Category Archives: 0311

00360311

She figured if she didn’t find paradise in Mortons Gap, where would she? Bartender Keanoob was cute, and also a good talker. Not that she’s looking any more — she has Arthur after all. They’re married now, at least last time I checked.

Yes, married. This is most likely their honeymoon destination. There were some Durexian-Trojan war memorials here, plus the Ant Castle, whose history also fascinated Arthur. Shelley was pliable — she could go anywhere as long as there’s beach, sun, drink and decent internet access. It was okay here, not the best but doable. She could log onto 3rd Life relatively easy, although for best results she had to reduce her graphics by getting rid of all the shaders. And also minimizing the screen at times. But it was manageable. She’ll play on it a little later, after Arthur has gone to bed. But first: a drink.

“Lemon’s freshly squeezed, Shelley,” spoke Keanoob in his pleasant Japanese accent. He didn’t look like he was from that country but he claimed to be a native. He points to the lemon tree that we look between the split trunk of in that photo above.

“Oh dear,” she said, looking at the time on her watch. “Better get back to the hotel, Keanoob. I’ll have to save that drink for later.”

“Oh okay. You know where to find me!” he called as she dashed off.

He put away the lemons, cussing at his lack of action. Shelley had that effect on men, though. Made them want to follow her to the ends of the Earth, Second Lyfe style. Funny how 1st and 3rd Life are spelled with an “i”, while Second isn’t. Must be a middle problem.

Limes. Only stuck with limes now. “Tequila, Lucy?”

“Sure.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0036, 0311, Corsica, Northwest^

00350311

She came from The Void — above. And judging by this introductory picture she may have been formed by The Void, or be a manifestation of The Void itself, sent here to straighten out a pair of misbehaving whippersnappers far below, pheh (she gets into character). BEH.

Her name… give us a second; we’re working on it. Mourning Glory is what I got now. MG.

Here on Holding Level 2, or what some call the Gold Room, our grandmother looking type person decompresses by soaking in a hot tub for 2 weeks a while, its stairs borrowed by Burt to check on a malfunctioning heat vent in hall 4 1/2 a couple of days beforehand. Budget is low for these sorts of places today; MG had to climb in, difficult with her frame and developing arthritis, lengthening the process. No one really comes down from The Void to Our Second Lyfe any more. Back in the golden, olden days it was different. Hence the choice of color here: to remind one of past glory. And I suppose the name Mourning Glory could be a reflection of this too. What did this MG know about such? I’m eager, and I hope you, the reader or readers, are also eager to find out. She keeps the red phone close in case orders change from above.

She’s finally out of the cleansing, relaxing hot tub, ready to get down to business. She checks her face in a handy mirror first. Not there still — she’ll work on it. Only a placeholder version of The Void behind her, which, of course, if she turned around she wouldn’t see.

To the file room.

Filed chronologically instead of alphabetically according to the labels, good.

But — shock — no files within the cabinets! She even checked the dumpster around the corner, *oof*, her back!

She needs to call the boss about the apparent theft but first things first: another go in the hot tub.

Calm, MG, callmmm.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0035, 0311, Omega^^, Southern, The Cross^

00340311

My boy is 15 minutes late, she thought beside the absorbed portrait in the middle of town. Better go meet up with him.

She looks just like I remember her! he thought. Hadn’t changed a bit. But the designer drug was wearing off bit by bit. One by one, the wrinkles began to appear on her face, under her eyes, alongside her chin. Yes: different. Mom but changed. The years have treated her well but they’re still years to live with. Barry realizes the duck will be gone too when he returns to his motel. It was *their* diner. They always met here under the gold tipped pyramid. To talk about life, where they were both heading, where they have been. His mother was always more like a best friend than a parent. She was only 17 years older than him. He felt like he could talk to her about anything. Including the duck.

“Mom,” he starts.

“Don’t,” she said, putting finger to lips and making a shh sound. “I know about the duck.”

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0034, 0311, Gold City, Jeogeot

Hy-Vee

The wind blows hard as we enter the village.

Well pump replaces rocket ship on the next encountered welcoming sign. The pump is a rocket?

