Category Archives: 0202

mothers

“Do you see it out there Pitch? Come here please.” Kate McCoy, moved on from her late husband Jack and the Hilling sim as a whole, waved Baker/Pitch over to see if he could eyeball the unicorn as well. He stopped playing the piano and singing track 3 of the Platinum Prune suite of songs, popular in Bena and the surroundings these days.

“Nothing,” he said after moving to the window to also stare out at the yard. “Trick of the leaves,” he suggested correctly. But Kate knew it was more. Back to business.

—–

“I’ve decided I’m going to play my mother here in Bena. The Mother of Vampires, kind of like the Mother of Dragons but also different. Which wasn’t real either — cats instead,” Kate McCoy tried to explain about her new role.”

“Um hum,” Pitch Darkly exclaimed from the couch. “And what of Garfield, um, *Hatfield*? Will he remain, say, in the attic of the house? He’s a big orange (cartoon) cat, after all. Nothing that a village full of vampires would have.”

“I suppose he’ll have to,” opined Kate McCoy, finger to lip in thinking mode. “And yourself? Did Rebl set you up with your own coffin? Have you interacted with anyone in the community proper yet?”

“Just Barry,” Pitch responded about the used coffin salesman he dealt with online, who just so happens to be from Bena and is giving up his own vampire gig here. So Pitch is, in essence, replacing Barry. Interesting.

“Lindens,” Kate then utters, and shakes her head. “Taking away the few good men — vampires — we have. Leaving us with only Lemons.”

Pitch became confused. “But — Lemons are good. Aren’t they?” Kate McCoy just glared at him.

(to be continued?)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0202, Corsica^^

rat tales

Dr. Brown knew a thing or two about sniffing out mysteries. He’d been doing so most of his life, especially a particular one involving the Cult of the Three Suns. Clues had been flying in from all directions recently. And now another had fallen in his lap: a pregnant Pat or Patrick Starr, connected with *North Yd* of all places (pronounced like “North Wide” just so you’ll know). Tilers, he thought from his secret underground lair, far far away (spatially and temporally) from the simpletons at Eotia Village. Squid people. Opposite sides of the circle, one dead and stuffed, the other living and breathing and… preaching. Vicious cycle — no, not vicious — *natural*, a comes around, goes around sort of idea. But now he had to find Tessa. She was the key.

Less than a half year ago; North Yd:

“The tile here indicates safety, however,” her grandpa reinforced. “Safe to split up, then. You examine the buildings that way,” — Grandpa Gold points behind Tessa — “and I’ll work my way around from this end — counterclockwise — until we meet up somewhere in the middle. Is that okay?”

—–

—–

I could spend the rest of my life staring at these walls and learning nothing else. I can’t believe all of the months from my past I did so. Nascera, he thought bitterly. Turns out nothing’s here. Nothing atall.

Even Reginald appears to be gone.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0202, Nascera^^, The Waste^^

storied house 02

It was a beautiful house, but quite prim heavy at 195li. And that’s unfurnished. Impractical, most likely, to set up in present day Collagesity except on a temporary basis. And Mabel wasn’t going to go *back* without it, I don’t think. So it looks like they’re stuck in Heartsdale for a while longer.

Although well beyond its glory days, the town still retained some interesting landmarks. There was the coffee and sweets shop on the corner of Blown Apart and West Anglia. This is Mabel and Buurb’s favorite table within they’re sitting at here, with the great view toward their house (their house??). Mabel usually only drinks coffee. Buurb sometimes gets a whole wheat danish roll, like today. Mabel knew there wasn’t any use in trying to change Buurb’s mind over leaving, so she instead talked about New Island and how they got here. She sometimes read her associated diaries to Buurb late at night while they, let’s say, sipped cognac and munched on taffy popcorn.

It all revolved around the vinyl version of “Sometime in New York City” and the void in the center of Lennon’s solo career it represented. Slavery? That’s what they often discussed, and, yes, occasionally argued about. Very occasionally. For Mabel was against slavery of any kind in any fashion. Buurb made some qualified exceptions.

“Take the South after the Civil War,” he said today after taking the first bite of his roll and then setting it back on the small plate.

“No, don’t go there,” his wife demanded, also wishing her husband wouldn’t speak with his mouth full.

