Category Archives: 03

two to see

“Is that the guy from ‘Twin Peaks’?”

“Yeah I think so. You know… we’re not going to be able to stay here, you and I.”

“Oh yeah. Why not? Am I suddenly not good enough for you, Shelley?” He huffs a bit. He was expecting this sometime but hoped to delay it until after football season. He enjoyed watching 2 games in one through this dual TV setup. He wouldn’t be able to afford 2 on his own.

What could Shelley say? That the sex eventually didn’t make up for the looks? Surely he knows about the hands by now, and the hiding of the face. And it’s getting uglier, she admitted, in the bright light of day. In the dark it’s easier to pretend. She hoped she could get use to it. Not working.

That night she dreamed she was trapped inside the stomach or innards of that big stuffed purple bear in the living room, ready for birth that never came. In the dark herself. Satisfied with the lot of her life.

But she woke up, ate her Toastie Oats cereal, choco chip dodecahedron style, and, staring out through the iron grid window at the magic bus from whence they came — parked down by the water still — understood anew that she needed to be on her own for a while. She looks over at Johnny’s mug. Jeez it’s worse than ever this morning. It’s like he was made to be disgusting. And, she then realized, perhaps he was… perhaps this is all… some kind of ruse. A test. She’d had flashes about who gave her the bus, who sent her here. A woman named Wilson who was also friends with a Fox. A person who — was much like herself, yes. A *mother*, she discerned, turning her table around to stare at the bear.

Birth is what you make of it. Cradle to grave, but in the middle, always The Cross. Which she’s on. She’d been absorbed in the Omega continent’s north to south arm! Somehow that made it both more real and more irreal at the same time. Birth, she realized. It is coming. Or: not.

“Dear, sorry, you’re kind of in the way of the TV.” That grating man-child voice too(!).

She stared at it now. “It’s some kind of *test pattern*, Johnny. Get over it.” Just like this life she’s living here, she also thought.

“Oh. I thought it was a show.”

“So did I, Johnny. So did I.”

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0035, 0306, Omega, Southern, The Cross

00350305

“Look out below!” she called, her hair not getting wet quite yet. She wanted to add, “femboy above!” but caught her tongue. Why would she say something like that? Then it hit her OOOF! She remembered. Right in the crotch stomach. Good thing she wasn’t pregnant!

—–

They later talked about it in front, a looked over final animation. Then they’d have to leave the bus or else chance just repeating themselves over and over, however pleasant the experience was the first time around. She knew she loved playing the drums now — she could find others. She knew she dug dancing, and actually there’s a line dancing joint just across the lake they can go to for that. As far as living quarters and being able to sleep and do some other stuff via animations, they had found the perfect spot, also across the lake but a little further back from the water, behind that other interesting club that always seems to contain so many avatars. She went yesterday and looked them over. All AFK, all ready to serve their purpose while the owner was in all likelihood absent from the scene. How interesting, she thought. Kind of terrifying but still…

She had no desire to join in this kind of fun. She had Johnny for the moment. When they moved into the Big Boy Apartment, she always kept a hand over his face, though; imagined someone else’s over top of it if possible. Looks aren’t everything, she knew, but they were *something*, and Johnny had none really. But he was talented in other ways.


Big Boy apartment.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0035, 0305, Omega, Southern, The Cross

00350304

“We got us a femboy here, Walter,” Chuck says, also indicating the chest while the other watched. “A frigg’n *fern*, yeah,” he now laughed. Chuck knew what that meant and Walter did too. Fern was code for “fun with blue”. They said this exact thing to Shelley, going as Scheldon today to more easily break into houses. What had she gotten herself into, though? She should have never worn that alpha on top. If they only knew.

“No, you don’t understand,” she attempted in vain. “It’s just the pandemic…weight gain…” All she could do was stand there and take it like a, well, woman actually. Franklin had one but she didn’t. Hers was fake as stated. “Just lift it up,” she said, “lift up the shirt and see; it’s all still down there still,” but they were having none of it this morning, needing a little bit of ball breaking to start the day off right — any excuse.

“Ready, set,”

—–

“You can put down the sign Johnny. We’re here. The South I suppose.”

“Awww,” he exclaimed with a voice between a man and a child. “No one honked at it. Not one single car or boat or whatever.”

Probably because you look like a total dork, Shelley thought from the front, glad for the failure. *She* certainly didn’t want to see it. Or did she? “That’s too bad,” she said aloud.

“And I wore the pants with the loose zipper so I could get them down easier.”

What a *dork*, she thought again for emphasis. How did I get stuck with this looser? She thought back. She was in the North, yes. She was being arrested. Then: black, I mean *blank*. White out, actually.

Johnny finally laid down that confounded sign and peered out the window. He could see water. He knew it was Linden because of the reflections — Shelley always had the advanced graphics on when she drove to see better. Nice here; a bit of shade — an actual wooded area, a small forest, in front of the bus now. Shelley knew where she was. But how?

