Most people considered Storybrook a paradise. The white of the light was often blinding.
Arthur Kill knew this and was here to prove the yucks of the town wrong, among other assigned tasks. He could start with the children, he realized, upon learning their names. Their *true* ones. Pink was the first he encountered, at one of the several jobs she held at the time: shoeshiner. “One Who Shines,” she jokingly called herself after he sat down, and Arthur stared through her with this: into the void once more. You will *never* be a star, he thought as she nervously began to rub the first pitch dark shoe with her pink rag. Not you nor anyone else in this town. I’ll see to that. *Marty* will see to that — through me.
Marty should be showing up soon, red hair back in place. So as not to reveal too much, too soon. The peppery black void must be hidden for now.
She often thought back to that day later on. “What are you doing here in Storybrook, sir, if I may be so bold to ask?” A person of color in Storybrook was unusual. She’d only seen a handful in her 13 years of growing up here.
“I’m looking for something,” came the cold, monotoned response of Arthur Kill, shoes shined until the starless void within was revealed again. “It could be right behind me for all I know,” but he then didn’t look over his shoulder to find the accidental truth he spoke.
The girl? Her friends called her Pink, because she always was. Actual name: Marsha Krakow. And she’s most likely the next star in our Collagesity series of photo-novels, this here being the start of the 19th.
In kin with the now deceased Cpt. Americus, she liked drumsticks, usually holding 2 at a time in this case. Double the fun.
“Can I help you with that tire, Lester?”
“No I’m good Marsha,” came the friendly response between screws. Lester was a friend but not a good friend. She let the “Marsha” appellation go with him. And with most people. But to her good friends, the *closest* ones, and they numbered three, it was always “Pink” or suffer the consequences. She had likewise despised first names to hurl back at them — Betty, James, Clovis — if they slipped. For all of them had nicknames based on color. It was a game that went back to they were all kids growing up side by side by side with each other on Arnold Lane. Right down there…
Four houses in a row.
Back to the drumsticks…
She often forgot she was holding them for hours after a session.
Wheeler decides to beat her to the punch. If there *is* evidence of a continuation in Jumboro and this attached Jumbo Core, she was going to find out herself. No filtering through bias. And, besides, Hucka Doobie has a kewl beauty of her own as a strong African-American woman struggling in a white male society. Yes, Wheeler admires her very much. She wishes she were equally spiritual, but there’s the Venus in her that is always niggling away at the good, the correct, the *Christian*. The Lord and The Lamb do not find favor in her sometimes — often. Oh, Axis is right, she thinks then and there, perched on the rooftop of a skybox she had no business prying into. But she was here now, bad instincts taking over again. Might as well take a peek inside.
The Jumbo Core, yes. Amazing. And Jumbo is perhaps the most famous elephant of all time, a Barnum and Bailey product, like oppositely sized Tom Thumb. Wheeler studies the alternately green and yellow colored squares of this “grassy base”, as the description puts it. Is this the original 9×9 square of sims? she ponders. It *must* be in some way. But what does it mean? Anything about the objects positioned upon it? But Wheeler can discover nothing of marked note.
nothing of marked note
She looks all around the rest of the skybox remotely before “accidentally” moving through the wall behind this grassy base into a back room that she hadn’t *checked* for some reason. A broad smile formed on her face. “Yellow-green and red-violet!” she cried aloud, seeing the 2 colors juxtaposed, floor to wall. The Thomas Main and Nick Barkley story can continue!
And her own, she realized.
END OF “COLLAGESITY 2020 EARLY”!
“I keep telling you Wheeler, er, Venus, that Corsica is an elephant. It keeps coming up again and again. And by this I don’t mean Bracket’s foolish Comma Islands. The *real* Corsica. The one with crates with meaningful content.”
Wheeler/Venus waves her hand dismissively toward the thing both blue-green tinted beings were staring at: the, um, *object* in the middle of the room. “Continent… content. What’s the difference. Just open it will you. Get this photo-novel done.” And I was *so* looking forward to playing Venus Flytrap, she seethes inwardly. Axis is just going to nip it in the bud because he thinks we should refocus on Red Star, blocking up reality like, well, like *Seven* never existed. Seven Across, 7th seal, whatever. Seven is gone. Five is apparently where we’re at and where we’ll stay. Square of Mars.
“I have one more mission to accomplish before we can wrap things up, open the crate. Hucka Doobie is set to go to the northeast corner of Jumboro, right beside your New Orleans Blues Little Rock club, to revisit the *Jumbo* Core related skybox that Baker Bloch got, er, blocked from several days back.”
Wheeler would have had a glimpse of hope for Seven — the lives and potential deaths of Chry State’s Thomas Main and Chry U.’s Nick Barkley, etc. — if it weren’t Hucka Doobie heading the mission, because, from what Baker Bloch told her recently, the bee person seemed to hate her now. No way is she going to produce evidence for the continuation of Venus Flytrap, pheh. Is she?
