Tag Archives: Baker Bloch^*++++@

December 16, 2019 · 8:44 am

Mood:

Isolated.

He heard someone over the waves. “Aww, you got me, Baker Bloch. Remember Mabel? Your old Martian pal?” The voice faded, to be replaced by another. “And me? Tessa. We’re still in the cave! Find me, find me, find me…” the second voice echoed, as if in a, well, cave.

He was ready to step off Dog Island and come back to mainland.

Or at least the bigger, less isolated island in front of him currently.

—–

Then he found *her* as well. The ex. She spoke without turning while dancing on a west facing patio. “You find *them* or I’ll find *you*. And you know what I’ll do to you when I do!” She faded as well. He was starting to sweat coldly.

A smoking gun dropped from the sky, barely missing him.

Still hot to the touch, he picked it up. He realized he would need this gun to get to the cave. A person would be in his way. And that person was…

—–

“Herbert. Herbert?

Herbert!!”

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December 14, 2019 · 9:11 am

switch

I visited the old quarry first this night time trek. It was snowing harder here. It was always snowing harder in the quarry. A large dragonfly dipped down from the flake filled sky and hovered before my eyes. Dragonflies in snow. More mysteries.

—–

Meanwhile in Sansara’s Snowlands, Herbert Gold was checking out the location of his newly set up house/mansion over there. “Piano,” he declared, sitting down at it. “Just like Baker Bloch said it was.” He played a tune he thought would cheer him up. *Not* a Booger Hayes piece. He’d learned his lesson on that.

The aberrant notes hid underneath the upstairs sink, biding their time.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0017, 0204, Purden/Snowlands, Rose Heaven-, Sansara

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December 14, 2019 · 8:45 am

no up

“What about the king?” I asked a little later, remembering that he is still groundside.

“Don’t touch the king.”

Petunia then suggested I talk a walk to calm my mind.

“Don’t worry,” he said while seeing me off toward the ferry. “Goodbye!”

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December 14, 2019 · 8:12 am

up 02

Petunia had the answer. At least a temporary one. “You’ve brought the house up, good,” he purred in his mysterious, cat-like voice. “Now you must bring the *rest* up of importance. The house, the church, the *tree*,” he emphasized.

—–

“There,” he declared, moves seemingly over. “Doesn’t that feel *better*?”

Turns out the house, the church, but especially that tree, were attracting the wee ones, Ruby Fantasie the Jamacian witch, and who knows what else. Red balls fell from the sky as I was taking ground shots today. Now, yes, it felt better. We asked him the next step.

“You wait.”

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December 14, 2019 · 7:10 am

up 01

“At the very least, Herbert Gold, I had to move your house. I believe it’s jinxed!”

“The *house* — *my* house; *OUR* house — is not jinxed. It — just doesn’t have a proper home yet.”

“I’ve successfully set it up back in Snowlands now,” I replied to the disappointed, tired, aging man sitting across from me, his tea finished like mine. We were in the house, true. In Rosehaven still, yes. But way up in the sky now. More to be seen *here*, but not down below.

Then I had a realization. We need to talk to Petunia, I suggested.

“Ring him up.”

Petunia came right over.

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December 13, 2019 · 5:34 pm

Flock and Feather

“*You* again,” Jane the barmaid spoke across the counter, not seeming very pleased to see Magus Ellen once more in her place of business. “Where’s, um, your sidekick this time?”

“Sidechick? He couldn’t make it.”

“Are you going to ask about that castle again?” added Jane rapidly, not wishing to talk any more than needed to this — *intruder*.

“Nah, all that’s done.” He waves his hand in gesture.

“Because all that investigation last year got you *banned* from the property.”

“I know.”

“And *your* Princess is not *our* Princess. I’ve found out some things in the meantime. Who is this Merry Gouldbusk? Why is her skin colored gold and not normal? Who are King Tully and that Queen of his? Not *our* rulers (once more). Never have been and never will.”

Nothing more seemed to be said. Magus Ellen rose from the stool. The castle was gone, or at least changed — morphed. This was not Murdochh’s Castle in resonance with the Loch Ness castle any more. *That’s* when it changed, he realized. A moment in time. He thought from this video that *Murdock’s* castle in the realm of Rosehaven was open to the public. Apparently it was all a misunderstanding.

That’s an important key. Misunderstandings can be smoothed over. He donned his hat.

“I will speak to the Princess before leaving,” Magus Ellen then called back while walking away.

