Category Archives: 0308

return

While she was traveling about, Yoko Ona decided to revisit her old home of Witch’s Rock, if only for the memories. The original group of witches had long been killed off by rival covens (like Mid-Hazel’s), but the objects remain. Let’s take a look.

Ruby Fantasie waited on a nearby hill, mulling over possibilities for her next transformation.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0308, Braynard's Place^^

switch

“I’ve got to figure out where I *am* in this story, Inspector-Chef Petty. Am I in Storybrook? Or — here?” The answer was obvious. He was here. He draws back out of the media feed in his adopted house in Greater Urqhart.

The butler came to him from behind with an offer of tea, which would have been his 6th drink of the day to add to 2 iced expresso beverages, 2 hot coffees, and 1 other tea, a blend of caffeinated and decaffeinated Earl Grey, mix in some Orange and Spice for pizzazz. Just like the one being offered.

“No thank you, Alberta, not right now.” Then Barry spoke again to the butler over his shoulder. “Say, you’re from Corsica originally, aren’t you Alberta?”

“Yes sir. The western part, or, more correctly, the southwestern part. I originate from a place called Butler as well. I am a butler and my place of origin is Butler but it is all coincidence.” He spoke methodically, something like a robot but not quite. There was still warmth in his voice. And the overtone trill of an insect.

Wannabe famous novelist Barry X. Vampire knew there were no coincidences, at least not in His Second Lyfe, by experience. He began to query more. It was thus here that he learned of his alternate existence on the border between Golen Hill and Golen Bay, with the same butler, with the same media feed, with Inspector-Chef Petty still by his side reading “Floydadada” or the “Necronomicon” or whatever the current book rage was, red one be damned. He will *not* pick up the red one and read, no sir-rie. But then he did — just found the book in his hands all of a sudden. Inspector-Chef Petty begins to red. A red door appears behind him — her, a portal…

“It is known for its great belts,” continued the butler, as if nothing had happened, no movement or teleportation occurred. “Black Diamond style. The word Belt is incorporated into the word Butler, after all. Think about it sir. Think long and hard about it. I will leave the great belt with you to decide.

Decide *what*? Barry X. Vampire ruminated as the butler left the object on the table before retreating back downstairs somewhere. “*Somewhere*, he then realizes, seeing the portal for what it is. Amazon — Basin. *Comet.*

The door opens.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0308, Corsica^^, Southwest, Storybrook, Urqhart

the ones

“The Fries with Cheese branch of the Main Cheese Church and the Church of the Cult of Oo’d over there have existed side by side in Collagesity for well over a year now. Clown sacrifices (Oodites) next door to a religion (Cheesies) headed by a clown. But they get along fairly well — it’s a small town and everyone knows everyone. No need for protracted bickering, with the proverbial hatchet buried quite long ago underneath a ceremonial rock straddling their shared property line.” Baker turns and then points. “I think you can see it right down there.”

Wheeler leans over and peers too. “Yes. I see it.”

“Knives are the weapon of choice now, but only within the church.”

“Okay, good.”

Baker returns his attention to the story. “Drawing back to look at the bigger picture, the hatchet remains more exposed, a lingering effect of the VHC City-Pond District War. VHC City is where the Cult of Oo’d started, an underground movement at first that has secretly returned to that location in the highest ranks, weegee boards and planchettes in hand. Summerhill Nova, owner of most of the underground in that town, is titular head of the Oodties now as well, although they disguise themselves as Christians (ELMERS) for broader appeal. And as we’ve learned, the Pond District is home of the Main Church of Cheese currently fronted by the Good Rev. Amos T. Sandman.”

“Who I have a date with tonight, lucky me.” The gown she chose for the occasion suited her well, Baker thought. She was trying to use her position of power to gain information. He continues…

“Summerhill has remained pure and white as glue to promote the above ground version of her religion. Amos T. Sandman’s appearance is like a bouquet of blossoming color.  Yet dig down just a little and it is clear these two leaders have much in common beneath opposing surfaces. Each is a *hatchet* themselves.”

“Explain,” requested Wheeler while holding up a pocket mirror and applying more lipstick.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0308, Lower Austra, Nautilus^^

“End of Real”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0308, collages 2d, End of Time^^

the power of one

“It all ends with the chicken,” Grey Scale responded to the still defiant Queen before her. “No Mor,” she insisted.

“But…” She shook her head in continued defiance, “you’re no more president of this here South than I am. It’s a technicality you’re talking about, a *loophole*. It doesn’t really exist. It won’t stand up in a Court of the Land. Neither mine *nor* yours.”

