Tag Archives: Gene Fade^*===!$

a welcoming sight in the woods

Probably Bigfoot. Or not. Welcoming anyways.

Here’s some evidence Bigfoot may like Hot Wheels. They’ve maybe screwed this bit o’ track to the floor of a “covered bridge” located not far from the first photo of this post above. Probably not again, but just saying, just showing. And the arranged rocks once more…

I wonder if they swing on this swing when they know no one is around, play with the rocks, bring their Hot Wheels and more track stored safely out of the elements in their nearby dwelling places to attach to this base stretch. Could be Bigfoot children taking a break from the serious lives of their parents and elders. Just make sure a human doesn’t see you, they might warn. Or they could be out on a lark. Bad Bigfoot children! if so. Elders always know best when it comes to safety.

We cannot speak of Area 54 and its mysterious rocks and pipes (etc.) in any detail which would provide you the reader further information for the weighing of truths in this matter. Maybe later, sorry.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0032, 0514, Bill Mountain, Frank Park

jot em down (Pine Apple)

Could it be true? The tent would have been potentially facing that direction: toward the thick Pine Forest. But Mystery Cave to the north and Fern Wall to the south could also be involved. Maybe even *triangulate* between all 3.

Spongebub might know, if his last name is actually Triangleslacks and not the more obvious. We’ve already met his wife, his son in this here story through the similarly dreaming Leforest Bresford over at Ontario village. What happened to her?

—–

“There are rumors about a big floating can seen in the park or thereabouts, Ms. Bresford, sometimes with a woman’s legs and head attached to it. Some reports put it with 2 other figures, both cowboys, sticking out the can’s top alongside the woman’s. Others have two children, still others have red and blue dummies or mannequins. Others… well, you get the picture.”

“Yes. We: Can!” the blue one to her left wanted to reveal freely to the Big Wig before her. “You *can’t* do it,” countered the red figure on her right, knowing it was the wrong thing to admit. The only thing she could decide in the moment was that she had to choose. The world opened up in front of her. A bullet that had formerly been frozen in reality caught her square in the heart, the center. Bart had the last evil laugh or at least aberrant chuckle.

Another agent would have to be sent in. Or not… maybe just forget about the whole Ontario village sub-plot — for now.

Next!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0032, 0415, Blue Mountain, Wendy-Ontario

newfound lands

Apologies to the reader: I couldn’t get a decent shot of Fern Wall or Fern Hole today. I certainly will return there and take additional photos on perhaps an overcast day, bringing out the colors more.

Moving on to Delta, then, just to the north, just up the cliff path following the River. In checking today, it kind of is a true delta, with the small stream at the head of it splitting into 2 smaller streams there, one proceeding down the southern side to the River, and the other following the northern border of the flat, triangular piece of land to same. So that’s North Branch, we’ll call it — and I guess this makes the feeder stream merely Branch to simplify — and South Branch, with River defining the 3rd side, or base, of the thing.

Below is a picture of a ruined tent near its center. Someone must have camped here for a while. Mystery Person. Or someone wanted to *indicate* that a person stayed here, hmm.

The Delta also contains several small trees (have to check what kind) with cow bones littered around their base. More symbols? Delta as location of the dead?

It just occurred to me that the site may have been manufactured. I’ll ponder on that strange idea further. The Delta may have been created, but perhaps not by man. Maybe humanoid but maybe not man.

Then it’s on to Mystery Cave this fair day, just north of Delta and visible from anywhere on its triangular territory. As I think I stated, I don’t believe this is a real cave, although I still haven’t examined the “mouth” (dark crevasse anyway) up close. Maybe tomorrow, slotted to be another beautiful day in the NC mountains.

Appropriately, mysterious paths are found on the cliffs surrounding Mystery Cave, adding to the mystique of the location in general, Fern Hole/Wall, Delta, and Mystery Cave in toto. Oddly shaped trees, etc….

… with the etc. now including what appears to be a Monolith, again from the distance. I will also check this up close tomorrow, but on my hike today it clearly stuck out as peculiar. If it truly turns out to be worthy of the moniker Monolith then the person who camped on the Delta perhaps just turned into Erik. Or Eric. Or perhaps his son.

More soon.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0032, 0212, Blue Mountain, North Carolina

THIS SIM 02 01

“*You* are Taylor,” she exclaimed excitedly across from him, wearing her standard green shirt with the lantern symbol, one from a Golden Age long forgotten by most. But not by Fern.