Ah ha. Well pump standing by itself in an otherwise vacant lot more on the edge of the tiny hamlet. Launching pad?

And then another one in the exact center, blue instead of white.

Visiting Roger Pine Ridge (as it turns out) waits on a bench at the store he saw pictured on that rock, the one that absorbed Marty. Maybe Marty is here, he reasons. Might make sense. He’ll give it a couple more minutes or hours or days at least. Years.

The flapping continues. Roger is unable to light one of his personally rolled white sticks because of it. Sparks too dangerous in a spot so wooden and full of history.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0033, 0311, Iowa

00320311

“Good evening, Debbie. How are you doing tonight?”

“Been here long?” she asked her brother originally husband Dickie. “I… couldn’t decide what to wear. I just ended up coming as your sister. *Simplify* is what I say.” She takes another sip of her espresso, looks out the window.

“That’s Lake Ontario,” says the brother formerly husband. “Halfway here, halfway there.”

“Isn’t everything these days.” They sip in unison, tacit agreement with each other.

They catch up. Dickie fills in Debbie about Joey Avatar and Black Bart and the man who’s perhaps responsible for most evil in this town of Ontario which seems to be Ontario itself, one James or Jim L. Brown. “Pusher if not a taker,” he elaborates. He instinctively feels for his wallet again.

“Drugs?” she responds, glancing about the place to make sure no one was around still.

“Implied,” he said. “Through the indicator (Dasher).”

“Hmm,” she said, thinking of nothing else to say. It *couldn’t* be that simple. Pan-Z or Pot-D surely had more complicated reasons for being here. But she’s simplifying; maybe they are too. Ditching the paranormal aspect.

“You?” he said to fill the gap. “How’s Lorsters Worst going?”

“Oh I’m not there any more. Elisa took my place there.”

“Elisa?” He sipped, recalling her from other assignments. She always requested to be a red clad lady of the night. He thought she secretly just wanted to be a hooker outright, forget the force or group or whatever they’re calling our collective these days. He says his thoughts aloud for his sister.

“Could be, (sip). My theory: they let me out of the gig because I couldn’t find what was behind the purple door.”

“Elaborate,” he requested. His coffee was done. Time to light a fag. Fags always got his organizational brain going after a prerequisite caffeine boost. The more smoke filled his eyes, the better he could see.

“Oh dear,” she said, seeing the tears and redness. “Let me get you a rag.”

“No no, it’s just the smoke. Helps me think.” He continues to organize his thoughts and tear up, redness increasing. But he’s about to come up with something. He bursts out crying, finally putting the cigarette down. He loves his sister, he realizes. He never got beyond being the husband.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0032, 0311, Wendy-Ontario

00310311

—–

Gold face? he thinks.

“AVOCADO,” came the booming voice back, reading his mind. Everything was out in the open here, nothing hidden. She addressed Baker as Mountain Man. Or maybe it was Duncan.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0031, 0311, Lands End, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Wild West

purple mountains

“Shame about the queen being kidnapped and all,” Brend spoke to Alysha one floor below where they learned about the news. “But it’s not of our concern.”

“Except for the Samhain,” she corrected, feet finally getting warm now before the fire.

“And the witches,” he added, also attempting to drive away the cold of the library stone.

“And the Abbot I suppose.” She sighed, resigned to the fact that it is every bit their concern. Except for the queen. Because they knew this was about Marilyn at the bottom of it. The writing could now not be seen.

—–

“Funny how they spelled Dairocha wrong in that newspaper article. It’s like the powers that be are hiding something.”

“Hmph.” Alysha knew she was hiding something as well. Knowledge at the castle core that Brend had “conveniently” forgotten about. The “l” was changed over there.

—–

In Enigma, Marilyn began the national anthem.

