Category Archives: End of Time^^

January 14, 2021 · 8:35 am

time-slip

Back in her own camping spot in the caves, just up the tracks from Carolin’s, Tessa was reading a biography of 19th Century German composer Robert Schumann before turning in, and had reached the part where the author was discussing his first major work called “Papillons”, which means butterflies. Tessa recalls the dream again with the snow-as-butterflies, her *last* at Green Yarn, pheh. Kicked out! Just because Jeffrie Phillips slept too long in the 1898 room with his safe, comforting tv static. “This is not a homeless shelter!” she could hear the owner or owners of the sim say upon seeing him in bed. “Banned! And the girl with you.” Another biographer I am, she thinks here. The story of the Blue Rose Thorn.

Oh well, Tessa considers. It’s not too awfully bad in the caves if you have some good books to read to pass the time. And good friends — like Carolin. Too bad about Mabel. Tessa tries not to think back to that awful day in early May when… but she couldn’t help herself. Let them eat cake: she’ll never forget. Mabel saw the passageway and she didn’t. Then: gone. Darn heartless dummies!

—–

Tessa wakes up at 2:01 am with an epiphany. “Q”, she whispers, open Schumann book still in hand. “Curly Q. The island down the tracks!” She couldn’t wait to tell Carolin; morning was too late.

Groggy Carolin didn’t think much of the idea at first but when checking Santa’s list on the blackboard the next day came to understand the significance of it all. We’re going back to New York, she thinks while packing her knapsack for the journey. I’m going… home.

—–

“Carolin?” She turns. “Carolin!!??”

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January 14, 2021 · 8:35 am

occupied

“We’ll have to stay in the caves tonight, Tessa. They’re having some kind of party over on Crow Island in the treehouse.”

“But… I need a new home! I’ve been kicked out of Heaven!”

“That wasn’t heaven, that Green Yarn. Change the name, change the attitude. They don’t deserve you.”

“I’m *not* staying in these caves again. Cold!” Tessa shivers here exagerratedly in her sleeveless shirt.

“It’s not forever.” Carolin stares down the tracks, wishing she saw a ballerina figure instead of a heartless dummy.

Then she was gone.

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January 12, 2021 · 6:48 am

End

“Hi Tessa!” Carolin called from above while waving. “Ready to go back in the cave?”

Was she ready? Then she remembered the blackboard, the missing center of the equation. Q. Someone named Q.

She recites what she knows in her head. She is on Crow Island at End of Time. Crow Mountain is above her, the Climax. Meditating Freddie — yes. Bakersworks. They are in a Baker B. work. But… someone is missing. Man – About – T…

—–

“Time,” Carolin finished for her later at the blackboard, writing out three identical numbers in a row, the number of the beast from The Bible. “Now… if we extend this infinitely, what do we have? We have a *7*. So we might as well say it with a 7 instead of a 6 for that third. 667,” she finalized, and wrote it on the board. “Who is…”

“Sepisexton,” Tessa answers, getting smarter all the time, and she was pretty sharp from the beginning. She recalled the capital of Olive, the one before Tin separated and became its own principality, the 7 from the 6. Boy we are really ranging far and wide in time now. But I sometimes write that as far and yd. The man comes out from behind the curtain (4th wall). He is a Woo Woo. He believes in ghosts, cracker jacks, and cereal circles with a prize inside. Q.

“Q.” Carolin points. Red Point. Buick. Boss who is green like Bixby. Canada. They are traveling across the frozen Heartland, trying to reach…”

And that’s the one thing she couldn’t remember that Man of Time did. We are done now.

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January 12, 2021 · 6:48 am

let them eat cake

“Wheeler will be my downfall, um…”

“*I’m* Wheeler,” spoke the person across from him, not wearing a red dress but we’ll assume she’ll be in one soon enough. At the Red Dress Diner. In New Eden. Probably.

“Right, right, I remember now. Like a wheel. 12:37.” He looks at his left shoulder. No spark. He was up too high.

“Man About Time,” spoke Wendy/Wheeler, saying the correct name the first time ’round. “Do you (even) know where you are?” She stared at him, red hair if not red dress. Very red.

“Downfall,” MAT muttered, noticing the same. “I’m MacDonald. I did something to the Ind– indigenous people of this great land.” Now: red on my hands, he realized. Blood on my face, yech.

“We’re not in Canada,” measured out Wendy/Wheeler. “That’s Toddles and Peet Archer, traveling across (its) frozen Heartland, waiting for a chance. And now they have it. The wife said, ‘pick a town, pick *one* town’. And so Picton it is. But after the Green Yard, er, Yarn in the middle of town…”

“Picturetown,” MAT recalled. “I remember that much.”

“Don’t forget it. Because it won’t change back.”

MAT then saw too much at the crossing. Twins — he had picked the wrong one to converse with today. Someone had warned him about the wrong dress. The one without blood. Without blame?

“End of Time,” Wendy/Wheeler said after the moment, about the place they were in. “We have crossed over.”

MAT looked past his left shoulder at the askew windows of the treehouse they sat in, remembering that too. A spark of memory. 12:37. Dinner time.

But Wendy/Wheeler couldn’t cook worth shite. Fast food hamburgers it was again.

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January 11, 2021 · 9:33 am

chameleon

“Her name is Sandy,” Camouflage responded about the white-ish squirrel cautiously approaching them. Sometimes she gave her acorns off another sim, an exotic dish. Squirrels don’t forget. “Like a pickle.”

“Pickle?” questioned Jeffrie Phillips by her side, out of his tuxedo and into his regular duds. This must mean it’s the present.

“You know, a sandy pickle, to contrast with a regular green one. An exotic pickle. Surely you have sandy colored cucumbers in your time period.”