He chewed and swallowed; lightly smacked his lips. “Given 5, 7, 8 years, don’t you think President Lee would have freed the slaves himself? And the South might have been better going that route. Take carpetbaggers…”

“I *said*, I don’t want to hear it.” She ‘d have nothing negative spoken about Stove Top Lincoln. Andrew The Tailor Johnson, however, was often open for potshots. But she wasn’t in the mood this morning. She kept thinking about the house across the street. It was and wasn’t their house; another quandary. They were married there, true. But they also still lived in the trashy alley that followed from Old Church Street beside it across St. George Street at its front. The sale hadn’t been finalized. And the mortgage would be 2 full months’ wages between them (!). Could they really afford it? Were they digging a financial grave they would never emerge from? But the house! So perfect. If I could just get it to Collagesity, Mabel thought, we’d have a piece of property with no attached tax, no attached anything; that’s how things work there.

“Look at Pitch Darkly,” she said to Buurb another time on this subject. “Look at Woody (Woodmanson). Refuges… like us. The Bakers take them in, make sure they’re wanted and provided for. You’d like The Bakers, Buurb.”

“I knew Baker Blinker,” he corrected. “Or I at least knew someone who claimed to be her.”

“Oh yes,” Mable said, a pang of jealousy crossing her heart. Her Heartsdale heart. “Precious Snowflake.”

Because she was still around. We’ll revisit her soon and find out more of her story.

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“One Pink”

Pitch had always gotten chills when walking past this particular spot on his Grassy Avenue. Tonight he understood why. Two cardboard figures, Derek Jones and Sikul Himakt Mykall Skall, awaited him at the location. Pitch temporarily lost his sight.

“Ahh, my eyes! I can’t see.”

And soon he couldn’t hear or speak either.

—–

Jacob I. was now up on the second floor of House Greenup in Rubi. He had reached Greenup 11 in his examination. Himself.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, ., 0202, Clemscott^, Gaeta V^^, Heterocera^^, Rubi^

prep

“Terry. I’m glad you’re here already.”

“Yup. Mr. R. sent me ahead to set up the place, make sure all the correct drinks are loaded up, (and) so on. We’re playing cards later tonight. On the clock, of course.”

“Of course,” Baker Bloch responds.

“Sorry we don’t quite have our license nailed down in Minoa yet,” the green fire-ickle states.

“Perfectly all right. Just checking to see how things were going.”

“Mr. R. should be here by the end of the month, first of next month at the latest, Mr. Bloch.”

“Baker, please.”

“Mr. Baker. Mr. B.” Terry emits that cool clicking sound with his mouth again and points. Baker is a bit smitten himself. Such a groovy dude.

—–

“Norum,” Wilson Wheeler says. “This is the place.”

“And there is the man.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, ., 0202, Heterocera^^, Rubi^

Leaving Behind 02

“Hmm, some kind of randomly lit alcove wall Buster. Stop playing in the leaves!”

The tea house.

Perhaps an ancient map of Olde Lapara Towne, Wheeler thought.

And then…

the scrapbook again. “Nifty!”

“Buster, get your dead ass in here!!”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0202, Heterocera^^, Lapara^

Warning

“I thought I might find you here.”

“What’s up?” Chuckles Greentop replied while reeling in yet another perch. “How’s the investigation going?”

“Yeah, really sorry to hear about your friend Renaldo O’Donnell.”

“He wasn’t really a friend any more. I gave up clowning a while back. Gave up the underground. Above ground’s for me. Fishing mainly. Maybe you can buy a rod as well and go casting with me sometime — lots of good spots around here.”

“Maybe,” Wheeler replies, half hopeful.

“So you’re staying with Old Man Martin I’ve heard.”

“How…?”

“News travels fast here,” Chuckles interjected. “How’s his poor possessed kid doing? Investigation will continue for a while, you know.”

“Can you *explain* that (Doogie possession)?”

“Petty’s a top notch detective. Along with being a fine chef. He gets privileges. That’s all I can say about the matter.”

“Any idea who did it?”

“Inside job, I’ve heard. Clown vs. clown. My strong suggestion is you close up the portal; don’t go down there any more.”

“I can’t do that,” Wheeler replied. “I have to find the heart of the mystery.”

“Well, I could tell you all *about* your heart, but if you are bound and determined — set on your mission — then you’ll find out soon enough. Hope you like goofy stuff.”

She left it at that.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, ., 0202, Heterocera^^, VHC City^