“I am president,” put forth Grey Scale Kimball in a matching tone of finality. “The loophole, in my opinion — in my *decree* — was set up by fate. You state that *you* set up loyalist Space Ghost on that property called ‘Ghost land’ due to fate. I am saying to you in solid return that, although this is *technically* true — another loophole in a way — it was also fate that I discover the traitorous move. Trailer traitor,” she finished for now.

“So lemme get this straight,” the Queen shot back. “Lemme get this straight.” Her eyes were in the air now as she had assumed again a state of high haughtiness in line with her royal position. “*You* were elected head of the Council over in Regaltown.”

“Yes.”

“Then since Regaltown is the old capital of the South, before the coming of the grey and white elephants, then your power is transferable to Horns of Hatton because the Head of Council there was once the same as the Head of Council here.”

“Still is.” Grey Scale continued to mirror the fixed position of her foe standing before her. Her *defrocked* foe. She pointed to herself. “Me.”

The Queen waved her monstrous red hands in the air and stomped about the floor a bit, uttering cusswords I won’t repeat here with such words as “unbelievable,” “unfathomable,” “unconscionable.”

“Duly elected,” broke in Grey Scale in the middle of all this. “DU-LY…” She motioned for the Heart Queen to simmer down. “ELEC-TED.”

And that was basically the end of it. Space Ghost’s illegal trailer on the west edge of town derezzed and owner banished back to Regaltown. The Queen’s mutinous club gathering at Cpt. Americus’ Between Land cabin on alternate Tuesdays and Thursdays dispersed. No scripts allowed to run at the King’s tomb; no more worshipping of the dead, of the past. Grey Scale had found an opening, an *Achilles heel*, and taken full advantage of it. She was ensconced.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0308, Horns of Hatton^, Maebaleia/Satori^^

Toppsity

Gabby Truth always slept with the lights on. Wakefulness interrupted unconsciousness constantly. “What was that?” he might say randomly at any stray noise. “Who goes there?”

The picture of swinging teen lovers he use to love didn’t comfort him like before. He formerly slept directly with it, creepily enough. Now it just lays by his bed, unused.

Leaves are closing in, he frets. Bushes. Trumping his freedom at every card play. Unable to connect the dots any more. And what *was* his constellation sign? Fire? Water? The local astrologer had fled invading Earth and hadn’t returned, so no answers there. That leaves Air. Leaves… Air.

Gemini! he realizes excitedly, then distinctly hears knocks right afterwards. Three, then two, then one. Twin Brother Amos. But why this time of night? Oh, he thinks. They must have lost the house. Oh drat, oh darnit. The seed and the house. He’ll have to stay with me now. Oh well, at least the Earth’s gone (Ka-BLAM!). He pulls the covers away from him and gets up, being careful not to trip over the lovers’ painting. He also grazes psuedo-Mossman’s head for luck on his way to the door, per usual.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0308, Maebaleia/Satori^^, Toppsity

Rosehaven dolls

They both continue to stare into the flames.

“I don’t have time tonight to find the butterfly sail ship. Nor its picture in the dollhouse.”

“Why don’t you go to the map.” Norris’ voice was so tinny and small that Ruby Fantasie barely recognized it over the hiss and crackle of the fire.

The map, Ruby thought. I don’t have time for that neither. “Tell more,” she requested.

“The map…”

“Could you speak up Tiny Norris.”

“Yes. *The* *map* *is* *at* *the* *center* *of* *your* *understanding*.”

Understanding, Ruby Fantasie pondered. Did I understand that correctly? Understand understanding?

She asked.

“*Understanding* *yes*. *Go* *back* *to* *the* *map*. *Look* *for* *the*…”

Tiny Norris had fallen onto the floor. His head was in one part, his body another.

He must have meant glue, Ruby understood.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0308, Rosehaven^^

Head o’

“Sometimes it’s not all about you Baker Bloch. Now put that on your head.”

“No.”

—–

“This is where you are. Be *here*.”

“I’m going to the Red Umbrella now, Ruby.”

—–

—–

“What are you looking for?”

“A way out.”

“You already know the way out. Way… Marr.”

—–

“Do you want to talk about the pain?”

“Failure. No connection. Blame the other.”

“Way, then. Not Marr.”

“Right.”

“Were you to blame? You were the weirdo, after all. Not the one grounded in physicality. Look at these novels, eh. No solid ground. Unless it is here — in Orange. Sorry, where are you now?”

“Let’s see. Looks like Pitaya. Just beyond Orange, though. NW corner.”

“I’m coming down.”

