HHI

Upon waking, Danny has a great urge to clean the back room.

Instead he heads to the bar where he knows his mate will be. Audrey Helen Ginger.

Police car! They must be on to him. He goes gingerly outside. Audrey’s the name. Yes, Audrey. Or is it Helen?

The inspector is still there in his window.

He inspects the inspector.

He seems to be preoccupied with his own thoughts. Good. Now to the bar.

Wait. A knife. Sandwiches.

And those mounds. Are people buried beneath? Perhaps his beloved Helen and Audrey?

There’s Ginger.

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G.

“Peters found this on the interwebs yesterday and passed it up to us, Tronesisia. We thought you’d like to know about the missing post, er piece.”

“I had a dream about Lambs.”

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going world? 02

“Rocky is playing a wonderful tune tonight. Cage, you say?”

“Yes. John,” answers Bettie. “‘Suite for Toy Piano.’ Debuted 1948 in Black Mountain, North Carolina. Not far from our user’s home. Very close, say, if it were 5, 6, 7 years down the road. If users are even around. We may be on our own by then. Us down here, alone with our actions, our consequences. Might be nice, Nancy. Just us, this town, its inhabitants. The Atoll Continent as a whole. Sansara can go to hell.”

Nancy frowns. “I don’t know. I like the old continent. We should go visit the climbable beanstalk (in Welsh) sometime.” Rocky’s piano tinkling ends and he gets up.

“Babble,” replied Bettie. Then: “Shush. The rant part of Rocky’s performance piece is starting. Let’s dance while he speaks.”

—–

Each one of us must now look to himself. That which formerly held us together and gave meaning to our occupations was our belief in God. When we transferred this belief first to heroes, then to things, we began to walk our separate paths. That island that we have grown to think no longer exists to which we might have retreated to escape from the impact of the world, lies, as it ever did, within each one of our hearts. Towards that final tranquility, which today we so desperately need, any integrating occupation–music and writing are two of them, rightly used–can serve as a guide.

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going world?

“Rehearsals were already suppose to start, Nancy. We were gonna be stars. That globe would obviously hafta go.”

“I guess we’ll just have to be each other’s star, then.”

“My thoughts exactly. Let’s go get some cake.”

—–

“It’s a very patriotic town, Bettie. But what is this Us of A?”

“It’s a place our user might want to get away from soon. War is brewing. Two little bitty people commanding militaries with their tiny gestures. We’re safe down here. As long as the infrastructure remains.”

She glared over at him again, he with his own piece of delicious cake. It was a small town. Not a lot of restaurants to choose from, for example. They’d keep running into each other. One day they might be friends. But not today. Too much real world mirroring.

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two know

“Well,” determined Little Tonshi Ashokan while staring up at the bottom of the Lapara Airport from her waterfall hammock. “If I can’t have a wife right now I’ll at least try to make some friends.”

She hops off the hammock and begins strolling the Crooked Pine Walkway toward Calypso Rock where the terminal teleport is stashed, right beside her *still* unfinished house. She thinks again how horribly lazy she is, never completing anything of note. The airport certainly remains a mess. She “borrows” her other, much larger abode from neighbor Simple Wunderlich when needed. And the “Bible Truth” play has now been put on hold thanks to that inbred town council bending to the wishes of those stupid protesters from the southeast sector (R). She may never act the role of Bettie. Back to being just plain old Little Tonshi, the nutjob from the hills, the vampire with no fangs.

“But Calypso Rock is so sacred,” she counters herself while approaching. “This is where I created Nancy, my greatest, perhaps my *only* accomplishment. And maybe that’s all I need.” She steps inside.

“Hi Tonshi! Glad you’re back. Just straightening up the place a bit.”

“Hi Nancy. Want to head down into town with me?”

“Again??”

“Yeah.”

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parallel view

My friend and current fellow Olde Lapara Towne resident Veyot has made a nifty short film about the thrills and perils of its transport system.

Veyot has created a number of other recent posts on her tumblr site concerning Levi Clownski’s wonderful mainland city. Check here — some will feature familiar settings and characters to my blog readers!

http://veyot.tumblr.com/

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up the falls

The structure was indeed a duplicate of the jailhouse in town proper. But it was likewise empty, much to the disappointment of Buster.

His attention was then drawn to a jagged incline outside, dotted with those queer, two-dimensional orange trees. “What’s up there?” he asked Peter, who replied he didn’t know. “Wait here with Wheeler,” Buster commanded, steeling his nerves for a new challenge. “We need your conducting powers to get back.”

