Category Archives: Estate

January 1, 2021 · 8:08 am

The Land of Blue and Purple

Hidi-as-Wheeler was and wasn’t All White. There was also pink, another All Noise come to think of it. She had been essentially banned from Bellisaria’s Hideout because of this (noise). She needed to turn back, then. Home. But first, Wheeler-as-Hidi did a little more checking on the Rosehaven Thornwood Diagonal, resisting the urge to change. The rotunda Peet Archer found centered at 223, 223 had been removed. Wheeler/Hidi quietly stands in the middle of the remaining platform, trying to ascertain how far to go in this direction. Rose Heaven? Wonder Years? Pre-MIST? Fire Tree? Something to do with a grown up Toddles who seems to be All Orange. She *wonders* if orange could be another type of noise.

—–

Tessa danced with Chimera a while to prepare for the question. She was a blue hologram but appeared kind of green against a yellow background. More colors (noises). “Ray?” she responds to Tessa’s inquiry, sort of taking her aback. This was the real name of the Blue Thorn? Or was it the Blue Rose. Tessa asks this too. “Ray,” blue and also kind of green Chimera reinforces, a 2n1 herself in the moment.

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January 1, 2021 · 8:08 am

atmospheres

It started in earnest on that first night Tessa saw snow flying. She turned her small head round and round, taking in the wonder of it.

Wheeler seemed to have kind of ended her travels. Now was the time to focus on the meaning of Cow as a whole. Her own half-brother!

She looked up to him, giant for a day.

—–

Meanwhile, at 181 181 Rosehaven Thornwood:

“Peet Archer must have missed the big amethyst cluster because of that blocking tree.” She walks over.

“Quite pretty, and right on The Diagonal of the sim (188, 188).” But Wheeler/Hidi can’t stare directly at it, distracted by the eerie mist all around. Better get back to the Blue Feather for a reset.


Another, more visible crystal cluster at 174, 174.

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December 29, 2020 · 5:32 pm

Spotlight Kid

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December 29, 2020 · 9:32 am

Heaven

“Did you find her yet, my little, precious Herbert Glenn Gold down at my feet?”

“I… suppose you mean Tessa,” he said up with a markedly weaker voice than Parasol’s. “I… *know* you mean..”

“You’re stalling,” Parasol declared down toward her other feet. The ones of the Rainbow Butterfly; Pickle I’ve called it in this here blog and attached photo-novel, about to be closed up for a day or three. Just to be complete, Parasol is also the same as Witch Hazel, but she must make a choice first. That of red (service to self). Blue would be better, and so she keeps pressing. The girl must be found, she rationalizes. *Then* I can decide which way to flip! This seemed to be an error of thinking. Herbert Glenn Gold was about to pass through her legs and leave, she sensed. He had had enough of abuses; had to put up with a lot of this with his then wife April Mae Flowers. Former: because he was dead now. She decided to use this angle to create a save.

“Would you like me to tell you how you died? Would you wish now to know how you got *here*?” The fiery Golden Sphere beside them spun on without noise. There was no air yet they talk.

Herbert Glenn Gold pondered again whether he wanted to know this. Would it help? He decided before, in the long run, it wouldn’t. He would still be taking the psychological pictures wherever he went. The portal could not be sealed back up. He affirms this to Parasol above him. He knew she was somehow responsible for him. It was a weird relationship, with many incarnations. Father, mother, brother, sister, wife, husband, uncle, aunt, so on. But for now it was more perhaps a mother-son relationship, with he being the son. Gold, like the.

“*Herbert*,” she interrupted his reverie. “I need the girl.”

END OF “SUNKLANDS 2020-2021 WINTER” PART 1!

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December 23, 2020 · 9:42 am

Sanctuary

Maybe I just didn’t deserve Rose Heaven (I changed the name from Rosehaven because I didn’t think I deserved it). I will never live here, beyond that brief stay last winter. But…

… Murdoch’s castle remains, changed from an inferior product last year. Back to the more authentic original. Why? I sit on Dog Island with Wheeler-as-Charlene and ask her the same. “Goodbyes,” she replied. “And hellos”. Something else could happen here.

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December 18, 2020 · 9:25 am

Bake’s

“Peppins, Pippins, Pippens… the name shifted all around down through the months, now almost years. It all had to do with that Peppi machine: that was the center it all revolved around, The Diamond some call it. David A.B. put his heart and his brain into designing that machine; literally for the brain. He knew what was just around the corner. A beat up old station wagon with an Illinois license plate reading BDR529, intent on harm. He didn’t have much time.”

“But what does this *mean*?” ask Poetry Dancer, with Jeffrie Phillips for the moment. Until Charlene Brown the punk woke up about 11 o’clock. Morning walk he could say, building up a sweat by running in place for a couple of minutes. Poor Charlene — so involved in her cryptozoology dissertation writing late into the night that she was oblivious to the transgressions. Jeffrie was taking full advantage of that. The bastard. But a smart bastard, perhaps the worst kind.

“It *means*, my dear, that the death was planned; on purpose. We must track down this Sammie Parr, who is in the collages after all. She is an amalgamation of 5, just like me. That means…”

“Pot-D. *Sorry*. I mean Pan-Z of course.”

“Yes. A rival member, perhaps rogue. *Obviously* rogue because of the murder and all. David A.B.’s brain must have been in there all right.”

“But what will they do with it *now*?” queries Poetry Dancer further, no ugly in her face for the moment.

“They got him to the hospital through trickery, just like before. The brain I mean, and not the host.”

“Of course.”

