August 14, 1974. Lucy Blue Dress takes one last look back at the campsite she’d stayed her summer after graduating from high school. She’d miss the cool cool stream that flowed and sometimes cascaded by her tent. She’d miss the gatherings at Sugar’s shack with all the weirdos of the woods. She’d miss more organized White Tree Village and dreamy Bluebird who lived there and who she took occasional long walks with. Most of all, there was Titiana and Vanessa, her bestest friends during this period in her life. “Come with me to college!” she begged of them beside their favorite wagon near the shack near the center. “No, we stay here,” said Vanessa, which made Titiana nod. They all called her Tiana, because her full name was just a little too much to pronounce in casual conversation. She didn’t like it but she accepted the shortening; she was growing up and becoming more mature about such things. Both were smart. Both took the SATs and did well enough to go to their pick of at least a public school. But: no. The woods had captivated them beyond escape. The Ourobos that is the stream had worked its magic, beginning matched with end. They would be happy going round in circles the rest of their lives, without a worldly degree, without a decent and rewarding job that resulted in such, without the ability to support a family beyond perhaps a husband or wife — both girls swung either way on that preference. “The woods will take care of us,” they said, and bade her farewell with teary hugs just minutes ago. They offered to follow her to the campsite down the stream and see her off from her woodlands home of 2 months but she said this wasn’t necessary, and there was no reason for them to watch her leave the way they all came: alongside the brick wall that led outta here. This corner is where the woods die for her.
And then there was Zapppa, who was set to leave the forest himself tomorrow. Or the day after tomorrow at the latest, he promised. “Just gotta wrap up something at the cemetery,” he said minutes before she then met with Vanessa and Titiana that one last time.
He was the love of her life. Pretty sure of that, she was. Going to college with her, he was. Studying math: her, psychology. Stats would be their shared passion beyond the bed. They determined there was a 24.687531% chance they would return here after college, using their acquired skills to better the woods and their denizens and citizens. Never happened. The zero and nine would have to be added in to make it work and that, they realized, would defeat the whole purpose. Worldly they remained.
In one reality.
(to be continued)
He made sure he was wearing the right colors.
We are here.
“I am looking for my red and green umbrella,” he spoke as clearly as possible through the rusty metal window.
Umbrellas, Alysha thought. But: close enough! “Come on in.” (creaaakk)
*There* you ares, he thought, spying them when entering.
Oh dear. What’s this?
“No more war. No more war! Stop *NOW*.”
“What are you *doing*. You’re going to *KILL YOURSELVES* ahhhhggg!”
“Move along. Nothing to see here. Move along.” (kkaaaerc)
“Now you know,” she said, still inside. “It’s all about Castor.”
How could he live with this?
Face stitched up as best as possible, rescuers gone, Wendy finds the portal to neighboring Ontario through a void sim thanks to the help of Dickie and some indicating, howling wolves. Delight! Maybe there’s hope for the chesskers situation after all.
“Iowa,” she spoke back to Dickie while feeling the cold wind of reality blow on her wounded face, stinging it a bit. Close!
The library can finally be left behind. Dickie waves goodbye as the darkness envelops her, wolves silent with their task done.
“Where are we on the map, Baker B.? It’s very important we keep up with the map. We’ve come soo far.”
“Let’s see.” Alter.
“We’ve just found out that Elvira, you know, the aunt of Mrs. Ordinary who lives up in Chapel Vile over on the Corsica continent…”
“She lives at or near Terriergate, the art gallery in Terriergate. This would be on the very western tip of the Lower Austra peninsula, maybe putting it in the Wild West category instead. You see (W.), I’m having a hard time still dividing the regions of the Nautilus continent up.”
“Do you think the elimination of Collagesity would help?” I waited for more and it didn’t come.
“What do *you* think?” I ventured in the gap. Nothing still.
“A spirit is summoned by a witch in Spirit Witch,” I declared.
“Start there,” a faint voice comes from the darkness in the distance.
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0031, 0307, Collagesity Fordham, Lands End, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, North, Rim Isles, Rooster's Peninsula, Slaashsides, Southwestern, Upper Austra^, Wild West
Could he pull this off? It was suppose to be a display car, crown jewel of the exhibit, but Vince Wonderboy had a big bright idea to lure Apri Cott in here, not the brightest of the new crop, and, most importantly, the wealthiest, or potentially so if all the family money rolls his way. “You won’t even *need* money for the tuition part of your education with this baby,” he pitched under the pitched tent this car would center if it weren’t for that darn pole in the middle. If only they could make (the object) invisible. “You’ll settle down on the bay or something with a rich heiress and whittle the days away sipping ginger beer and eating Toasty-O’s — I think they’re up to irregular shapes like strings and loops by this time,” he sidetracked. Back to it: “5000,” he said. “You get your own oxygen tank with it, right there in the center between the two seats. You’ll be really high up; you’ll need it. We’ll throw that in for free.”