—–

“It’s just me and you now. Here.”

—–

“I’m dead. I know I’m dead.”

“Yes. You are dead.”

—–

“I think… I’m ready to live again.”

“Help out our mutual friend Sam Bee. Then we’ll talk.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0308, Fruity Islands^^

like a rose

They stood on Highway 9 just beyond the northwest corner of the studio Sidechick Corea rented for the week. “Are you sure you don’t want to come see Karl and I’s new place, Sidechick,” spoke Annie. She points down the beach. “Just over there; it’s cute as a button. Unfortunately we don’t have the stove installed. Else we’d invite you over for supper! But still — come take a look.”

Sidechick didn’t mention that Ellen had warned him not to stay on New Island more than a couple of hours at a time due to the aberrant energy. He simply and politely turned them down, saying he had to get back to Nascera and that his supervisor had more chores for him to accomplish.

“Tell me more about your boss,” Annie inquired before he took his leave.

“He’s very, very gracious. He’s kind and gentle. He *radiates*. He is the embodiment of, well, of a perfect man. He eats a lot of ice cream but it doesn’t seem to make him fatter than he already is, haha. He likes snickers.”

“Cool. Karl, we better get back to the house. We have a lot of decorating to do tonight. A lot of ordering from the marketplace.” She stabs him with a bony finger in his hairy chest. And *tomorrow* we attempt another one of those nudes. I don’t know what happened to that last one.”

Karl nudges Sidechick Corea in the ribs. “Get this — she drew me as a *blue* boy. You gotta come see. It’s hilarious.” He’d stopped coughing for some reason. Looks like the Rabbit Hole won’t be needed any longer.

“Interesting,” Sidechick manages.

“Surely it won’t happen again, Karl. It’s like my paintbrush was possessed!”

“Ahh, but we can always switch roles. *You* in the nude, har.”

“Sidechick excused himself again and began walking down Highway 9, intending to make his way across East Bridge well before nightfall. Ellen had also told him not to drive a car onto the island.

So Ellen was also right about that, he pondered while striding the middle line as much as possible. And Karl resurrected in a Bluebird Cuddle Van over at Horizons, as he explained in the interview. Blue!

“Hmph. How’d *that* happen??”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0308, New Island^

continuation

Philip continued to read his book for hours. Afterwards it described him looking through the telescope at hand and seeing Spica, bright as a bell, like he was back in the northern hemisphere and far away from that dreaded Southern Cross. Back to studying the Spica variable star and the precession of the equinoxes, similar to one of his major heroes Copernicus did before him. Our Second Lyfe’s sun, hmm, he then ponders, wondering if it could possibly be reachable by rocket ship. What is in the centre?

—–

By this time, Marion Harding was back down on the ground — grounded — and seeing Capitol City straight and for what it really was again. Bland and boring. The others of his gang were suppose to meet him in Raven Manor’s main dining room at 7:00 (more leftovers from the great spread he had prepared 2 nights back now), but since they both were usually a little late, he decided to drag his feet this time as well. He takes a detour to that recently found ice fishing shed over in Horizons-Spica, part of the sci-fi retro sub-continent where land can be rented so cheaply (thanks Veyot!). Ahh, vacation, he thinks. Could it be possible soon? Perhaps after the one last big bank heist in Farmington. Or was it Bennington?

He teleports to the shack using the landmark created last night. An angler is positioned just a bit down the bank from him, seemingly of the female variety. “Hello?” he says. No answer — but this might be problematic. He wanted to be alone and smoke his grass and talk to his fantasy creations: Peanut Cop, Golden Josephine, and the rest. Away from that nonsense babbling Kid and tough talking Philip, somehow the best of buds now despite their different natures. He doesn’t want other fishermen — or fisherwomen — in his way. Who does own the shack? He desires it for his own, his own centre of the universe, he realizes, at least for a little while.

He decides just to ignore the problem for now and poke around inside again. Chess, he remembers…

He finds himself laying down on the far couch against the colorful throw pillows.

“Fishing,” he murmurs, relaxing, letting it all go. “Fishing for fish. Fishing for answers. Fishing for…”

“Pitch,” the fisher lady then calls from outside, puzzling him. “Pitch. Time to wake up. Wake up.”

—–

“It was awful, Mary. I dreamed I was back in Buster and I’s killing shack, but I was the victim set up this time. I was to be sacrificed!”

“There, there,” Mary comforted, stroking his white forehead. “Only a dream.” Then they laid together. It was like old times.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0308, Capitol City^, Gaeta V^^, Hana Lei^^, Horizons^^