“Make sure it’s the *right* one!” she insisted with bile. The door slammed behind him.

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December 13, 2019 · 5:05 pm

penultimate (again)

“I’m afraid I may have to leave, Hucka D. This Rosehaven is not my Rosehaven. My Princess is not their Princess.”

“How ’bout this. You call *your* Rosehaven Rose*heaven* instead. Or Rose Haven — two words instead of one.”

“Maybe.” Baker Bloch, in character as a uniformed Ellen now, perhaps ready to revisit the… he can’t remember the name of the pub Magus Ellen and Sidechick Corea visited last year trying to dig up information about Murdochh’s castle. He tells Hucka Doobie this.

“I’ll go check,” she says, then teleports out.

—-

Hucka Doobie teleports in. “The Flock and Feather,” she informs.

“Probably doesn’t matter anyway… but thanks.” Baker Bloch stares out in the distance. If only The Mist would roll in right now and make all this better.

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December 12, 2019 · 10:27 am

house, church, tree

“So what do you think, Herbert?”

“It’s all I ever dreamed of, Baker Bloch. The house is perfect. Thank you so much (!).”

“You’re very welcome. I, um, assume April Mae will be following you soon.”

Herbert Gold hangs his head down, then up again, giving away his doubts. “I would assume.” If she ever gets over the Breeze lapse! he adds to himself. Maybe she will. It’s only virtual reality, after all. Nothing’s real. Is it?

“And this, my friend,” Baker waves his arms around, “is St. Merry’s Church. I’ve toned it down from Collagesity a bit. But you still have Merry.”

“Yes, I see.”

“And then you still have the clown over there. One and the same.”

“Sacrifices?” queried Herbert, knowing the history of the church in Collagesity.

“You bet! Bring your body apron if you sit on the first several rows.”

“Fantastic. I love it. I love it all. ”

“Let’s hope the Princess doesn’t have any complaints.”

“Why would she?” exclaims Herbert, not doubting his words. “Like you said before, the *tree* covers all; makes up for all mistakes.”

“Live Oak, right.”

“Fantastic.”


Live Oak.

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December 11, 2019 · 8:57 am

night hike

I stared over at what I assumed was the rising sun, stunning; pink.

I looked back from whence I had just trekked and spotted the fire tree, high on a summit.

This place was special. I didn’t know if I would be coming back….

Walking through the ruined village gave me chills. What does this mean?

This reminded me of something. An Omega place. Omegatown. I wish the sun would hurry up and rise properly to guide me home!

The wee person’s house, probably (belonging to) Norris himself. And now they’re also with me!

I can see my home now…

… but how to get down from here?

And where did the f-ing sun go?? Must have been the moon.

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December 11, 2019 · 6:17 am

point 02

I sat there, on my point, watching the odd glow in the distance. Blocks of glow, actually. She approached from behind.

“So you see it too,” she said to end the vision, as if her very voice dispelled it. I looked around. Ruby Fantasie (!).

“Ho-how?”

“Cool tree,” she spoke amidst my studdering, looking over at the live oak. “*Baker Bloch*.”

Of course I invited her inside for tea and cake. She said she just wanted coffee. *Hot* coffee. Ruby Fantasie! And she always declared she would never stay here during the winter. “Circumstances change,” she spoke in a “normal” voice to me, completely absent of the usual, thick Jamaican accent. This is how she instantly knew who I was: Baker Bloch. The user was the only one she lost the accent with, we learned back in photo-novel 12.

“Where do you live here?” I queried politely. Don’t say here, don’t say here! I thought.

“Ebonshire,” she answered, making me wipe sweat off my brow inwardly.

“Oh, that’s nice.”

She moved her coffee away from her mouth, gauging me. “You thought I was going to say here — didn’t you?”

“Maybe,” I quipped back reflexively and defensively. Why did I say “maybe.” I should have said “no.” But somehow I couldn’t lie to her. We were tight that way. User and usee.

She looked around. “It’s okay. I know you have enough problems now with the wee ones.”

So she knows about *them* as well, I speculated, envisioning an axial alliance between Jamacian witch and gremlin-ish wees, like Norris. The handshake: big black on small white.

“What wee ones?” I decided to lie better but was instantly seen through. I suddenly felt stupid… and alone. Ruby Fantasie had vanished before my eyes. I knew she wouldn’t return until I wised up.

(to be continued)

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