April Mae Flowers had always been clamped onto husband Septimius Felton during life. But death freed her. Was she the same as Misty? Sorry to be asking so many questions, but we are at the beginning of something new. Different. Notice the narrow boat again in the background of this post’s first picture? That kind of thing. But quickly masked over by snow and death and gloom. Back to AMF…
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0012, 0102, Mountain Lake
“Original form, eh?”
“*Ghost form, yeah,” spoke Bracket. “I died quite a long time ago now.”
Treelor contemplated this. “I can barely remember my original form. Lost — but I remember where I was born. A place called Outlander.” She paused. “Outlander? Something Outside. Outlands? Anyway, it was very green and quite pretty. A valley in the middle of it all. That’s where I came from.”
“Corsica for me. Bracket Islands. Named after me. I was king.”
Treelor continued rocking. “Did you have a queen?”
Bracket Ghost recalled something about a hill. Fivepenny. “I believe so,” he answered after the memory. “But she was underwater.” He remembered something else. “Green. Half woman half fish. Merwoman I suppose. That’s who I was married to. And she… could play a mean game of crocket.”
“Cricket?” Treelor attempted to clarify. “Do you mean the game of cricket?”
“Croquet,” Bracket then corrected himself.” More memories. “Had a mansion.”
“Hmph.”
They rocked for about a half minute in silence, which Treelor then broke. “I suppose we should get somewhere tonight. Gaston is a logical choice. VW and all. Abbey Road and such.”
“Suppose. Awfully laggy there. We may not make it out, hehe.”
“We’ll have to take that chance.”
Bracket checked his landmarks. “Blue house okay?”
“Sure.”
—–
“Maybe we should start here by washing some dishes.”
“Right. Clean up. You better change over. No aliens. Remember?”
—–
“Where’d she go?”
“Crappy damn place.”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0011, 0501, Gaston+, HANA LEI
“I must concur with Lieutenant Spocari, Captain,” pleads 1st Science Officer Dr. I.C. Yourinsides. “All data I’m recieving states that New Eden will be crushed inside the black hole. We must reverse, full speed!”
Tropp stays calm in his chair. “Call me crazy confident, guys, but I think we can do it. One day — Spocari, I.C. — you or someone else of your ilk might be in charge. But not now, not today. This is my decision to make.”
“For-WARD!”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0011, 0410, New Eden-
I suppose Tropp’s true home will always be New Eden, where he has the most control. However, he always seems to be running for his life from something there.
This part looks like Mars — it isn’t Mars.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0011, 0409, New Eden-
“This use to be Chroma’s house, you know.”
“Don’t say.”
“Greg, that is. Ogden. Not the odious Oden fellow.”
“Green, yeah.” She pretend spits on the floor beside the couch. “Disgusting. Red, yellow and blue’s where it’s at.”
“‘Hidden Vilage.'”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0011, 0404, Gaston+
“I’ve decided I like this role, Axis, and will stay a while here in Middletown with Mr. Babyface and his two goons.”
Half-Axis considered. “You’re not getting back *together* with…”
“Of course not,” Flo cut off. “Banish that from your mind, love. I’m with you now. At least until Xmas. But you’re a changer too. Better go dance up in New Eden to get back to proper form. In fact, I’ll go with you. I need a little break from Cartoon Town.”
—–
She yelled over the music (The Kinks’ “You Really Got Me”) while dancing. “Ahh, this is the life.” She spun around again, then spoke directly over while facing him: “Cross your fingers (she crosses her own fingers here) — I find that treasure before you-know-who gets to it.”
He nodded and continued his frantic gyrations, but the Half-Tropp part remained in place. This was not the right core.
Better not head up there as a piece of cheese.
Treelor crosses the line.
—–
Look and learn.
Ahh, someone standing before the Kama(s) Portal (!). Chance?
Another observer?
I’m going to fly over there…
—–
He’s not exactly where I thought the portal was (256/128). Then again, maybe I was wrong.
I’m on the line once more…
—–
“Why do you need me here again, Misty? We’re a long ways from Philo… and it’s getting dark. Maybe I better escort you home now.”
“Shut up and listen, retro-boy,” Misty insisted (Misty again?). “I *need* you because I need to be part of a couple. Takes two to know, after all. You know… the portal.”
“I don’t know what you’re on about witch lady.”
“Just follow me.”
—–
“I don’t understand, Misty.” Septimius Felton’s voice was low and anxious. “There’s a bat lady over there… dancing. And then there’s one behind us. Gargoyles I fear. I read about them in the town library. It’s Salem all over again here. This is high witchery.” He stared steadily and intensely at Misty, as if she were to blame for it all.
“All right, all right,” she relented. “Just stop burning me alive with those eyes; we’ll go back. Your *comfort* zone. Swindon’s it is But first…”
—–
“*That’s* a gargoyle, Septimius. The others are just some kind of demons. See how it just perches there at the corner of a building, waiting for rain water so that it can spout out of its mouth again? Spout, gargoyle,” she demanded boldly. “Spout *observer*.”
“Interesting,” both declare in unison.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0011, 0303, The Straight
He wandered around the living room while Misty was preparing herself upstairs. He eventually found the open alchemy book in the locked art deco secretary, as she had planned.
He had to make out what was on the pages in reverse. Oh, he thought while staring at the tree rising backwards from the man. That’s interesting, hmm.
Hmm.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0011, 0112, Heterocera, Myron
Misty made sure she was strategically positioned on the ladder upon Septimius’ approach. She also liked to face away from him as often as possible because of the scars she was so self conscious about. Misty hoped that they weren’t a deal breaker in the end, but she doubted it. All signs point to the tree.
“Afternoon, Mrs. Dorn.” Again with the appellation, Misty thought. My husband has been dead in his grave for over 3 years now (she’s learned) and still I’ll remain a Mrs. until remarried. Not fair!
He studied both her and the tree while still standing safely in the road. “That’s not an apple tree you’re picking from, Mrs. Dorn. Those are behind your neighbor Mrs. Dabbs, remember? Seems like your picking, er, barking up the wrong tree.” He laughed good-naturedly with this attempted joke.
I seriously doubt it, Misty thought. “Oh, I’m actually picking leaves,” she said aloud. “For a decoration in my house, a garland I think it is called.”
“Oh,” a puzzled Septimius Felton responded. “Well, do you need any help? Can I… do you want to hand them down to me as you pick them?” What’s this with leaf decorations, he thought to himself. Is this more future witchery? I don’t recall other neighbors engaging in such activity. I must ask Horace Wise at the next town meeting. He’ll probably know. He’s an expert in 1880-1920 history. Post-R.B. Hayes.
“No, I have enough now, I believe. Just help me down off this ladder if you don’t mind and we’ll go inside.”
“Swindon’s starts jumping after dark,” Septimus says while walking over. “But I see you’re already dressed for the occasion.” That dress, he thinks. In truth, he’s already wondering if Swindon’s is the actual destination point tonight.
Misty jumps down the last several rugs. “Thank you.” She attempts to tip her hat as low as possible while motioning toward the house. Those darn face wounds. “Shall we?”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0011, 0111, Heterocera, Myron
Sunklands 