📚 › Tikfiji007

Veranassessee, a secret agent with many hidden and deadly skills, her torrid love affair with Agent Gabriele, on the paradisiac yet perilous island of Tikfijikoo.

So the Story goes...

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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 #458

    Yo looks guilty, our Mavis, said Fred. Whatchoo ‘iding?

    Nuffink, Fred. I’m not ‘iding nuffink. Her lip trembled but she bravely squared her shoulders, looked Fred in the eye and said: I’m going on ‘oliday.

    ‘oliday? Another one? You went to Minehead last year with yer sister, whatchoo want another ‘oliday for?

    I want to go to Tikfijikoo.

    Fred looked at Mavis as if she’d taken leave of her senses. Tiki fuckin WHO? Don’t be so bloody daft, woman!

    in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #460

    Dory’s stopover at Heathrow airport was longer than expected, due to the knock on effect of delays caused by the air traffic controllers strike in Paris. She bought coffee in a paper cup and went and sat in the cramped smoking room. A couple of middle aged overweight women were sitting opposite her, their chubby knees almost touching Dory’s in the unpleasant little nicotine yellow room.

    Dory couldn’t help but listen to their conversation, and had to bite her lip on several occasions to prevent herself interjecting questions. Dory wanted to ask where this Tikfijikoo Island was. There was something about the sound of it that caught her attention, and she couldn’t quite put her finger on the strange feeling it gave her to hear the name.

    The two women, who appeared to be named Shah and Glaw, were apparently on their way to an island to participate in some kind of experimental treatment, Dory gathered, organized by a Dr Bronklehampton. On hearing the name of the doctor, Dory had a series of images flit through her mind. One of them was of an impish looking redhead with an incredibly large head, doing the tango.

    When the two plump ladies left the smoking room, Dory followed them. They bought magazines in the airport shop, and boiled sweets ‘in case their ears went’, and deliberated over sunscreen lotion, and then after some inaudible whispering, in which Dory heard only the words ‘treatment’ and ‘skin’, apparently decided against purchasing any of the skin care products.

    Dory followed them into the public lavatories, and learned that ‘our Mavis’ would be joining them for the treatment, and listened to a great deal of rather unkind comments about ‘our Fred’ and his bullying ways. On the way out of the Ladies Room, the bleached blonde named Shah collided with a bag lady, at which point Dory saw a shower of bright blue sparks in her peripheral vision. The bag lady looked up and laughed at Shah and her friend and said ‘It matters not, my friend….HA! HA! HA!’, and winked at Dory as she shuffled past.

    Dory followed the ladies to the baggage check-in desk. Yukailli Airlines. Dory had never heard of it; new airlines starting up all the time, she thought, and such silly names, like that Be My Baby one…what a daft name for an airline. Dory sauntered past, as she couldn’t really stand behind them without arousing suspicion. She was momentarily swallowed up in a swarm of Italians, there must have been two coachloads of them. By the time they’d passed her, Dory had made a decision. She would book a ticket to Tikfijikoo, hopefully on the same plane as Shah and Glaw.

    She turned around briskly, fleetingly wondering what to say to Dan and Becky about her sudden change of plans, and made her way back to the Yukailli Airlines desk.

    That’s funny, she said out loud, It was right here!

    She scanned the names above the row of desks….British Airways, Monarch, Air France, Qantas…..but no Yukailli Airlines. Dory asked at the Airport Information desk.

    I’m sorry madam, there’s no airline of that name here, the young man behind the desk informed her, looking at her quizzically.

    Dory opened and closed her mouth like a goldfish, and wondered for a moment if she had imagined it. Just then someone bumped into her shoulder, causing her to spin round. It was the bag lady she’d seen earlier in the Ladies room.

    Leaving at Gate 57 and three quarters, the bag lady whispered, and winked conspiratorily.

    Dory’s mouth fell open. She was about to say Oh now really, what is this, Harry Potter Airport? but something stopped her. Instead she asked, But what about tickets and baggage check? But the bag lady had gone.

    in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #461

    Jose Maria stood sadly in front of the plate glass window. He avoided looking in mirrors, tried to forget his disfiguring scars, but occasionally he caught sight of his reflection in a window, and it always came as a shock. He avoided leaving the finca as much as possible, but had felt obliged to visit his frail and aged mother in the Residencia old folks home. His uncle Juan had come trundling up the dirt track to the farm in his clapped out old Citroen van, with the news that Josefina was expected to die within the week, and Jose Maria had agreed to make the trip into town.

    A pointless trip really, Josefina hadn’t recognized him, had called him Sally at first, and tried to kiss him; and then later she’d shrunk from him in fear, calling him Pierre.

    Three days later Josefina was dead. Jose was required to make another trip into town, much to his dismay, to the funeral. He stood quietly at the back during the ceremony, next to his cousin Paquita, who was attempting to hide a bad case of acne behind her long black hair. Jose Maria smiled at her kindly, and she smiled gratefully back.