One way to find out.
(to be continued)
Way back in 2009, Baker Bloch owned a rental in Ephant, a sim we visited in part 6 of the current Collagesity photo-novel and the site of the untimely demise of Axis’ former boss Morgan Freechild — by Axis himself and his accomplice, wife Wheeler, who is now apparently the same as Venus Flytrap. We’ll see. Anyway, back to the flashback, we go back back back in time to when Baker Bloch, from this Ephant base (the rental was literally at the base of the mountain), explored up what later became known as the Elephant’s Trunk for obvious, logical reasons. He had already determined the basic storyline of the Comma Islands and the needed union of King Bracket Jupiter to his green mermaid Queen to make permanent peace between the two, interlocked lands, spinning around each other in hypertime to create another one of those multitudinous yin-yang relationships found in these here photo-novels, the first yet to be written at the time. But that’s not the flashback. This is — a post where Baker Bloch uncovers an important clue about how to move beyond Bracket’s Jupiter and attached Comma Islands into the next planet, which also represents Corsica Prime (recalling Corsica is an elephant, which applies more to the Prime part than Bracket’s old kingdom). Let’s revisit the historic moment during: Flashback Friday.
Then the next night Baker Bloch starts exploring from his Ephant house once more, but heads west, up an “arm” of the Corisca Prime island, toward and then beyond Klaatu this time, all the way to a sim called Red Marsh. Nothing really mind numbingly exciting found on the trip, mainly accomplished through flight, *except* perhaps that one time while looking at the SL map to see how far west he’d traveled, he noticed that his location on the map covered the “h” of the sim’s name he was then in: Red Marsh. This turned it, interestingly, into “Red Mars”, as you can see by the below snapshot I took at the time. I think it has to mean something… I have some theories I’ll share with the reader asap.
And just to add to this, and speaking of Wheeler again, we know this has to do with Venus as well now. This is *not* a Second Lyfe image.
Axis’ wife Wheeler, who was turning into a new character called Venus more and more every day, piggytailed blue hair correspondingly lengthening and cartoon aspects enhancing, decided to put on her investigating feet as well and head to Seven Across, a sim a little north of Fearzum which she knew had relevance now. Perched on a hilltop at its southern edge, she pondered on a new last name to go along with the first. Flytrap, she decided, after remotely peering around a corner.
Her Second Lyfe was just that syncy these days.
Waiting in a nearby New Orleans Blues Little Rock bar for the inevitable next storyline to appear, she decides to focus on the 5-6-7-8 beyond her usual 1-2-3-4. TILE, in other words. She’d learned about the wannabe religion from Thomas. Who was Thomas? I hear you asking, perhaps with a sigh. Well he’s the Main man around these here parts, a Chry State graduate designing separate fall and winter landscapes over in the northwestern part of the sim. He knows nothing about shields and psychics of course, but physics — he’s a wiz! Venus may need his help in that department very soon. Because she’s had it up to her blue keister with Nick Barkley, who just happens to be Thomas Main’s arch-nemesis and who, 7 days and 7 nights later, has a gun pointed directly at his head by the former. And on the 8th day they rested — one of ’em, perhaps both of ’em — in a freshly dug grave.
(to be continued?)
Dennis Jarman knew that someone important lay dead in 7 that came from previous numbers. He ran back the reel of time.
“Nick Barkley of Big Valley,” he spoke aloud, observing the past from a relatively safe distance. “Should’ve known: Big Valley was always pumping out the big V.’s (Villains). Graduate of Chry University like me. Or was it Chry State — never can recall. One’s team wears yellow-green and the other red-violet. Barton — that was it. Nick’s opposite at, yes, Chry State. Ned Barton I believe. Unless it was Nick and Nick was Ned. Barton-Barkley, though. Pretty sure I got that right at least. Better check. If I shout loud enough he may hear it as a tiny whisper. But also, better get ready to amscray if he’s the wrong Chry. He must not know of my past present future in any way. I’ve talked enough; time for action. Time for *time* action. Nick Barkley!!” he cried across the gap of space and time. Barkley lowered his gun and looked around on the ground, as if for a mouse. Good, thinks Dennis Jarman. He doesn’t know where I am. “I’m glad you lowered the gun!! Now lower your *shield*!!” This would be the proving test, because Chry State graduates don’t know what shields are, the tool of a soft and not hard scientist. One who believes in psychics as well as physics. Nick Barkley, who was truly Nick Barkley, lowered his shield. He looked in the direction of Dennis Jarman, saw an outline forming. “Good, good,” spoke Jarman over to Nick and walked toward him, form becoming corporeal for the latter. “Now give me the shield and let’s go home. We have a lot of tape to look at.”