—–
“How about gray?” I ask him a bit later about his clothes back then. “Neutral would have been good too.”
He scoffed at first but then had a rethink. *Lack* of colors might have solved everything, he realized. The war with its 12, 13, 14 combat deaths and its 6 or 7 civilian deaths could have been avoided!
—–
Red to end.
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0051, 0504, Newer Island, Oz
Attaching the head back to the body in the center, we move on…
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0051, 0417, Jerrymap, Michigan, Mythopolis, Newer Island
“I’m actually from Virginia Beach directly across Ross Bay from Hazel, but my parents moved here around ’66 or ’67. It was only a 6 or 7 mile trip for that 6 or 7 year old boy I was back then, but, boy, what a difference. You had to choose a side during the so called Ross Bay Tuna Wars. Which fleet’s color you wore could indicate your preference, green or blue. So that got me wearing blue-green or green-blue all the time, just in case. The area is so small you never knew who was going to show up at your front door, friend or foe. You could only tell them apart by their own colors they were wearing. And if they showed up in blue-green — or green-blue, heh — you knew they were as confused as you about what was going on and you were safe with them.”
He took his cap off, turned the front toward him as if reassuring himself the words were still upon it, then back toward me. “Eventually I felt comfortable enough to put Virginia Beach back on instead of just having it blank. I wanted to show people my roots again, and that the split which rocked all of central south east western New Island for about a 6 to 7 year period was over. Because of the fierce competition, tuna’s about gone in the bay anyway — guess that’s what ended the thing actually. They fish for that stuff further out into the ocean now. The wound is not entirely healed these days but getting there. Ross Bay with its Virginia Beach, Rosslea, Bayside, and Hazel are all united again, or about as well as they were in the before-war times. There’s still squabbles, there’s still scuffles. But nothing like when the tuna was in the bay.” He placed the cap back on his head, satisfied with what he’d said about the subject so far and waiting for me to respond. He stared directly into my eyes.
“So you were about 12, or 13… or 14 when it ended,” I say, trying to make sense of all the 6’s and 7’s involved.
“Yeah, I guess that’s about right,” he said, eyes glazed over again, obviously thinking back. “12, 13… 14. Let’s go with 13. Pretty sure I was 13 when the armistice was sign, as the locals call it. Only 12 to 14 of the warring fisherman died and only 6 or 7 what we’ll call civilians killed, collateral damage as they put it. Pretty reasonable totals for all the bad blood going around. You wouldn’t believe all the shouting! I remember shouting… all the time!”
Keep it down, I think, but also keep this to myself. It was a cathartic moment for the old man of maybe 66 or 67 now. And, anyway, I was learning a lot about New Island history. Tuna Wars. What petty people! Could not they share? So I *did* ask him that.
“Well, to answer that, let me ask you what color you think my cap is, green or blue?”
I was starting to see his point?
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0051, 0416, Jerrymap, Michigan, Newer Island
“I’ve changed the title again, Shelley. Not ‘Woman in Red’ now, not ‘Woman in Red Rain.’ ‘Woman in Red Rain*bow*.’ You know what I mean.”
—–
“I can be whoever you want.” He stared at me for a minute — final green following up middle red and original blue — then took a pad from below him somewhere, scribbled something…
… showed it to me. “You can be yourself,” he’d written down, a smiley face tacked on at the end. Well… he asked for it!
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0051, 0411, Capital Cy, Newer Island
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Is8N7B9b0GQ
“Alan, it was all just a *dream*,” spoke Michelle directly into my still doubting face. Her breath smelled like flowers so I didn’t mind in that respect. The words spewing out of that same pretty, red lipped mouth, however, stung like bees to every part of my body except the knees. “Here, here,” she implored, pulling out the highway map of Michigan Indiana again and unfolding it before me. “See here? Indiana Dunes. Just like you described dunes west of Hazel which seems to equate directly with our Michigan City.” She then pointed out that Chicago lies to the west of that and what did I say at least a couple of times about that sprawling metropolis, hmm? “You said you wish it had remained a wilderness — that’s how you put it,” she answered herself. “And what is The Hook Wilderness Preserve or whatever on your New Island, huh? A *wilderness*. This would be the place directly overlapping Chicago in our Hazel-Michigan City synchronization.” “That’s a good word for it,” I dare speak up to her, the now red face to sort of match the lips, glaring eyes and flaring nostrils up above that. She’d had enough of fantasy. She wanted to be *grounded*. Wake up, wake up! she seemed to cry over and over. You’re still only dreaming. New Island isn’t real! TBC
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0051, 0404, Jerrymap, Michigan, Newer Island
https://www.newisland.net/2016/02/65-michelle.html
“So when Michell arrives in Hazel, that just means Alan woke up in Michigan City, Michelle jiggling his shoulder, for example. Michelle didn’t come to New Island. This is more realistic and I think more correct. We can continue in this direction. What did Alan do after he woke up? Did he even remember much about the New Island dream just completed? Perhaps it was a rainy day, just like the day Michelle arrived in Hazel. Or maybe it was sunny in contrast. And what of Mid-Hazel, the witch from the old New Island. Is she the same as Roselin?”