    Paquita and Jose stayed close to each other for the rest of the day, and Paquita’s family invited Jose to spend the night at their apartment in town. Jose hesitated, but when he noticed Paqui’s hopeful expression, he relented and accepted courteously.

    Long after the rest of the family had gone to bed, Jose and Paqui sat on the balcony overlooking the industrial estate and the superstores, in companiable silence. Jose’s scars, and Paquita’s acne no longer visible in the darkness, they had both relaxed, and wondered vaguely why they’d never really noticed each other before.

    Paqui broke the silence. Well, you’ll have no worries now about money, Joselito.

    What do you mean? asked Jose.

    Well, Josefina won the lottery, and you’re her only child, Jose, it will all be yours.

    Jose’s mouth opened and closed like a goldfish. Lottery? Oh you must be mistaken, my mother doesn’t have any money. WHAT lottery win?

    in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #462

    Juan was getting more and more annoyed at his daughter’s boyfriend. A good for nothing who was lazy as a pig.
    Paqui was caring for him, and always finding him excuses. Meanwhile, all that Claudio was able to do was to sit in front of the TV and watch the sports channel.

    More than once, Juan had been close to burst into a fury and throw the parasite out of the house, but Paquita was so enamored with him that he did nothing out of compassion for his daughter.
    If only she could see her own beauty, she wouldn’t stick with such a bum.
    Her acne had started at her puberty, and it was like she used it to hide herself… Many, and crazy Josefina too, God bless her poor wretched soul, thought it was such a good thing that she had found someone to love her despite her face full of pimples, but that was all rubbish.

    The pig was out of town to run in a rallye, and that was providing some respite for them all. God knows where he got the money for these expensive entertainments, petty trafficking, most likely… At least, that had left Paqui some clearance to reacquaint herself with her family and with her cousin Joselito, without being shut up at every turn of the conversation by Claudio

    in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #467

    Jose Maria couldn’t sit still. It seemed as if more had been happening in the past few weeks than had happened in the whole of his 49 years. His mother dying and unexpectedly leaving him 123,000 euros would have made little difference to him had he not re~aquainted himself with Paquita. She was the real treasure; if he had had to choose between the money or her, he knew he would have chosen her. Thankfully he had both, and now they could both go to Tikfijikoo together. If the treatments worked, all well and good; if not, they had each other, and they would return to a quiet life on the old family farm in the Andalucian mountains.

    in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #477

      Paquita, I found someone to look after the goats! We can book the tickets to Tikfijikoo now!

      Paqui shreiked rather ear peircingly, and threw her arms around Jose Maria. Who? Who on earth did you find?

      Well, Jose sniggered, A couple of blousy old dears, English ones. Wanting to ‘Get away from it all’

      English! Paqui’s eyes lit up. I bet you can even charge them for doing it!

      Well, I am, laughed Jose. They think they’re getting a great deal. Haha! Jose shook his head wonderingly. Life was just getting better and better; the most unlikely and unexpected things had started happening.

      in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #479

      Dr Bronkelhampton peeled off his long blonde wig to reveal a completely bald, and rather sweaty, head underneath. For the purposes of the experiment it had seemed best to pose as a woman, however soon there would be no need for such subterfuge. Provided all went to plan.

      He gazed out the window at the ocean, the waves breaking gently on the golden sand. The tall coconut palms standing majestically. It was truly paradise. He slapped at his arm, if it weren’t for the heat and these damn mosquitoes!

      Veranassessee should be returning soon with the first of the arrivals. He sighed happily.

      A piercing scream broke his reverie. It had come from the laboratory, where the mummy, as he affectionately called his first guinea pig, or client, had been having another session under the Perlication Y3 Laser.

      in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #480

      Did you tell them about the, you know……Paquita asked Jose, lowering her voice despite the fact that they were alone.

      What? Oh THAT. No, are you kidding? Only a stranger would agree to live in my finca, Paqui, you know that! Everyone local knows about the… you know…

      What if they find it?

      They won’t find it, Jose hoped he sounded more confident than he felt. There had been weird goings on at the finca for years; much more so lately: it was increasing. Ever since he’d found that hole in the side of the large pyramid shaped hill, there had been ghostly goings on, odd sounds, peculiar smells, flashes of coloured lights, all manner of strange and disconcerting events.

      Jose Maria was glad he was leaving. He’d miss the goats, but well, he could hardly take them with him. The goats would be ok without him.

