Category Archives: 0017

December 22, 2019 · 11:51 am

bigger fish

Fran was tittering at something Cloe had just showed her on her phone. A cow blowing the hat off a farmer. Jer Left Horn didn’t get it, but he wasn’t going to admit that. Instead he decided to kill two birds with one stone, as it were. “You girls like cats? Because I loooove cats. Got two back at the cottage. Wanna see? One for each, one for each,” he attempted to tempt again, doubling down on the effort.

“Can’t talk. Phone,” responded Cloe curtly. We’ve been here before.

—–

Running out of options, Jer stood up, determined to play his final card. “You know, girls — clothing is optional here. Why don’t I, let’s see, shed *these* clothes and go over there and look out at the bay, hmmm? Maybe you girls — *ladies* will join me then.

“Doubtful,” returned Cloe crisply. “Doubtful,” echoed her friend Fran but with less conviction. She wanted to see!

—–

“Just *look* Cloe,” Fran whispered excitedly across the table.

“Not interested,” reinforced Cloe, looking for another funny video to share with her friend. Her dear dear friend.

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December 22, 2019 · 10:31 am

live oak 02

He thought he’d do some ice fishing while he was here, a favorite pastime from way back when he was a kid. He’s looking for his wayward brother Benny Right Horn, true, but nothing in the royal decree said he couldn’t turn the assignment into a kind of vacation as well, get a little feel for the local culture and habits. Plus he just loved that giant live oak over there on the peninsula. He’d been coming every day here since he arrived 3 days back. Finally he caved: ice fishing it is. If his mother (the Heart Queen) found out so be it. Benny was probably long gone from here anyway, his brother Jer Left Horn rationalized. Into the caves and out into another dimension.

Jer was not yet prepared to enter the End of Time cave system himself. He was still gathering intel from the locals. People disappeared. *Groups* disappeared. Children — old people. The cave didn’t discriminate due to age. Some pin responsibility on the cats also known to inhabit the caves; say they use a different set of tunnels to surprise and capture visitors. He needed to find one of those cats, attempt to communicate with them if possible. His great great grandmother was part cat on her father’s side. Maybe he could use that bit of shared heritage as leverage. Start up some kind of conversation. Ideally the contactee would be at least somewhat invested in genealogy, then. But he’d also heard of cats with human qualities, hmm. That could lead to — no, he promised his mother he’d set aside his promiscuous ways in this quest. Always the distraction for you, she called him out.

He couldn’t help himself, though. He had an eye on a girl who always sat at the same table beside the canal in the village. Today was the day to make a move, he thought while trying to spot any fish swimming below the ice.  Maybe this pond was devoid of them? He’d been here 2 hours. No bites yet. Time to move on to bigger fish. In the village….

“Goodbye live oak. See you tomorrow.”

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December 21, 2019 · 8:08 am

Bellisaria 02

It was already night. She needed to bed down for a while. She decided to approach one of the innumerable Victorian houses near the railroad to get information if possible, perhaps beg for a place to rest. Just a while, she rehearsed. Just to get my bearings. She was choosing realities just on instinct. Good.

Then Tessa spotted what she thought was a lake behind the house and went there instead, noting the bridges on opposite sides of it, about equidistant from each other from this vantage point. She sat down to meditate on the subject. She later learned her lake was actually an estuary, lying between mainland here and a queer, curly island over there. Eventually the name of the island, for her, became Curly-Cue, usually shortened when writing to Curly-Q. She also understood the Q stood for Queer, because it was.

3 other islands existed in a small archipelago with queer Curly-Q: one almost as large but much more regularly shaped; another, also curly shaped but simpler — not as bendy-twisty — and about as large relative to the second as the second is to the first; then the smallest, about 1/4the the size of the 3rd largest and containing no houses atall unlike the others. That was the one that she eventually chose as “home” in this strange land beyond the cave system she had stumbled and bumbled upon by accident, just by sticking to the tracks and thinking she could never get in trouble that way. She wasn’t as lucky as fellow cave dweller Guyd, then. Because Guyd avoided the tracks.

There was no need to look further.


“Home”

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December 21, 2019 · 2:22 am

Bellisaria

She walked and walked, further than ever until the one track became two, as it always was. And always will be. She sat down in the middle of the split to remember who she was/is/will be.

I am Tessa from in or near Twin Peaks, she told herself. Old and yet young here. Between the red and yellow in front of me…

… and the blue and green behind.

Split. Like realities.

She will not move until someone comes and helps her choose.

But then a scary bug appears beside her and makes her choose anyway. “Shite!” she exclaims while jumping off the bench onto the wrong track.

The year: ’42. She heard distant bugles. A faint smell of burnt copper was in the air. She knows which reality she’s in. And it’s not the right one. The Realm of Fear.

End of Time was a *sanctuary* she realized. Once she stepped back in the light, all was exposed for what it is.

But she must forget all this and get back to the cave. It was only an experiment, see, a dream even. Trouble is, she was heading the wrong way.

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December 20, 2019 · 10:28 am

different tracks

“Ahh. *There* she is, Rules of Rose. Hitting the tracks again.” She tries to call over once more, a little softer than before, knowing the futility of it. “Tessa. Tessa, honey. It’s me. Your Aunt Ruby.”