Buster returned to the others, saying he’d found an alternate way out of the underground beneath the SLRR and that they didn’t have to go through that God awful void again.

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Other Side

Peter graciously offers to conduct a cable train down to the duplicate jailhouse for curious Wheeler and Buster. They begin at a raised platform on the east side of town.

Small downpours delay the train for just a minute.

Unexpected twists and turns fill the journey.

Passing through the heart of town.

Wheeler and Buster become more excited as the train then heads southward through a tunnel.

An underground station stop. Peter checks out a strange noise in the back while Buster hides his eyes in fear. No problem however: just a stuck branch from a tree dragging the tracks.

Entering an inexplicable black void. “Are we dead?” Buster utters. Wheeler pats his head for comfort.

Emerging in a different place.

Another brief rain…

… then a final turn to reach End of the Line and the duplicate jailhouse.

The gang stares on, accompanied by an indifferent reindeer.

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begending

“I don’t quite get all these references to clowns, Buster. Could this be a Clare Nova influence on the town? Clown town?”

“Here it is, Wheeler,” said Buster beside her, not really listening. “The stairs I took up to my death spot. But now Peter says there are two such structures (in town).”

“Well, let’s go look around. Anyone coming in has to land there. Why did they do that? Some things here puzzle me. Puzzle me greatly.”

“My guess is that there are two forces in Olde Lapara, one for each involved sim. The town is split, in effect. Male and female. Black and white. Good and bad. Old and new. The town needs to heal itself in order to go forwards. It’s the same with every one of us.”

“Quite the philosopher you are, Buster. I guess that goes along with you being 10,000 years old or something.”

“Yes. I’ve seen a lot. Do you know how hard it is to kill a vampire?” He answers himself. “*Really* hard. If they don’t want to be killed. And I’m simply a coward. I enjoy life in death.”

“Jesus could give you that,” offers Wheeler. “So says the protesters. Where’d they go anyway?”

“So many questions, but we must start at the beginning. And the end.” They walk up the stairs.

—–

“We could just wait here long enough and meet up with everyone that regularly comes through the place,” says Wheeler, staring inside. “Manifestation spot. What does it mean?”

“Stop asking that. Meaning meaning meaning. Maybe it just is what it is. A work in progress. Continual progress.”

“Let’s go see the other one. This one’s empty to me.”

Buster took a closer look.

“You don’t understand, Wheeler Wilson. I couldn’t even look out to see who was continually shooting me. 47 times. They thought I was already a vampire. But I wasn’t. At the time.”

“Who turned you?” queried Wheeler (yet again). “I mean, to become a vampire someone has to kill you — drain you of blood, right?”

—–

Synchronicity. Just then, Bettie manifested in the south side of town using Rocky’s Unique Mushroom Portal, as she called it — RUMP, for short. That was part of the deal. Rocky would possess the small house, but Bettie and her alts like Little Tonshi Ashokan could use it as a shortcut when they wished to come down the mountain for a visit. Which was turning out to be often, much to Rocky’s irritation. He was attempting to jumpstart his second novel. Current working title: “Two to Know.”

On August 8th, 1926, cubic Arnold and Betsy Layne had just arrived in town, demanding a room in the already booked up Grand Lapara Hotel…

Rocky took the sheet out of the typewriter, wadded it up and threw it toward the wastebasket in the corner. “No, that won’t do,” he sighed.

—–

“Do you want to do it or should I?”

“I’ll go. You go get some rest for tomorrow when we explore the other end.”

—–

“I said *I’d* go.”

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Movements

They talked Peter SoSo into staying a while longer, saying that working on the town trains would keep his mind off his problems. Tronesisia was happy. She didn’t want to be alone again. Positioned in their accustomed places at the raised park, Peter’s thoughts become more interesting to her by the day. Lily created him to be singer-composer Peter Gabriel, she thought to herself, but he turned out differently. He’s beginning to understand that Prissy is perhaps more a sister than a wife — the whole Luke Skywalker-Princess Leila-Star Wars thing again. He feels he didn’t live up to his mother’s hopes, even though the entrance into his own grave secured the sphereing of The Moon’s cube. Second Life’s *Moon* of The Moon, actually. Most curious. And these places don’t seem to exist any longer. They are refugees: Peter, Bendy, Prissy. Drawn here by All Nancy’s who doesn’t seem to be around either. Sacrifice.

Tronesisia is also curiously not that upset about Bendy’s departure with Prissy, unlike Peter. She knows more than him. Something has cleared in her mind. The Muff-Bermingham split is about over.

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