      He couldn’t venture to say the same about the two English dears though. Time would tell.

      in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #481

      Veranassessee carried the box carefully, periodically checking to make sure it was securely fastened. He was sure Dr Bronkelhampton would be pleased with the initiative he’d shown. Buying 100 breeding pairs of Blue Bonnet Spiders was a stroke of genius, he thought. They were known to eat mosquitos, and Veranassessee (or V’ass for short) was confident that he’d made a wise decision.

      in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #482

      Bathsheba didn’t feel even a bit guilty for not telling that fool V’ass about the habits of Blue Bonnets. Cash was cash; he’d paid handsomely for the spiders, and Bathsheba congratulated herself. She wasn’t creating V’ass’s reality after all, now was she? He had chosen to buy the Blue Bonnets; His choice. His choice too to pretend he was a man; Bathsheba wasn’t fooled for a moment, she knew V’ass was a woman underneath those manly clothes.

      Bathsheba cackled, and set about attracting the next fool into her shop.

      in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #483

        V’ass placed the box carefully on the pier as soon as he got off the boat, and pulled his false handlebar moustach off with a yelp. Next to come off was the bowler hat, and shake out her tumble of blonde curls. V’ass shrugged off the charcoal grey pinstripe suit jacket and unbuttoned the crisp white shirt. With a long sigh of relief, she started to unwrap the bandages that had squashed her ample bosom to her chest.

        As the bandages fell in loops on the floor, they wrapped themselves around the box, and in an unfortunate twist of fate, when V’ass bent over to pick them up she inadvertently yanked the top of the box off.

        Oh…MY…GOD! V’ass shrank backwards as hundreds of huge blue spiders spilled out of the box. She lost her footing, and fell backwards into the sea with a splash.

        in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #567

        Veranassessee (V’ass) Eloha, swimming like a naiad in the waves of the sapphire sea bordering the island of Tikfijikoo, was back in a few powerful strokes on the wooden planks of the pier from which she had just fallen.

        Trained in many martial arts and in the art of concealing her emotions, she effortlessly managed to maintain a perfect composure despite the fact that this unexpected moment of inattention may have cost the loss of the precious box of rare Blue Bonnet spiders —the venom of which was needed for the good success of the “treatments”.

        Sharon and Gloria, still cackling unceasingly, thanked Armando, the pilot of the seaplane, who had entertained them no end with his stories of mysterious wreckages and lost aircrafts.
        Now they’d just landed on this paradisaic island, and a gorgeous woman dripping in water was extending them a firm hand, greeting them.


        Al was wondering who had jinxed his last entry in the play, that he had to write twice, since some invisible mischievous hand had just made him lose the first in the /dev/null dimension.
        Good thing the Sumafairies bent over his crib had been gifting him with a good memory…


        Welcome at Tikfijikoo, where your kewlest dreams come troo.

        V’ass was satisfied. Though, most of the box had been lost, she had managed to save two couples of spiders, which would be enough for the two turkeys. :yahoo_chicken:
        As for the remaining ones, let’s just hope they’re all dead and drowned.

        in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #613

        When Veranassessee entered the secret facility with Gloria and Sharon, her blood congealed in her veins.
        Patient 4 had escaped the safety straitjacket and was holding the doctor at paper-clip point.
        Patient 4, was one of the first six patients they’d treated on the island, an awful miscarriage… Of the six, all had developed strong reactions to the medication especially as they had not yet found the appropriate dosage for the blue spider venom. Some had developed extra appendices, most had been hideously disfigured, and all of them had gone bonkers.
        “Four” was the last alive of them all, by an inexplicable combination of luck and genetics, and by far the most dangerous one. Apparently, apart from madness, the venom had gifted “Four” with supra-human velocity and strength. It was what had kept that mad doctor from “erasing” that mistake, so sure he could find some interesting way of making profit out of that prodigious lucky find.
        But now that was compromising everything…

        V’ass pushed the two chatty old ladies in a broom-closet behind with a wink Be right back ladies!

        Sharon and Gloria giggled in the small room, wondering about the unexpected sense of hospitality of the people of that resort. All was so funny and exciting since they’d decided to come to that place.


        — Four! Release the doc’!
        — Don’t move an inch closer or I’ll kill him!
        — You have nowhere to go Four, backups will be here any minute now…
        — One second is all I need to snap his neck!
        — No! Dr. Chris Bronklehampton was moaning
        — You, stay still, the mummified Four snapped to the panting doctor.

        Quicker than light, V’ass shot a powerful sedative into the arm of the mummy. Four winced, drawing the dart out of the arm, crushing the fluffy fletchings between the fingers. Quickly assessing chances to escape, Four sent the doctor flying at the other side of the room, in a powerful swing of the arm, and jumped through the window in a formidable sound of smashed glass, disappearing into the jungle.