“She still can’t see or hear you,” states elven fairy Rules of Rose beside her. “It’s — different over here.”

Ruby Fantasie folds her hands over her lap, leaning back. “I know.” She sighs.

“It’s because of me.” Rules of Rose puts her hands to her eyes, beginning to cry (again). “I’m so sorry *sob*”.

Tessa makes her way back into the heart of the cave system, seeing/hearing nothing.

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December 20, 2019 · 9:51 am

boats

She just had to get out of that cave system for a while. She’d just learned about the death of Mssr. Gold (again). Her grandfather! Tessa ruminated about the good times driving around that old, clunky narrowboat. Taking it here, there, *everywhere*. Anywhere her grandfather could dream about. And now he’s gone (again).

Oh well, she thinks while getting up out of the old boat and walking toward the cave mouth. He’ll probably be back tomorrow or something.

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December 19, 2019 · 7:57 am

Junk Yd 02

Some would later say it happened in Burnt Oak, a logical transference because everything was so open and exposed there — and hot. Plus the word Burnt threw people off. But, in truth, only the more temperate or moderate clime around the bay at North Yd escaped the extreme heat of daytime paired with the quite chilly night degrees. There was certainly more a *swing* in temperatures up here on the plateau making up most of The Waste. And it was during one climax moment of heat that the bush ignited and became rooted on that spot forever and ever. Or very nearby, since it managed to crawl a bit more, to the edge of the Junk Yd sim itself. It wasn’t in Burnt Oak, despite the legends.

Nor was it in the Sand Seas in the southwest corner of this land, although rumors persisted down through the years that this was the location as well. Again because of all the heat and openness there.

But certainly 3D and Hoborobo here knew better. Because it was their job to take care of the God Portal.  People tired of playing second fiddle in an orchestra of ill definition and sought the pure truth coming from the ever-never burning leaves and branches. Well, branches now, because the ever-never burning leaves had finally burned off after a century of ignition, leaving only the ever-never branches to define the bush. Experts estimated that the branches would perhaps last, at best, another century, maybe even down to 50 years. The God Portal has a limited, functional window, despite the rumors and legends that it is perpetual. And already, we’ve seen a breakdown in functional information coming from this window. Just yesterday it misspelled itself as Buch (for example).

Still, ever-never — a word that could only apply to the Bush. Just outside.

“It’s your turn to water it, Hoborobo.”

“No YOU,” he lashed back. They were both very very tired of taking care of the thing. Hoborobo personally was starting to see it as a portal of evil (Devil) instead of good. 3D remained neutral on the subject, drawing from a more well rounded body of information.

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December 19, 2019 · 6:59 am

Junk Yd

He always seemed to be hiding behind bushes.

No not that one (SWING!). *This* one.

Because he himself was a bush. Not yet burning but hopefully soon. The Sun was very very hot today. Perhaps today would be the day….

He moves on, trying to find…

OH SHITE, it happened!

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December 18, 2019 · 4:17 pm

Guyd 03

Tasteless smell-less Robert Drake Johns had had enough. 5 was his limit for mud cake pies! He pushed it just enough toward Guyd, who quickly grabbed it up and ran. “Thanks!” she purred back at the gluttonous, lime green robot. The stench was all over it. “Mine mine mine!” he cried, his eyes beacons in the dark, but Guyd had already exited the cave room. 3 hours later, bumbling and stumbling through the maze, she found Rebl back in Wabe. Or was it Wabd now?

Rebl was pleased (!!). She took one bite, spat it on the ground, dug a little hole for the thing, covered it up, and put a little tombstone on top that read “shite”. “It’s a dog’s dinner,” she pronounced through painful wincing, and went to retch in a corner while holding a thumb’s up. Success!

Second fiddle no more. She was ready to meet Bush. Either one would do, but she’d prefer the Sun. The burny one.

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December 18, 2019 · 2:22 pm

Guyd 02

She didn’t find anything today! Her name was Guyd but she was so far away from being a *guide* it wasn’t funny. She must be more successful tonight. She would work overtime to do it. But which way to go?

She lazily decided Gyre/Crow, because that would give her 2 choices instead of 1 down the road. Er, tunnel. She was heading from Wabe, which may be the same as Wabd (which would explain the greenup yd (yellow down) eyes). We’ll see.

This was a labyrinth and that’s a fact.

—–

She’d reached the tracks. She didn’t like the tracks because humans lived amongst them. She and humans didn’t quite get along. Because most of them had *dogs*. Dog Island should have been erased and destroyed while they had them all rounded up there, she feels. That was only 2 outside days ago. Perhaps there’s still time….

And she’d missed her exit to Gyre. Oh well. Straight across the tracks it was. *Surely* she wouldn’t get lost. Again. Waste another day.

—–

Phew! That was close.

But that human smelt funny. Almost like he was a… No. Couldn’t be. Could it? Guyd again thinks of destruction/erasure. Should have gotten rid of them with the chance. Now they could be *anywhere*. *Anything* anywhere (apparently). But then, maybe she could turn into a human as well if needed. That would be handy. She’d have to check the status of new, magical powers with Rebl tomorrow. Hopefully with *good* news to relay. She so wanted to be a true guide some day like her. Stepping stones, she calmed himself. One slipping rock at a time.

She never can remember where this tunnel leads across the tracks. Oh well. Onward and upward!

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