There were several things Shelley wanted to do. She wanted to play the drums in back.

Check. “You sure play super,” spoke Johnny, falling a little in love with the young lass who picked him up along the highway about Linesville. About where the North and South meet. “South,” he said to Shelley about his destination. “Me too,” she said back. “How deep are you going?” “How deep are *you* going?” he questioned back. “Oh, a lake.” Then she drew a blank again. Someone had told her about the lake and given her a bus, apparently, but she couldn’t recall who. A lake with a forest and lots of sun, she remember it being described. The magic bus will get you there, she also recalled. She got there, yes, but it was as if someone or something else took over the steering wheel.

“Cool!” Johnny exclaimed about lake. “Can I come too?”

And here they are.

Second: the dance.

“You sure can dance swell,” said Johnny, watching on very interested. He was definitely beginning to fall in love. He could stare at her for days.

Third: smoke another joint on the side of the bus. Johnny joined her of course, tied with a tether by this point.

“Boy you sure can smoke,” he said while puffing away on his own, edging a little closer to her between the 5th and 6th tokes and again between the 11th and 12th. He’s starting not to make a lot of sense around the girl, so smitten he was. Compliment *everything*, he decided.

Then he showed off a little too much as he ran inside, honked the bus horn, and then held up a second sign different but similar in style to one he displayed all  during the trip down. Would she? he pondered. Is she even going to turn around? Would she at least find it funny?

She did, lucky for him. Else: more ball crunching. But the bus had run out of animations for the poor, sex starved lad. Shelley and Johnny remained separate until 2 days later when something else happened, something out of the blue. At the same time, Shelley remembered.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0035, 0304, Omega, Southern, The Cross

00350303

Damn. Forgot to log off again and dozed on this bench all night. Must have been influenced by baker’s convoluted text in the middle, made me dream crazy dreams. Like I was black and standing in the center of a sim while children all around threw ink died bamboo shoots at me, woke me up in fact as the pelts became more painful and more numerous. Perhaps I died myself.

She shakes off the haze, stares over at the emasculated Trojan statue again, peers out at Slave Rock, and then across the road toward the Northern Sea, the upper limit of both The Cross and the Omega continent as a whole. Better get up and start exploring again. “Keep moving” will be a theme today, she chooses. No loitering, or as little as she can get away with. Better leave Lemont out of the picture for a while, she understands. Because, together, they can get bogged down, Liz and all.

Learning a moral lesson from her supposed friends Debbie and George back in now destroyed and rebuilt Moray Docks Village, she decides to feed the birds before she leaves, starting the day with a good deed indeed. The sprayed popcorn attracts a colorful array of cartoon-ish looking fowl, with a unique white and colorless one originally perched on her shoe eventually hopping into her lap and announcing to the others that they had had enough breakfast and it was time to move on and let the little lady do what she was going to do today. Then he — the white bird — recited what seemed to be some religious verse about gluttony she wasn’t familiar with…

… and flew off with the rest, but not before leaving her a present. He was just that upset and angry.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0035, 0303, Omega, Ruby's Empire/Fishers Island, The Cross

continent obsession continues…

But he didn’t go home (Real Life/back to bed). Not yet. Instead we find him traveling through centers of sims (128/128), like here in Gaston, staring at the Dark Peak of two twins, the other topped by (a) white as hell Jesus (statue). Slavery inside the first. Black. And I found a black man in this very spot back in photo-novel 7. Perhaps staring at this very thing and understanding the truth. It wasn’t Duncan, but Duncan found out later that he was also there in hypertime. And he had red on his hands, which meant Indian and blood at the same time. What happened here?

The sim before this (Rhodenwald): also a Black man found at the center, 11 this time. But not an African-American. A man with the last name of Black, the same as his wife/partner who likewise owned part of this sim. Duncan also found this guy — normal time now — and thought he was AFK, but then he turned toward Duncan, proving his mobility and his significance (to the cause). We have mysteries, yes?

Interesting.

And, to add to all this, Gaston is just kind of an extension of Omega/Meat City/Rhodenwald. Of sorts. Both are Hidden Vilages, “l” purposely removed.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0035, 0302, Gaston+, Omega, Southern, The Cross, Urbane Blue/Fishers Island

00350301

Someone emasculated that poor statue over there, she thinks, then continues to read.

Omega continent — might as well, ahem, bone up on the history since it seems she’ll be staying here a bit. Let’s see, Trojan-Durexian War… could have swung either way, interesting. Southern Bypass a key turning point, yes. She recalls that General Duncan led the charge for the Durexians, a black man. Arthur Kill Lemont Sanford told her this — is one of his heroes, right. Died unjustly for a cause and all, like Joan of Arc, one of her heroes.

