Category Archives: 0103
00470103
Going to see the New Island maker and hoping it’s not Mid Hazel again, SHIVERS. Despite the location names involved here (Hazel, Hazelhurst (Ruins)). I’m taking him up on his invitation cited above from “The New Island Relocation Guide,” found online for free!
Just over there in that house to the left, he said about this picture from the guide which I’ve somehow managed to get inside of, ha. He also indicated that the collection of structures to the right where the railroad leads is the village of Hazel. Definitely avoiding that; no use in taking any chances at this late stage (!).
—–
I notice the geraniums, I notice the succulents. This is definitely the right place. NERVOUS still.
Knock knock knock.
An older gentleman in a Hawaiian aloha shirt with paint stained hands soon opens the door. Relief, PHEW!
“Can I help you, Miss?”
Shelley wakes up before they can talk further. An explanation of what’s actually going on from the creator will have to wait until another night, another dream. Or maybe a series of dreams — that would be cool.
“Till then,” she can hear him say as he retreats back inside. A painting, she also picked up on. He’s working on a painting of….. this she couldn’t resolve.
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0047, 0103, New Island^
00460103 (core issue)
The building where our Peter Bergmann, with two n’s, stayed the last nights of his life was called, generically enough, the Sligo City Hotel, soon changed to The Address but with the same one. Interesting that a sign pointing in its direction on the other side the street from the bus stop — where it just so happened Bergmann wrote his mystery word or sentence or whatever he subsequently ripped up — is positioned directly above that hand-with-pen in this June 2018 Streetview screenshot.
Switching back to the 2024 Streetview photos of that mural, the most recent as I write this, we see the pen pointing directly to a bicycle in the parking lot before it from this perspective, specifically its seat. Personal sync here: the wife and I were just playing around with adjusting a bike seat at a local gym the day I found this pen in a Sligo mural pointing to same. I instantly recognized the connection. I’d started going to the gym, and taking up stationary biking in particular, to attempt to heal a fairly long lingering back issue, longer than usual in my history of such ailments. Set your rear down here to get healed, the mural seemed to indicate in a queer triangle of associations. And as I write this, the back seems to be healing up. I can move on — by staying stationary? Also time to get on the move again, as in moving outdoors from the gym.
But not before strengthening the CENTER.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0046, 0103, Europe, Google Street View
00450103 (The Indicator)
—–
I was an expert on The Pit and all matters fleshy. They had set up a base of operations for me in an old castle surrounding the quarantined area. I looked for the promised local airport in which to land my orange PA-18 Super Cub Amphibian 1.2, bought on a lark day before yesterday’s tomorrow 5 years ago. Seems like it’s just the strip of land next to the castle over there. Oh well — it’ll be tight. Here goes!
Nailed it! Barely, phew! Now to find Baker Bloch the owner of this town and see what the deali-o is about the anomaly. Creature coming all the way under the oceanic plate separating Maebaleia from Jeogeot here? Highly unlikely. Probably an independent entity, hopefully smaller in scope.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0045, 0103, Big Woods, C2077, Jeogeot, Kabusie, Maebaleia/Satori, Oooo, X-City^
00440103
Gerald woke up in some flaming bushes of the royal greenhouse and tried to remember what happened to him during his latest (and greatest?) graytop trip. What’s this bloody mask? he thought to begin, flinging aside the feathery, white thing. Ahh yes, Princess Annabel’s masquerade ball down at the palace, pheh. And he’d flirted with… how many women? But why didn’t he sleep with any of ’em? Ahh, said he had a date with the *bushes*, he recalls. Thus: here. Hmm, *why* did I have to go to the bushes? The flaming ones? Think Gerald. Think! Something about… cubes.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0044, 0103, Heterocera, Iris^^==, Witcher
00430103
“Those books in back aren’t for the general public,” spoke nudist and co-manager of the Yalta Bar and Grill Drew “Grumpy” Cleveland to Fern and Lichen later on. “I only let friends back there, people I know, people I can trust who won’t sully the pages and so on. And I know all the books as well. I had ‘Around the World in 1000 Pictures’ not ‘2000’. That’s a later, expanded version I didn’t purchase. And I don’t take donations — not directly. I buy books. I *know* books.”
