Category Archives: Rosehaven^^

arrival 01

“This is not ideal, Philip Dilip.”

“I know, I know,” he gruffly relented. “It’s all we could afford. Rent here is out the roof!”

“You said something about Clyde. Where is Clyde?” Billy Jean Kidd puts her hands on her hips for emphasis. This was important!

“Um, well, let’s just go meet Marion Harding over at that Vineyard he found yesterday.”

“Vineyard *cafe*,” Billy Jean Kidd corrected, still in a steam. “I could use some coffee. This heroin is beginning to wear off.”

“Well, we had to give you *something* for the trip. And to prepare you for, well, *this*.” He indicates toward the cottage he’d rented just several days back. Their new home: he and the Kidd and Marion. The kid who wasn’t really a kid atall. So the drug part is totally legit, at least in Caledonia. I’ll have to check the local laws on drug use before the 3 settle in. All heavy imbibers they are, Marion with his pot, Philip his pills, and Billy Jean, well, she’s the worst of the 3 now. Old souls can falter in that manner.

“Coffee!” The Kidd begins to stomp in place on the melting snow. “Coffee, coffee, coffee!” She was having a caffeine conniption.

—–

“It’s so laggy here, Philip, Kidd.”

“It’s the beginning of the end,” states Billy Jean plainly. “And where’s my *coffee*?”

“In a minute, babe,” spoke Marion, smooth and gangsterly as always. “Just gotta knock the edge off this pot with some wine. Then we’ll shift — over.”

“Wine, beer, booze, drugs, cigarettes.” It’s all we do any more. It’s like we don’t *exist*.”

Philip and Marion try to absorb the impact of this statement. “*Clyde*” Billy Jean harshly interrupted their ruminations. “The *reason* for the *being*.”

Marion finally thought to take another sip of wine. Buzz was strong this afternoon. Blur the higher regions a bit, the parts he’s not suppose to know yet. The blue above the red. Red wine, blue pot, hmmm. He drinks deeper. Must return to red.

“Well I for one am going to get some sugar… donuts hopefully. Take the bite out of these barbiturates I’m on currently.” Philip scoots his chair back and gets up to go to the other side, across the wooden swing bridge. The side of the cafe that has the coffee. And the pastries.

Marion then stares at The Kidd, who stares back. “You don’t… really like me do you,” Marion states, seeing the hatred in her eyes.

“No, I don’t really like you Marion Star Harding. Not at the moment, anyway.” But Marion thought it went on longer than that. Through eternity, maybe, but that was the blue beyond the red again. ‘Nother sip of wine. Oh… he realized, she just wants some coffee. And I’m here, taking my time, drinking my wine. Slooowly.

“Oh… I see,” he spoke aloud. “You want…”

“Duh,” she interrupted. “Are you through with the wine?” She pauses a beat. “How about now?”

“Listen, doll… kid. We’re here to show you something, Philip and me. There’s something special about this place. It’s not… just about getting away from Caledonia. It’s *fate*.” Marion ends here.

“It’s fate *what*?”

“The, er, Oracle.” He decided just to blurt it out. “It’s in the other side. The pastry part.”

“Well,” states Billy Jean Kidd, unimpressed. “Down the rest of that precious wine and we’ll head over there. Join Philip in his sugar binging. It will probably be cocaine after that. Usually is after sweets. We may have a clear spot between…” — she checks her watch which she actually isn’t wearing — “… between 5:30 and 5:45. That gives us 15 minutes to make some actual sense to each other. Not red… blue… black… yellow. I need some coffee, I need some drugs. We’ll actually *talk* to each other. Like a regular family.” Billy Jean Kidd thinks again how she desires a normal family, not necesarrily a father and a mother instead of 2 fathers — pseudo-fathers. Just… normal. White picket fences, red apple pies, blue skies, green trees, yellow dress — well, she has that… but the rest. She so wants it. And she thought this mythical Clyde might supply it.

Marion finally remembers to drink the wine again. And that they need to get to the other side. He stands up, a little wobbly but then steady (as she goes).

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dogged

“Slowly but surely, Spring is coming to Rosehaven, Sandy. The snow is melting. The old link with Winterfell is weakening once more. Eversnow.”

“Herbert, please,” spoke Sandy Beech, still under contract. “I suppose that will have to be one for the blooper roll of this novel.”

Merry Gouldbusk skips over Herbert’s breaking of the 4th wall in her reverie. “And castles… they are changing too. I’m not sure for the best. Homogenization.”

“Still sulking about Murdock’s Castle, eh?” Herbert Dune looked at his nails. “There’s still Dog Island.”

“No. (The essence of) that’s moved too. I consulted the Oracle yesterday. It spoke of a Pineapple Island where the true savior of Our Second Lyfe was born. One Daniel. Or Jackson — the Oracle couldn’t specify.”

“The Tiger Oracle,” clarified Herbert. “How is DJ anyhoot?”

“He’s doing fine. He’s looking forward to spring too. When the rest of Rosehaven will homogenize with his evergreen, everliving Borderlands.”

“It’s a nice anchor,” declares Herbert. “A tale that wags the dog — something.”

“Something,” agreed Merry Gouldbusk.

—–

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Fruity Islands > Rosehaven > Collagesity

—–

“So *you* were the Prince all along. This Ingo. Should’ve known by the name. Ingo… Ingor, your drummer.”

“And you have been the witch Hazel all along,” declared Col. Flagstaff from his log. “My ancient nemesis.”

“Perhaps not any more. Maybe moving forward from this centre spot we can be allies instead of axis. Depends if I can choose blue over red. It will be hard.”

“You should ditch Banana Boy to begin. Your yellow lover.”

