Category Archives: Rim Isles

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“I remember seeing you from above, just before Jeffrie’s untimely…”

“… death,” she finished for him. Wendy had gotten over it better than even Axis-Windmill. And she was the bride(!).

Axis-Windmill continued. “You called me Newt back there — when you were still Eyela.”

“That’s your name isn’t it?”

Axis-Windmill thought back again. Beyond the vision of Jeffrie Phillips and Wendy Wheeler on Corton, the Queen and King of Our Second Lyfe truly. Controller of those creatures she was after that. They had a whole encyclopedia on them now, the ones in the right. Wendy Wheeler: in the wrong by then.

“Welll?” she prompted, seeing the space in his steely grey eyes. Time for a reality check.

“Newt,” he tested. The word sounded right: why not. Zero Club, Vim and Vigor, *Energy*… Newt. Short for Newton, as in Helmet.

We have reached the point of no return. Oily way.

“GERONIMOOOOOO!” he thought he recalled. *SPLAT* he definitely remembered.

Who leaped off the cliffs at Corton to their untimely death on the rocks below? Is it still Jeffrie Phillips? Yet he is back thanks to renewing the vows with Wendy Wheeler. How did that work?

And where is he now if not dead (again)?

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Zero Club (away from bar (shapeshifter))

“I recall the first time I saw you, your (one good) eye. Staring out between Moon and Saturn standing on a piano with Sun while a man with a moth on his back climbed a blood red picture behind you, using your huge ponytail to get a boost.”

“It’s not *that* huge,” she retorted.

He continued. “They said she would never be invited again to one of these get-togethers since she brought so many friends and acquaintances with her. But 3-d Venus is alive and well, still with her many fans following her around like packs of wild dogs and cats.”

“In the flesh (!).” She indicated herself, her body. What else was different about her, he wondered.

He went on. “You lived in a house much like our user, front covered in wisteria as if in a protecting fence or wall. You designed the moat to surround a castle but then had second thoughts of leaving bucolic life; castle too large to properly fit on (your) island. Stymie, husband at the time — stymied still how he could have ever goofed up on a looker like you! –”

Cute tittering; cute covering of mouth.

“…was most often away exploring Viterbo, finding relics in the ruins. Then one particular relic ruined it for you; he had to move on, *you* had to move. And so on to another Rim Island, taking the house with you and adding another husband to replace the subtracted first: Jacob, 1/2 man 1/2 alien in this case, with 2 normal eyes below a united third. You?”

“Me,” she decided to say. “Pure bred. One single eye and no normal eyes atall, they said. But that was wrong. I just covered one up, the bad one. Clockwork now.” She indicated the spinning, geared wheel on her face, very fashionable, very retro future. She pointed to both eyes at once now. “Two, you see, just like you.”

“What’s under that tuft of hair?” he said, still doubting her and tempted to reach over and lift it to see for himself. Maybe then he would know if she was happier with Stymie or Jacob.

She changed as she revealed the truth.

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starting over a second (life) time

That day I dreamed I was a red headed (instead of red dressed) girl named Wendy waiting on Carter to come save me from my heavily treed island-prison, I want to call it. Instead all I got were pirates, who carted me around the continent like some kind of cargo to be put on display. Nautilus still, but I don’t remember Lorsters Worst coming into play. Maybe I avoided the absolute bottom of it. Lucky dream self. Keep on dreaming, Elisa, for it’s time to work in an hour, I said to myself while eating my Toasty O’s for breakfast which functioned as supper for most. They’re up to 9 sided now, which I think officially, undeniably qualifies for the running-out-of ideas/going-too-far territory. I wipe the bit of  crumbs from my bathrobe while standing and move to the closet to retrieve my dress, thinking of red again.

Just then, back in the dream, Wendy sees a shark fin in the water beside the pirate ship pulling in, and takes it as a sign that the worst is yet to come, pheh. Blue, black and red bearded men jump out of the ship as one.

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It started with an outline, then filling in the details which continues.

“Where are we on the map, Baker B.? It’s very important we keep up with the map. We’ve come soo far.”

