Besides the addition of the Thornwood sim, not much seems to have changed in Rosehaven since my brief residency there last winter. I left because of a seeming misunderstanding. I had overlaid a mythology on top of one already in place. My princess wasn’t their princess, who I talked to a bit. My queendom-kingdom wasn’t theirs. Merry Gouldbusk (my princess) doesn’t wish to return now and is resigned to remain with Sandy and perhaps other lovers in NWES City and NWES Island as a whole. She might be the same as All Orange but it is difficult to tell — certainly she is gold or amber in skin tone and that’s pretty comparable in color and may be close enough. What of Breeze and Wendy, who also hang around Sandy: collectively, the “Breezy” archetype? Merry Gouldbusk seems also to be the same as them — maybe. And what about her donning that red, MAGA-style cap before the election results were finalized and that side lost (yes, they lost: congratulations Joe!)? When we saw her wearing it she was heading across town to Dr. Rabbid Baumbeer’s Red Rose building, which he rents from Peet Aries, who is similar but also different from Peet Archer, a new-ish character in this here blog and photo-novel, 23 in a series of 20. But we know similarly red capped Barry DeBoy, the abstract artist featured in photo-novel 22, also resides or at least use to reside in this building as invited by Baumbeer. He saved the town with his art created there, specifically through a design called CITY, a combination of triangles and squares to tile a picture without internal gaps. TIGER may be another word for it but, again, unsure; we are not privy to the details of the saving so far. But my point here is that Merry Gouldbusk, in the moment, may have also been the same as Barry Deboy through that cap. We’ve only seen him once in the current novel, and in a different location more on the east side of town than before — across the highway, but not in Meat City, although (that suburb) is across the road from the main part of town as well. Sorry: *city*. As usual, we are dealing with many mysteries at once, and with blurring of plot lines and involved characters. The city and overarching island is a labyrinth to be solved, if not a maze. Let’s go with labyrinth, because mazes are designed to confuse and labyrinths aren’t — one path in and one path out for the latter. And we have our center now: All Orange. We just don’t exactly know its nature yet. Aldebaronian? Powerful witch Mid-Hazel thinks so. She also wrongly thinks All Orange is dead now. She believes Rosehaven, which she’s changed to Rose Haven to hide it from the locals, is up for grabs. Her assistant cat-witch Esmerelda is not as certain. She thinks it could be a plant.
Tag Archives: Norris/Harry^*~!%
Exhausted, Tronesisia finally stopped playing the harp for tonight. She looked around, red eye still in place. Where was she? The afterlife?
No. Still in Danshire.
And there were other instruments left to play in the same antiquated house. She switches to keyboards and fingers something different. The red eye finally recedes.
In the next room, Herbert Gold, Furry Karl, Heidi Hunt Ives, Norris, and perhaps some others not in this particular shot fade into view to listen in on the gorgeous music, flowing like platinum prune into their ears and senses. That was actually the name of the song: “Platinum Prune.” Or “In Search of…”, with the almost priceless prune theoretically showing up at the end of the overall suite of songs, drawing them inward and onward. Much better than Steel Raisin. We begin a journey.
She paused in reading her just published novel “Olive, Green and Pink”. “Ben, dear, it’s gotten suddenly quite chilly in here. Could you put another log on the fireplace?”
“‘Bout bedtime,” he counters, faking a yawn and not sensing anything out of the ordinary himself. One thing on his mind right now.
Picking up on this, she stares over at him after he finishes, trying to decide. Book or boy?
Variant Name: Jin Yiin Yn Yuin Yyin
Yankton College closed in December 1984, and its campus became the site of Federal Prison Camp, Yankton, which opened four years later.
“N-not yet!” He tries to run (with scissors).
“If you take away the Fire Tree it all begins to make sense. We can peer back into a time when the deserted village was full of life and living. The days before Tully. The wonder years.”
“Was that before the mist or after?” Parasol asked, trying to be patient with Ingo’s historic ramblings. She had a meeting with Herbert Glenn Gold at quarter past 10. Yeah, she was pissed at him (hence the full name again).
“Before of course.”
She glanced out the window at the Fire Tree she couldn’t quite see from this angle. She couldn’t wait any longer. Time to *see* Herbert.
“I was wondering where we would meet,” spoke up Herbert. Wonder again, thought Parasol. It was here she realized Ingo was right about the Fire Tree, the village. All of it.
She jumped right into it. No time for niceties tonight. “I want you to *get* her here. I want to trap her like a fly in a bottle.”
“Erm.” He shivered as her feet dangled menacingly above him. As he stood on one. “*Who* are we talking about here?”
“You know who.”
George V. Norris, barely 2 feet tall, prepared to play the harp in his wee abode. “A Bach tune will do tonight,” he squeaked to himself, then reconsidered. “Or is it Buch.”
“He said that this land was my land but it was also *his* land, Fran. Wonder what that means?”