“I’ll *take* it,” he rapidly said after the “free” came out of the car loaner agent’s mouth. Fish come to papa, Vince W. thought, imagining himself down on that same pretend bay with the same pretend heiress. One day…
White Mage: I should yield to black.
Duncan was, of course, glad of the new assignment from the Pot-D powers that be. Which meant essentially: Buster Damm, his “boss” for several years now. Gave him his red skeleton heart medallion hung on a necklace for tracking purposes and sent him off to parts unknown, or at least for Duncan. Now he was needed again. In the briefing, he’d learned that other black people were involved in this here photo-novel. Good! “‘Bout time,” he said to the small vampire staring across from him at the VHC City bakery where they always met, no exceptions. Because it was away from the Sister sim, where Buster was banned. And Bemberg, the other sim which made up most of the rest of VHC City: off-limits as well for other reasons. Tussock it is, and no need to hide the actual name of the sim there either.
Back to the present. Tonight Duncan was asked to just roam around and take pictures of interesting looking things. Buster said he trusted his instincts by now; always seemed to know where to exactly look for clues to the current dilemma. And boy did they have one this time, Duncan thinks from his cushiony leather chair, trying not to stare over at it until absolutely necessary. The Moon. Crabwoo was back, baby. Probably Blue Feather Douglas the old TILE coot as well. Said to call him the Master toward the end. Weellll… he wasn’t going to do it (!). And neither should anyone else in this here photo-novel, especially the people… that looked like him.
He tried to remember how the man appeared in case he was in any of the photos here. He peered around and saw there were a number in this room alone, and the space base (space base?) had a good number of rooms and levels to go. He better start or else not enough sleep tonight. And he needed to be fresh in the morning because it would start all over again about 9:30 or so. “Purple Rain”: that always got him up and going. Prince of a guy, until he became not-Prince and dead at the turn of the Century. Two thousand zero zero: never made it. But, through the Pot-D Grape Vine (purple again!) he’d heard about alternate realities where he did and wore a raspberry beret through it all. Or was it just a rasp*berry*, as in a disguise. He’d have to check…
(to be continued)
He was back in Bellisaria tonight spying on the Stars. They were dancing with one another, and also dancing with one other. Checking profile now…
She has the same name as my wife(!). Baba. Or Babaa in the wife’s case. And me? I am Grandpapa.
Now where is my no good grandson?
He’s forgotten he’s been dead for well over a year. Killed by Axis, but not during the war.
Then they were gone. And he was too. We’ll catch up with him later.
With his brother Corey, Jonny Blank waited patiently for the crucial phone call that would link him up to the infamous Black Lake Gang cabal.
Not seeing anyone around that seems suspicious, he checks the nearby airport terminal screen again, keeping one eye on little Corey to make sure he doesn’t wander off (again).
Good, he thinks. The airplane is still in the runway. Let’s keep her there.
With his powerful psychic mind, he freezes time just before the start of Wednesday.
“You don’t understand, Sidechick.”
“If I go through that doorway it won’t be the same as before. We won’t have fish — me. We won’t have chips — you. We’ll just have the two separated out again, which will amount to nothing atall in the long run, really. Meal time: *over*.”
“Don’t… go.” On the spot, he decides to make up a song for her combining the two food products in a different, musical way; food for the mind instead of the body.
Does any of this work? The map seems to know.
Duncan pauses in his examination of Eveningwood. 300 address at the western edge of town: where had he seen this before? And a “ROOST – Jasper Landing TALL Fence” over there — interesting.
Duncan would keep going, but he would never return to Our Second Lyfe as he crosses the boundary between real and imaginary on the other side of the 300. Virtual I meant there. Real and virtual. He was a black man inside the sphere; he never knew what hit him.
“Oh *I* see. Field *on*. As in some kind of activated force field.”
“Spherical in nature,” he added.
But who were these people inside this darkened cinema on the edge of realities? They stare into the screen as if a window.
(to be continued)
“Did you create this, Fern?”
“I had a hand in it.”
“Tessa! And… Robert?”