        Chris! Are you alright? Nurse Bellamy was already caring for the fainted doctor.

        in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #619

        Home, at last… Bernie Eleonara Mynd, Viscountess of Shropshire sighed, dropping her hairy salmon coloured hermine fur coat to the butler.
        Now, leave me alone Vigor, I don’t want to be disturbed.
        Madam, Vigor bowed deferentially

        A smoking teapot of fine herb tea was prepared on the glass coffee table just near a black silk pouch. With a greedy look on her face, she untied voraciously the pouch to reveal the crystal skull she had just acquired.
        After a few seconds of beholding the priceless possession, she lifted the teapot lid with a stiff face which eventually smiled blissfully at the smell of the fine Earl Fuchsia crop which was infusing.

        Good Lord, that trip was exhausting!… she growled in a very deep voiced that suddenly sounded more male than before.
        Didn’t know I had to go as far as Spain to get that darn skull!

        Bernie suddenly ripped her fine chignon from her head, revealing a bald head with a few short black hair on the top. She spitted her false teeth, peeled off some wrinkled patches of latex skin, smeared the mascara around her globular eyes and scratched her crotch…

        A ruffled sound and a “mmm mmm” suddenly caught her attention off the itchy body parts.

        She went to the cupboard, drew a key dangling from a necklace deeply buried inside her ample bosom, then stopped for a moment, and muttered a “bugger” before unbuttoning her tight blouse and removing the corset that was constraining her breath.
        Smiling wickedly, she proceeded to open the cupboard, but recoiled at a pale tied and muzzled figure who looked much similar to whoever she was impersonating.

        Oh, Lordy, what a stench! There’s no point in making such a fuss Viscountess, this will soon be over… I just needed a few things, and will soon be off, tonight to be precise…

        The pale figure whined with pleading eyes.

        Oh, just don’t make these eyes at me…

        Bugger! I can’t bother with her now, she said to herself, closing the cupboard’s door oblivious to the plaintiff whines. Now, got to move on real quick, before they realize something was wrong with the transaction.


        Juan had insisted that they all spent Christmas together before Paqui and Joselito went for their trip. He felt that there was more to this trip that he could grasp, and wanted to share these precious moments now, not wanting to live on regrets.
        Now, the new year was here, and he was alone. At least, he’d been more than glad to see Claudio move out. It had all been a lot easier than he’d thought at first. Obviously, when Paquita had said to that maggot that she was going to accompany Joselito to his trip on the whachaname-Kikkoo Island, Claudio had been outraged, probably thinking a good playing victim act would soon make things right for him.
        But he’d been wrong altogether. It was not about love for him or the other. It was all about freedom and being what she wanted. And emotional blackmail very quickly proved besides the point.
        His father had been proud at Paquita. Her decision obviously was made, and it had been the first time he had seen the frail girl unwavering at the arguments.

        The situation had soon proved unbearable for Claudio, who had no longer any reason for hanging around Juan and Paqui’s house, and one day he’d moved out, rather discreetly, not to be heard again. Somehow, Juan was aware of the town’s gossips, that he had acquired some unexpected sum of money, not sure if all very legally, but the thing was that he had decided to take his chances by going some said to Nicaragua, others to Brazil or even to the US…
        But who really cared?


        On his plane for Valparaiso, Claudio was looking at the letter he’d found in the family trunk. It was a brief correspondence between his grand-father and a certain Cillian Mc Gaughran, and it was linked to the skull he had sold such a handsome price. Perhaps he could get more information about them, if the recluse old man was still alive, that is…

        in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #628

        Chris, I demand you tell me what’s going on! What was that … that thing! Nurse Bellamy was visibly upset, her cheeks flushed, her voice tremulous. She had no idea what had just happened, but she suspected that even coconut milk might not make it better this time.

        Are you going to tell her or do I have to do it? asked Veranassessee. Because if you can pull yourself together I have a couple of guests locked in a closet, and now a mummy on the run to deal with! It had been a tiring day and Veranassessee was furious.

        V’ass what’s going on, Chris, will someone please tell me ….!

        I will tell her Veranassessee. Dr Bronkelhampton slumped in his chair and wondered where to start. A plan was beginning to form in his head. V’ass had always said Nurse Bellamy should be told the truth, now it seems that, as usual, she was right. But of course, he smiled to himself, as Dr Lemane, his erudite Professor at medical school had always said, there are many sniggly variations of one truth. Well, it was something along those lines he said anyway.


        Oh this is the bees knees! what do you reckon about this room then Sha? Do you think the treatment has started?

        Perhaps it is special beauty air in here. It smells different don’t it?

        They both breathed deeply. Oh Yes, Yes, YES! giggled Glor



        It’s a bit odd though don’t you think? I mean nothing like what I was thinking.


        The mummy headed towards the dense bush, her brain was foggy but she knew she had to find cover. Her limbs felt heavy. Keep going, just keep going …


        Nurse Bellamy could not stop crying. Oh Chris … oh you poor man. I always thought there was something odd about Veranassessee. Oh what shall we do my darling, she must be stopped!

