Monthly Archives: May 2025

00460613 (library & cave (Windsong 3))

They were disappointed that they couldn’t sit directly across from each other and talk. Tessa had found something in her book about the Windsong fairy and wanted to tell Carolin. But she had to wait. All she could do in the moment was give a big thumbs up to her mate, her gal pal from the old days in the caves. Carolin returned with a thumbs up of her own. She’d found something too. Cat-people. Secret room. Somewhere around the Windsong portal. So two Windsong finds. Although they couldn’t talk with each other to coordinate the tales and make them as one. Because that’s what they were.

Benny Right Horn knows this too now, having visited the End of Time library several days back and coordinating the two stories himself. Rebl and Guyd were two cat-people, cat *aliens* indeed, who were left behind as the rest of their kind boarded the Mother Ship waiting for them in space and went back home to their red cube planet, probably circling the giant red star Betelgeuse by the color of it, Benny determined. And that’s where my brother must have gone, he thought. He’d also heard about the 1 after 909 ship from Big Ass Franz the bartender at the castle in the skies. Upon threat of death, sharp and long knife blade held to throat. Despite his flabby, unkept appearance, Benny had expert military training in the Queen’s army too just like his trimmer shaped and sharper dressed brother. The Queen, who just happened to be their mother, insisted on the training; knew it would come in handy to save their lives not once but a number of times most likely. She’d seen them argue as toddlers and then argue and fight in their schools as children and teenagers and then argue and fight and argue in their jobs as so-called grown ups quote unquote. Troublemakers these two were. But they were *her* troublemakers still. She had to make sure they were protected.

He wouldn’t stick to the tracks this time, because that just shoots you out the other side, he knew from his prior visit. But he also wouldn’t try to pick his way through the rest of the dangerous, labyrinthine cave system to find the cat-people’s hidden lair and be led astray that way. He’ll stay put in one place, and he knows precisely where this should be.

The pretty nature room adjacent to the watery Windsong sim Portal. Whatever goes down, it will happen here — he’ll *make* it happen.

Setting up camp for  the night…

… and *quietly* warming up on the guitar, he he he. He’s had expert training that way as well — but it’s been a while.

(to be continued)

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00460612 (Windsong Too)

“Uh, *Tessa,*” Carolin says to her on the Isle of Crow after the fairy had just manifested out of thin air in a puff of semi-sparkly dust. “Be-hind you (!).” Tessa stops playing the guitar, turns.

“I wass acttraccted by the musss-ic,” the odd looking entity started with a bit of a slurpy slur. “Bea-uu-ti-fful! Won-dder-fful. And that’ss jusst youu!” she tried to compliment the player. Too creepy? She doesn’t want to project creepy and odd. Yet she always seems to fail at this.

“Why *thank* you,” says Tessa, studying her face, her features in general. She didn’t want to seem too surprised at the sudden appearance. After all, this was End of Time. Weird occurrences and appearances happen with some frequency here, she knew from her extended stay back in the day. But she hadn’t returned since she was a kid. Not even a teenager then. It took her many years to refind this magical place. And of course she had to uncover the whereabouts of her old friend and former fellow cave resident Carolin to tell her too. “We can go back (!),” she says during that in-person meeting in Nawt Vaya I hinted about before in this here blog and attached photo-novel. “We can find the cat-people for real (!!).”

“*Why* would we do *that*” countered Carolin, having a quite different experience with those caves. Imprisonment! At least for a couple of days. Until Glinda got her out and sent her home. Back to New York where she was trying to get to all along. Mannikins PHEH, she can’t help but cuss inwardly, an old old grudge. Turned her against magical beings in general, truth be told. So she was certainly *wary* of this fairy. Wary of fairy wary of fairy, she chanted in her head to drill the wariness in. So back to the current dialog…

“Would you like to be a ssstarr?” the being mildly slurped and slurred. “Would you like to be a rocktt sstarrr?”

“Maybe,” Tessa lied, not trusting the creature before her either. A magical proposition. Always a bad thing, she believes.

