Category Archives: Estate

February 20, 2019 · 8:34 am

Serenity

If she sits in her compression chair too much longer, she may never get up.

So tightly wound around. Like a Mummy.

Only Monsieur’s visits brings her out of herself. Where *is* he??

—–

“I’ve been waiting and waiting for you, Herbert Glenn Gold.”

The full name, he thinks. She *was* upset. “I’m sorry. I’ve been busy with the king. And then with the doll houses. We found Carrcassonnee inside. The one eyed entity that use to rule Collagesity. HF showed us.”

“But you were both Gold and Platinum inside Murdock’s Castle. Time was all mixed up. *Is* mixed up. You came too close to the truth.”

“Now I know. Fingerprince. I just had to find the second dollhouse to confirm it. And the second HF.”

“Are you going inside? Forever and ever and ever?”

“I’m not sure. What would you advise?”

She paused. “Maybe we should go to the Serenity Church. Perhaps the Reverend can help us.”

—–

“He’s *here*. Zoidboro is here.” Monsieur Gold was incredulous.

“Yes,” spoke Parasol below the tone of Zoidboro’s preaching. “It’s because of the Gold and Platinum mix-up. Zoidboro’s been here for years now. Yet he has just arrived. And then: he isn’t here yet. Some realities he was never born, never had a child by that strange mutant gal-guy Patrick Starr.”

“The drummer?”

“No, that’s Ingor.”

“Ingo?”

“No. *He’s* different.”

“My head hurts. I need to sit down.”

—–

So they sat down opposite Sally Spark O Naut — who had dutifully followed Zoidboro through the eyeball cave portal — and listened to the remainder of a beautiful sermon about the dangers of shark attacks. Afterwards, Herbert Gold’s head hurt considerably more.

In fact, I think he died there. Again.

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February 19, 2019 · 7:06 am

Bartholomew

Ready to take on a witch.

And fail.

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February 18, 2019 · 10:09 am

gather round

“Reggie, get out of here! This is not your story.” The rat scurried away under the master’s bed.

“So… the king made sweet love to his dead queen one too many times and finally fell into her grave. The End.”

“Marvelous, Frank,” cooed mate Felicia Fox beside him. “Tell us another one. How about the Prince who ate a basketball and it became his head.”

“No, no,” insisted Sam Swan. “How about the Princess who made love to a living person and then turned into one herself.”

“Old news,” groused Cathy Cat. “The Great Queen is the story. How she got good and dead in the first place. Shape pullers.”

“What do you think, Cheeky?” asked Frank Fox to the so far silent chihuahua across from him.

“Dunno. Don’t care. Whatever.” Cheeky then rolled over and took a little snooze on his pillow.

“Shape pullers it is, then.”

(to be continued)

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February 18, 2019 · 9:01 am

“You don’t have to bear that weight alone.”

—–

“Top of the line, my Queen.”

“Princess please. I haven’t been confirmed yet.”

“So sorry. My Princess.” He looks toward the doll house again. “Just rolled out last month. 11 rooms for this baby.” He was counting the 3 bathrooms and the crawl space but didn’t mention this fact. Always the pitch person.

“Sandy. May I call you Sandy?”

“Of course my highness.”

“Sandy. If you don’t mind me saying, you have quite a reputation following you around. I read the reviews online. It seems…”

“Say no more. I’ll pack up my wares and move on. I am greatly humbled by even your interest in our fine products.”

“No, I wasn’t implying that I’m not interested. I am.” She winked one red eye at Sandy, who understood what he had to do — once again — to make a sale. So golden and glinty this one is. Better make sure the lights are dimmed way down.

—–

Afterwards he had one of those strange 1/2 doll house 1/2 real house dreams where the sprinkler system went off by accident.

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February 17, 2019 · 8:54 am

Side

“This is *not* the centre of Rosehaven, dear sister.”

“Sshhh,” she implored in a lower tone. “Keep it down. They could be out there… watching.”

“They *who*?”

“Father’s people. Maybe even mother’s.” But she said these almost as questions.

“Both are dead. Both are gone. We must move on. Mother only lived on through the father. We must be in the now and present. Meditate with me, sister. Learn my wise ways. You won’t be so anxious.” His voice was slightly muffled and watery; hers clear and metallic.

“You shouldn’t be so talkative if you’re so relaxed,” she shoots back, then peers through the window again.

“The cave should have been the meeting point. I told you to meet me at the cave. You’d feel safer there. But no, it had to be the peasant’s village. Father’s old hideaway where he went to woo his wenches. Maybe that’s why we’re so different. Two different mothers. Maybe even two different fathers.”

“You *know* why we’re different.” She didn’t have to finish the rest. Both knew that Merry Gouldbusk physically took after the father and he after the mother. But inside, roles were reversed. For the boy (Ingo) was in danger of becoming as cold as the father given time. For the girl: only melancholy futures.

Merry Gouldbusk stared at the sphere encapsulated face of her brother. “Do you ever remove that thing?”

