Tag Archives: Alysha^^+%

00330301

She said she lived in a motel just up Highway 12. That was a lie. She said she was behind on her payments. Another lie. She said she had a great view of Big Cedar from her room’s window. Guess what: another lie, a fib in that case but still a lie. Pattern of a deceiver.

All she was after, all along, was the big monster book about Arkansaw, stolen from the Dairocha library in what’s-its-number novel (one of the more recent ones). The one Wheeler/Alysha was still after but couldn’t find, even when she tried the invisible realm. Still not on the invisible shelf before her, no matter what kind of light partner in crime Baker Bloch used to illuminate the situation. If the library had been removed, they determined, then there was no real center to the hollowed out volcano village that is Dairocha and thus no use in hanging around there and creating more little stories and whatnot. They and their now *huge* collection of attached avatars and characters had to move on, although a return is obviously possible. Nautilus keeps surprising and surprising. Must be the outside energy of our grand US of A penetrating the whole hypercube structure. This will continue for some time. I have time. I must have patience. Relatively unyielding and begrudging characters like grown-up Tessa irk me. What happened to her that made her leave her family nest and move to high and dry Nautilus, full of basically abandoned beige ridges and better populated but heavily banned green ocean front properties? The search for Lemon World? Traces? That must be it. Holed up in a mysterious hotel in the shadow of a beige mountain obviously linked to the real world (Lemon World?). Hiding secrets in order to protect her identity and purpose. It didn’t add up to her recently-united-with cousin D’Eddy, who she knows as Edward and not Eddy. Eddy was the other cousin who was playing that fated game of Alphabet Soup to her, the one introduced at the beginning of section 1 of this here photo-novel, 33 in a series of (fill in the blank). Edward — *her* Edward (our Eddy) — similarly shows up at the beginning of section 2. And now: Tessa — Tessie. The third cousin. The most mysterious of them all. What was she hiding? The 33 year old woman didn’t live at the motel, she just stayed there.

For starters, she applies mascara one eye at a time just like the rest of them.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0033, 0301, Dairocha, Nautilus, NORTH

dangerous

“It’s a beautiful land, this Dairocha. But ultimately it does us no good if the library still isn’t there. Central! Right Wheeler?”

Wheeler, having determined this some hours back, had already left the scene. She was ready to complete this here photo-novel section about the Nautilus North elsewhere. She was Alysha now, aka Helen aka a lot of other names. But especially Helen, she felt. The antique village of Lips or One Pink called.

Under the big cross at the top of it all, he too changed. Sheriff R.V. Trailer it is to end. Wait!…

Just below. Sweeping. Lots of it; multiple brooms obviously involved. It reminded him of another place he needed to go first.

Multiple sweepers don’t remain any longer at this southeast corner bar of Odie just off Route 12, to his disappointment. Then he met grown-up Tessa and things changed even once again. He was immediately attracted to her waist high tattoo of 2 six shooters. How clever, he thought. Pointer. She leaned over and said her new name in a low voice, obscuring the ink.

He automatically leaned in too (*kiss*), One Pink or Lips transformed.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0033, 0215, Dairocha, Nautilus, NORTH

Dairocha again (missing)

“I don’t understand, Wheeler. The library simply… *disappeared*.” Mainly. A couple of books left, but –”

“Quiet,” Wheeler demanded, who had turned into Alysha in anticipation of the event. Crestfallen! Yet she was determined to try. She thought the air felt a little different just over… there.

There!

“Am I holding anything, Baker B.?” she queried expectantly, palms getting sweaty even.

“Not a thing.”

“Rats!”

“Wait. Lemme try a little brighter light just to be sure.

“Still nothing.”

“F-ck.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0033, 0214, Dairocha, Nautilus, NORTH

hollowed out volcano

Baker Bloch trying to love his new, temporary home and forget that his Collagesity rent is now 1 day overdue, pheh. PHEH.

He hasn’t quite got the lighting in here, he thinks. Trying out “Fairy dark blue (Paulina)” currently.

View of the place from the west. Complicated. Potentially many stories to tell within with the many dummies present. Just like Towerboro before it. Wonder how Towerboro is progressing — still a work in progress after all, according to the land description. But Baker shouldn’t be focused on the past. Instead: current. *Dairochia* — yes, that’s the name I concocted several novels ago now. Because we’ve been here before. Library. Looking for a particular book about monsters. Then: stolen.

And it has a secret core, Baker also remembers. Where the letter “l” was exchanged for an “i’.

Time to bring in Wheeler.

—–

“Morgan, eh? Just like Alysha.”

“Yeah,” Baker answered Wheeler. “I’m positive she’s still here.”

“She stole the book, she stole the letter. She won’t be welcomed in this here kingdom of several powers that be.”

“No,” agreed Baker.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0033, 0213, Dairocha, Nautilus, NORTH

dream 009 (one after 909)

“Aww *raspberries*!” he cussed after running me over in his little purple car, him with his curly purple hair and dark, tall attitude and altitude. *Finally*. I’d been asking for it since John F. Kennedy City when Jeffrey Phillips almost did it with red. He prodded me with his foot to make sure, but I was sure dead all right, raspberry beret crushed and mixed into a bigger mess that was formerly my somewhat dense but pretty enough head. Maw was right. You can’t be in two places at once when… can’t remember the rest.

He could never have me.

He withdraws foot from leg, knowing it was The End.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0032, 0608, 0609, Nautilus, Omega^^, Retirement Islands, The Cross^, Wild West

00320602

He waits between hot and cold, choosing hot himself and currently enjoying a mustard and ketchup laden dog of such temperature before customers show up for the midday “rush” — not much of a rush actually but he’s not much of a worker these days, being technically retired and a bona fide Whitehead in Da Woods.

