Tag Archives: George^*+

stuck?

“You’ve been here a pretty long time in VHC City Duncan,” speaks the boy George. “Don’t you miss home?”

“Bermingham? Sure. But I have an obligation to The Bakers to remain here and wait for a story. You too. So we just stay put here. Hear?”

George sighs. “I guess so. Can’t we at least go back to the (PCH Forest)? I’ve heard the tower has some new things on the top floor. Let’s go look.”

Duncan realizes he can’t keep the kid cooped up in this apartment all the time. Else he’ll drive *him* crazy. “All right,” he says. “But just for an hour. One hour,” he reinforces.

—–

“You happy now George?”

“Yes! I want to stay *here*. Why not?”

“You know why not,” returns Duncan Avocado. “We’re not inside the Sphere here. We’re unprotected. We’re suspect to derezzing. In order to be a part of the story we have to remain in VHC City. Best to be right in the heart of it when it happens.”

“But it’s been 4 months!” complains George. He reviews what occurred. “End of novel 4. I came to Mother Mary in the spaceship.”

“You need to let it be,” Duncan said, speaking words of wisdom. “Drop it,” he added less succinctly without a beat. “What goes around comes around. The End,” he finalizes.

“I study the blog while you’re asleep. I was (recently) mentioned in connection to a police station in Gaston that was formerly a sugar house. George *Carver* Washington I was called. I supposedly was a rookie cop there who shot himself in the arse.”

Duncan sat up, interested.

“Sugar house, you say? Like a sugar house for prisoners or a sugar house for storing molasses and sugar beets and stuff?”

“Both, I think.”

“You know how big I am on prison reform,” he spoke to the 10 year old boy.

“Yeah.”

“Well maybe this is our opening. The other Paul probably isn’t going to come back into the story.”

“Even Whiter Walt?” chimed in George. “I know about him too. You were in one sim and he was in another. But you two were separate. Something about an owl’s head… I’ll have to check.”

“Well, it’s been about an hour here George so let’s go back to the apartment and your computer so you can do that.”

George shakes his head and stands up, looks around.

“I never went over to the main house on the property. I never went beyond the church. I stayed in the forest, Duncan. Just like you told me to.”

“I know. You did good.”

“We can do it again. Together.”

“Story’s not here,” Duncan repeats. “But it could be in this sugar house. Tell me all about what you know. But back at the apartment. We might have found another way out. Now let’s skedaddle outta here.”

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sugar houses

“The sugar house on the corner of William Street and Duane Street in lower Manhattan was used as a prison by occupying British forces during the American Revolutionary War,” states old-time cop Ricky Bendicky, originally from East Bennington. “Out of 2,600 prisoners of war captured during the Battle of Fort Washington in November 1776, 1,900 would die in the following months at makeshift prisons. At least 17,500 are estimated to have perished under substandard conditions of such sugar houses and British prison ships over the course of the war, more than double that of casualties from battle.”

“When did it become the police station?” asks rookie cop George Carver Washington, Gaffer George as his fellow officers had started calling him after he accidentally shot himself in the arse last Thursday.

“Built in 1763 by William Rhinelander,” continues Ricky, “the sugar house was a five-story brick warehouse originally storing molasses and sugar next to his own residence. The old warehouse was replaced by the Rhinelander Building, which retained part of the original wall from 1892 to 1968, and received reports of ghostly prisoner sightings. The site is now occupied by the headquarters of the Gaston-Berry Police Department, near which one of the original barred windows was retained.”

“Fascinating,” coos young George. “And how about Utah?”

“Sugar House Prison, previously the Utah Territorial Penitentiary, was a prison in the Sugar House neighborhood of Salt Lake City founded by territorial governor Brigham Young in 1852. The 180-acre prison housed more than 400 inmates. It was closed in 1951 due to encroaching housing development, and all of its inmates were moved to the new Utah State Prison in Draper. The site is now occupied by the headquarters of the Gaston-Berry Police Department.”

George pauses, then: “And that’s where Hidden Village comes from?”

“Yes,” answers Ricky.

“And Greg Ogden and Gregg Oden?”

“We’ll see.”

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Mission 02 03

No one says anything, not knowing if Woody is finished or not. But after about 30 seconds, it’s pretty obvious to all that he’s wrapped up his spiel. Mary takes his place, thanking Woody and the others for their words, then asks if anyone else wants to speak. She looks at Baker Bloch then at Hucka Doobie. Both wave her off, but then Baker felt the need to say, “We appreciate your supreme sacrifice Mary.”

“Then I suppose it’s time.” She turns to the rocket ship. “Goodbye all! I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Goodbye my love!” Pitch cries from the second row. “I know you will. I have faith in the Gods.”

Sobbing, she touches the launcher, then manifests inside the firing capsule. A person was already there. It was George, seated beside her.

He took her hand. “It’s you and me now.”

—–

24 years later…

“Do you not know me?” asked Mary/Chuckles to Sikul Himakt The Musician.

“Of course I do mother.”

END OF “COLLAGESITY 2017 MIDDLE”!

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Freedom

“Rule 110, pheh.”