“And… you are?” Jeffrey Phillips remains confused. He had crossed the line from This Sim 01 into This Sim 02 and found himself here. On this couch. Speaking to this… woman. Stranger. Her eyes were brilliantly alert. She was always thinking, he realized, always spinning around something in her head. He thought back to the rainbow Ferris wheel.

“Orange,” she proclaimed, then seeing his continued blank look, said, “no not the color, the number. You are looking for VI. Ruby,” she furthered. She saw recognition in the eyes. “A… purple car, not blue not red, merges with orange to exit in you: Taylor.”

What was she *on* about? he thought. He briefly contemplated that he had died, had drove his red 57 Chevy into that levy between sims and all this, all that followed, was his dream in the afterlife. Taylor? Was that his new post-death name? And this person: some kind of angel? Or maybe: devil. Half and half. He slapped himself in the face. Didn’t work. He was still dreaming in this reality, wherever he was.

“What do you mean I’m Taylor?” A series of images formed on the couch across from him in place of Fern. He hadn’t yet realized this was his old gal pal Charlene the Punk, come back from the future after her dissertation on Bigfoot had been completed, turned into a book which was turned into a movie which was turned into a franchise, toys, cookbooks, the lot. There was even a brand of kitchen sink named after it. Bigfoot went from backwoods legend to front and center superhero. All the children knew who Gene Fade was and that his birthplace was at Jupiter Rock and that he spent his formative years in Mocksity and that he lived to be over 400 years of age. Children wanted to *be* Bigfoot now. Children wanted to live relatively forever too, where a childhood would last one of our present lifetimes. Fern knew a lot, had seen a lot. Fern had been augmented, just because she could afford it due to the franchise and all. And she had created 2 others just as tag along friends, one a ditzy blonde and the other, the other…

She changed back. “You were in that wagon,” Fern started again, like a well oiled machine, a purring car, a cat pouncing on a bat. Lee Meriwether had nothing on her.

Ruby, he remembered. The witch had said the same thing: that he was Taylor. The spirit she had summoned faded back into the netherworld it had come from. No: there! Outside the wagon now, floating across the landscape, heading toward a bridge of interesting design.

Another sim crossing. There! That’s where he had died. But not Taylor; the other. 2nd in command.

Man About Time woke up. Strangest dream, he though, and picked up his pen and pad beside his bed to jot it down before he forgot most of the details.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0031, 0316, Blue Mountain, Collagesity Fordham, Frank Park, Gene Fade's Mtn., Herman Park, Hills of Bill^, Iowa, Lands End, Lower Austra^, Maebaleia/Satori, Mocksity, Nautilus, West Virginia, Wild West

Maria von trapped.

“I remember the circle squared, Hucka. Can I call you Hucka without the D? Or Doobie?”

“Call me whatever you like. Fred if you wish.” Hucka D. looked around at the same old place. The Old Same Place.

“That would, I suppose, be looking at the bell from below.” He peered at the old photo, then switched it back to Nautilus, the present square and circle combined. Gordie Down’s head blinked off, as if he’d fallen asleep. Wee Norris on his shoulders came around the bend like on a carousel and took over. “So here we are.”

“Fountain,” Hucka D. corrected after giving it some thought. “1/2 and 1/2, though, although we aren’t suppose to talk about that.”

“Limit saying that, yes,” Baker Bloch understood. So many 12 Oz Mouse references in their talkings, like it was the center of the Universe and not Clyde. But everyone knew it was Clyde. Trouble is, no one could get there to see what it was like, not even Gordie Down, although he continually reads about it dawn to dusk and dawn to dusk. Billie Jean Kidd dreams about it as well: a wanted paradise of sorts for her. Add in NORRIS and you get a 40 year stretch of history, not 20, a 2 fer 1 kind of deal-i-o or sumtin. That was the secret of Wheeler on top of Wilson. And Wilson on Wheeler – 1/2 and 1/2 again.

“Baker,” Hucka D. interrupted my reverie, as she was suppose to do here. “I… have to go.”

“Wee wee,” but he didn’t mean yes yes. Okay, 1/2 and 1/2. STOP

GO “I’m back. Someone needs to clean up in there.”

“Last owners,” I clarified. “It was as if the filth was baked in back there in the shadows, the darkness. Same in the bedroom.” But Baker Bloch knew he wasn’t suppose to talk about that room. Keep with the bath.