“Pure enough,” said Fern to this, still scanning the list before her on the counter. 26 words for 26 letters in order from A to Z. But Asylum isn’t among them — didn’t start it off. Instead: company letterhead at the top. She’d done a little research before confronting Grumpy with the list they’d found. Asylum Inc. was started by one Wayne Bruce in 1972 in Nightsity, California. Thing is, Nightsity doesn’t exist. Not in *this* reality. In 1988 it supposedly moved to Jasper County GA near Atlanta, apparently another lie.
Here’s a Google Street View of the address from the letterhead. Nothing.
The most confounding thing of all: When Fern and Lichen returned to the bookshelves around back to check for additional evidence, “Around the World in 2000 Pictures” was no longer there. Instead, a copy of “Around the World in 1000 Pictures”, brown colored instead of blue for the former, was present in the exact same spot, just like Grumpy said he bought. Even ultra-sharp Fern couldn’t figure this out in the moment. Not yet. It would take the closing of one eye and the opening of another to accomplish.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0043, 0103, C2077, Castle Town, Georgia, Google Street View, Nightsity, Omega^^
00420103
He invited her to play pool with him and she turned out to be a god damn shark. Never mind that, he said internally. I simply need a sounding board for my evil plans. From Neptune he was, he started the explanation after managing a satisfactory break, sinking his own 10, 14 and 15 but also her 2. The same as the Joker, he said about his hometown, the same as the Penguin also before him. But he was a new type of Waynesvillian. He had managed to trap the most powerful witch of all time named Hazel and incorporate her into himself. Hazel Wood.
“Funny name,” she said, sinking the 6, 4, and 5 in a row before barely missing the 1 with a tricky jump shot over his 11. They were playing 8 ball, his favorite. Until tonight.
“Not so funny if you’re face to face with the ancient hag. Down in the cellar she is. I took away her power, made it my own.” He produced a bit of electricity from his fingertips to demonstrate.
“Not so helpful with pool, it seems,” she then opined, watching him miss hitting the 12 in a corner pocket with those same hands. She surveyed the table and predicted a win in her next turn. She promptly sank the 3, 7, 1 and then 8 to accomplish this. “‘Nother one?” she asked about a follow up game while assuming a victory stance with the pool stick.
“Nah not right now. I want you to come back over to my desk. I want you to see something.”
“Alright. But no *funny* business.”
“Why Miss… Krakow isn’t it? Whatever do you mean?”
“You know what I mean.” She’d felt him staring at her while they played.
“No no no, nothing like that. I want to show you the *book*.”
“Oh. Okay I guess.” The mowing became louder outside as Jack edged closer to the house with the John Deere, new shocks in place for a less bumpy ride. Jill’s electric hedge trimmer hummed just beyond the window. Both were hoping to get a glimpse of that book. This is the reason they came back at all after the dual absences.
—–
“Well?” he asked. “What do you think?” The mowing had stopped outside, the trimmer silent along with it.
What *did* she think?
“Biff Carter?” he prompted further. “Does *that* ring a bell?”
“Did you hear that,” whispered Jill excitedly over to Jack. “An actual name from the thing.”
“We have our lead,” he whispered in turn, and they left the scene before being spotted.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0042, 0103, Maebaleia/Satori, Redsland
00410103
She asked for the little lady’s room and got another stare. “The *what*?” he replied, then realized the nature of the request. “Oh, outside on the back wall we have what you call a *bathroom*. We, of course, have never used it but it came with the house,” the implication being that he and his children were mesh creatures each and every one. Marsha was the only actual person here with physical needs like that. Heck, they didn’t seem have a bed to sleep on, not one that she’s spotted. Probably just stop and rest upright when needed. But still they feigned to eat, hmm. Maybe for social acceptance in the small community where they lived. Must get a name for that soon (she made a mental note to herself).
