“There!” she cried again. “Mother’s apple!” She was still studying, still perusing the category “All Orange” in the blog through her remote feed. Orange slice after orange slice, she ate, trying to get the whole, rounded picture.
“And there!”
Category Archives: Nautilus
00400405
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0040, 0405, Nautilus, Omega, Rank & File, Urbane Blue/Fishers Island, Yd Island
00400404
She was back in her old room doing remote research. Mother provided free food, just like in childhood. She had a tape recorder and several hour long tapes in which to record her thoughts. She started at the beginning and worked her way up to the present. Early on she found her Volkswagen bug. “There!” she pointed out to herself and herself only. For now. “Like Emma’s, like Jack’s before her. Or after her, doesn’t matter. A story in a brook.”
The man is Tropp, she recalled. Grown up from Opp and wearing a birthday hat instead of a birthday suit. But she gets the point. He started out as an Mmmmmm but became more, unlike his cousin Grassy who remained a mere toy. He walks pass the bug and through the arch to yesterday’s tomorrowland.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0040, 0404, Nautilus, Omega, Rank & File, Urbane Blue/Fishers Island
Rocky Comfort
The mouse already had a rat and he was she. Giant monster Albert couldn’t get inside this time. The girl was safe. For now.
Made it! Butt… where am I??
She eventually makes her way through all the other rooms to the bathroom. And the scales, but something was different from before, although they still registered zero just like she was a kidd again, a baby, an infant, a… fetus. We couldn’t see the tub ducks so no yellow in the picture now. Definitely changed, although the observer still observed from atop the falls.
She wakes up in bed, cow patterns to the front, cow patterns to the side. No noise.
Where is everyone? she asks herself after sitting up and scratching her head in confusion. Flown away?
Turns out it was so.
Butterfingers appear in a cave.
Pink sees yellow again (and wants).
We’re back on the correct timeline.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0040, 0107, Bellisaria, Nautilus, NORTH, River, Sandfly, Upper Austra, Western Hills
00400100
Pink observes yellow (and wants).
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0040, 0100, Constantynople, Nautilus, Rank & File
00390612
She was waiting on someone to tell her who she was, what her real name was, when she decided on her own. The hair makes the girl, she thinks. Thus I am Marsha Pink Krakow, standing proud against the evil of the world and living another day to tell others about and, together, finding out ways to deal with such *shadows*. Not monsters… as much as part of ourselves, ready to spring forth and surprise us if we ignore the signs too long. What were my signs? What were Tammy’s/Frankie’s? Push to stardom for me. Drumming. I wanted to be bigger than Starr and Moon, bigger than *Bonham* even (Led Zeppelin drummer who died, like The Who’s Moon — and Pink herself in that variant reality she just exited — way way too early).
“Shelley,” she speaks aloud to emphasize the affirmation, “you and your Doodle-Bug Hair Blonde had its run and, not failed, but didn’t quite cross over the finish line. I am that finish line. I represent death conquered, shadow conquered. And Tammy/Frankie too, wherever she is inside, conscience or not. She is there. And you are too, Shelley, because you provided me the body I now inhabit. I will always be grateful. But I am Marsha… Pink… Krakow.”
She feels two drumsticks manifest in her right back pocket. She will be more humble this time around, more conscious of other’s dreams and desires and not just blot them out with her own bright wannabe future. She will take this golden opportunity to be the best she can possibly be — not a drummer this time around, although that talent may increase too just by proxy, but simply a person, a human being. That’s what it’s all about, Marsha thinks here, not waiting on anyone any longer, knowing who she is. She can make this world what she wishes it to be. She can manifest: joy.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0612, Constantynople, Nautilus, Rank & File
00390611
They came out of it but they were a mess; all mixed up. She had the body of Shelley still, true, but the clothes and hair of Marsha plus, on top of this, the gestures — well, gesture (*gasp*) of Tammy, formerly Frankie.
She erased the gasp by lowering her littler hand from her mouth. Slowly Sloowly. Don’t want to break anything this soon. She was in a different place, a different land. She looked back on where she came from.
The little devil in front of her approached, offering some grody looking soup. “Patriot soup,” he said in a muffled kid’s voice, like he was wearing a costume instead of being an actual demon. “Straight from Wonderland.” He came ever closer, soup extended a bit more. He was right up on her.
“Oh why the heck not,” she said, and took the bowl and sipped.
—–
When she lowered it from her mouth, the bowl was suddenly a couple of feet more above the floor than when she started the sip. The body of Shelley remained, she realized, but it was the big body, the grown up one. Marsha still ruled in the clothes department. And the hair. And maybe the eyes — she wasn’t quite sure yet without a mirror; she couldn’t tell just by “feel”. And Tammy/Frankie was still somewhere within, a guiding conscience perhaps. “You must choose,” she thought she heard it say to herself, whoever *she* is. Shelley? Marsha? Tammy, even? The little devil who had retreated back upon the newest transformation eyed her keenly, cocking his head a bit and taking it all in. “You have… boyys.” He’d seen them before. Blue Berry Girl.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0611, Constantynople, Nautilus, Rank & File
missing yellow
He peered out between eaters, afraid he’d become part of a sandwich.