“Would you like to have luxurriousss hairr?” she continued with it. “Would you, would you like adddoorration, like looking in a mirrorr and alwayshss seeing beauty. Puurrre beauty.” This worked before, the fairy thinks. Why not now?

“How about if she doesn’t? interjected Tessa’s mate on the bed with her. “Will you just leave us alone, then?” Blunt Carolin, more a glass half empty than full kind of gal. But a gal pal still.

“I… will leavvve,” the queer little fairy agrees.

“What’s your name? Fairy?” Carolin continued with the grilling.

“My namee?” She seemed to be actually thinking about it, like she didn’t know. “Scharlie,” she came up with. “Peet,”

“You don’t look like a Charlie or a Peet,” countered Carolin.

“Nooooo. Your contactss. Fairiess too!”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0612, End of Time^^

00460611 (… and round)

He moves closer, shines his light on it. It’s either the lore of the Albert sim Monster or the lore of Black Lake, New York and its Woodstock, he’s determined about the illuminated book through checking the name “lore” in the current photo-novel. Aah! he then realizes. Both in one!

He picks up his Windsong classical guitar and dons his Windsong blown wind hair style and starts to play. A small crowd soon gathers, growing bigger and bigger…

He sings in ecstasy. Better than sex. Better than Wheeler! He doesn’t need the Yore pool any longer. He’s made his own reflection!

Round and round…

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0611, End of Time^^, New York

00460610 (deja vu)

She smelled him before she heard him and she heard him before she saw him. Like a dog, yech! Might as well be shite. Bury it like a bad dinner and put a little tombstone on it and call it such. But… she’d seen him before, she’d *been* here before.

This cat who didn’t quite measure up as a person named Guyd.

Long time acquaintance and good enough friend Rebl, although eligible to go in the Mother Ship with the rest, decided to stay behind in the caves as well and matched her eyes accordingly, red and blue to Guyd’s green and yellow. Like Kansas City and St. Louie, like Cleveland and Cincinnatus from yet another state, they became a team major and not minor in nature, a force to be reckoned with. A perfect TILE is another way to put it. Plus, Rebl wanted to stay close to Big Ass Franz down at the bar below them, although she hid this fact from her cat companion. They still formed a pipeline of information.

(to be continued)

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00460609

We use ART to discover who the true stabber is.

—–

“Oh Gregg Oden my opposite evil evil green twin! What have you done what have you DONE?!

“Hello 119? I mean 911! I’d like to report an accident. A horrible horrible accident!”

“Calm down, sir,” said Gertrude on the other side. “Just tell me what happened.”

“Stabbing. STAB!” Greg Ogden’s imaginary Juho art studio conveniently located on Makers Lane with door always slightly ajar come to life, as it were. As it *is*. He looks down at the body, quickly bleeding out. Not much time!

“Okay, I’ve tracked your location. We’ll send Charlie and Peet right over. Don’t leave the scene, sir!”

Then he was back at the beginning, painting Black Lake that wasn’t actually black except in soul. Should’ve never switched over to oils.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0609, Chilbo^, collages 2d, Crisp Sea, Jeogeot, Juho, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Nawt Vaya, Wild West

00460608 (What happens in the cornfield…)

Thes butterflies were circling fast around her now. Wheeler had been released, although Douglas technically remains at zero as black becomes white ’round back while white becomes black up front. Erasure (infinity). *When* she wakes up.

—–

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/White_Lake,_Sullivan_County,_New_York

According to local lore, its Native American name was Kauneonga—meaning lake with two wings (the lake has a figure 8 layout resembling wings).

—–

“If I would have told Bob the Builder up front that he had to power to fix The Burg’s infrastructure all along,” she made small talk with him afterwards, “he wouldn’t have believed me. He had to find out for himself.”

Her creation thought about this for a moment — the time lag of the admittance and the unnecessariness of it — then emitted: “Noot. *Logical*.”