She checked the animations in the toilet before using. She could, to put it more politely than the built in descriptions, do #1, #2, or throw up. Interesting possibility on the last for drinking later on. She noted Andrew’s fine wine collection on a table in a corner of the kitchen — untouched, he said at the time when she asked about it; the family only drank water. What was the point, she figured now, if you couldn’t taste it, thinking the wine was perhaps another amenity that came with the house. Which reminded her that she never actually saw anyone else woof down a bit of food at dinner — should have been a tip off to their type. They were all just chatting away in the vacant way they do. Wally about the Ramones that, the Sex Pistols this. Christina about her recovery from the crippling grips of polio — a miracle indeed (she hadn’t needed a wheelchair in years), but she wouldn’t stop about it. On and on and on, like it was the only thing in the World for her, and the people around her, her father and brother, were just sounding boards to proclaim this miraculous event again and again. She wasn’t real, Marsha then understood. Beyond just mesh. Something even meshier and more unreal than just plain mesh. At least with Biff (Andrew) you could carry on a conversation of sorts. And Wally — maybe the same as his sister. Is it some kind of *degenerative* mesh, passed on from generation to generation until they just end up as statues or something? She peered around outside the bathroom walls for the son and daughter “sleeping” upright. No sight of them on this side of the house. But they had to be *somewhere*. The ground, she thought. Do they just *bury* themselves at night… and then dig themselves up in the morning? Odd thought, she realized. Probably just staring too much at the tools lined up over there against a shed wall while she tries to finish her business. Must think of something else (she attempted to refocus).
She ended up just sleeping in the shed, which made her dream about malicious tools throughout the night. Dug her own grave and then beheaded with the same shovel to wake up.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0041, 0103, Teepot^^
Big Sandy
Her functional neighbor to the west, just over the line in Sandfly, happens to be named Sandy but not for the sim or the attached region. She doesn’t think. We’ll explore that angle sooner than later.
Just to note: there is a village called Sandy FL in Manatee County originally named Stephen. Sandy FL is Sandfly rearranged. Sandy and Stephen sounds like a good name for a *couple* living next door, then. Bonded through history.
Sandy’s is a former fast food restaurant chain taken over by Hardee’s in 1979. Sandy FL is 6 miles below the southeast corner of Hardee County in that state, originally highlighted by towns called Lily being in both Hardee here and also Laurel County KY. Laurel and Hardy, then, another couple, building up the resonance. How far can we go?
Just beyond the western edge of Laurel County KY is a conjunction of Sandy Gap and Acorn, along with Squib that points to Squid. I think we know now what our immediate neighbor to the west looks like.
Now about Stephen…
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0040, 0103, Bellisaria, Sandfly
carnivore
“Halt! Who goes there?”
Damn. Caught! she thinks, still struggling to get free. Damn f-ing big udder, she curses. If only she were born a bull, she laments not for the first time atall.
“I was… *hungry*!” she protests. Please don’t shoot me please don’t shoot me please don’t shoot me, she thinks.
“There is plenty of grass outside my trailer… *cow*,” he points out with his strict military voice. Veteran of the Big War he is. Seen a lot of scenes like this in his day. People were hungry. But *cows*? “I haven’t… mowed in several weeks,” he continued. “Been away. Guess that’s why *you’re* here. Been checking out the place for a while, eh?” he figures with his warrior logic. “Like what you see, huh? Vacant trailer… beside a stream where you can get your water… close to the mountains and the beach… *well*, I’ve thought of these things too!”
“Please. If you just free me from this stuck window I’ll explain. Her voice was pretty ordinary for a bovine creature. Her father’s father was an Italian shepherd, explaining her anthropomorphic look. Gets lonely out in the fields sometime. Warrior Kurt is not a total stranger to these urges either.
“Okay, I will free you,” he relents. “But you *must* be pastured. You cannot stay in the trailer with me. Under any circumstances!”
Wow, she thinks. Easy request. Does he have? No… couldn’t be. But then she recalls her heritage.
“What kind of food do you desire? Cow.” Yes, a cow, he thinks. Nothing more. A fat, stinky cow dotted all over with flies. Unsanitary! But here he was thinking of his childhood instead of the present, his uncle’s dairy farm, the mud and the heat. He’s superimposing the past upon the present for a specific purpose, yes, more benefits of wartime military training. He’s even contemplating shooting her in the rear end again, just to get food for *himself*. He feels the pistol underneath his half cape, as if heating up. Should he? She has no defenses. She is like the Durexians on Battle Hill #7 that late April June morning in the May of ’78. The Trojan flag was planted atop it by noon, with only 1 or 2 loses, which unfortunately numbered his chum Chet.
Chet was a vegetarian. Chet would never shoot a defenseless cow. He couldn’t even kill a Durexian threatening to slice his head in two like it was a cantaloupe or watermelon. He puts down the urge to kill. He’ll feed the poor creature. He’ll, yes, let her into his house. If she wishes — her choice.
“Here. I will help you.” She ended up staying in the vacant yellow camper parked beside his trailer, as if waiting for her, expecting her. Meat was always on the table.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0103, Bellisaria, Northern Hills
Sunklands 