“I need him still,” countered Parasol.

“Alright. Suit yourself.” Both knew this was a mistake, though.

Parasol looked at Col. Flagstaff. “You’ll have to remove the sphere to make a final decision. You can’t take that thing with you.”

“Sure about that?”

—–

“Say they — we — were trying to get rid of you, huh?”

“Yeah. Implied I was a liability.”

“And you saw this in the cave.”

“Yeah. I was the fire in the center of it all. The observing fire.”

“Interesting.”

Charlie Banana knew that if he didn’t kill the puppet man soon Parasol would need his heart instead. Better move into action.

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Filed under *Second Life, Fruity Islands^^, Rosehaven^^, Rubi

Serenity

If she sits in her compression chair too much longer, she may never get up.

So tightly wound around. Like a Mummy.

Only Monsieur’s visits brings her out of herself. Where *is* he??

—–

“I’ve been waiting and waiting for you, Hebert Gold.”

The full name, he thinks. She *was* upset. “I’m sorry. I’ve been busy with the king. And then with the doll houses. We found Carrcassonnee inside. The one eyed entity that use to rule Collagesity. HF showed us.”

“But you were both Gold and Platinum inside Murdock’s Castle. Time was all mixed up. *Is* mixed up. You came too close to the truth.”

“Now I know. Fingerprince. I just had to find the second dollhouse to confirm it. And the second HF.”

“Are you going inside? Forever and ever and ever?”

“I’m not sure. What would you advise?”

She paused. “Maybe we should go to the Serenity Church. Perhaps the Reverend can help us.”

—–

“He’s *here*. Zoidboro is here.” Monsieur Gold was incredulous.

“Yes,” spoke Parasol below the tone of Zoidboro’s preaching. “It’s because of the Gold and Platinum mix-up. Zoidboro’s been here for years now. Yet he has just arrived. And then: he isn’t here yet. Some realities he was never born, never had a child by that strange mutant gal-guy Patrick Starr.”

“The drummer?”

“No, that’s Ingor.”

“Ingo?”

“No. *He’s* different.”

“My head hurts. I need to sit down.”

—–

So they sat down opposite Sally Spark O Naut — who had dutifully followed Zoidboro through the eyeball cave portal — and listened to the remainder of a beautiful sermon about the dangers of shark attacks. Afterwards, Herbert Gold’s head hurt considerably more.

In fact, I think he died there. Again.

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gather round

“Reggie, get out of here! This is not your story.” The rat scurried away under the master’s bed.

“So… the king made sweet love to his dead queen one too many times and finally fell into her grave. The End.”

“Marvelous, Frank,” cooed mate Felicia Fox beside him. “Tell us another one. How about the Prince who ate a basketball and it became his head.”

“No, no,” insisted Sam Swan. “How about the Princess who made love to a living person and then turned into one herself.”

“Old news,” groused Cathy Cat. “The Great Queen is the story. How she got good and dead in the first place. Shape pullers.”

“What do you think, Cheeky?” asked Frank Fox to the so far silent chihuahua across from him.

“Dunno. Don’t care. Whatever.” Cheeky then rolled over and took a little snooze on his pillow.

“Shape pullers it is, then.”

(to be continued)

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“You don’t have to bear that weight alone.”

—–

“Top of the line, my Queen.”

“Princess please. I haven’t been confirmed yet.”

“So sorry. My Princess.” He looks toward the doll house again. “Just rolled out last month. 11 rooms for this baby.” He was counting the 3 bathrooms and the crawl space but didn’t mention this fact. Always the pitch person.

“Sandy. May I call you Sandy?”

“Of course my highness.”

“Sandy. If you don’t mind me saying, you have quite a reputation following you around. I read the reviews online. It seems…”

“Say no more. I’ll pack up my wares and move on. I am greatly humbled by even your interest in our fine products.”

“No, I wasn’t implying that I’m not interested. I am.” She winked one red eye at Sandy, who understood what he had to do — once again — to make a sale. So golden and glinty this one is. Better make sure the lights are dimmed way down.

—–

Afterwards he had one of those strange 1/2 doll house 1/2 real house dreams where the sprinkler system went off by accident.

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Filed under *Second Life, Rosehaven^^

Side

“This is *not* the centre of Rosehaven, dear sister.”

“Sshhh,” she implored in a lower tone. “Keep it down. They could be out there… watching.”

“They *who*?”

“Father’s people. Maybe even mother’s.” But she said these almost as questions.

“Both are dead. Both are gone. We must move on. Mother only lived on through the father. We must be in the now and present. Meditate with me, sister. Learn my wise ways. You won’t be so anxious.” His voice was slightly muffled and watery; hers clear and metallic.

“You shouldn’t be so talkative if you’re so relaxed,” she shoots back, then peers through the window again.

“The cave should have been the meeting point. I told you to meet me at the cave. You’d feel safer there. But no, it had to be the peasant’s village. Father’s old hideaway where he went to woo his wenches. Maybe that’s why we’re so different. Two different mothers. Maybe even two different fathers.”

“You *know* why we’re different.” She didn’t have to finish the rest. Both knew that Merry Gouldbusk physically took after the father and he after the mother. But inside, roles were reversed. For the boy (Ingo) was in danger of becoming as cold as the father given time. For the girl: only melancholy futures.

Merry Gouldbusk stared at the sphere encapsulated face of her brother. “Do you ever remove that thing?”

“Not even to eat,” he replied quickly. “I… get insights. I want to share some of them with you. About the dividing.”

“All ears,” she said, folding her ears toward him with her golden fingers. It was an old game they played. Ingo still smiled at this, which was comforting.

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