BARK structure.
PART I
Parrallel Lives (Beth)
Shifting Pieces (Beth)
Waving Goodbye (Beth)
Merging Tracks (Mark)
The High Octave Story (Mark)
PART II
Altana (Beth)
Jordan’s Rule (Mark)
PART III
“Parallel Lives II” (Beth; Beth and Mark?)
—–
Ideas:
Need to write out rest of THOS and then Merging Tracks, then B’s Altana story. B at same time will be writing out Parallel Lives, Shifting Pieces, and Waving Goodbye. B. has fragments of Parallel Lives II, but I believe that goes into the Civil War story, which she might want to remain separate — followup to Bark. I have “Islands” as a follow-up to Jordan’s Rule but more fragmented. Look over that, obviously. Also look over Paradox II: The Chancelling. Paradox III beginning? Take elements from The High Octave Story and Jordan’s Rule to create a new fantasy story. Everyone watches not Mayberrys but 12 Oz Mouse. Derivative works are all accepted, since the show didn’t end the way the creator wanted it anyway. Creator’s name lost in time? Just known as MATTHEW or Matthews.
Look over notes I also had for a Parallel Lives II… Dave S. is living with “Paul” at Erosion Canyon. Erosion Canyon is an important setting for the work.
—–
“Did we or did we not go to Brainard’s, Julian?”
“I’m not sure,” Julian said, staring back in the semi-darkness. They sat on opposite sides of one of the two windows in the room, chairs scooted up close to take advantage of what little light remained. Opposite each other. “We went to *Hitchcock’s*, The Truth Fool,” Julian said. “Wonder if he’s named for the director of Psychogumma?”
“You and your theories of obscurity,” Molly said, laughing a bit. “Psychogumma’s not a real creation. It was *Psycho*.”
Julian grinned, his eyes going blank again. “Alabama say otherwise. She’s a great little detective. But you can only play that man-woman game so long.”
But Molly was thinking: enough is enough. “Are we sister and brother, or are we lovers, Julian?” Julian stopped grinning. Julian almost stopped breathing, along with Molly. The air was super thick.
“We are if I’m not Julian,” Julian finally said, looking back out the window toward the mountain. *The* mountain, he realized.
“What’s that mountain, then?” Molly pointed out the window to the mountain, joining Julian in his stare. He saw that her extended index finger, a white-gray line against the gray-black background, shook slightly. Julian himself was shaking slightly, white-gray as well.
“Black Mountain,” said Julian, trying not to quiver his voice. “Not Brown Mountain I don’t think. Maybe both. Black and Brown together.” The words came out too quickly. “Is that possible?” He looked at Molly as if for an answer, and seeing that she had none, answered himself. “No, I suppose not.”
Footsteps were coming up the stairs. “Everything all right in there?” asked their concerned mother, stopping. Perfect timing.
“We’re just deciding on something and then we’ll be right down,” Molly called to reassure her. Their mother had no idea what was going on.
“When we walk out that door and go down to eat, we have to be one or the other,” Julian responded. He thought of his mother in the bright kitchen who might not be his mother — their mother.
“Not really, Julian,” Molly said solidly in response, her confidence returning. It was too dark and now they had to leave the room. It was Black.
—–
“Mother, do you remember when we followed Random to The Mountain and came back all hot and sweaty and unable to tell about anything that had happened to us.
“I remember that’s when *Random* disappeared, yeah. Oh wait, he did return. But he wasn’t the same dog as before, which was almost a good thing.” Molly knew she was joking, and that she loved that dog too, like Julian and herself. Molly could sense it in her eyes just now. And Molly knew her mother knew that Molly knew this. Julian was buttoning and unbuttoning a sleeve, absent in body. Molly thought back to Hitchcock, to the Truth Fool and the tarot cards. In her chosen (holographic) card, Molly saw Santa Claus dropping into the brown mountain, sealing it up. It was a hill that was a mountain, like in that movie she couldn’t remember the title of, the one with the really long name, like “The Hill that knew it was a Mountain that knew it was a Hill”. No that wasn’t it. She pursed her lips. “More carrot cake, Julian?” his mother offered, pushing the partially eating circle of dessert toward him from the center of the table, pulling off the top of its glass container at the same time. “No thanks mom,” came the distant response. Molly wondered what he could be pondering, but I suppose it’s obvious. The Choice.
It was the psychotherapist who started it. Molly had gone to see the therapist regarding the Altana memories. She was blocked at the Truth-Fool; began to panic when Julian attempted to guide her beyond him on their journey to find Brainard. Did they get to Brainard? What happened? That’s what they were both scared of. When she came out of the hypnosis the therapist was just staring at her. She wouldn’t reveal what happened — Molly knew this, even though she said she disclosed the entire truth of what went on. No, she was no Truth-Fool, she thought, slightly amused. Then she realized something, joke revealing truth once more. This *was* the Truth-Fool (!) But how? How could the Truth Fool be here in this office, disguised as a psychotherapist, and also be living in the small, trashy hut beside a rushing stream in a steamy Altanan valley? But she knew this to be true. Truth!