        Quite right, she must my little poppet, soothed Dr Bronkelhampton, stroking Nurse Bellamy’s hair gently, and thinking quickly. But for now, keep it to yourself. It is a very delicate matter. Can you do that my sweet one? Just for me?

        Oh yes Chris! whatever you think best my my darling.

        in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #634

        Veranassessee cursed under her breath. Her mind was working swiftly, weighing up her next actions. The Doctor was becoming a liability to the success of the project.

        iko va baba bula makuba she muttered.

        She made her decision.


        Agent V, he said. I have been expecting your call.

        Operation Spider is in danger. I need instructions.

        We can’t abort at this stage, it has gone too far. He thought for a moment. Mobilise plan B.

        One more thing you need to know, I have seen evidence of increased Magpie activity in the locality.

        He swore softly. Are you sure?

        Pretty sure, they are keeping undercover, shapeshifting, but I sense their presence.

        Bugger those thieves. I feared they would sniff this out …. keep me posted Agent V

        Will do.

        And Agent V …. good work.

        Veranassessee felt a moment’s pleasure at his unaccustomed praise, quickly fading at the tremendous racket coming from the cupboard behind her.


        This aint bloody right Glor.

        We’ve been here for bloody hours, my lumbago’s playing up something dreadful

        ‘Ark Glor! I thought I ‘eard a noise

        oh let’s shout out, on the count of three

        in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #653

        Mavis had not yet received any news from her friends Sharon and Gloria. She’d hoped she could have some postcard from them before she goes and join them…

        Nearly two months… Two months since they had all received the exciting email from that Dr. Bronklehampton and had decided to take a leap of faith.
        As a matter of fact, they had taken that leap of faith just before, and it was just a… “synchronistic confirmation that they were heading in the right direction”, that’s what old Harry had said… Or was it Joe? No, that was surely Harry.
        Fred wasn’t very pleased.

        Bored by all the variations of dominoes and dices games at their third-age club, the three inseparable ladies had decided, in a bout of delightful unreasonableness, to embrace all that modern technology had to offer. Sharon and Gloria, being the devil-may-care as they were, got their computer first. Mavis had to convince Fred that he could make his horse-racing bets with that computer without having to go to the city, now that the last pub in the village wasn’t taking bets any longer… and even play poker! she’d said, bluffing so vehemently that she’d almost blushed in shame for fear of being wrong. But that last argument had convinced old Fred. And now, she was connected too. A second-hand computer, with a dusty old keyboard, but she’d let it soak a night in a soapy basin, and it was now shiny as a brand-new one. Except that it now kept behaving strangely…

        In their club, they could boast that now they were connected all over the word, and all the old parakeets of the club had almost choked over their tea when they had heard all of what they had discovered.
        Sharon had won most of the glaring bedazzlement. Wearing newly bought sunglasses, she’d said whispering like a conspirator that she had searched her name on a website and she had seen more than 7 million pages talking of her! Imagine! More than seven million people talking of her! And she had not known she was so famous… Hence the sunglasses, she’d added with a wink… there were probably a slew of paparazzi hidden somewhere to discover all that was to know about her… But you can’t fool dear ol’ Sharon Stone.
        Gloria Fowles had been gathering almost 4,000 pages… But well, she had not the charismatic aura of Shah.
        And Mavis Staples had got a hefty 470,000 pages!… Of course, she had not told Fred, who was already so paranoid about all of this stuff. When they had received the machine, he was convinced there were miniature cameras and transponders from the MI6 inside the PC and had spent hours disassembling and reassembling it.

        Very soon after they had registered for their free email address (the reseller had explained patiently that she couldn’t electrocute herself while licking the envelop), the next day to be precise, at 5:33 —that was the hour when Mavis had finished her routine dusting and breakfast preparing for Fred, and just before taking Gulp, the dog for a news reading (that was what Sha was saying “butt sniffing for dogs, is like news reading for us”), she had granted herself a little peek into the emailbox— she had seen something in the recipe folder.
        She wasn’t sure why they had called that folder “meat” or “ham”… no that wasn’t “ham”… “SPAM” more like it… Anyway, in the recipes folder, she’d received her first email. She’d called eagerly Sha and Glo, and they had received it too, and had even answered it already, as they had spent the all night “surfing” as they said — which was a bit difficult for Sharon with her sunglasses in the dark.

        All three of them had received a free coupon for a massage and therapeutic rejuvenating treatments (and possibly some bonus organ enlargements free of charge) in Tikfijikoo Island!

        Well, now Mavis was ready to go too, now that Fred had been mollified and she’d gathered the money for the trip.
        In a sense, that was good she’d not received anything yet from Sha and Glo, it would allow her to imagine the wildest things!

        in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #657

        — I wonder, Joselito
        — What Paqui?
        — Do you know if our room will have a view?