“Time period?” Jeffrey Phillips questioned again.

—–

I’ll just skip to the part where they talk about the sim they’re in, and how it got its name. “Wabd,” responded Camouflage about an original appellation, as exotic as the white-ish squirrel approaching them again.

“Green Yard?”

“Green *Yarn.* And here we are. You must wake up again, and for real this time, Mr. Jeffrie Phillips. You are dreaming too much. You lay in your comfy bed with that woman who hasn’t been clearly identified and listen to that tv static and sleep sleep sleep. If you, say, got up in the middle of the night…”

“I don’t do that,” he said firmly. “I had an uncle who did that. Was into synchronicities. Said they were strongest in the middle of the night. I’d rather be blanketed in a bed of safe white tv static than deal with all that…” Should he say “nonsense” here? Pink Floyd? Bigfoot wearing a hot pink mini dress? It all didn’t add up. Except there *was* Charlene. “I think I’m ready to wake up again.”

“Good, cool,” responded Camouflage out of a permanently wine stained mouth shaped exactly like a regular glass of wine, Merlot most likely. “When you wake up, you’ll know who you’re with.”

Jeffrie Phillips was hoping now it was Charlene, although he guessed it wasn’t.

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January 21, 2020 · 8:14 am

Harvey

One day he came here and his beloved giant live oak tree had simply vanished in thin air. “I’ve had enough of this place,” Jer Left Horn muttered to himself. “Fran is too young and Cloe is too unavailable. Time for me to report back to mother. The caves got my brother plain and simple. He will never be found the right way in.”

Time to look the wrong way; the only one left. Somewhere else than End of Time.”

“He’s given up on End of Time, Hucka Doobie. I’m not so sure.”

She stares over at the white rabbit merrily munching on a carrot. “Me neither.”

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January 15, 2020 · 9:24 am

1 2 3

Benny Right Horn was swaying while listening to the song of the wind and enjoying it thoroughly. He’s decided to at least temporarily abandon his search for Tessa on the railroad and stay here, in a secret camp next to the cascading water at this particular cave mouth. Soon, gun in hand again, he will run into likewise EOT visitor Jackson Bloch, also looking for the grandchild of Herbert Gold. The meeting may not turn out as expected.

In fact, here he comes now from the direction of Wabe. Or is it Wabd? Rebl would know. She’ll reenter the picture soon as well.

In fact, there she is.

“I heard clanking.”

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January 11, 2020 · 9:24 am

island boy

“It’s been a year since I lost Irma, Percy,” spoke Ji-San over to the curious elk. “It’s time to, well, move on.” He puts his hand over his mouth to cough.

“Rosehaven is (throat clear) *perfect* — I’ll go ahead and say the name if no one else will — but I’m not ready to settle down anywhere right now. Like that dude in Big Fish, you know, the one who went to that place with all the white people and said to them the same thing (ahem). Then he went into the forest and realized Bach is dead. Except it wasn’t Bach, hmmm (ah-herm).” He looked over at the elk again to reorient himself. Percy dutifully peered up from his munchings, meeting him eye to eye. Vegetation was simply tastier here on Crow Island. The End of Time people put a lot of work into this particular area of the Crow sim, one of 7 in the estate archipelago. Percy had no desire to move far from this spot. This was his home. But could it be — no, Ji-San must put that out of his mind. He’s a roamer. He can find home when he’s dead and buried in a grave. Irma, he thought, I’ll be back with you soon enough. Big Fish caught.

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December 31, 2019 · 10:24 am

back to 0 (2 (4))

Baker Bloch Guy Benjamin woke up with the fuse. He looked around… groggily. End of Time, hmph. Where’s, er, Hucka D.? “Hucka Doobie,” he said aloud. “What the heck did we drin–“. But he stopped himself mid-sentence because no one was with him. He groaned, holding his head. He felt like a Sledgehammer hit it. Big Time. “Peter,” he spoke aloud again. “Something abou–” He scanned the room more closely. He clearly remembers a bell. Bell sound, yeah. It woke him up. The fuse…

(to be continued)

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December 29, 2019 · 8:32 am

gynoid

“So what do you think, Hucka Doobie?”

“I think you need to move your hands down a bit,” she joked, making Baker Bloch derez the silly thing he’s uselessly holding.

“You know what I’m talking about,” he replied while smiling. He also changed into his base avatar. Illegitimate son of the famous Space Ghost and, well, we only know his mother as Old Grey in the blog.

“Yes.” Hucka Doobie gets serious, looks at Baker’s new collage more closely. “This is about gynoids. Do you know what a gynoid is?”

“No,” Baker Bloch admitted. “Is it some sort of fruit or seed?”

“It’s a female robot, usually a pleasure bot.”

“Oh.” Baker Bloch turned and looked at the collage as well, at the glossy, red cheeked Anon mask looming in the sky. “Is that…?”

“Yes,” Hucka Doobie answered, knowing what the male Baker was referring to. “This is you (!)”

“But also…”

“Yes,” Hucka Doobie replied quickly again. “This is Wheeler.”

“But…”

“You and Wheeler are married.”

“Um, nah that’s not correct Hucka. *Axis* and Wheeler are married.”

Hucka Doobie ignored this from Baker Bloch; began to study other parts of the collage. “What is Real, then?”

“Reality.” He waves his arms. “All around us.”

“*This*,” Hucka Doobie declared firmly, “is *not* reality.”

“It is to us,” Baker attempts to defend. Hucka Doobie wasn’t persuaded.

—–

“What about the other parts of the collage?” I continued. “The centipede I believe. Puerto Rico. Obviously this is about Rael. Lamb’s Rael.”

“What is Real?” Hucka Doobie repeated, and left it at that.

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