August 21, 2026 · 6:39 am

00510313 (Leeman = Adrian)

https://www.newisland.net/2016/02/65-michelle.html

“So when Michell arrives in Hazel, that just means Alan woke up in Michigan City, Michelle jiggling his shoulder, for example. Michelle didn’t come to New Island. This is more realistic and I think more correct. We can continue in this direction. What did Alan do after he woke up? Did he even remember much about the New Island dream just completed? Perhaps it was a rainy day, just like the day Michelle arrived in Hazel. Or maybe in was sunny in contrast. And what of Mid-Hazel, the witch from the old New Island. Is she the same as Roselin?”

“Yes. I think so, yes,” spoke Leeman, still working on his “Woman in Red” painting. But he’d changed the title to “Woman in Red Rain”. Was this Michelle? TBC

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August 20, 2026 · 1:28 pm

00510312

“The blast verified my theory of the three-dimensional property of Hum energy. If the blast was *two*-dimensional, it would have killed some people still, true, but just in the immediate area — say, ninety people — and probably left a narrow but incredibly deep hole, perhaps only a foot or so in diameter.”

“*Ninety* people?” I responded.

“*Foot* in diameter?” Louise said in turn.

“Yes, *just* that. Instead, well, we have this. Our entire Island blown away, leaving a crater in the ocean. Soon it will be as if we never existed.” And perhaps we didn’t, thinks Roselin to herself, not seeing any sign of it on the globe below them.

“All along, I thought the Hum was just this feel-good sound everyone loves to hear.”

“I wish with all my heart that’s all it was. The Hum always had a dark side, Gordy.” Silence for a long time. Each were contemplating their own deaths and the meaning of their lives just exited. Finally:

“You mentioned a Plan B,” Louise said, trying to recover any spark of hope.

“Yes.”

—–

I kept running and running along the edge of the tide on the day after I met him, thinking of “The Hmm”, how I would organize it differently from his own book about New Island. Go back to his original blog story set mainly in Hazel, bring in MICHelle from MICHigan City, true, but have them discover a new portal overlapping fantastical and real to extend its untimely end. Right here in Hazel. Right over there in Michigan City. Wormhole. Yes, I have big plans. TBC

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August 19, 2026 · 7:23 am

00510311 (center (old is better?))

“Black men. Taken advantage of. Slaves again, even. Do you want that? Will you follow her… all the way to the grave? These are the things you should be asking, Frank Lynn. As I asked them before.” He waved his arms all around. “We’re in a prison, a white prison, a white *man’s* prison. Mikie and Philip Strevor on either side of you are equally to blame. Good you killed Mikie, good you killed Strevor in that other possible ending. Leaving only me, and you. And, yeah, Nick Barkley (the Eastern European). One for each of the last 3 main versions of the game.”

“Void, huh?” Frank Lynn says, scratching his head but avoiding the temptation to scratch somewhere else. Don’t want to go down that road.

“Beyond,” Karl clarifies. “Worse than anything you can imagine.” TBC

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August 19, 2026 · 6:56 am

00510310 (missing)

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August 18, 2026 · 9:04 pm

00510309 (on the beach)

“You just don’t remember (the meeting), Franklin. Just like you don’t remember the mid-life crisis, my obsession with Uranus and those yoga poses, 1st at my house then up on top of Mt. Gordo with all the mountain lions. Remember? I always had to take a shotgun up there to ward them off. Couldn’t do my yoga in peace. That’s all I wanted anyway. And finally, after long long hours of work, I did. I reached 96.725, as high as I could go without killing either you or Trevor. I didn’t want to make that choice. I didn’t have it in me. So you took mine instead, Franklin. Do you remember?” He pointed to his head that was suddenly revealed to be cartoonishly flat on top; aftermath of a great fall. “This ring a bell? Because it certainly did mine, ha ha ha. Seriously… it *hurt*”

“Golden helix?” he muttered when awakening beside fiancee Daisy Flathead on the highest inhabitable level of his castle. He recalls!

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August 17, 2026 · 2:34 pm

00510308

We began our walk to Samantha’s Wild North in early December. It was almost summer, and the days were getting longer and hotter.

The night before we left, Louise had spread out a map on Jamie’s bed. I listened in as they chatted excitedly about our route while we all loaded our backpacks.

The trip to see Roselin is feeling more and more strange.

Let’s back up, see the bigger picture. Shelley walks on the road to Hazel intent on meeting The Man while avoiding a witch. Soo… take a left just ahead up that driveway instead of keeping straight. I *hate* witches, she thinks. That opinion is going to be hard to change. But maybe The Man can help. Probably will.

—–

“Come in come in!” he said enthusiastically while swinging the door wide. “Glad you made it back. Just working on a painting about you, coinkydinkily enough. I call it… ‘Woman in Red’.” They enter the house where he reveals the work almost 96.725% done. TBC

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August 17, 2026 · 1:27 pm

00510307 (MapS)

“It’s all there in Washington’s green, white, black.” She starts reading from left to right. “Meteor, Stranger Creek, Impach, Inchelium which stands for Ichelus… and then across the lake we have another Stranger Creek unconnected to the first and an ‘Edendale (historical)’ to end, just like Silver Lake use to be named Edendale back in its silent film days. Black and white again.”

It was actually the 3rd Stranger Creek in the area that did the trick for me, disconnected even from all the rest. 3 Stranger Creeks all lined up across the upper west part of the state with completely separate flows (east west east).  What could this mean? And the presence of an historic Edendale along the lake was certainly queer too. Gifford… yes Gifford, mouth of Middle Stranger. The place of escape. New Island turns into Old Island, er, New Island becomes *Newer* Island. Yes, that’s better. Another place of separation.

After a while I went back to my bunk and picked up the pen.

Now I’m living with a family named MacEvoy in a place called Gifford. It’s a tribe, not a town (long story). My friend Jamie brought me here after I was caught by the Russians found on the beach. I almost drowned, but when I woke up I saw lemurs!

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August 17, 2026 · 6:08 am

00510306 (prison)

“We should have never gone down to that f-cking planet, Frank. We’re just Black Men down there. Pitch darkly.”

“I know. I hear ya.” He looks down at his own skin and calms himself with the brown. Man in Brown. Not Black. Discernment. We’re all different, you know. *White* people.

On cue, white men Philip and Mikie join him on each side as Karl points to the only way out he knows. Space. But it could be too later for all that.

“Is that the North Star?” Frank asks innocently as they continue to stare.

“No.”

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August 16, 2026 · 1:08 pm

00510305 (Stranger)

We were suppose to go to Orion together but something happened.

“Apple,” I said, staring at it as the alarms went off. “Something about that apple.”

Meteor! Impach [sic]. Ichelus in effect if Inchelium equals. It didn’t have to be this way.

We plummet down to Planet Q where we weren’t suppose to be.

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August 16, 2026 · 1:07 pm

00510304

“How long have you been here?”

“I don’t know. At least 10 years for sure,” he said in an Eastern European accent. “I lost count at some point.”

“At least 20 for me,” said the other person in the room, walking up. Another black man. And another Southern Californian by the sound of it.

Oh my God. Karl!

—–

He told me that they didn’t get along at first but then became use to each other’s ways. Both had been retired for a long time after all. And now Frank Lynn was ready to join them.

But where was Philip? And Mikie? They needed to know all this too!

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