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September 15, 2023 · 7:09 am

zeroed out

“Why don’t you take off your pink clothes and stay a while? Or at least put on a bathing suit like me.” Marsha “Pink” Krakow was talking to an old friend on the dock while staring out at clothes-less Ditsy and Zizzy swimming happily beneath. Aedima Hill was her name, ring leader of at least this chapter of the Brabinites, she said, emphasizing that the term Bravinites was wrong.

“I’m fine,” she replied, smoothing out the wrinkles on her hot pink pants she certainly intended to keep on. Those type of days were behind her, she knew, staring out at rumps in the water. Thanks to the monster Tom Banks. He *saw*.

“He must have changed it,” Aedima Hill said about the name. “He must have gone undercover, incognito. How exciting we’ve found him. At long last! Did you hear that, girls?!” she called down. “We’ve found him!” Squeals of elation from the water; playful splashing. Brabin to Bravin — a simple change but perhaps one he thought would be effective enough. Little did he know fate would bring Marsha “Pink” Krakow to him. And that she would have knowledge of the statue. And these guys — his faithful fan club, persistent down through the years now.

They sat silent for a while, both trying to formulate the next step. The girls in the the water went quiet as well. Everyone was contemplating the impossibility of it all. Especially since Marsha skinnydipped… skinnydipped…

—–

She was back.

“So it *was* you,” she spoke over to the turned crocogator while staring at something else.

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September 13, 2023 · 2:55 pm

00400104

She logged into Our Second Lyfe to see who else was on line. Sometimes it was easier that way.

—–

“I wanted to talk to you first since you’re the husband. How well did you know Shelley?”

“You, ahem, act like she’s dead.”

“No no, not dead,” Marsha “Pink” Krakow protested. “*Within*.”

“Well… she was my wife.”

“Yes?” Marsha urged.

“And my lover of course.”

“Right?”

“And a friend.” He sips his now cool coffee. They’ve been at it for a while. Marsha is trying to justify keeping Arthur Kill around.

“And she still is,” Marsha reiterated the “not dead” part. Within, she thought. Within *her*. Then Marsha stifled the urge to gasp as she looked next door. Happened all the time since the conversion, the merger. Luckily she had coffee in her hand to remind her gesturing arm this time. She’ll beat it, though. Tammy (or Frankie) “Beige” Brown should remain within, as a conscience perhaps. She’ll figure it out. What’s done is done and all; no going back.

“Did you know,” she said, still staring at the neighbor’s house opposite the direction of Sandy’s we just discussed, “that I’ve met him before. The (eastward) neighbor and all. Not his person, his *statue*. Imagine that?”

“Mountain Lake,” she specified the location. “I use to skinny dip up there!”

—–

Suddenly she was back there, coffee cup still in hand but not animated any longer. The statue up on the ridge was gone — no surprise since it’d been perhaps 5 years since she’d been here. But, amazing to her, the *skinny dippers* were still around, just down in the water below from her default landing spot. Ditsy and Zizzy, she even recalled the names. Brabinites, they were. Or maybe Bravinites, one or the other she’s pretty sure. How could the thing they worship — 5 years ago again — be her neighbor now, just by chance since Linden homes like her Sandfly trailer are randomly assigned?

And that gets me to another topic. I’ve decided to call the sandy region Marsha lives in now *Big Sandy* instead of Sandfly, which is instead returned to the name of an included sim and that alone. More soon…

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September 10, 2023 · 9:36 pm

Big Sandy

Her functional neighbor to the west, just over the line in Sandfly, happens to be named Sandy but not for the sim or the attached region. She doesn’t think. We’ll explore that angle sooner than later.

Just to note: there is a village called Sandy FL in Manatee County originally named Stephen. Sandy FL is Sandfly rearranged. Sandy and Stephen sounds like a good name for a *couple* living next door, then. Bonded through history.