“You’re *right,* Douglas. It doesn’t make sense. And that’s why there’s a sphere involved. Black becomes white as white becomes black. Another erasure to match the first.”

She wakes up.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0608, End of Time^^, Hana Lei^^, New York, Oz

00460607 (Yore)

“Okay, here we are, Monster. This pool of water below the falls is where you can contact me. Whenever you like. I’ll always be there for you. Understand?”

“Under-stand,” he sputtered out, looking at her and then the small pool. Just beyond that rock.

“Now go up to the water, kneel down, and *look*.”

“Looook.” He gazed over at Wheeler again.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be here on the other side. I’ve never left you and I’ll never leave you.”

“Leeaave?”

“Never,” she reinforced, and then waved him toward the pool. “Go on.”

—–

Took him a while but he got the hang of it. The place eventually became known as the Great Mother Pool.

(to be continued?)

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00460606

Tessa (after getting a busy signal for the fifth time at the station and then giving up): “Oh DARN. And I so so wanted to catch up with my old old friend Carolin from the Caves. I have news about them!”

MEANWHILE… Seventy-six radio station manager Marty had been stabbed in the head, heart and hands, leading to a severe decrease in health. Only the hustle of local paramedics Charlie and Peet saved his sorry ass.

https://www.morningagclips.com/head-heart-hands-and-health-a-short-history-of-4-h/

“Can… of worms,” he said up to them weakly as they carted him off in a gurney to the Chilbo General Hospital where he stayed a week I believe before getting strong enough to leave. But employee Carolin would be gone by then, unable to be canned by him for her troublemaking down at the station because she had, in essence, canned herself. Back to the caves with Tessa, who’d caught up with her by other means, in-person visit I’m guessing.

The stabbings? Cat-people, cat *aliens*. Who were looking to get back to their cubic, red home planet at any cost. Or so THE OTHERS would have you believe. Others led by the Horns (= Big Bosses).

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0606, Chilbo^, End of Time^^, Jeogeot, Nawt Vaya, SG Park

00460605

The next night was even more awkward.

“Monster?” she said plainly and simply to him, not messing around with any *human* names, pheh. “I-I’ve got to leave. I’ve got to go home.”

“Hooome?” he uttered.

“Yes. Home. Like *this* is your home. I have a home too.”

He looked out at the sea surrounding the sim, Pogo here. At Patty’s Last Chance Saloon still but around back instead of up front where the dance machine is; she’d had enough of front. She’d been preparing for this moment all day.

He starts blubbering, blubbering like a little baby. Double awkward. Wheeler wasn’t expecting this — atall — so she had no hanky to offer, no tissue paper to pull out from, say, a pocketbook. If she carried around one. All she can do is rub and pat him on the shoulder.

After he gets it out of his system, the loneliness, the long road ahead into the meat of his artificial life — without Wheeler it seems — she shows him where they can still communicate with each other. “Follow me,” she said, taking his hand and leading him away from the saloon into the next sim west. Yore.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0605, End of Time^^

00460604

Tonight she was trying to teach him to dance but it was rough going because of the big clogs, big body overall. And she couldn’t hold his facial prettiness in place, she found out, soon reverted back to the dead white eyes, the painfully jagged black haircut she discovered him with. She, in essence, couldn’t really make him her own, as in a mirror. He remained independent. And clumsy!

Night strolling Billy Squirrel looks on amused at the awkward action. His chirping laughter was the last straw for Wheeler. “*Okay*”, she said, stopping the “dance” and stepping away from him while Billy blended back into the woods. “Let’s try something else, er, Douglas.” She kept wanting to call him Albert, like the sim she discovered him in, nay, *made* him in — back in time. But also tonight, after the last awkward dance, she found herself simply wanting to refer to him as Monster. My Monster.

“Mu-sic?” Even his voice was gruffer. And she was so close to perfection! At least with the head.

“Music,” complied Wheeler. And he whipped out his guitar, one of them, maybe both of them, and started playing then and there.

(to be continued)

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