“Yes. I think so, yes,” spoke Leeman, still working on his “Woman in Red” painting. But he’d changed the title to “Woman in Red Rain”. Was this Michelle? TBC
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0051, 0313, Illinois, Indiana, New Island, Newer Island
“The blast verified my theory of the three-dimensional property of Hum energy. If the blast was *two*-dimensional, it would have killed some people still, true, but just in the immediate area — say, ninety people — and probably left a narrow but incredibly deep hole, perhaps only a foot or so in diameter.”
“*Ninety* people?” I responded.
“*Foot* in diameter?” Louise said in turn.
“Yes, *just* that. Instead, well, we have this. Our entire Island blown away, leaving a crater in the ocean. Soon it will be as if we never existed.” And perhaps we didn’t, thinks Roselin to herself, not seeing any sign of it on the globe below them.
“All along, I thought the Hum was just this feel-good sound everyone loves to hear.”
“I wish with all my heart that’s all it was. The Hum always had a dark side, Gordy.” Silence for a long time. Each were contemplating their own deaths and the meaning of their lives just exited. Finally:
“You mentioned a Plan B,” Louise said, trying to recover any spark of hope in the darkness of space.
“Yes.”
—–
I kept running and running along the edge of the tide on the day after I met him, thinking of “The Hmm”, how I would organize it differently from his own book about New Island. Go back to his original blog story set mainly in Hazel, bring in MICHelle from MICHigan City, true, but have them discover a new portal overlapping fantastical and real to extend its untimely end. Right here in Hazel. Right over there in Michigan City. Wormhole. Yes, I have big plans. TBC
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0051, 0312, Newer Island
We began our walk to Samantha’s Wild North in early December. It was almost summer, and the days were getting longer and hotter.
The night before we left, Louise had spread out a map on Jamie’s bed. I listened in as they chatted excitedly about our route while we all loaded our backpacks.
The trip to see Roselin is feeling more and more strange.
Let’s back up, see the bigger picture. Shelley walks on the road to Hazel intent on meeting The Man while avoiding a witch. Soo… take a left just ahead up that driveway instead of keeping straight. I *hate* witches, she thinks. That opinion is going to be hard to change. But maybe The Man can help. Probably will.
—–
“Come in come in!” he said enthusiastically while swinging the door wide. “Glad you made it back. Just working on a painting about you, coinkydinkily enough. I call it… ‘Woman in Red’.” They enter the house where he reveals the work almost 96.725% done. TBC
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0051, 0308, Newer Island
“It’s all there in Washington’s green, white, black.” She starts reading from left to right. “Meteor, Stranger Creek, Impach, Inchelium which stands for Ichelus… and then across the lake we have another Stranger Creek unconnected to the first and an ‘Edendale (historical)’ to end, just like Silver Lake use to be named Edendale back in its silent film days. Black and white again.”
It was actually the 3rd Stranger Creek in the area that did the trick for me, disconnected even from all the rest. 3 Stranger Creeks all lined up across the upper west part of the state with completely separate flows (east west east). What could this mean? And the presence of an historic Edendale along the lake was certainly queer too. Gifford… yes Gifford, mouth of Middle Stranger. The place of escape. New Island turns into Old Island, er, New Island becomes *Newer* Island. Yes, that’s better. Another place of separation.
After a while I went back to my bunk and picked up the pen.
Now I’m living with a family named MacEvoy in a place called Gifford. It’s a tribe, not a town (long story). My friend Jamie brought me here after I was
caught by the Russiansfound on the beach. I almost drowned, but when I woke up I saw lemurs!
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0051, 0307, California, New Island, Newer Island, Omega, Planet Q, Washington
“Son of Man,” he uttered disgustingly while approaching the man on the cliff. “*Sun* of Man. How could I fall for such a load of… well, *bunk*!” It was the strongest word he still dare hurl against his once beloved belief, his beloved former lord and savior and spokespersons thereof. No C word yet, no S word.
Then staring at the surrounding landscape far below he got an idea. He had to get rid of the new to return the old. Just like a certain island we’ll get back to soon. Switching to a dream more in the daylight, he positioned himself directly behind the *cult* leader while drawing his gun. Yeah, CULT. “Turn around,” he said. “*Me.*”
*POP*. Someone else had to fall for the same thing.
Dusk again, Jack merely spat a goodbye to his former guru and returned to the city, his job here done, he felt. But daydreams would linger… TBC
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0050, 0413, GTA, New Island, Newer Island