“Let’s see.” Alter.

“We’ve just found out that Elvira, you know, the aunt of Mrs. Ordinary who lives up in Chapel Vile over on the Corsica continent…”

“Yes?”

“She lives at or near Terriergate, the art gallery in Terriergate. This would be on the very western tip of the Lower Austra peninsula, maybe putting it in the Wild West category instead. You see (W.), I’m having a hard time still dividing the regions of the Nautilus continent up.”

“Do you think the elimination of Collagesity would help?” I waited for more and it didn’t come.

“What do *you* think?” I ventured in the gap. Nothing still.

—–

“A spirit is summoned by a witch in Spirit Witch,” I declared.

“Start there,” a faint voice comes from the darkness in the distance.

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completed Table

Grassy Noll had shifted one chair down to make room for Nauty, but he said that wasn’t what it sounded like. It was just short for Nautilus (continent) — he wasn’t some kind of sex toy doll, he reinforced. “Or was he?” he then joked, and repositioned the pin near his navel in a most inappropriate way, getting a laugh from Wheeler at least.

“So you can help with our pin cushion problem,” said Baker, staying serious because he had a big problem. The Nautilus map behind Nauty had been itself overrun with red pins, marking locations already featured in the blog and with more to come. He needed organization, he needed categorization. What is the true relationship of Lower and Upper Austra? How is the North, deemed non-Austran, really different? And what of the Wild West, the Mild East, the *Southwest*, where he’d just been with Man About Time? And then: Collagesity. Between Highways 13 and 14 that stood for M and N. Soo much there already.

“Yes,” answered Nauty, and then said he had a Rubber Soul. Baker thought about this for a moment and realized it meant he was beyond Help (!). If it kept progressing in this direction he’d need a Revolver to end it all.

“You mean *I* have a Rubber Soul,” he said to Nauty.

“Yes.”

Across from him, Opp or Tropp (True Opp) had also shifted one chair over to make room for another newcomer, this Al guy we’ve already mentioned several posts back, the last one set in Paper-Soap in my new rental there, the one in front of Soap Beach but in the Paper sim, the place where the dead wash up in banded groups, ready to be sudsed and bubbled for rebirthing purposes. Wash away the sins type of deal. More newcomers. Perhaps, secretly, Al with his multiple faces was one of ’em. Also: Nauty. Maybe Jinx Doll as well. Seems too coincidental they’re here.

(to be continued)

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marina (new killer star)

He figured this was his boat since he had the keys. And the Maebaleia battle flag. Was he finally heading home, away from *here*? He needed to get off this island at least. He knew that. But where? So many ports of call on this aptly named continent of Nautilus. He might as well be a submarine and attack it from the rear. But he was a woman’s man, he recalls. He had a sister.

She let him go. She’d read in the script she was suppose to do this but he didn’t know that, not quite yet. He’d received the pink April copy that morning in the post and she’d already gotten the July blue, with white between them. He wasn’t even in-between, as if stuck on one side of a flag. At least he wasn’t sitting in back and it flapping and slapping him, like poor Zach Black, still without his Jazz Attack, also thanks to Fern. Fern was *real* smart if you didn’t get that part, that role. Because you probably couldn’t. I’d give it at least a 145 to comprehend and play accurately. Sarah I think was the actor’s name, with Jody playing Marilyn, a somewhat lesser challenge. But that was all a long time ago now. I was a different person, a mere child in comparison.

The old and white man had a task, he knew this. To get the hell out of Dodge. West might be best since East is least. Little did he know that Fern Stalin would be waiting for him there as well.

(to be continued)

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a state of being timeless

“Avalon,” he said without turning, remaining old and gray instead of black and white. The Room would always be his center, another Box come to think of it. Trapped.

“Yeah,” ditzy blonde Marilyn says back to him, still cleaning that glass, almost wearing it out like with sandpaper now. She should think of another task to perform. She’s stuck as if in a rut. But at least her mouth, her *mind* is still working forward. As well as backwards. “Some say Our Second Lyfe started here — in Dex — instead of Babylon.”