        Paquita and Jose Maria had boarded an hour ago, and the plane had just taken off Heathrow airport where they had their connecting flight to Sydney (with a stopover at Tokyo) where they would finally take a tourist plane for the main Pacific island of the Tikfijikoo Archipelago.
        There had been some fuss about a lady who was called to the gate. No wonder she got lost, Jose was thinking, with that strange numbering of gates… Any sane person would lost his or her bearings…
        By a strange coincidence, the lady was seated on their row, and Jose Maria and Paquita had exchanged a surprised look when they had heard the name. At first they had thought that the “Ms Mavis Staples” the air-hostess was calling every minute was the same singer they were very fond of…

        She had finally arrived, a plump sweating embarrassed woman, apologising at every steward, and looking at her sandals in a sheepish look… As soon as she had taken her seat, she’d said “excuse me” to the couple, apologising again that it was her first time in a plane and that she would likely be sleeping through the trip. A few seconds afterwards, she’d been putting on her eyes a huge yellow hand-knitted blindfold drawn from the depths of her behemothic wicker handbag with pink cats and roses decorations, and in a matter of minutes had been snoring loudly.

        Exchanging another look of surprised consternation, Paquita and Jose Maria shrugged and almost burst out giggling.

        — Oh look! whispered Paqui
        — What? mumbled Jose who was starting to doze off
        — A brochure of Tikfijikoo… Here, in her handbag…
        — Oh dear… I guess we’ll be traveling together for another bunch of hours… sighed Jose

        in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #659

        Where is your bloody friend?

        Armando was muttering again, growing impatient and agitated he couldn’t appreciate stillness. He was “so busy” as he was pleased to remind his friend. Sam was rather amused and held his friend in great affection. But at times it could be very irritating.

        We’re going to be late. I have another appointment in 2 hours, and it is in Boston. Not that my new car can’t do that…

        He looked at Sam, waiting some kind of approbation or validation, maybe was he looking for awe. But Sam wasn’t impressed at all. He could be in Boston and in Botswana at the same time… well not yet physically in both but he was getting better at it. It was not so important now to be all physically focused in one place and time… or rather to block the recognition of the other places and times one was focusing on. Well he was lost in his thoughts, waiting for Becky.

        It’s quite… Yellow , Al said in a neutral voice.

        Armando seemed satisfied with this answer. Maybe the answer itself wasn’t important, he had been acknowledged, he was influencing his environment… Looking at Al, Sam smiled with a ;)

        I told you, Armando is not yet familiarized with telepathy.

        Yeah, it is quite useful not to be noticed. Though I really wonder what Becky is doing, we still have to give Tina a lift. She’s learning to declaim lyric poetry, she fancies her teacher, you know…

        Sam couldn’t help but laugh at the image Al had conveyed to him.

        What? You think I can’t do it with my new car?

        Sam had no idea of what Armando was talking about. Since he had bought this new gadget, he only had one thread of converstation available. Though Becky and Tina were quite eager to try this new technological progress. Becky almost fell into Canal Street’s dark water last time she went to see her friend Yang Tsung, her Chinese herborist, in a gondocab. She was looking for some hair growing potion, and she left with some new preparation to help her regain her balance.

        Becky was late, and it was quite unusual… well most of the time she was not. :-?
        Sam and Al joined their thoughts and opened themselves to her energy, all they could grasp was about some nine tailed fox, and Chumpy… was she trying to mate her Chumpy with one of those new fancy pet breed?
        A few minutes later, she was jumping from a gondocab to the yellow flying car.

        Sorry I’m late… you know I was at this new “Rent’a Pet Shop, Boy!”, it’s fantastic the variety of old and new breeds they have. A poor girl was looking for a parrot or a magpie… so common, hopefully she would follow my advice and take one of those nine-tailed glowing fox.

        Her gaze was distant for a few seconds and Chumpy was protesting at how she was holding him.

        Well it matters not as you know. Chumpy don’t be rude to mama! She sat and grinned voraciously, looking a bit worried. When are we going? We’ll be late to meet Tina!

        Armando was gaping at her, and decided he would rather not argue with her. It was his first time with her and he already had categorized her.


        All 3 were sitting on the rear of the car, while Armando was driving, focused on his new toy, trying not to make them all crash on one of the emerging towers of Manhattan Water Town. Sam was telling his friends about a dream he had last night and that seemed quite important. At least it was the only one of the night he could remember.

        How unusual of you, Becky said, you should meet Yang Tsung, his herbs are quite efficient, he’s got weeds for anything…

        They lost her for a few seconds again, and Al looked at Sam, encouraging him to continue with his dream. Sam attention was splitted between Becky’s strong energy and the concentration of Armando who was not so confident in his ability to drive the flyellow car after all.