—–
She rushed home to phone Julian the news. “So you finally went,” he said, interrupting her before the big revelation. “I told you to do that years ago. You’re so tense a lot of the time — hard to connect with you. We use to be so close.” “I was remembering stuff,” Molly said in return, after Julian had finished. “Memories of somewhere else. We were brother and sister then, too, but….” “We weren’t,” Julian finished for her. I told you that as well.” “It was the Civil War,” Molly responded. “And we grew up in the same house it seemed, but that’s not it. We lived close together and you were over so much it seemed you lived in the house. Do you remember *that*?” “Kind of,” he said. “I think I was best friends with one of your brothers. And there was a sister involved as well, or a future sister-in-law. We had three kids, Molly. We had too many kids. Now we have none, obviously. We’re brother and sister now and here.” “What do we do about this?” Molly responded. She hadn’t even told him about the Truth-Fool being the same as the therapist, she realized. They had just automatically leapt into the Civil War stuff.
—–
She was back at the psychotherapist. “Let’s talk about Rupert, then,” she said in a level, calm voice. “Rupert ran away from his parents as well, to follow you. He wanted to see Brainard also, like the two of you. Julian and yourself. But Rupert was Hitchcock’s son by Alma, who married Hobart instead. Tell me about that.” Molly’s body was enlarged, and she was open to suggestion. She knew the answers now. “I am Alma,” she says. And Hitchcock was not my lover, technically. Technically. It was Brainard. Hitchcock tried something that Brainard tricked him into. We had a mutant for a child. Not Rupert, but Darwin. Hitchcock thought Darwin to be his son.” “Oh that’s right,” the therapist then said. “Thank you Molly for correcting me on that fact.” “You’re welcome,” she returned. “How was this child… different?” asked the therapist, then. “Remember that you don’t have to recall anything painful or discomforting if you don’t want to.” “Thank you again,” Molly replied. “It hurt to… well, it was painful to have Darwin. I’m not against saying that.” “Who was the father, Molly? The real father?” Molly thought before answering, but came back with: “Yes, this was half Brainard’s child.” “How is that possible?” the therapist asked slyly. She was opening a door but not pushing Molly through. “That’s the part I can’t remember,” Molly said solidly. The therapist knew they had come to an impasse.
—–
The therapist sat Molly and Julian down next to each other in her office. The sun shone brightly through one of the two windows on the perpendicular wall. Not into their eyes, but not from behind them either.
“Molly is confused on many levels,” she started. “We have one level where you, Julian, and she were lovers — as souls. This is not at all unusual to discover in these types of treatments. This appears to have been a Civil War incarnation for the both of you. Then we have this other level where alien abduction is involved. This is not unusually as well, but a little rarer. I’ve told you about the pact our government made with the Grays in the 1950s. The president at the time was asked by the positive aliens to give up the nuclear arms race. He couldn’t accept this and thought the American people would also not accept this. So he made a pact with the wrong team — the negative or emotionally challenged aliens, let’s call them. And they were allowed an open door to experiment with humans and animals both. They wished to save their dying race, as well as experience the emotions that made the humans so alive and colorful. Like you two; alive and colorful.”
—–
Julian:
I’ve thought about this for many years now. There were 3 children, and then a 4th. This was the one I didn’t conceive. This was actually the second child, time-wise, the hidden one. This went unnoticed for so many years. Then Tin S. Man came along and told us about it. Tin S. Man was our *child*, Molly. “No, I don’t accept that Julian”. “Yes,” responded Julian. “He lives in Canada. He doesn’t want us to know where. He communicates about Rainbowology. He doesn’t accept that anything *but* the second was your real child, Molly. This is the one that mattered to him. You were special and he was special.” “Would you say he was emotionally challenged?” offered the therapist. “Yes,” came the answer. “According to him. He described himself as a Spock, and was challenged by another friend on this matter.” “Does he seem particularly stubborn and independent in his judgment?” the therapist continued along these lines. “Yes,” came the answer from a relieved Julian, who was now not Julian. “Who are you?” the therapist asked, picking up on this. “[INSERT CW name]” The therapist excused herself and went into the rear office, saying she’d return in a moment and had to take a call at this time. When she came back, she had some answers but didn’t reveal them. “You were taken to Lion’s Roar, [insert CW name],” continued Julian who was now not Julian. “This is what Tin S. Man was trying to tell us.” “Oh? What happened at this Lion’s Roar, Julian?” The therapist received no answer. “Molly, do you remember anything about a Lion’s Roar?” she then asked. No response.
Sunklands 