——
“I wanted to show you this place,” she spoke down to fellow climber Shelley (kid), “because I believe in your unique power, coming from the outside so soon before and all.”
“There,” she said at the top, standing beside the 3 that hide a 4th. “Can you see?”
“See what?” spoke Shelley, also leaping off.
“Precisely. Mean mad mustard,” Marsha uttered cryptically and then urged the younger girl to stand in her spot while moving over a bit.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0603, Nautilus, Retirement Islands, River, Wild West
Phyllis
“‘No purple,'” I said from the side, quoting from the introduction of the world famous manifesto, *her* manifesto. “Yet you sit on purple.”
“Um hmm.” She nodded.
“Is this, then, about the boyy?”
She contemplated an answer for a second, then: “Yes, this is about the boyy more than anything else. And why I chose to avoid talking about the subject, the color. The gurl too, obviously. If–”
“Lisa,” I clarified, then regretted interrupting her flow. She was, after all, a master channel. So all the TILists say that count. But this was beyond (the) four. Hard to tell how many could keep up if all this was made public. Which was, I suppose, my job.
“If only (another pause), for a contrast. Say, priceless versus highly priced, very high indeed but still a certain amount — not infinite.”
“The boyy is a pure channeler,” I dared. I had to know.
Again the pause. She was in the spotlight, as it should be. Making shit happen per usual. “Pure as in 2 separate from 1. Let me illustrate.” She shifts her weight slightly on the latex ottoman, making it squeak but pleasantly, I noted. “Where *I’m* from there is a city of the land that is as central as a heart. Named for the founder of our great land. Brightonia is its name. Yet eventually, as a center must find a circumference to become circular and all encompassing and also reflect in on itself, a 2nd great city was formed, not as big or important as the first but still two. A balance; a sidekick if you will. Necessary: a role assigned. This is the boyy. And from those 2 come all else.”
‘The great scribe Nauty of Naughtilus has taken credit for the boyy’s channel. Is this correct?”
Pause. “All things being equal: yes. The pen was neither red nor blue.”
“Describe the gurl’s role.”
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0511, Constantynople, Nautilus, Rank & File
00390507
Pitch woke up on the other side of the Heart of the Island forest in a mess. His head hurt. He didn’t remember what happened. Wheeler, he then recalled. She ate the wrong kind. She won’t be getting out as easily as me. He raises up a bit and looks around at the big pink doughnut he sits in, he *escaped* in. He dares to look over at the police box through the trees, envisions the girl entering it and encountering whiteness inside. *That* was his salvation. Little Shelley Struthers from Hooktip just up or down the lane. Uncorrupted. Able to resist chocolate and other sweets, no chewy gum for example. Just as pure as golden ticket Charlie before her. But what now? He can’t leave without Wheeler, he understands. She is still a part of him, despite the, erm, evil. No: misjudgment. He’ll have to go back inside. To the beginning!
“Let’s actually switch, Wheeler,” he says over when getting there just before the first bite, thanks to Shelley’s help once more. “I think I can handle chocolate a little better than you.”
“Heartburn, yeah,” Wheeler said, remembering her once in a while condition and withdrawing the object from her salivating mouth — just a bit.
“Here,” Pitch said, extending the pink one in her direction and ready to grasp the brown with the other. Can she?
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0507, Constantynople, Nautilus, Rank & File
00390505
“Are we going to go ahead and sacrifice Willy Wonka, this *new* clown?” knife welding Preacher Stefan cried in the church immediately bordering the joker’s property, channeling the anger of Constantynople’s townspeople as a whole. Their buildings, their homes, had been called *junk*! Outrage spread through the village. Thus this meeting in the church they all loved. At least he didn’t pick on *this* particular low lying building, the most sacred in all the I’s land: St. Merry’s. “*I* want to speak,” said Pitch from the front, who was, after all, their default leader, the me closer to me than all the rest, being the same as Baker Bloch in essence. “Go ahead, dear,” urged wife Mary by his side. Always. Preacher Stefan acted fast before the townspeople were persuaded otherwise with a stab and accompanying spurt — right on Pitch’s just washed suit, blood splattered again so soon. Pitch looked down.
“Aww *damn*!”
“*Honey*. Not in *church*.” Laughter all around; bloodlust satisfied. Pitch had no pitch here.
“We’ll work on getting it out later,” she added toward the end, wiping up all they could in the moment.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0505, Constantynople, Nautilus, Rank & File
Sunklands 