Sandy’s is a former fast food restaurant chain taken over by Hardee’s in 1979. Sandy FL is 6 miles below the southeast corner of Hardee County in that state, originally highlighted by towns called Lily being in both Hardee here and also Laurel County KY. Laurel and Hardy, then, another couple, building up the resonance. How far can we go?

Just beyond the western edge of Laurel County KY is a conjunction of Sandy Gap and Acorn, along with Squib that points to Squid. I think we know now what our immediate neighbor to the west looks like.

Now about Stephen…

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September 10, 2023 · 10:33 am

00400102

It felt good to be here in the Sandfly region, it felt right. “Howdy neighbor!”

Bugs can get awfully big here though.

“Is that thing *ever* going to move off the road, *hmph*.”

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September 10, 2023 · 10:13 am

00400101

Third time’s the charm as they say. Wheeler/Shelley has found a temporary home in the Sandfly region of the original Bellissaria continent, along with her two boys. A powerful psychic told her that down the road she’d have to choose between Arthur and Edward. But for now she’s treating them as one. Two fer One, 1/2 price on each. Bargain, she says. Cheap as cake, or at least yogurt. This region, this sandy place, embodies that idea.

She may have functional neighbors we’ll see.

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September 9, 2023 · 7:58 am

00400100

Pink observes yellow (and wants).

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September 5, 2023 · 8:12 am

00390706

They walked away from the peak overlooking Coyote Pass, not holding hands yet but feeling closer than ever because of what they’d just witnessed, the girl for the girl and, likewise, the boy’s death for the observing boy. Deep down, they realized it could have been them. Oh, not by hypnotizing orange trees like with humans Al and Sarah, but something else Mid-Hazel could have concocted especially with mechanoids in mind. And they also came to realized they were suppose to replace these 2, just from the act of being witnesses to the awful spectacle. Tom knew what could come to pass — at the Pass — when he lured them here. “Take a well deserved vacation,” he said to the 2, fresh off their saving of River by turning everything dark and muddled there into light and clear and *clean*. No more chocolate mess. They had worked together there and they would work together in the future to handle a bigger crisis. The pollution of the whole original Bellisseria continent by evil forces of sickening sugary designs much vaster.

“How about the Western Hills of Bellisseria?” he said to them in his office that morning, even providing the pair some scenic landmarks that he said Al had scouted out in his visit there (see first of this here photo-novel). Top of the list: Coyote Canyon Overlook. He *knew*. And so they saw. He didn’t tell them because all lie in a probable reality still, and, anyway, there was nothing they could do about it directly. “Just observe,” they can hear him say as an afterthought in their heads now, after the tragedy was over. Later on, through the pumpkins, they understood something else was involved: alien creatures of a high design indeed.

First up: Butterfingers.

END OF “SUNKLANDS 2023 MORE MIDDLE”!

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September 4, 2023 · 10:22 pm

00390705

“Do you see Mid-Hazel? Is she dancing?”

“No. Can’t see her.”

“How about the pumpkineaters?”

“Still under the orange tree. Like normal. Nothing seems out of the ordinary. Hazel is probably just inside stretching again. You know she has to do it every hour or she simply freezes up, probably dies as a result.”

“Every half-hour, I’ve heard. But no time for disagreements. I see movement!”

“Blue clad Sarah in front of the littler one.”

“This could be—”

“Aww MANNN. I didn’t need to see that. Here, Boyy, you take the binoculars and keep watch while I go throw up.”

“But you have no…” Boyy was going to tell Gurl she has no internal working parts to throw up with but too late. Dry heaves over there, purely an emotional reaction to what happened below. He dares to look. He increases the magnification to the max.

Blood on the ground but no sign of Sarah, with the littler one gone too. Maybe he drug her up in the yard to finish his consumption yeck, Boyy rationalized. And, oh boy, now Al is positioned in front of the bigger pumpkineater. Mid-Hazel is clearly seen behind this time. Gurl comes back and observes naked eyed. “Is Mid-Hazel… *naked*?”