—–

His stint as Surrogate George ended, Duncan Avocado returned to the PCH Forest bear cave one last time to do a general cleanup. Afterwards only items directly linked to Abigail’s humble abode remained…

… including this stash of Bearmalade which started the whole East-West spell war, of course. Both sides coveted it. With permission from Ms. Adams, he noms some down to give him needed energy for the return home. This was a magic elixir, part of the next generation of pass-through devices. Mana from heaven. The days of the enslaved portal animals will soon come to an end.

He then discharges his collected gormanbozia into the cave’s central pit, a long held ritual.

A series of transformations follow. First Baker Bloch, then Woody Woodmanson, then Pitch Darkly. Tempted one last time to keep this particular form, he thinks of Mary.

“The right George is with her now,” he speaks aloud. Returning to Duncan Avocado, he turns from the pit toward the bear behind him. “I wish to thank you for this gift again, Abigail Adams. I promise to use it well.”

“No problem Duncan my man,” the bear replies. “You better leave now. The witches will never end their battle.”

“Right you are.” He goes to the sacred fishing hole. Something is tugging at the line — something has always been tugging at the line, unhooked until today.

“Floydodo.”


Leaving the forest.

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L$1101110

“There she is, George. Just like I predicted.”

“Who is she?”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Duncan replied. “How long did you say you’ve been here now?”

“What’s time here? But 50 as of last Wednesday. *You* were there at the celebration.”

“Ever hear of mothersightings?”

“Of course,” said the younger boy in appearance. “But… *oh*, you don’t mean…?”

—–

“That’s when we first saw her. Together. I’ve been spotting her fishing in various places for a while. We determined later it was the same ghost that haunted the village’s 3rd cottage — Osborne Well’s house back then, before he moved up the hill. He probably summoned her through the monster tome, we reasoned. That’s what we had nicknamed his heavy book of spells. And now she couldn’t escape this realm. But what was the spell? That’s what we had to find out next. Well… Mr. Well always took a morning walk down in the lowlands: Path of the Circle River. That was our window. Literally. We entered his house through a window and not a door. George had just received a universal pass-through for his 50th death day, but we still dare not come in from the front. Very expensive in those days.”

“Doors?” Baker Bloch ventured.

“Pass-throughs,” Duncan corrected. “Buster Damm can tell you all about them. When he gets here.”

“Which should be soon,” Pitch Darkly said.

“Yes. The book was just laying open on the table, which should have been clear indication of a trap for us. It wasn’t. We were so proud that we’d found a way to enter the house in the first place. Vanity.” He shook his head. “The next thing we knew we were the same. I was him, I mean. Just by reading the passage in front of me. Rule 110.”

“Well, what did it say?” Hucka Doobie had been studying magic for years and was very curious about all this.

“We couldn’t remember. Neither of us.” Duncan kept something hidden here. “But that was the day we found out we had the same mother. And the same father. Osborne Well. Lucky us, eh? Osborne Well was our father.”


Mothersighting.

“Not Pitch?” exclaimed Baker Bloch.

“Nope,” Duncan replied tersely. “At least not until *now*. That’s why I’m apparently here. A summoning. Three days ago I was returned to my former self. Spell broken.” He wiped his forehead with his hand. “Thank the Lord God Almighty.”

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“Seal”

They had to bring in Woody Woodmanson to translate. He slowly slid the “Necronomicon” upwards out of Osborne Well’s clutching hands and replaced it with “Floydodo.”

“Well?” Pitch Darkly demanded after a 1 minute wait. “Anything?”

“Shhh,” Woody said. “He’s still reading, still absorbing. Nothing like the ‘Necronomicon,’ you see. He’s having difficulty.”

2 more minutes passed by. “Well I’m going to get some milk out of the refrigerator. Anybody else want anything?”

“I’ll take a coke,” requested Wheeler. Mary gave her a dirty look and she changed it over to milk as well.

“Milk all around, then?” asked Pitch. “Everyone mumbled agreement. “Okay, I’ll be right back.”

1/2 hour later: “This is getting ridiculous, Woody,” Pitch declares. “Maybe the moon is in the wrong phase or something.”

“No, I’m getting a, er, reading now. Something about black and white, up and down. Red all over.”

“Um, that’s a newspaper, Woody. What we have here is a book.” Pitch pauses. “Isn’t it?”

Woody suddenly locks into gear:

At 1pm, Bland spots a British patrol near Osborne Hill, and reports back to General Washington, “I have discovered the enemy on the heights just on the right of two Widow Davis’ who live close together on the Road called [can’t read that] about half a mile to the right of the Meeting House. There is a higher hill on their front.” Panicked by Bland’s report, Washington quickly orders Alexander Stirling and Adam Stephen to Birmingham Hill three miles north to defend the vulnerable Continental right flank.

Woody ends as abruptly as he began. Looks all around. “Osborne Hill?” Pitch exclaims. “Bermingham?”

What they then found on the next page sealed the deal.

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Huskers

Tronesisia and Mary pulled in about midnight on the 6th. Baker Bloch was there to greet them in front of Darkly Manor, Mary’s hopefully new home. He couldn’t wait to show them around town.

