Runaway Ronnies’s gotta keep reversing her tracks to see what went wrong.
The cut that runs deep. Bleeding. But that wasn’t quite it. Keep reversing Ronnie!
Ahh, a note. Similar to the one you wrote your abusive parents before.
A fallen King.
Well. I think there may be a way to erase this cycle of pain for good. Don’t you?
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0047, 0209, New York
Runaway.
She had to.
The World’s Gone…
… Mad for her.
Off to a rocky start but it will get better. When she meets Rocky.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0047, 0206
There was a time when the Prince and Princess danced with joy all over their royal home that was a castle.
But that was before the coming of the proletariat, their offspring in effect. As transformed into King and Queen they now had to be chained to their thrones and deal with a troublesome 3rd. It didn’t sit well with them.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0047, 0205, Happy Town, LSD
She ran on the beach the following morning and had much to ponder about. Halfway through her visit with Leeman or Leemon she excused herself and went into his small 1 toilet, 1 sink, no tub or shower bathroom in the hallway and inserted her umbrella contact lenses so that she could record what was being said. She figured he wouldn’t mind since he was going to write a book about New Island history anyway. She’d just not share her gathered information to anyone beforehand.
She knew she had to select a place to buy some property, build a home, become part of a tribe, a community. Since she’s also determined she was going to stay here on this New Island, bringing Eddy over too at some point in the process. Hazel seemed like the logical choice to settle down in. Right nearby Leeman/Leemon’s home where she can visit for more talks — he reinforced during her visit to come back any time. So she stayed in the Hazel Hotel last night just to check out more of the vibe. She detected absolutely no signs of wickedness in the air through various conversations and just poking her nose around in general, no spell books, potions, or sigils anywhere to be found, etc. And that night while trying to go to sleep despite all the new (island) thoughts buzzing around her skull, she had an illumination: *she* was going to write a book too. Fictional not factual. She already had a title. “The Hmm.” Stepping on his toes? She hoped not.
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0047, 0116, New Island
“Jeez, Barry, I thought you were *dead*.”
“*I* thought I was dead. Inside the dream. Bass had a rock the size of a small schoolboy’s head. Hit me with it right in the kisser!”
“*3… hours, Barry. *Three* *hours*.” She sits back in the chair a bit. “Anyway, *why* was she trying to kill you? This Bass woman.”
“Man. Bass man. Ernest T.. Haven’t you ever seen ‘The Andy Griffith Show?'”
“Of course I have, Barry. I meant *man*.” Why did she say woman? she thinks to herself. But this is not about her. This is about *him*. She turns her attention back to the freakishly long dream which he for some God awful reason couldn’t wake up from. It was like some kind of temporary *coma*.
“I think,” he answers Wendy’s question, “he was jealous of me.” The laugh track ended there, he knew. Time for something serious; time for *death*. In the show!
“Why? Why Barry? Why was he jealous?”
A common love, he understood. Helen. Helen Pettry Crump, also known by the schoolboys and even some of the opposite shore experimenting schoolgirls as Helen Pretty Rump. And now Ernest T. was a 33 year old schoolboy himself. Always looking for a potential new bride. Watching her from the back with the others, he knew he’d found one!
“Ernest T.!” she called to him one day, whirling around from the blackboard, surprising him. “Solve the following equation.”
Suddenly there was no schoolroom, no teacher. Just a rock. He thought long and hard about what’s on it but couldn’t reduce it to nothing. This was *something*. His blood began to boil inside him again. I’m going to *take* this rock… or a smaller version thereof… Aaaaaaand.
“And that’s all I remember, Wendy. Swear to God.”
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0111, Badlands, C2077, Jeogeot, Mayberry, Nawt Vaya+, NVFS
“Saaayyy. You’re sweet on her too, Sheriff. Aren’t you?”
The moment rock throwing and all around Mayberry troublemaker Ernest T. realized Andy and he like the same woman. Teacher of Opie, Andy’s son, but also, now, teacher of himself (!). One of the two of ’em would have to go, he decided then and there. And he’s hoping it wouldn’t be him of course. So that meant, let me see (he thought, narrowing the options), it had to be *Andy*.
—–
“Barry? Barry?!”
“BARRY!!!”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0110, Jeogeot, Mayberry, Nawt Vaya+, NVFS
“The Atom is not just another pretty op art picture,” she said, manipulating and expanding the pattern until the above image was produced. “It represents a CONTRACT signed between you and the Universe (almost wrote *University* there (!)) to go out in the World and do and preach GOOD. If you can’t do this then someone else will. In fact, they already have.”
https://theredarrowgallery.com/show/red-arrow-brianna-bass-ex-nihilo
“Will you let it go?” she continued. “Or will you reclaim what is rightfully yours? Both can be true, you know. You and this other person are not the same. The child of the best friend of the sister of you and your wife’s best friend. Small world, huh?”
“Indeed (!)”
A character, I realized. I have to create a Classical God-Star. TILE must be involved again. And orange and violet, ERR, amber and magenta.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0109, C2077, Cable Isle, J-Town, Jeogeot, Tennessee, Towerboro
Pretty sure it starts with an Arrow somewhere in or near Nashville, Tennessee. Pointing directly to Red Row 1 mile north. Let’s zoom in (again!).
—–
It wasn’t a *spider* in Red Row I was looking for, despite these 8 shoes found on some hick house stairs. Red Row? Red *Herring* (!). No, it was a *dog* named Spider (thanks 4th human within with the remaining 2 feet, *POP*). Found just down the road — or row — being attacked by a bird. Bird dog, then? Chihuahua, I discovered.
“Get away from my dog, bird!” I called from the ’57 Chevy Kenny was driving. “*My* spider dog! *MY* SPIDER DOG, SHOOOOO!!” *POP*
Better.
I kill my now disposable chauffeur with my final bullet (*POP*) and take the wheel, leaving room for the dog in the vacated passenger seat, body dumped in some bushes at this conjunction of Red Row…
… and, er, Red Row?
Anyway, I stick Kenny’s body into the bushes better and head back to the lawyer’s office with the dog to collect my hard earned reward.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0107, Cable Isle, Google Street View, Jeogeot, Tennessee, Towerboro
Who comes out on top?
Doesn’t matter any more.
Screen captures from Röckët Stähr’s epic “Death of a Rockstar” fully animated rock opera here again.
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0105, 0047
Going to see the New Island maker and hoping it’s not Mid Hazel again, SHIVERS. Despite the location names involved here (Hazel, Hazelhurst (Ruins)). I’m taking him up on his invitation cited above from “The New Island Relocation Guide,” found online for free!
Just over there in that house to the left, he said about this picture from the guide which I’ve somehow managed to get inside of, ha. He also indicated that the collection of structures to the right where the railroad leads is the village of Hazel. Definitely avoiding that; no use in taking any chances at this late stage (!).
—–
I notice the geraniums, I notice the succulents. This is definitely the right place. NERVOUS still.
Knock knock knock.
An older gentleman in a Hawaiian aloha shirt with paint stained hands soon opens the door. Relief, PHEW!
“Can I help you, Miss?”
Shelley wakes up before they can talk further. An explanation of what’s actually going on from the creator will have to wait until another night, another dream. Or maybe a series of dreams — that would be cool.
“Till then,” she can hear him say as he retreats back inside. A painting, she also picked up on. He’s working on a painting of….. this she couldn’t resolve.
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0047, 0103, New Island
Sunklands 