“Whore of Babylon,” he responded. “There *is* no Whore of Babylon.” He should know since he was there. “It’s all… make-believe.” He said it with disgust, she thought. He’s bitter about something else. A hidden truth. He could have done the deed as well as young Travis, she gleaned. If circumstances were different. She turned.

He assumed the position of a man, she a woman.

“You know, I had a sister once,” he started his confession on that late April day on the 4th of July.

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Old and White

The wheels in his mind kept spinning. I’m in Dex, he thought rapidly. But in olden days this island, this *town*, was named Avalon according to that map over there on the wall, not too far from (the Isle of) Babylon but also: not too close. A gap between, but Smaller Water instead of Bigger Water. He had to prepare. The past meets the future and it’s not pretty. Pink (or red) does not bode well for a man. He’d been tested. Red it was. The lipstick remained. He could not remove it now, however hard he tried.

“Try again,” W. urged from the side, still just out of sight, of reach. He could only talk to her as if via phone.

She remained black and white as she twirled and whirled, like a rotisserie chicken in the Wild West of Nautilus, he believed, beyond the reach of phone. Hurry up, he thought, rid of the lipstick for now but not for long. This was a battle of Madam and I’m Adam. He turns.

At least Marilyn is here. Sing us that national anthem again, dearest.

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Shakespear

3:17 START:

He’d met her on one the outer islands of the continent, Pieve I believe. They started out thick and fast with an Adam and Eve kind of situation, like John and Yoko. He was with her everywhere, even the doctor’s office. But as time went by everything slowed. She said her legs were too long and got an operation, but that just made her a 9 instead of a 10. She had to reverse it; he footed the bill since it was his choice to shorten them in the first place. It was his choice for everything, but not because he was a misogynist. It’s because he created her, from his rib as it were. He was her. Madam I’m Adam. So the rumors about the woman of the night, the whore of Babylon and stuff like that. Lunacy — people will believe anything these days. People believe God incarnated on Earth without a motherly womb. That’s cutting out half the equation, removing black from white, dark from light. There *is* no dark without light. 3.16: that was *her*. She lived in new-ish and still-being-constructed Squared Root City and he with her. Because of the Being One thing. She doesn’t exist without him. But is it also Romeo and Juliet? What else is in Florida that I need to consider? Whitehead, obviously. Since he has white hair and it doesn’t work any other way, unless it’s black. She? Red. Let me check…

Interesting that we’ve moved from (considering) Alaska to Florida, as far across the country as you can get. And also: extreme cold to extreme warmth. It was a coastal situation through and through now. But Squared Root City was in the hills between the coasts, between Highways 13 and 14; M  and N. Maybe this was a new Mystenopolis developing, he pondered, and then marveled at the possibility. Jesus H. Christ is involved again after all. He must also think about the (Pagan) Faun, the 2 doppleganger houses next to each. Black and white — revolving around each other. No, that’s the right solution. Not black *versus* white. They are one. We are one.

And the Princess of the Diagonal? A boss. He had a job to do and he was doing it pretty well. He still had access to past records of the Oracle, even though it presently was broken and seemed irreparable in its damage. The boss was away a lot. His research kind of mirrored hers. But what of the white hair? That had to do with the Declaration (of Independence). March 1: not far away atall. He will soon be the (fabled) Whitehead of the Woods. It’s projected to coincide with the end of photo-novel 31. Strange, eh?

He gets rid of the illusion.

“There you are.”

“Hi.”

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blown up

She lay on an inflatable slice of pizza in what was once the Monkey City sewer system, staring at her remnant home in the area. She should go with the rest of the characters back to Maebaleia, pull up stakes here on this Nautilus continent. She knew that. She’d been banned from basically half the old Monkey City sim already (!). But more was at stakes. Not vampires (she reads my mind), but something else. Not sand castles and the ability to blow up from small to really tall, although that will play a role later.


“I *see* you in there.”

Her energy had run low from the paddling, thus the “reversion” to witch form. She remembers — Paper Soap. The pizza “squeaks” unpleasantly as she shifts her weight on it with the thought. But she has her revenge.

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