The Mustard Ketchup Kid plays soccer in a nearby field with his sister Ventura, who hails from California. She channels her energy in order to attempt to get the ball past Bert (actual name), but all this is just more code.

Squared Root City is expanding across Highway 13-14 into the sim to the north. Still exciting times for the burg. We hold out hope that it can replace Collagesity-Fordham as proper capital of Lower Austra. Because the latter is probably going away and is, anyway, too small for the role, being only a little over 1/8th of a sim in size. Squared Root Cy is, in contrast, about a sim and a 1/2 in area now.

That’s why the Axis-Windmill character is back. He waits in the Zero Club at the beginning of it all — just before the beginning, some say — for another important character that has chosen to resurface in these here blog-novels to match the new energy. Vim, some call her; others: Vigor (that’s actually her sister, maybe a twin). She counts her Mississippi’s in anticipation of the manifestation. One Mississippi, Two… wait, she forgot something. Newt! At the Zero!

“Hi baby doll.”

He turns. “Eyela?? Wasn’t expecting *you*.”

“No one is,” she speaks truthfully and, after adjusting the strap of her new clockwork eyepatch to better match her face, takes a seat beside him at the bar. Both now turn away from the camera and speak privately. We try to listen in but only catch a couple of words like Geronimo, Slick, Olive, and Oklahoma. We gather an oil spill in Indian territory of the panhandle state may be involved but could be mistaken. Let’s back up and move in closer. We’re the bartender. Let’s call him Jim. Tom, actually, only 3 feet away. Close enough to properly record. We ask if they need a drink to be more legitimate seeming. They refuse. We move away but not too much — should be OK. And… PRESS.

“I’m glad we could mustard enough energy to catch up,” she began, which was code for “very important information to follow.”

“Spill,” he requested, and she did. We were right. Kind of.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0032, 0602, Collagesity Fordham, Lower Austra^, Mississippi, Nautilus, Squared Root City

return to center

The candy sentry eventually, inevitably said no no no to the Mosses’ candy shopp and sent it away, along with all their other stuff gathered on the Crypto parcel. “Illegal,” it said. “Unlawful.” But the Mosses get away unscathed except for loss of property, stuff of dreams over.

Only a bit in the formerly unseen basement remains, packed up in one corner.

Then it’s on to Perch-Mistletoe next door to meet Dickie for Debbie, the agent sent in by Pot-D (or maybe Pan-Z) to replace absorbed Blue Rose Thorn still over in Lorsters Worst. Looks like rain.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0032, 0106, Nautilus, Oooo, Perch-Mistletoe, Upper Austra^, Yd Island^

boxed in (no 257)

I wonder if Mr. Z ever made it off Tina’s islet over there,” she ponders, sipping on a cocktebeerl to try to soothe her still weak and rumbling stomach. Maybe we should start over and begin at that Art Box in the sim’s corner — see what else leads into the island. Perhaps fresh characters? May be too late for that. Only about 5 or 6 posts left in this here photo-novel, 31 in a series of… 31 in a series… *siiighh*.

She thinks back to the calendar opened up to February and what lay underneath it. Red. Lots of red. She spills her guts over the deck’s railing, carefully avoiding the flowers this time.

Later with her one good eye, she decides to find out.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0031, 0612, Nautilus, Retirement Islands, Wild West

mourning sickness

It always seemed to be raining on the island. Lightning and raining. She decided to use the transformative powers she intended for Opine on herself. Failure! How many times had she reenacted the tragedy in her head. Why did she position that particular tank over the stairs. Why had she not thought of the trajectory made when he fell to the floor. First time! But she had decided, unconsciously, she wanted it this way all along. A real true to life woman she was now, an Eve without an Adam. Dammit, Axis. If only I hadn’t been greedy and ordered two fer one Opine would had been stored in the safe tank, the red one instead of blue. Blue stands for dangerous future as opposed to safe past. Best to cut it off at the present, best to stay below the horizon line. Or at least keep the body down there, hmph. Pheh. Bleh! She threw up colors again, thinking about that head, that face…

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0031, 0610, Nautilus, Retirement Islands, Wild West

on the border/ zig-zag chair

He spies her at the top of the waterfall overlooking the house but he doesn’t think she sees him.

But just because he thinks this, she does, or at least his head and shoulders. Fitting, she inserts here. I lost him so long ago.

She knew she had to change to fit the island. The island will tell her how to dress, how to act, how to *live* in this modern a gogo world. She is born anew, clean slate.

She’s already decided she’ll have black hair this go around. Like Fern’s, like Charlene the Punk’s. She couldn’t fit into the former’s Green Lantern shirt or mesh Capri pants, even the large size. She wishes she could lose a bit more weight, but Jeffrey doesn’t seem to mind. Nor Man About Time for that matter, in that parallel world she also lives in on the other side of the red dream curtain, the color of Jasper. Here: Newton. Which reminds her she needs to write or call Newt. What happened to him? What happened to Kolya the holey headed one, the guy that preceded him and Newt acted as a replacement for, it seemed? All was so hopeful. Then (photo-)novel 31 began and he was gone from the scene. Baker Bloch was back front and center, or, er, back and center, just like in his Azure Island days way back back back in ’08. Soo far. And below me: Baker again. Searching for The One. He’ll get that a-hole Casey One Hole if he isn’t careful (she understood). 256 — no 257, no progression. Sealed inside a sim called Missing. Well, *I’m* here now, in the corner, a 257 myself if I say so. Um. Back to the hair.

Newt, she contemplated further. It was like he finally found a proper name beyond Axis-Windmill and then his job was done here — there. Because here doesn’t include him.

She can’t see me here still, he thinks below.

I can still see you there, she thinks from above. Just a head this time. He’s lost it.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0031, 0606, Nautilus, Retirement Islands, Wild West