Young, naive Fran couldn’t stop tittering at the, to her, funny sight. “He’s got (*snicker*), no face — no *skin*.”
“Hellooo!” it spoke again cartoonishly. “I’m a [delete phrase].”
“Whoa, whoa,” Jer Left Horn called to him from the chair while holding out his hands in protest. “No need for that kind of language ’round here, Norris. You *did* say that was your name. Didn’t you — Norris?”
“Mo Flo Joe No.”
Fran kept tittering. “I think he means — *no* (giggle).”
“Wellll… *what*, then?”
A very faint “Jerry” then popped out of his hot pink mouth. Then: “Harry,” almost as faint. Then, rapidly in succession, just a little louder even, “Harry, Jerry.” Then louder, more assertive: “Jerry. Harry.” Then loudest of all by far. “JERRRRY. HARRRRRY!”
“Okay,” calms Jer Left Horn, hands out again. JERRRRY and especially HARRRRRY were still echoing around the hills surrounding them. “You’re Jerry. You’re Harry.”
“He’s Jerry,” states Fran mundanely, patting his red hair and staring at his face. “He’s Harrry.” She tweaks his cheeks here. Jer Left Horn thinks he winces a little with this, the first facial expression beyond “blank” he’s seen.
“Hey,” he requests to Fran. “I think you hurt him there a bit. That (he comes over to look better) skin might be sensitive.” He points. “Yeah, see there? You’ve left red marks.”
Fran covers her mouth with her hand. “Oh. Oh dear. They’re *bleeding* or something. I’m *so* sorry.” She runs inside to get some tissues from her purse, water dripping from her face.
His face changes…
“I think we’ve got everything we need, Merry. Rope, tent, flashlights. It’s all there. The general store here set us up real good with all these freebies.” He finally looks over; pays attention. “Oh my, you’ve changed again.”
“Yeah, the skin is gone. Been gone for about 30 minutes,” *Breeze* replies. “You’ve been calling me the wrong name for a while.”
Axis goes over to her, holds her. “I’m sorry.” They lock hands. “I promise to pay more attention.”
“It’s okay.” She leans in for a kiss.
“I see it in the enlarged fire, Rules of Rose. Merry Gouldbusk is succumbing (!). We must do something to alter the mix.”
“Do something,” Rules of Rose echoed, also staring. “But — what?”
Ruby Fantasie looked to her right. “Norris. Norris could help. Put him back in that tree.”
“If you in-*sist*,” spoke the elven fairy, readying her powers of teleportation once more. This was her plan all along, though.
“He already knows his lines. Just send him. Break a limb!” she called over for encouragement as he vanished from the scene.
Jer Left Horn spots the source of the call up in his beloved tree. He stands. “Who are you?’
“Ahh. *There* she is, Rules of Rose. Hitting the tracks again.” She tries to call over once more, a little softer than before, knowing the futility of it. “Tessa. Tessa, honey. It’s me. Your Aunt Ruby.”
“She still can’t see or hear you,” states elven fairy Rules of Rose beside her. “It’s — different over here.”
Ruby Fantasie folds her hands over her lap, leaning back. “I know.” She sighs.
“It’s because of me.” Rules of Rose puts her hands to her eyes, beginning to cry (again). “I’m so sorry *sob*”.
Tessa makes her way back into the heart of the cave system, seeing/hearing nothing.
A warning, Miss Ruby. Princess Merry Gouldbusk has forgotten who she is again and is about to enter the cave system. Rose–”
“Don’t say it,” interrupted Ruby Fantasie, tired of the word.
“Yes ma’am,” acquiesced Rules of Rose. “Anyway, Baker Bloch tried to wake up while there but couldn’t.”
“Yes, but Baker Bloch must be close *now*. Else I couldn’t talk this way.” She eyed Rules of Rose, who had just flittered in through the portal, more closely.
“We found the gun,” Rules of Rose continued. “Inside the game. Benny Right Horn…”
“Benny *What* Horn?”
“You know, the fat– er, more weight challenged half of the Horn Brothers. Like in Twin Peaks.”
“*Tessa* is from Twin Peaks, or very close. Aren’t you Tessa?” Ruby Fantasie squinted across the tracks but still couldn’t make out Mabel and Tessa in the darkness over there. If they even were there.
She returned her attention to Rules. “Well it was a ridiculous story, true. Me in Rose– that place — in the winter. Bahhh! Only in the spring at best and when the blog isn’t filming me. And *Norris* here. Does he look wee to you, Rules of Rose?”
“Not atall,” agreed the elven fairy with the high doo, looking beyond Ruby Fantasie to the far chair of the group.
“No, this is who we are,” declared Ruby. “And we’re here now. What is this place again?”
“End of Time, ma’am,” proud she could say the name this time. She looked toward the glowing entrance, white with light.
“We wait,” commanded Ruby Fantasie, knowing the question in her mind.