Category Archives: Northwest
00360414
Geez that gray woman has been out there quite a while, Shelley thinks, having woken up in a strange camper in the sim above Mortons Gap but then recalling the story. She could hear the crashing of the waves when she stirred, a reassuring sound. Arthur must be around. They were just too tired to walk all the way back to the hotel after visiting the Ant Castle up on the mountain, quite a climb to get to. So they just bunked down here as the sun set into the ocean, just to do something different, they agreed. “No one around,” spoke her newlywed husband. “Why not,” she replied. But that gray person… actual owner? Telling me I’m intruding on her property? Could just ask, she thought as she took another sip of coffee and continued reading the article she started, it seemed, a 1/2 hour ago. Ooo, she thought. Just there. The woman took on appearance; just for a second. Yes, staring right at me, it seems (!). Better gather up Arthur and head back to the hotel. Probably down on the beach.
—–
He comes here often and just sits and listens. “Getz/Gilberto” always seems to be spinning on the turntable, the record that started it all for bossa nova, as he learned. Steely eyed Luther stirs the patriotic soup slowly and deliberately, like an automaton instead of an actual person. ‘Nother “gray” being. And what has Clifton Mahoney got on the docket today? Well — beach. Just like Shelley and Arthur. Coming up is a collision course of information that would change everyone’s world. The Ant Castle was not what it seemed (!).
—–
Barry down at the pier would be involved too. Because after 8 straight days of angling it was about time to head home. Art studio. Just below the castle. Barry’d seen and heard things there he didn’t want to dwell upon, didn’t want to be in such close proximity to. Thus the trip into town, to the beach, to the pier. Sanity in contrast. Warm sense of people around. F-ing cold in the gray granite mountains above Mortons Gap this time of year, but not necessarily that kind of cold. Remote kind of cold, the worst type. Barry liked privacy when he painted but enough was enough. But, also, he couldn’t stay away forever, had to face the devil sometime.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0036, 0414, Corsica, Northwest
trunks
Shelley loves hanging around the beach. Arthur and she have such a great time night after night, day after day here… in Mortons Gap overall. She could see living here, staying here. A bit laggy, but they’re working on it, reducing shaders, draw distance, etc. Even minimizing screens, their view on the world, if needed. It wasn’t ideal. But — so pretty.
If she could just erase that full moon faux pas from her memory. What did Arthur do that night? she wondered for certainly not the first time. Because she’d found lipstick on his coat which wasn’t hers — she rarely uses it except when they hit the town. And the smell of lobsters. Or was it crabs? — she’d have to check the difference between the 2 later on when they walk down to the fisheries. Do it nice and subtle.
Nearby Arthur was building another one of his patented sand castles, complete with ants that he’d found on the vegetated dunes in back. He was trying to recreate the past. In truth, someone had put a spell on him. George/Musician most likely, if only from his dreams. He wanted to walk up to the real Ant Castle later that day, thus Shelley’s excuse to visit the fisheries kind of on the way. Ah heck, she’ll just ask him. Why does she care if he stayed with another woman that night. *She* was with a woman that night. Served her right. Painful, very painful, but… what was the right expression for it? Tit for tat, she decided. Or tit for tit — something.
She swung down from the palm tree, walked over. “About ready to go?”
He was about to coronate the new king and queen of the ants after building their thrones. “5 more minutes,” he requested, herding the crowd in the right direction.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0036, 0413, Corsica, Northwest
00360411
Good to see you back home and safe, Mrs. Shelley,” spoke Sam the bartender. “Mister Arthur was looking for you this morning. Said he was going for a walk — Ant Castle I believe was specifically referenced by the sir.”
“Yeah,” spoke Shelley. “I didn’t come home last night. Wandered down The Trunk.” Sam nods here understandably and sympathetically, having heard this before. “Got lost.”
“Aah The Moon again,” he said, knowing it was full last night. “Did you do anything you can’t take back?”
“I…’m not sure.”
“Then you better choose. Dark Side or Light Side. And which is which in your mind. Because if you don’t, The Moon will choose for you. I approximate you have about 1 month to decide. Or 27 or 28 days, ma’am. Which *service* will you choose?”
Pretty profound words there from a bartender, but, then again, he was studying for the priesthood. Or to be a gourmet chef… choice will also come to him soon. She decides and I decide, he realizes. Because instead of praying he was cooking up a storm last night, shrimp, lobster and crab being the victims in order. “Rock’n it,” he said at one point in the heat of creativity, expertly blackening a shrimp with one hand while boiling a lobster to perfection with another. Master chef. Or not… a crab dropped out of the pan while he had a moment of doubt, fear creeping into and intruding on unconditional love. God, he thought later. God disapproves of this night.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0036, 0411, Corsica, Northwest
00360410
“Well, he makes a good point,” she tries to joke.
“He’s *pointing*… to his *name*,” said Marilyn to this, a what you see is what you get kind of gal. Unlike Sep here, who’s complicated. Marilyn was also reading her book upside down, which Sep didn’t bring up. No more pointing out anything. She needed to get to why she was here.
“I have a new gal in my life, Marilyn. I think… I’m in love. Yet she’s married.”
“*Married*?” Marilyn exclaims. “More like *buried*. I’ve been married 7 times and that’s just because I’m only 42.” She looks over, satisfied smirk on her face. “Okay, 56,” she relents. “Go on, change your expression to shocked. I’ll wait.”
Sep sits there for a second, then obligingly lets her jaw drop. “*Fifty*-*six*?” she meters out, knowing what Marilyn wants to have said to her. If she had to guess, Sep would have said 49, which is splitting the difference.
“Yes, shocking I know. Now go ahead and do the same for the 7.”
