is the magic going?

                                Oh good .. I have learned it is easy and I just have to believe in it. She hesitated ….. mind you the truth is I am still wandering around in these dark tunnels….but I do feel much better about it.

                                What were you thinking about when you fell and hurt your hand?

                                I was thinking about magic, and then when I fell I had a terrible feeling of doubt as to whether there was such a thing.

                                Your hand holds a clue for you Arona, the answer to a riddle.

                                Oh could you just tell me? I have been answering riddles ever since I got here.

                              Viewing 20 replies - 861 through 880 (of 909 total)

                              Daily Random Quote

                              • 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)
                                (next in 20h 43min…)

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