“It’s Mid Hazel,” he suddenly intuited, putting collage pieces together in his own brain. “She’s up to something.”

“Oh dear.”

“More… *cake*?” he said after a weighted pause.

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December 16, 2020 · 8:03 am

00230505

“A whale can be a thing.”

“A whale can be a *ghost*.”

“Ghost thing!”

—–

So many wanted to get through. Well: seven. I had to control them all, give them *say*, but not overwhelm (me). I wondered where the 7th, the I, was again. I hadn’t thought about it before the meeting much. Put it out of my mind for real, as I *tried* with the 6th. There is no Sunday in week: that sort of thing.

We had to get Carrcassonnee back up and running or Sepisexton would have her run of the place, the 7 and the 6 at once, hiding behind each other, taking turns facing the world. But maybe that’s they way it is suppose to be. In these here photo-novels, 23 in a series of 20.

Olive… Sepisexton. That was a long time ago. What’s black and white or yellow and read all over. Triangle of witches — always works that way. They swallow each other whole again and again until they all blend together, like butter. Better get those flapjacks ready because it’s suppertime. I should go on a walk.

Olive Oylstick gets up, deciding who to take with her. She must get back to Bellisaria soon. Landing on Bellissima, like with all the others present, was a mistake, a variant attractor (or something; I’m not a maths person). The Bellisarian squirrel walked into the Magick Shoppe and I knew what had to be done. It was both a heaven and a hell: an endpoint all the same. Our Second Lyfe ended here, or became First Life I suppose if it is the hell aspect. The whale sings. The Light of Aurelia shines over all.

“We’ve reached a limit, Wendy,” spoke Sandy Beech on that Hammerhead Light dock across the bay from the Shining thing. “The Twins commanded the dress, but if the dress doesn’t fit…”

“It doesn’t,” reinforced Wendy Wilson by his side, who we know now is part of the Breezy archetype.

He turns away from the light and toward her, the dark passenger. “Will you go back to ‘Burger Wars’, then? That simple is it?”

“It’s never that simple.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0023, 0505, Ashton Village, Bellisaria, HANA LEI, Pickle 02

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December 16, 2020 · 7:50 am

00230504

“Tonight, group, I want you to think of ghosts and things,” Phyllis requested through channeler Olive Oylstick. “Communication beyond the veil. But yet we *too* are dead, all of us around this table. I am TILE and I approve this manifesto. Let’s begin.”

—–

Rabbit M4 later talked with Wendy Wilson about their respective secrets. “She almost had it; she *knows*.”

“About… what?”

“You know what.”

“No I don’t,” Wendy Wilson responded.

“The… thing between us.”

“Us?”

“We are the *same*.”

“Oh: *that*.”

“Yes that.”

“The… *thing* between us.” Wendy Wilson again thought of a name for it. “Thing” would have to do for now.

It opened up another whole new can of worms. Yoko Ona would be displeased.

(to be continued)

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December 15, 2020 · 7:20 am

Magick Shoppe

“Okay, so it looks like the 6th is not going to show up tonight. Let’s start, then.”

TILE Channeler Olive Oylstick looks around the table, making intense eye contact with each one. She puts the 6th out of her mind, and the 7th, the I, she doesn’t even consider. Violet Dawn (6th), I’m sure, had better things to do. NO — no bitterness. She use to request that they all hold hands, but this is modern times and hands are full of germs and viruses. We do not even shake in this era of post-apocalyptic habits. She senses nervousness. “Everyone stop stirring in their seats,” she requests. “Stillness; the spirits are here tonight. I sense them all around.” Olive closes her eyes. Several others do as well, including Charles Brown to her left, estranged brother of Charlene who knows her deepest, darkest secret and foolishly told it to one of his many chicks one night when drunk on Speckled Hen. That’s why he’s here. Wendy Wilson to his left? The Oracle commanded she be present tonight in the Bellissima sim, often mistaken for one on Bellisseria or Bellisaria or whatever the hell it’s called. See? It could happen to me, and it could happen to you. Sandy Chic (3rd stated member; left of Wendy) is no more to blame that any resident of this here world. The 4th is Rabbit M4, appropriately, to the right of Olive to complete tonight’s “circle” and who has a secret life on the continent but, again by mistake perhaps, often ends up here instead. Maybe he just likes Olive — that could be it. We’ve introduced the characters (except Violet). Now let’s get to the plot.

Olive opens her eyes. “All Orange. There’s someone inside you.” She turns to Wendy Wilson who is actually Wheeler. Wendy admits this.

(to be continued)

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December 14, 2020 · 10:09 pm

00230501

“Bella. *Not* Bellissaria, YUCK. Maybe I should take off my glooves before typing! Back to the controls of this ship-thing!”

—–

“*There*. That’s… WHHHATT? BellISSIMA now. Maybe it’s my lack of a 5th finger, like Jerry Garcia. Surprised I did so well in school with that handicap! Brains over body I always say, although I have *both*. Except for the 9th and 10th fingers and toes. Oh well. I’m TIRED. I’ll try this planet, er, sim for a while. Belli-e-ss-s- *IT* can wait!”

“Funny how I can see the bottom of this waater now, YUCK. I don’t remember being able to DOO that before, HEE. And reentry has stripped the wood paneling off my ship, HAR!”

“I’ll try THIS house. Has a better viibe.”

“Hmm. No one here except little critters like *me*. Guess I’ll just swiing here a bit and wait for somone to show up, WEE!”

“OOOO. A RAINBOW butterfly!”

And that’s when Sandy Beech woke up.

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