        Well, as I told you it was about new focuses of Al and I, they were journalists…

        Journalists? Like my friend Bonny! Did I tell you about her last crush? She fancies a future focus of her mother. He’s called Moht and lives 200years ahead from now. She goes and meets him in her dreams mostly, but she’s practicing with rendering more real during her… She stopped speaking, looking a bit confused

        Al laughed heartily, Sam was still and seemed to listen so carefully to what she was saying, that it was comic.

        Continue Sam, journalists then?.., she said, stroking Chumpy distractedly.

        Journalists yes, and they were creating a relationship similar to Starsky and Hutch. They were attending a meeting, though I don’t remember what it was all about. All I know is that Al and I were time-travelling, and we happened to meet them at that moment. I don’t know how we knew that the conference would be the target of a terrorist group, but we were there to warn them. We were talking with my focus, Simeon, as Andre, the focus of Al was already in the conference room. It was an international conference and the bomb would cause many death among political personalities, scientists, writers and so on… Well my focus thanked us for the warning but also told me that they had their lot of fun and mischiefs in their lives and that they were ready to disengage.

        Wow! I have a synch with that. I think I was one of the Indian woman there, maybe a minister or similar? You know what? We’re planning to go to Madagascar with Sean for our honey moon :D

        Great! answered Al and Sam in unison.

        We’re at the Opera, Armando said, Is it your friend who looks so furious?

        in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #665

        Fine weather in Hawaii , he thought after the plane had landed at the Honolulu International Airport. He’d been offered an Orchid lei but didn’t really pay attention to it, almost discard it. Who had given it to him. He had no idea. Though the flowers were real now, and the smell was quite pleasant.

        A man was waiting for him outside of the airport. Japanese breed.

        Mr Langlade? My name is Isashi Mamoru. Aunt Alana was expecting you this morning.

        Robert Langlade wasn’t here to apologize. She was the reason of his presence here, well what she possessed actually. The sooner he would meet her, the sooner he could continue his quest.

        He got in the red car, and waited for the man to close the door.


        Harry was looking at his daughter walking on the beach with her new friend. She’d lived with her mother in Arizona since she was born and she was only visiting him on holidays… when she had time. She had a western style and he wouldn’t have changed her, it was her choice. He’d wanted to change his own when he was her age, more trouble than he had expected. But it was another life, it was another Harry. He was not from Hawaii himself though he was born here. His family was originating from Korea. His path had moved him away from them for many years. He eventually came back, but he was different now.

        This evening he was feeling melancholy. 58 years old. What was the purpose of his choices?
        His daughter that he called Makana, seemed happy with her friend. She’d told him she’d met him at a conference in Boston last December. But he was not very present to his perception. Though he respected her choices again.

        Alana had told him about an old friend of his. She’d warned him. He was there to take something sacred. She had fear in her eyes.


        Narsila was swimming swiftly, following the direction of the calling. She knew others of her kind had heard the signal and were heading toward its origin. It was one of these emerging rocks where the humans had chosen to live.

        The call was not directly connected with them though. It had been activated from another dream.

        in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #666

        AH FREAKINBUGGER IT! shouted Tina, waving her fist in the air and stamping her foot with as much energy as she could muster. A few people turned their heads to look at her, and she had to quickly remind herself of what Mehmot Lung, her teacher, had said: “To be a true poet one must be able to fully FEEL to the depths of one’s innermost being”. Well Tina was doing her best, using her time whilst waiting for the others to do her homework for the week.

        “One must lose one’s fear of what other’s think, and not be afraid of emotion. SHOW YOUR EMOTIONS TO THE WORLD, CELEBRATE YOUR FEELINGS!” Mehmot had exhorted the class passionately.

        Tina didn’t think she was afraid of emotion, but she did feel a tad silly, stomping and shouting to the heavens, especially when she saw the others pulling up in Armando’s flying car.

        Oh, it is very yellow, she thought

        “Poetry is a treasure-filled storehouse to which we have lost the key, make your words SING!” again she heard her teacher’s voice.

        Your car is as bright shiny yellow as the piercing eyes of a snowy owl, she said haltingly to Armando a few minutes later when he asked her what she thought of his new car, and, blushing at her own words, she decided at that moment that lyric poetry wasn’t for her after all.

        I wonder if ballet dancing might be more my thing, Tina wondered, noticing Sam trying not to laugh out of the corner of her eye. She mentally sent him a little kiss :face-kiss: bugger poetry!

        in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #667

        Number Four was dreaming, at least it was what he was feeling. The quality of his vision was blurred and he couldn’t really focus on details. He was in a dark room with another man. Despite the darkness, he could clearly see that the man was very pale. There was a third man, mad eyes and hysterical laugh, and a woman.

        The man mad was speaking and assigning them a mission. It was about… skulls? Crystal skulls :yahoo_idk:

        All of a sudden his hearing was crystal clear. He had heard the name of the woman… Carla… He was asking her to go and find a Viscountess, find the skull…

        Then he turned to the pale man.