And here she sits in a park where one of the important battles took place, or so say the locals who make a decent profit off of selling war souvenirs, like ink dyed bamboo shoots for the kids, and bamboo bayonets and bullets for the older generations. According to their pamphlet they even have one of those old Durexian bamboo planes famous for their bombings, as in failings. 1/2 couldn’t get off the ground, but that’s what you have when you base your air force on *magic*, nay voodoo (she corrected). Take away 2 or 3 control witches and everything heads south, as in out of the sky and into your back yard. But, true, their voodoo power was waxing at the end of the war, and the Trojans were good to get out with their heads up when they could. 1942. Or was it 1492? She couldn’t quite make out the figure on the page before her, as if it was moving about like a spider. Strange effect; strange thought.

There really wasn’t much here. That rock over there with the waterfall is where they tortured and sacrificed the slaves who worked for the Trojans, just to teach them a lesson. Slave Rock, then.

The whole sim was named after another aunt, fascinatingly enough, Beatrice in this case, beloved aunt of a famous local, weightlifting sheriff back in the days. Although there have been other theories tossed around about the appellation’s origin that’s what most go with currently. Mostly Beatrice, then.

And then through Newt, I find the remains of one of those old Durexian wrestling rings where they fought their slaves, and then where the barely victorious but victorious still Trojans, usually without clothes (see: statue), fought the Durexians as their own slaves. I believe that might be the Sheriff’s Castle just behind, where Beatrice lovingly made him soup for breakfast and cereal for supper, etc., devoted Tilists as they were. And that’s what we have to bone up on next: the influence of TILE in the general area. Or General’s area, actually, as in Duncan.

Getting dark. Better head home soon.

Is that a key over there?

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0035, 0301, Omega, Ruby's Empire/Fishers Island, Southern, The Cross, Urbane Blue/Fishers Island

Gold City

She was at the house now, or the edge of the hill it stood proud and dominant upon.

She summoned Newt again to take a gander at what she’d found. This was obviously the source of their names. They *were* still married…

… to this town.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0034, 0317, Gold City-, Jeogeot

00340316

“You’ve found the shower again, congratulations. It’s in the Oracle you know. Chicago.”

“I think you mean Illinois,” I replied. “As in: someone was bad and deserved to be spanked punished.”

“In the circle of the shower with the water on, all is good,” he replied confidently. The person sitting opposite of me. Triangle, I gather. Something about the stabbing of the duck obviously. I am now a resident. How did *that* happen?

“You are not dead,” I decided to say. “You were supposedly killed–”

“Look to the House on the Hill. All revolves around the House on the Hill. Just like before.” The apparition, so solid just a second ago, fades…

—–

She finally got out of the shower and put on some clothes, bound and determined to find the graffiti that would set her free.


“Scuse me, boys.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0034, 0316, Gold City-, Illinois, Jeogeot

mightier?

She’d left the water in the shower running but it was on purpose: to prove a point. Or, better, to remind her of something. A key, 2nd shower really not needed since no poop is involved.

She was finished with her clients but there was more work to be done tonight before going home bed. Check on the Duck. Because she was about ready to kill someone…

… with writing. “Dear,” she called over to her ex but both still using Gold for a surname. “How do you spell asimilation? With that extra s I’m always mising? Dear oh dear. There I go again!”

“Answered yourself of course,” he responded, not staring up from the folded newspaper. 20 dead in Uptown this year so far. What is Gold City coming to??

“Yes,” she realized. “All I have to do is look down.”

“Or straight ahead…” *sip*

“… if a computer is involved, yes.” Which it wasn’t in this Gold City experience of hers. She preferred pen over keys here. Must be something about running away as fast as possible from the Ebony and the Ivory. Dove’s where it’s at now. She just used it in fact. In the shower. Which she needs to take another of. *No*. She has the key, she reminds herself again, still writing, still scribbling sideways across the yellowing paper, perhaps parchment. *Barry* is the one. He needs the shower. But where is Barry?

Still scribbling, still writing.

Newt sets the paper down. He’s had enough bad. Now for good. “I’m glad I found you again Eyela. Just mised you in the church, ha.”

She looked down, emitted a small laugh as well. Good one, Newt. Then she took the pen and struck out that sentence. Then another, and another until the whole paper was full of lines. Newt was gone. Newt, her ex, perhaps even still her husband since she’s reverted back to Eyela and/or they still share the same last name, was never here. Or else he left earlier. She writes alone.

Later she sits in bed staring at the sword, wondering how to turn it back into a pen. Looks like actual killing is in order if she doesn’t succeed with this.

Because the Duck is right beside her.

“Paul?”

“Yes?” he quacked.

“I think… it’s… time…” STAB

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0034, 0315, Chilbo, Gold City-, Jeogeot

tiger 04

I saw the sign and then I knew it was a dream. Applewood. They *are* connected.

Someone was behind me. I dare not turn around. My painting! Turned three dimensional and come to life. But what did she or he want (from me)? Dream dream dream, I thought. Don’t fear — in the dream.

I turn around.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0034, 0314, Jeogeot, Neptune, NWES Island