But what immediately caught Mary’s eye as she got out of the pink mini was this portrait of Ted in the middle of Castle Knight. “I know that man,” she said, continuing to stare. “He use to work for me.”

She turns right. “And that *woman.* What is this place?”

“Castle Knight,” explains Baker Bloch, walking up. “It’s one of Wheeler’s projects mainly, although we’re helping — the rest of us. Nancy’s involved.”

“Who’s Nancy?” asks Mary.

“We’re not quite sure yet,” admits Baker Bloch. “All this stuff, or most of it, use to be in the Muff-Bermingham Room of the VHC City Underground.”

She turns left. “And, oh my God, there’s *Chuckles*. My namesake. I’m remembering. I’m remembering a lot.”

Mary was coming out of her shell.

—–

Later that night, after she and Pitch had, er, reunited in Darkly Manor, Mary lay in bed dreaming.

A boy approached. “Hello future mother. My name is George. I’m glad you’ve come to Collagesity, our home. It’s time for me to enter your stomach. It’s time. It’s time.”

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Misdirection?

George manifests the planchette again and asks a question. “Will the east and west witches learn to coexist?”

—–

Wheeler was feeling better if still tired. Seeing this, Buster Damm had excused himself, saying he’d heard of trouble in VHC City. Wheeler reinforced that she could certainly fend for herself.

“Attack from the west, eh?” she ruminated while sitting in a raven black Victorian chair at the real Clare Nova’s church. “Well, two can play that game.”


“Or was it the east?”

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Knotted up

Collage 17 returns to Collagesity from Muff. Whole SoSo Gallery along with it. Red-green split fades and disappears.

—–

Woody bids farewell to his “summer home” in Bermingham. *He’s* moving to Collagesity! But I don’t think our story as a whole is quite done with that realm.

George is still there, for one thing.

Maybe Bendy as well. Probably is.

—–

Without Pitch/Baker in tow, Hucka Doobie says goodbye to the News and Views coffee shop across from the great hotel.

Yep, heading back to Collagesity too along with the others. He thinks of Pitch and what went wrong with this town. Or went right, now that the last of the vampires have been vanquished. After years of abuse Pitch has given up on VHC City. He use to be in the center. He became tired of living on the edge, without security, without a role to play. So he unconsciously attracted the end. More on that soon.

—–

Buster Damm came back to VHC City from the PCH Forest to find that his coffin underneath the Blue Angle had been deleted. He was exiled just like Pitch. Dead ball era over, I suppose.

—–

Mary: One last bit of “reeling them in” from her favorite fishing hole across the tracks from the city. Like Buster, she’s following Pitch outta here.

There’s too much at, er, stake, not to. Within the Realm of Orange or overall Sphere of Influence of VHC City, she remains sterile. Outside is another story.

—–

Another nearby red-green dichotomy. The abode of hot, temperamental Angelina Dickenson, a police woman of sorts. We haven’t met her in our story yet, and maybe never will. But she’s the one who drove the nails in the last two vampire coffins of the area. Again — for better or worse. Siren always set to on.  Continuously looking out for the town, especially the Sister side.

—–

But what of the Bemberg part? Still reading Sunklands, landlady Summerhill Nova sits in her office contemplating what to do about Baker and his several rentals there.

Obviously, she thinks, since Baker is the same as Pitch he’ll be leaving too. But should he be forced out? Punished, in a way. Summerhill is hoping he’d just quickly exit of his own volition and she could wash her hands of the matter. Let it just fade away.

—–

Baker himself stands before the blue door, thinking he should never have gone through it and made another dwelling place in Sister. Illegal, yes. Indefensible, correct. But, overall, temporary and harmless, like *everything else*. Like many of us after November’s big bump, Angelina was way under her land impact limit. Had the story been worth it? I think so. Else it would never have been told, I suppose.

—-

And we’re not quite through yet. The Musician is still circling around Clown Central, trying to find a way out for both he and Wheeler. Trapped in a dream. Sikul Himakt. He suddenly realized what had to be done.

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Baumy

It was a most remarkable coincidence. Wheeler changes into a witch on Wednesday and is taken to a church on the western edge of the PCH forest to recuperate from a nasty accident with a Halloween tree, and the very next day a witch’s cottage appears on the far eastern side of this same woodland. George understood it to be his new temporary home, an upgrade from the Castle Tower. Duncan Avocado had explained to him that there was more than one Orange, and that the second who had assumed control by treachery was even worse than the first (Nova). The boy would have to stay in the holding forest a while longer. Was Mary even going to be his new mother? He’d already chosen a first name appropriate for the situation. There was the whole tentacled cluster of synchronicities surrounding the anticipated event. The Monster some called it. Others: Baby Monster. Whatever, it had many arms and it was large. It might even be tamed down into a dragon symbol in later times. Which could be earlier times. George was already a bit alive and dead at once. Wheeler Wilson moved forwards and backwards together. “Fo fo fo,” chants Malone from the Chasm Deep. Titusville.

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