“Not even to eat,” he replied quickly. “I… get insights. I want to share some of them with you. About the dividing.”

“All ears,” she said, folding her ears toward him with her golden fingers. It was an old game they played. Ingo still smiled at this, which was comforting.

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February 16, 2019 · 7:52 am

fruit loop adventure

He could feel her hot, putrid breath against his neck. Death, Angel of. Head like a grapefruit. Or a basketball.

“Come on, Sam Bee. Time to take the plunge. She’ll be waiting here for us when it’s over.”

“You don’t know,” he hissed, gazes still locked. “You weren’t there, Duncan.”

“I was there,” Duncan reassured his friend. His war vet friend.

“We — almost — had them — by the BALLS.”

—–

Parasol woke up, looked over at Charlie sitting heavily on the couch beside her. “You’ve changed.”

“Something’s happening,” he agreed.

Someone was about to enter the circle.

—–

Parasol woke up again, Charlie still beside her.

“Duncan A. and Sam B. are about to enter the gorgeous gorge. I saw it in my dream.”

“Then I guess you’re gonna split, huh?”

“Not till Sundae.”

—–

Parasol woke up.

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February 15, 2019 · 10:31 am

Burnt Too

It was almost dark when she reached the service station in the opposite corner of the Burnt Oak sim from her. Now the *only * service station in the area. Look at these two, Sally Spark O Naut thought. People must be desperate for gas. Knowing (the other) Sally like I do, she’s dispensing it in ways to cause the most pain for everyone around. In turn: poor, desperate Sally.

She goes around the front of the building.

“Sally? It’s me. Sally. You here?”

Hmph. Cleaned out as well.

Only the meat remains.

 

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February 15, 2019 · 9:51 am

Burnt

50 days, thought Sally the Spark O Naut (Sparky) at the old Tiler’s Church in North Yd. Time to finally give up on the Reverend and head home.

But upon reaching the plateau above the decrepit town, Sparky found her service station had disappeared in the meantime, along with perpetually wind blown Raphaelia and her orange cat. Only the wind left.

She’d have to ask the other Sally on the opposite side of the Death Bowl for information. Aka: Lying Widow.

It was the only logical thing to do.

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February 13, 2019 · 8:25 am

church (Eotia Village)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sherwood_Anderson

Four[5] or five[6] years were spent in Caledonia, years which formed Anderson’s earliest memories. This period later inspired his semi-autobiographical novel Tar: A Midwest Childhood (1926).[7] In Caledonia Anderson’s father began drinking excessively, which led to financial difficulties, eventually causing the family to leave the town.[7]

“That’s an interesting story, Zoidboro. But I thought it was Caledon.”

Again with the smarts, Zoidboro ponders. What was it now, 8 1/2 months? 8 3/4ths? Better get to the caves asap. “Cale*don*ia,” he emphasizes to his pregnant male friend. “It would be Caledon if told from their perspective, but this is through the eyes of Rosehaven. The Princess ruler, to be specific. Soon to be Queen now that the father is dead. And the mother remains in her grave.”

“So…,” Patrick Starr tries to reason, “… Caledon, I mean, *Rosehaven* is way over here.” He moves his right hand far to the right. “And The Waste, *our* home, is way over here.” The left hand goes more left.

“But brought together by the Oracle,” states Zoidboro, shifting slightly on the bed to peer at the strangely colored 8 ball in the middle of the table to one side. “Tiger,” he completes, noting the residual “stripes”.

“I suppose.” Patrick retracts both hands, sits up, and holds his bloated stomach. “Oh, I felt a kick!”

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February 13, 2019 · 7:42 am

Hinterland

“The animations in this town blow, Philip.”

“I know Philip.”

“Better wake up Marion. I’m ready to blow this town.”

“Me too.”

“Marion,” the non-bearded Philip begins to call. “Oh Mar-ion,” he sings softly. “Come out come out wherever you’re at.”

“Twinkle, twinkle,” jokes the bearded Philip.

Insert transmutation sound…

“50,000 linden dollars,” Marion Star Harding begins. “For all the mysteries of Caledonia unlocked. Will save you 5 years worth of research.”

A pause. “What about the girl?” Philip inquires.

“You can throw her in too. The shapeshifter.”

“But that’s *you*.”

They wait. Another transmutation doesn’t take place.

“She must be upstairs,” offers Philip.

“Yes,” Marion quickly agrees. “Since neither one of us are her. Upstairs, yes. On the bed. With *1* animation.”

—–

Heidi Hunt Ives stayed motionless tossed and turned all night. It was those darn boat horns. “Look out, look out!” they repeatedly cried. “I’m over here! Watch it! Can you see me! If you can’t here’s another blare from my horn, blow blow!”

It doesn’t always have to be fog in the harbor.

Better get up, though, and talk to the partners in crime, she grumbled inwardly while trying to fully rouse herself. Moving day, she guessed.

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