“O beautiful for spacious skies, for amber waves of grain…”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0030, 0311, Dairocha, ENIGMA, Nautilus, North, Wild West

East (World of Lemon)

It was a peculiar dream for the boy. A happy Green in the midst of a sea of unhappy Red. And he himself: that color. He looks down at the world that he doesn’t realize is Earth but knows is a globe. “Our Second Lyfe looks strange today,” he says, studying it. Maebaleia — thicker or something — and over there, Zindra, he thought. The forbidden continent, ha ha. I’ve seen pictures. And up there: Corsica. Loooonnng. But Nautilus… *Nautilus*…

He wakes up. Also stirring Lena Horned is ready to go home and he’s in charge of seeing her there. Groggy Zach Black says he’s going to stay a little longer and drink some more coffee and sober up. I was the sane one right now. But was I unhappy? Did I really have a good boss? Yes, he decided, looking down at his real yellow skin on his hands and arms. I answer for Red but she also answers for me in the lonnng game, which I’m playing. Because one day I’m going to marry her, different species or not, he determined then and there. Lena was leaning on him now, still struggling to put one foot after another. It was up to him to protect, she said. Use the powers of the Great Black Swamp, The Abyss, if needed. But *carefully* and also only what you absolutely have to. The Abyss, pheh, he thinks. He’s not sure it is a real place yet.

In another dream, he was a circle that had been straightened out.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0029, 0311, Corsica, Horsa^, Maebaleia/Satori, Nautilus, Omega^^

Bar None

He ran.

—–

“It’s good you changed shirts and came here, Guy. She won’t look here: too far in the past.”

He wanted to say that he didn’t change his shirt he merely added another one on top of the first but just thanked his lucky stars it worked anyway. Now he could talk openly about the Heart Queen with his old friend Fish Head, the one who he could depend on to give him directions when he got lost. Which was a *lot* here.

“Who is she?” he asked, heart still thumping from all the excitement.

“Goes by Helen.”

Helen, Guy pondered. Like Troy. Destroyer of Men.

“What happened to Feng Sui and Qi?”

“Gave up the store. Left town.” Guy knew Fish Head was talking about Store Zero, where it all started and revolved around and shite. Murderous past. Which was, again, present. But he had no real choice. He had to escape (!). Gunshots outside. He’ll have to get use to it, he figured.

“And the uncles?” Two more shots, then a scream. Then quiet (for a while).

“One remains.” But Fish Head didn’t reveal which one. Could be Jack. Could be John. He didn’t have the guts to open that door and find out — the body could be slumping right against it; spill into the establishment and cause a bloody mess he’d have to clean up. And he’d lost his mop, dangnit. Probably stolen (again!) by the Mopheads down in Ragtown, the bloody gang. Maybe them outside right now, causing all this commotion. The Heart Queen had hidden him but for how long? It was up to her to open the door — not him.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0028, 0311, Kowloon^^

Y and Z are 10 and 11

It was time for a longer post else we get off track. Wendy had her man, strapped to the Big Wheel, a prisoner in other words. In his own pirate ship: trapped by a woman of all things. But he suspected a man-woman because of the strength, the speed. He was wrong… kind of. “Gotcha!” she exclaimed as the tire iron came down on the knees and then the head. If she was truly a man he might be dead. As it was, he almost bled out, but was brought back by her powers of the mind. Hidalgo — but enough said of that (magic practice) which also gained her many more years than her immortal contemporaries. Only Mummy Suisan out in Swannanowhere had outlasted her. How many years now? She decided to count them out tonight (again) while — whatshisname listened in, helpless to turn off his ears by plugging them with his fingers or something. That was another point to this. She decided to use the base 12 way of counting just to prolong the agony a bit more for him. She stopped at 143Z to see if his head had started to bleed again (only a little). At 1Y876, she thought of the 765 Village and the hidden green grey alien there and how Brut or Burt or Brutus had turned all traitor on her and taken over the Fortress for himself in its two locations to bind the magic more tightly. She hit (whatshisname) on the noggin again simply because she was frustrated now. And, heck, she’d lost her count. She’d have to start over again. At 765 she spaced out and lost count a second time. “One,” she began once more, “twooooooo (*yawn*).” Finally getting sleeepy. She lets him hold her in his arms but just one trick and he’s back on the wheel. She uses the rest of her daily brain power to heal his head completely.

Out like a light now, but this was a test. She knew he could twist her head off if he desired — she had given him her superpowers as well. But if he still had the *mistletoe* somewhere upon his body — and she knew he did — then: no. That small sprig of evergreen would take them both a long long ways.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0027, 0311, Hana Lei^^