Tag Archives: HILL HOUSE

August 21, 2022 · 9:31 am

afternoon

She stared and stared but she couldn’t wish a day gone to return. Munday it is, Munday it remains. Like hamster. Hers should be coming soon.

She overhears some of the conversation from a couple of tables over; her purpose for being here. Something about channeling. Something about triangles.

—–

He walked into Slice, waiting for the mathematician. “Duck, please,” he tried at the counter. “No Duck: chicken,” said the Slice employee, a Mrs. Wiggins I believe. She didn’t even mention the hamster. She knew he wasn’t here for food and had to repel him that way. For emphasis she made the number 5 appear in one of her hands, a sign of non-acceptance or non-compliance. Stop, in other words. We don’t dispense that crap here.

“Barry?” Marsha “Pink” Krakow called over from Eyela’s former seat. She was finished with her hamster and sucking her teeth as inconspicuously as possible. The channeling/triangle couple had gone. She had absorbed again.

“… Mom? What… are you… doing here?”

Well you ordered a mathematician, she thought but didn’t say aloud. She should be at church and he should be at work. But they weren’t.

—-

“I’m just going to check that calculation with my phone, Mom. Hold on…

“Damn.” She’s good! he realized. This could work.

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August 20, 2022 · 10:20 am

Gold City

She was at the house now, or the edge of the hill it stood proud and dominant upon.

She summoned Newt again to take a gander at what she’d found. This was obviously the source of their names. They *were* still married…

… to this town.

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August 20, 2022 · 8:25 am

00340316

“You’ve found the shower again, congratulations. It’s in the Oracle you know. Chicago.”

“I think you mean Illinois,” I replied. “As in: someone was bad and deserved to be spanked punished.”

“In the circle of the shower with the water on, all is good,” he replied confidently. The person sitting opposite of me. Triangle, I gather. Something about the stabbing of the duck obviously. I am now a resident. How did *that* happen?

“You are not dead,” I decided to say. “You were supposedly killed–”

“Look to the House on the Hill. All revolves around the House on the Hill. Just like before.” The apparition, so solid just a second ago, fades…

—–

She finally got out of the shower and put on some clothes, bound and determined to find the graffiti that would set her free.


“Scuse me, boys.”

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July 11, 2022 · 11:29 am

hill house

Darling Pixley Pixy,

I tried to leave you but when I went out the front door it just became a door. I looked back. I realized all the answers I wanted were here — there — after all, kind of like Dorothy and her Kansas. So I gave up Oz; went back through the door. Laid down and went to sleep for a bit. Woke up and came downstairs to eat breakfast-dinner with the stern but still kindly aunt and the kind of stern but kind of not uncle — old fashioned they were. Asked them how I got here (eventually). They said:

“You landed here.”

I said, “Whaat?”

“In a beam of white light,” they further confessed. “You are not…”

“… from this world,” the other completed for the first, gams for gams (as we say).

I sat there, stunned obviously.

“Your eyes,” they continued. “That was the giveaway. That led to the others.”

“The… *others*?”

“The other… phenomena,” spoke the uncle, differentiating himself from my aunt in tone and volume. He spoke quite a bit after that. The skin tone pink was brought up early (and loudly) in the spiel. Then the tattoo, which he wrongly called “demon”. It was “demo”. They assumed I had scrubbed off the N somehow to cover this up and then flipped my hair down over the space along with the damaged eye. This also made me a heathen in their eyes. But somehow they still managed to love me. Deeply. Alien influence, I gathered from them, some kind of et sorcery.

“The cards,” Aunt Mina then prompted Uncle Taum.

“Ah yes,” he started again, but found his mouth was tired from talking. “You tell, dear.” He worked his jaw up and down, trying to get the soreness out for the next round of words. Aunt Mina saw this. Started talking kind of for him but also kind of not. She had her own mind these days. Read up on the suffragettes thanks to Marty. Realized Muff was just a portmanteau for Mutt and Jeff, with Jett jettisoned in the process — in the name. Band on the run.

“Do you recall being on the run?” she then asked, “OTR as we like to call it?”

“Tell her about the bluebird,” spoke the uncle, able to insert that much at least.

“Cards first. Cardinals,” the aunt clarified.

(to be continued)

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February 21, 2022 · 8:49 am

uninvited

We start again at the House on the Hill at the summit of one of those islands we just spoke about, the two stranger ones representing retirement itself. A figure both male and female, one locked inside the other. And behind him or her, in the kitchen. A ghost.

We can call it a rock.

We can call it a planet.

It is the same size as our Earth.

It is associated with the color blue (like our Earth).

But it is not Earth.

It is from somewhere else.

And we need to treat it with respect.

I’ll let the darker one sleep this time, she thinks from her couch of power as the awakened lighter one is released to the floor.

But an occident occurred as he dropped too far and spilled down the stairs instead. “Oh my God oh my GOD.”

We could say the neck was snapped but that wouldn’t be the half of it.

(to be continued?)