“There’s tiles out in the shower — I pulled back the curtain — couldn’t help it; saw the outline of something through the curtain. You need to fix that Baker B. And the fence. Neighbors are talking. People beyond the veil are talking, like [delete name]. How are you going to find Ancient Clyde in all its black and white glory with its horsed and horseless carriages if you can’t even manage the present (situation), hmm?”

He, I mean, she had a point (*scroll*). She gets up then down and points to the one with the stinger beside masked Gene Fade. “This is me.”

In a whale of a position, a tree grows out of Newt’s head.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0030, 0702, Herman Park, Nautilus, Paper, Paper Soap, Wealthy Mountain

resemblance

It’s called The Rock, W. And on top, a radio tuned to a rock station currently playing The Beatles. We must look for nodal points (in these here photo-novels).”

“(We must look for nodal points) in these here photo-novels,” she echos. “Find me.”

—–

“Are you Wagner?” No answer.

—–

Baker peers again. “Kind of looks like a man, don’t you think? With a mossy beard and all, perhaps (looking again), a veil. Cap and a veil.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0030, 0201, Michigan, Nautilus, Southwestern

North Horns (Dollyhood)

“Hmmm.”

—–

“Nothing here,” he muttered. “Might as well be another Messed Up 05 for all it’s worth.”

—–

I got a strong feeling that this is the night, Axis-Windmill.”

“Bigfeet,” he guessed, looking over at the tittering squirrels. They too knew more than him.

“Bigfoot yeah. Samsquanch.”

Axis-Windmill didn’t bother to correct him this time. There would be no Bigfeet or Mossmen or whatever they call them colloquially. Because he saw the giant green shoe fly away last night with all the little houses and even the umbrella centered windmill. They had succeeded in loading up and moving.


empty hole

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0029, 0416, Horns of Hatton^, Maebaleia/Satori

in da woods

She hung up her black hat and dress and boots. She put on her blue flower jeans and rose shirt and red canvas shoes, made for a kid. Because she was a kid again, or at least closer to such. Our friendly, lovely Alysha. And where was projected mate Axis-Windmill these days? Still in Neat Town talking to Kick-ass Boos about bigfoot, locally colored green and called mossmen? Actually the last time we checked in with him, he was in Bellisaria chatting with a painter rabbit about primary colors, specifically about blue and black and how one can change into another. Perhaps he wants to know because of Hatti’s witch hat, which she just hung up. He knows about the alchemical cemetery, the alchemetery or alcemetery if you will (his coinings). He knows he has a rival and he doesn’t have much time, this White fellow.

He doesn’t yet realize he’s also staring into a mirror.

“Whitehead, Mossmen,” he mutters, waking up again, but this time not in the cabin, at least in *that* one. Instead: Reality.

“Welcome.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0029, 0404, Frank Park, Heterocera, Horsa^, Maebaleia/Satori, VHC City^, Whitehead Crossing

00290212

“The Neat Town moss people never received that big squid or octopus and so the red and white lighthouse remained on the green, no one else able to move it, not even jointly,” Kick-ass Boos recites from the top bunker again, joint still in hand, although almost small enough to require pliers. “Dwarfed, they were,” he finished.

Well that’s a nice story, thought Axis-Windmill from the lower bunk bed opposite him. But it doesn’t explain my dream where I lost my hands!

—–

Claude looked over at Paul, realizing if he bent his will there might be no leaving this place, ever. The 20000 lb. lighthouse could not be budged; time to call in reinforcements.

“Sorry I’m late.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0029, 0212, Maebaleia/Satori, Neat Town, Pennsylvania

wanted: large, many armed marine creature able to lift 20000 lbs.

Martha Fish Stew Boos finally installed an invisible fence on the other side of the road to keep her shopping carts from disappearing. Now they couldn’t take them through the hidden portal in the small hillock to do whatever they do with metal objects like that. Maybe build primitive spaceships for all she knows, trying to rocket off to whatever God hell awful planet they originate from. Truth was, they were trying to make another one of those giant shoes. They had enough metal. All they needed now was a large quantity of moss and an even larger octopus (or squid) and off they go. They’d get the moss after molting season. Shouldn’t be long. Martha went to all the trouble for nothing.


“Just leave it,” Claude commanded from within.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0029, 0209, Maebaleia/Satori, Neat Town