So Sep feigns the second shock as well. “*Seven*?” The information she has about the Heart Line here better be good. If only the duck were truly alive instead of just a dummy he could help instead or at least chip in. She makes a mental note to search out the real Professor Duck after this was over.
The alarm goes off. Sep wakes up. No Shelley beside her. Unlike last night. Must have taken a walk, she rationalized, not hearing anyone downstairs. Then she realized the obvious: she walked home. Back to Arthur. One night stand she just had here. Better write down the Heart Line dream before she forgets, what good it did her. “*One* *night* *stand*,” she imagines telling still couch sitting Marilyn, giving her back a dose of her own medicine.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0036, 0410, Corsica, Heterocera, Northwest
00360409
She was hoping beyond belief. “Tattoo parlor?” she tried, drawn in by the butterflies.
“Hair salon,” replied glowing pink haired Sep Felton, not seen in a while. Not since Wallytown, I believe.
“Any?…”
“Nah,” answered Sep to Shelley. “Too small (of a town),” she explained about the lack of such establishments. “Haven’t seen you around — figured you were a stranger.” She takes in her visitor. At first she thought: plain. Now she’s starting to reconsider. “Where…?”
“Morgans Gap,” Shelley said, anticipating Sep’s own question here. “Vacation — honeymoon, actually. Just bumming around the neighborhood.”
“Well, you’re a pretty fur piece down The Trunk to find this place (!).”
“Yeah, I guess. Got the wandering feet today.”
“Where’s the significant other?” Sep began to fantasize a relationship with the increasingly cute visitor. She couldn’t help herself.
Where *was* Shelley’s recently married hubby, if not just married? Their honeymoon had been postponed for a month because they had to find exactly the right spot to do it. Morgans Gap was the place no doubt. They were visiting a gallery in the area, heard about the Ant Castle on the mountain above the town, and the rest fell into place pretty quickly. Arthur Kill withdrew some saved money for the purpose out of the bank and handed it over to 3 1/2 star rated Hotel Higashiyama down on the beach of the town. They haven’t regretted it one moment. More role play tonight, Arthur promised. If she can get back before bedtime. She checks her online map. Dang. How did she get so far away?
“Well…” tried Sep — hoping beyond belief herself this time. “I have a spare room upstairs if you don’t think you can make it back tonight. Sun will be setting in about an hour. Just saying… trying to be hospitable. Us Marooners like to cultivate that reputation.” Which was true, although Sep knew she was trying to cultivate something else. Better end this post and check her history in the photo-novels.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0036, 0409, Corsica, Northwest
trance dance
Ted just liked to watch. He told his crooked blackbird on his shoulder to simmer down as the lights dimmed and the band took the stage. With the dancer. Light of His 2nd Lyfe. Why he was in Flamerider in the first place, although it was always nice to visit with his old friend Sissy. He pondered again a possible connection between her and another Sissy he knew over in Comma Islands, the one who lived on an actual top of one of Corsica’s famous standalone granite peaks instead of just below one — in the shadow of one — like here.
Then, surprising him, Sissy came out from behind the bar and crawled into the cage beside him, starting to gyrate herself to the beginning trance music. What was he thinking? There *was* no dancer onstage. Just here. His eyes had been opened. But to… what?
“Squawk!”
“Shhh, simmer down, I said.” But Blackey 02 had spotted it first. Another caged bird emerging from the shoe, a parrot it appeared from his angle, pink in color again. Like Sissy; the dancing had caused this.
The cage began to expand, soon filling up space itself.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0036, 0402, Comma Islands, Corsica, Northwest
3 clicks to the east
Sissy Bird Cage felt like she was in the right place (red shoes), even though she didn’t know how she got here. She remembered dying. Or some part of her dying. A business, yes. Heavily identified with, so much so that she felt it was an extension of her body, her mind, her soul. It shared her same name. Her blood coursed through its veins.
Over in Mortons Gap. I believe they made it into a Saki Bar after she left but she hadn’t been back to check. Too painful.
She remained on Corsica. In fact, on the same peninsula that they called The Trunk in olden days, when the original Ant Castle was still around. Eleph Trunk, some called it. Not Elephant. Not after the Ant was extracted from the end, set up in his (or her) own castle right at the very tip of the nose of the thing.
She’s looking for a place to apply for a job. She’d heard in Flamerider here there were secret jobs, up in the air above the green and granite landscape. Ted had told her about it — said she might fit in well there. She recalled all this now. After the shock of transitioning wore off.
“Anyone hiring ’round here?” she asked the broken doll tending a bar inside the red shoe place.
The doll suddenly fell to pieces. Looks like she’s found her new position, quick and easy (home). Slowly but surely, this becomes reality and the other a dream.
—–
“When I first showed up, Ted, she was standing right on this spot. Right here. I had to clean up all the mess and parts but it was worth it, problem solved.” She turned.
“Fascinating, Sissy,” said her current customer, use to the story. Maybe even kind of sick of the story. “Just a beer today.” He extended bills across the counter.
“Your money is no good here Ted and you know it.” It was the least she could do.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0036, 0401, Corsica, Northwest
Yellowmoon Ridge
There’s grass (living) and there’s hay (dead).
Dr. Back appears ant-like on the hill. No going back.
“It’s a girl, Mrs. Kill.”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0036, 0317, Corsica, Northwest
Mortons Gap, Corisca, Our Second Lyfe
Greater and lesser.
OMG, Barry’s here. Fishing. The magic continues…
We’ll catch up with him a little later (!).
RN earns cash by making pots. Well: *a* pot. And it’s coming along very slowly, it appears.
Many cats in the city.
Will meditate for money. Arthur Kill decides to join him in the background.
A single red tree (object of meditation).
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0036, 0316, Corsica, Northwest
Sunklands 