“ZOWIE!!! My turn, Gurl,” and he hands the binoculars to her and rushes to the same place in the bushes.

Al is dead, Sarah is dead. Tom is not going to be happy about the news. Two of his best agents!

(to be continued)

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September 4, 2023 · 8:19 am

yes, it’s bad

She invited them into her trailer for more talk but there was nowhere to sit and they had to just stand and watch her accomplish her stretching exercises, saying she had to do them every half hour on the button (her archaic expression) or else her ancient body would simply start to freeze up. “A bit chained to the trailer, then,” she said. “I was just joking about the being away part before, lassie,” she spoke directly to Sarah. “I just don’t have a dot to be a presence.” Sarah checked the in-world map again in her head. Two green dots together apparently representing her and Al beside her in the sim of Coyote Canyon here. But no third. Mid-Hazel was right. What *were* they dealing with here?

“Beautiful, wasn’t I?” she said, apparently indicating the portrait of a young woman beside her, one of the few objects in the trailer besides the exercise stand and some random decorations. “Toast of Ghosttown, high in the sky it was. But not a skybox. A plateau.” She switched to about the 5th or 6th stretching position. “Almost done,” she excused the necessity. “But I may have to start again if you’re here long enough. Are you staying for dinner?” Mid-Hazel resisted the urge to joke that, “they’re it.” Plenty of time for macabre later on. Henry’s mouth outside was already salivating at the sight of the boy’s featured body. The girl he will leave to Junior (also salivating).

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September 4, 2023 · 7:00 am

no friend

“Do you like him dearest? I gave him my eyes. Well, I gave him eyes *like* mine to be specific. Buttons, see?”

Sarah jumped off the ground, turned toward the muffled voice speaker. She tried not to gasp at the sight. After all, Our Second Lyfe is full of strange avatars. But this one seemed different… realer. Scarier. “I’m… so sorry… miss. We didn’t, we didn’t…”

“See a green dot at the trailer?” Mid-Hazel completed Sarah’s thoughts, the counterpart to Al, the love of his life by now, even though she may have to be put in “storage” again until he can figure out how to get to the wedding part. He’s committed to a future date, though — whenever it can occur. “Thought you were alone at the place? Yeah, I just pop in now and then. Coincidence, we’ll call it I’m here when you’re here. Serendipity. *Synchronicity*. Are you aware of that term my dear? Do you know the meaning?”

“Yes,” she spoke, brushing her hair away from her blue eyes and trying to make herself more presentable to the… whatever it was she was facing. Old Hag? Witch? Maybe a combo of several archetypes… yes, another term she learned in her college psychology classes, Jung touched upon here there and there.

“Then you’ll know this is *fate*, this meeting is.”

Al appeared from behind some bushes. He’d heard voices but he had to finish his tinkle, nature being the harsh bitch she is (he was thinking at the time). Both turned toward him.

“Ahh, and the *man*. Always a man lurking around for a pretty thing like yourself, honey.”

Al walked up, confident that they had a right to be here because of the orange trees and because of what they found beneath them. More orange. Pumpkin orange. “I assume this is your land, um…”

“Hazel,” spoke Mid-Hazel. “The central one. Two on the end,” and she extended both arms and looked at each “hand” that wasn’t there, “but I’m the most important. They say if you’re in the middle that sometimes you’re simply in the way. And so it is.” She collapsed both extremities onto her heart to indicate herself, the center, the void in middle of it all — no hands to mask. Mid-Hazel, Witch Hazel to some, especially if you’re from the West Coast. “We were just talking about eyes, young man; my kind of eyes,” and she indicated the larger pumpkin creature again.

Suddenly Sarah was teleported about 10 yards away and then quickly walked back, thinking she did it to herself somehow. But she didn’t. She was simply standing a bit too close to him and he didn’t like it, this mustachioed fiend of the night.

(to be continued)

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