Monthly Archives: January 2021

Strange Isle


thing to fear

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0024, 0517, Abbey^^, Maebaleia/Satori^^, Stranger Creek^, X-City^

X-City church 02

“A marriage,” A Mann suddenly said behind her, unseen before and sitting in the front pew. Duplicates again!

“Marriage to who?” Tessa ventured, getting bolder now. She could punch through his face and draw back a brain if she wished. She’d done it before with a coke machine.

“A Womann,” came the response. Kate, or the thing that appeared to be Kate, halted for a moment, hands raised from the keys. Tessa half suspected the singing would begin now, but it never did, the chorus remaining frozen in their spots, blue books still open. She could go check on the name of the composition in it, she realized. Kate’s too — from the score on the organ’s music stand; if there was one.

There wasn’t. The blue choral books proved more fruitful. Handel it truly was! But which part of the “Messiah” was Kate playing? Not the same one as this more familiar bit here. Maybe from the Easter part?

The marriage was beginning. A Mann united with A Womann in holy matrimony. But where was the minister?

“Madam, I’m Adam,” said A Mann.

“A Man, A Plan, A Canal…” said A Womann.

“Panama!” they exclaimed together. Tessa woke up.

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X-City church 01

“Kate! I thought I’d lost you forever.”

“No. I’m here.” But her voice was weak, far away. She waves half-heartedly. She didn’t appear to be herself to Tessa.

“I *saw* you, though. On the beach.” Tessa thought back to Kate face down in the sand at Elven Mist. And the perpetual atomic blast out over the water in the distance. Kate didn’t have on a mask. There was no way she could make it, which, given the ones who did and their actions, maybe was a good thing. Tessa realizes this wasn’t really Kate. Kate was dead. She turned to the other figure acting as a greeter in this X-City church, new in the last year and a half.

“And what is *your* name, sir?”

“Mann. Just call me A Mann.”

“A. Mann? A. stands for something?”

“No. Just A Mann.”

All 3 stood there for a bit, with awkward gestures from the 2 what Tessa now considered simulacra; forgeries of real people most likely; stand-ins.

Music was coming from the front of the church. Perhaps Bach but maybe Handel — Tessa couldn’t quite get a handle on it. She moved forward down the aisle to investigate more, leaving the two figures who she deemed useless for meaningful interaction behind. “Goodbye Kate,” she whispered to herself, not looking back.

But then in front of her appeared the figure of Kate, playing the organ and the classical tune she couldn’t figure out the composer of. Maybe not even baroque. But Kate again! Perhaps this was the real one this time.

“Kate?”

The tune of baroque or baroque-ish design went on and on as Kate didn’t respond to the outside world, engrossed in her playing, it appeared. And those mute singers with their blue choral books seemed so familiar. What was going on here? Ahh, Tessa realized. A dream!

(to be continued)

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good luck?

You’ll have to dip more than your feet in this TILE Pool to get use to the South, Dream Tessa. Rains down hard there! The rain with the pain, ooouuuch.” Ghost Pac-man reminded me of someone. And also someone else yellow; a rivalry, yes.

‘*There*. If you’re submerged you can’t feel the pain. Let it go, let it all go, the tension, the weight of the world.” The pool was just big enough, head to foot. Like a fitted coffin. Let’s hope the analogy stops there.

Tessa wakes up, gasping and grasping her throat in an attempt to breathe. After she regained her wits she looked about the room and noticed the umbrellas. Lisa the Vegetarian had delivered, as promised. Time to go. No more dreams: reality.

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leaving Fryburg

“You know more about the blue rose and the blue thorn, child, enough for now — enough for your understanding.”

“I… understand.”

“Now we must move away from this butterfly themed treehouse on this once quartz laden peak in the Mountain Lake District. We have learned all we can from here. Remember to pack your umbrella. It’s rainey season in the South.”

“I… shall.”

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more men

“There’s Devils around here again, Cpt. Dick. Or Devil; I can smell it or them with my 6th sense.”

“ESP,” acknowledges the captain, drunk at the time (it was noon, after all) and knowing that demons manifested in the area occasionally, like in ’73 with the Buzz and the Bee. He swears he hadn’t touched a drop when he saw them. “How many?” he attempted to clarify, thinking back to that awful day in early May. “One? Three? 50?” He skips over the number 2; too many bad memories. He can still feel the effects of the stingers coming from each side just here, there and there. If only he were inebriated when it happened to curb the pain.

Jake Hardbody thinks harder, ramping up his abilities to the max, like a raging fire. “One. But: powerful,” he concludes, unwrinkling his forehead and reflexively drawing his gun as if the Devil were in the immediate area, which he wasn’t. He was still down at the ice cream parlor asking nonsensical jokes to unsuspecting customers while assigning them ridiculous names. But he was about to leave. Back to the Ultimate Creator in Hell Heaven who was also himself to report on what he’d seen on the other side of X-City, the place they usually try to avoid because of, well, because of well armed and experienced psychics like Jake H. here. UC had it that Jake had retired from the force — the last of his kind — after the windmill accident in Hoover but that was planted propaganda to lure them back. Jake Hardbody also had a hard head, like a Diamond. In truth, he was a type of God himself. He was the secret power behind the police force of Upper Western Middle X-City, and soon to be a hero for a greater cause.

(to be continued)

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screaming might help

“Let’s say I want some of this, ice cream. How do I go about getting it?” he asks, knowing full well they can’t hear him, not because they are so absorbed in their reading but because he doesn’t even exist to them. Yes, Devils walk and sit among us unbeknownst. And of course it’s a joke, because the dessert would never reach his mouth without liquifying and possibly even vaporizing. “Solid, Gas, (he makes up their names) can you hear me?” He places a red hand through the paper Gas is reading and waves directly in his face. “Can you see me?” Devil Dave’s Gas, who is actually Gus, only feels a warmish breeze on his nose after reading the phrase “fossil fire” in an article about California.

—–

“How do I go about getting more sprinkles for my ice cream?” he asks Plasma and Aether at the menu board, to, of course, no replies.

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you are what you hear

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red

“While she’s in my realm, bring me the child. I wish to talk to her.”

“As you wish, My Lordship.”

“And, please. Get off your knees when talking to me. We’re *equals*.”

Lockfry/Devil Dave stands up, looks at the Ultimate Creator eye to eye and sees it is so. A smile develops.

They are one.


receiving the unholy wind

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WX(YZ)

A “W” has been inserted in X City between the 2 X’s that provide the sprawling Maebaleia/Satori crossroads metropolis its name, highlighting, as it were, the X shaped crossroads kind of in the middle of them, the only one on the continent as a whole.

Tessa teleports in, but only finds a smiley face there (Smiley, or perhaps MOM). She had to turn her back on it to get a good picture of the “W” on the inworld map and apologized beforehand, saying she meant no offense and that her directional shadow would get in the way otherwise. She made a note to send the round yellow being a copy of her Beige Magic book later on, because Black would be too dangerous, perhaps make her unhappy in the long shot. Best Beige for the chips and putts, and Brown at most for the irons/middle game. Black is reserved for the woods, the big gunns.

Here’s Tessa’s picture — she’s at the yellow dot in Zugspitze with the, ah, yellow dot, hmm. And, yes, I suppose she’s still dreaming all of this, hence the Brown, Beige, Black for a clearly inanimate object.

Tessa later figures out she is the smiling face: Smiley. And also her half-sister. Maybe even more the latter (hmm, again).


Mysten, 2015

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