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February 23, 2020 · 12:07 pm

bargain 01

She didn’t even want to look over at her, this Mother of Vampires. Time hadn’t been as kind to her. Cat-Witch, on the other hand: PHEH! She could still claw her eyes out right on this spot and get the last laugh. But she was admittedly curious about the story. Martha Lamb and the Cat-Witch as sisters (!). How could she not have known about this all those years back? There must be deception involved here. She’ll wrangle it out and then expose it to the child. The kid will be under *my* powers. For all eternity, even beyond death. Because she had worked out that *little* detail as well, ha (!).

Cat-Witch winked at Katy Kidd while the Mother of Vampires kept looking away and fuming. Because this was Billy Jean Kidd again, dressed up temporarily in a new body. She was dead, yes. Casey One Hole swiped at her with his metallic club and knocked her head clean off into the next sim of Danshire, where it washed up on the shore of that tiny central island we’ve seen several times already. Then One Hole built a shrine around it, which lasted until several days ago when neighborhood watch fanatic Red Pepper spotted the shack and had the thing deleted. The head is dead.

Trouble is, it was also Katy Kidd’s head and that’s what dead Billy Jean told her first off about it. She saw it from a distance, while hovering above. Like an angel, she explained. “We are the same,” and then they merged into one from opposite sides of that walkway where they met, just for a moment. Just long enough to *know*.

Billy Jean changed. They walked inside. Cat-Witch sat downstairs to wait. Katy helped Mother hobble from her bedroom, down the stairs, to the parlor. She couldn’t look. How does she stay so *young*??

(to be continued)

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February 16, 2020 · 10:53 am

mothers 02

Kate McCoy tries to find the unicorn where she saw it in the bushes.

A sudden call from the house in that scary, shrill voice, so familiar. “Katy! Katy Kidd! Come help your mother get out of bed and take her shower!”

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February 16, 2020 · 10:14 am

mothers

“Do you see it out there Pitch? Come here please.” Kate McCoy, moved on from her late husband Jack and the Hilling sim as a whole, waved Baker/Pitch over to see if he could eyeball the unicorn as well. He stopped playing the piano and singing track 3 of the Platinum Prune suite of songs, popular in Bena and the surroundings these days.

“Nothing,” he said after moving to the window to also stare out at the yard. “Trick of the leaves,” he suggested correctly. But Kate knew it was more. Back to business.

—–

“I’ve decided I’m going to play my mother here in Bena. The Mother of Vampires, kind of like the Mother of Dragons but also different. Which wasn’t real either — cats instead,” Kate McCoy tried to explain about her new role.

“Um hum,” Pitch Darkly exclaimed from the couch. “And what of Garfield, um, *Hatfield*? Will he remain, say, in the attic of the house? He’s a big orange (cartoon) cat, after all. Nothing that a village full of vampires would have.”

“I suppose he’ll have to,” opined Kate McCoy, finger to lip in thinking mode. “And yourself? Did Rebl set you up with your own coffin? Have you interacted with anyone in the community proper yet?”

“Just Barry,” Pitch responded about the used coffin salesman he dealt with online, who just so happens to be from Bena and is giving up his own vampire gig here. So Pitch is, in essence, replacing Barry. Interesting.

“Lindens,” Kate then utters, and shakes her head. “Taking away the few good men — vampires — we have. Leaving us with only Lemons.”

Pitch became confused. “But — Lemons are good. Aren’t they?” Kate McCoy just glared at him.

(to be continued?)

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August 22, 2015 · 5:57 am

Needs Polish

Carr.:

You do not need to go to another source. This was set up. Hucka Doobie is here!

Hucka D.:

Hi Baker B.! Haven’t seen you in a while. Carrcassonnee doing well as a primary blog spirit? I’d like to tell you of my projects.

bb:

Hi Hucka D.! And thanks Carrcassonnee. Carr. is doing well swell. What you got cook’n?

Hucka D.:

I’m going away. On a trip. Like Carr. did in the spring. I got married.

bb:

Congrats! Who did you marry[ this time]?

Hucka D.:

Piet Mond.

bb:

Nice! The deity?

Hucka D.:

Kind of.

bb:

Hucka D., are you a spirit of *this* house? The house that I’m writing in?

Hucka D.:

Kind of.

bb:

Is Carrcassonnee the spirit of the house to *come*?

—–

Just like that they went away. I daydreamed about work again, pheh. Carr. did say she was Art on The Hill or something like that. Well, the new house, if we get it, will be The House on The Hill. A more grown up house for an older set of Bretons. But is it too much to bite off now? We’ll just have to go through the negotiations — *2* sets of them. We’ve never had to sell a house before.

—–

Carr.:

I art back. I have yours. Back to the present. Future can wait. Future is now in the present[ instead]! Ask your questions. Do you know who I am?

bb:

Maybe.

Carr.:

Ask your questions.

bb:

Are you The House on The Hill? Or the spirit of this house?

Carr.:

I art that house. Art it. Love it. Heart. Art.

bb:

You are a continuation of the one I just interviewed. You lie in the future. What do you think of tiles?

Carr.:

That’s your subject. You are a tilist?

bb:

Yes. I am.

Carr.:

Then what do *you* think? It’s your blog. You can say what you want.

bb:

How are you on The Hill when you exist also in virtual reality?

Carr.:

I art in the future. In your future. Polishing. Furniture. Future. Furniture.

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