        Robert, my dear Robber, hinhinhin! I trust you with the Hawaiian witch. Be careful she’s dangerous and very powerful. Don’t misjudge her words or her deeds. Never accept anything, be it food or liquid. Don’t let them touch you either. But I know you already know that. hinhinhin!!!”

        His horse-like laugh was unnerving, and Number Four was so excited, maybe he could learn his own name… why was it so slow!? He was looking at the Baron, watching him laugh showing his immense teeth and gum! Number Four almost lost his grip to the dream imagery.

        Breathe he told himself
        Breathe… Yes, Breathe deeply, YES, YES
        The Baron had finished laughing and was smiling like a vulture.

        When he turned his face toward Number Four, his eyes were swirling like hell, blazing hot red light…

        “My dear one 8-}, to you I trust the most difficult one… My old mad friend on his foolish Island. He has a foolish project, and you’ll serve as a guinea pig…”

        Number Four felt a strong twinge, his dream eye was blinking out of control.
        The Baron’s voice was thunderous and other dimensional.

        hinhinhin! My dear Claude……………………”

        The sound of his name was enough, enough of this insanity… all his memory was accessible now, and he began to feel the rage gather inside of him.

        He was fully awake now. He was in the middle of a nest, several birds were crying around, trying to raise the alarm.
        He gathered his will and released it at once in a fury.

        in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #670


        A small impish gnomesque figure wearing a black and white tunic adorned with a silver blazon was standing in front of Claude, formerly known as Number Four.
        Claude was reading to fight, and extricate himself of that stinky situation, starting to feel the powerful strength the treatment had given him and feeling virtually unstoppable.
        Considering that such a small individual, especially unarmed, wasn’t much of a threat, he stopped in his track, wondering if that was part of a subtle stratagem.

        What do you want?
        We do not want you harm, stranger. We are aware of the experiments which have been done on you, and we are sorry for what has been done…
        Oh, don’t be, I feel better than I’ve been in ages
        Yes, we saw that, though we are not that sure that the treatment effects are permanent either…
        Not permanent? What have you done to me?
        Nothing. There is nothing to fear from us, we are peaceful. We are a wing of a group of individuals whose primary skills lay in robbing. We are mostly hired to retrieve precious possessions in great discretion and you could consider yourself lucky to have seen us in our true form.
        Us? How many are you?
        A few… We gave you a mixture of plants and magnetite powder to help you stabilize your situation, apparently it has succeeded.
        Mmm, perhaps yes…
        Another thing you probably want to know before we help you get rid of these bandages if you want. During your sleep, you muttered lots of things, one of which was a name: “Sasha”.
        Yes. I’m afraid we believe that the individual you were calling is dead. We monitored the doctor’s assistant when she disposed of the body. It was not pretty. I thought you should know.

        Despite his mission, Claude couldn’t help but feel sorry; Sasha’s sweet voice had been such a comfort during the last days of his transformation…

        Robbers they say… Hope we’re not after the same thing…

        in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #671

        In the flying car, Al was mentally reciting mantras and drawing symbols, and was distractedly participating in the conversation which he could follow thanks to telepathic transfers he grasped from his friends conversations.
        His gums were now much better, and he had recovered a wonderful smile with shiny pearl-white teeth.

        The car interior was now a bit small for them five, and Tina’d had to press herself on Al and Becky, who was almost disappearing in her boubou full of folds, her head wedged against the hat and the hat against the roof of the car.

        Can’t we get some air in there? asked Tina, who was feeling she needed to breathe more.
        Err… Let me check

        Sam’s friend was looking clumsily at some buttons for one to release the hood.

        Watch out! Becky cried, propping up her hat which had fallen on her eyes.

        They had narrowly missed a bunch of balloons floating in the middle of the buildings.

        Jeeze! It’s no better than the submarway this thing… Becky was being fidgety at everything and was wishing for the whole wedding preparations to soon be over.
        Is that a frog we hear? asked Armando who had finally released the hood, having Becky clutch her hat, as well as little Chump, with the strong wind now blowing on their heads.
        WHAT? FLOG A TIRE? Tina was shouting now, seeing now all the benefits of being able to telepathically communicate…

        A click on a button. The hood was again put on top of the car.
        Bit too noisy, hey? said Armando
        Well, didn’t really mind said Albert dreamily

        Oh dammit! Is there a damn frog in that car’s engine or what? Armando was stressed.

        Tina looked at Sam in the rear-view mirror and spluttered affectionately. Al had just mentally expressed he was experimenting with new yeast actions in his digesting system, and that there was some minor inconveniences on which he would have liked some discretion… His belly was swelling funnily and making gargoyling noises…

        Ahahah, a frog… perhaps even a blue-bullfrog with all that frogging noise! Tina was feeling surprisingly exuberant.

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