Tag Archives: Pitch Darkly


“The more I look at Greenup 03, Broken Heart, the more I think it is about Spica just above the celestial equator turning into Vega and igniting brighter in the process, like, um, an ant being burned by a magnifying glass. Tonya Two Egg — the close Spica binary star — is stuck like unto a frying pan in the Horizons-Spica sim which is actually the Horizons-Vega sim, unable to remove herself from intense scrutiny. The ice fishing shack is a time and space portal. Can she reach all the way back to VHC City and heal the wound?”

But Broken Heart is instead staring toward Greenup 02 on the opposite wall, thinking:  This is you, Jacob I. my friend, my comrade. Prince Martin. Will you be able to heal *yourself*?


“All the dreams reaffirm the same location and the same needed action, Mary,” Pitch speaks from the viewing platform after parking the freshly stolen orange beetle at the appropriate spot down below.

“It all makes sense now: apple, orange, yellow fruit — banana…

… and then the giant lime on Merlin’s Mound — thank you Wheeler Wilson!”

“You’re welcome!”

“This is clearly ‘Floydada’, the start of ‘Pumpkintwisters’ analysis.”

“Nifty,” Mary replies while beginning to eat a peach.

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Filed under *Second Life, Clemscott, Gaeta V, Purden/Snowlands

breakthrough 02

The cavern passages were long and numerous. Pitch stopped to ask a gray woman directions, but she was just a statue.

A way out (!). But he dare not step into the sun for fear of waking up. He wasn’t quite ready for that.

He tried to orient himself by statues and other objects, such as that barrel in the background here.

Resting both brains and legs for a bit before continuing…

Then suddenly he was upon it: the source of the music from the former dream, although he didn’t realize this at first.

The birds perched on the keyboard urged him forward. “You are a musician like us!” they seemed to warble.

Now Pitch can’t play the piano worth a lick, but when he sat down on the stool and automatically thrust his hands forward, lo and behold he turned into a maestro. And fingering the same tune as heard before: the eerie, quasi-jazz piece with halting ebbs and flows. A composition by Rutherford “Booger” Hayes, he then realized. The first president of the United States that was never president of the United States.

After a couple of bars, he hunched up his legs and took it all in. He’d really and truly found the great 3-n-1 this time. Thank you Melvin. Thank you so much! He couldn’t wait to wake up and tell Mary.

And so he did.


Mary, pack your bags. I’m pretty sure I can see, speak, hear again up there.

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Filed under *Second Life, Comfrey, Gaeta V, Hana Lei


Pitch sat up on the soft feather bed. He’d made it! But what would happen to Mary now?

No Musician or Wheeler to be seen at the, um, *exit*. But that really wasn’t surprising.

Time to see what’s here in this Comfrey sim!

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Filed under *Second Life, Comfrey, Gaeta V

planes and planets


It took a month, but Baker Bloch was finally granted access to the higher planes of Clemscott by holiday entities Santa God, Halloween Jack, and Melvin. The latter asked if he could tag along, feeling Baker’s mission to find the great 3-n-1 in the physical realm was not as futile and meaningless as the other two.

“I met my wife Suzanna54320 here,” Melvin declared, referring to the plane they were then exploring, one up from his holiday castle realm and with a base level at 750 meters above the Linden’s absolute zero (for the record, there are no negative elevations that I know of in Our Second Lyfe; no Death Valley type scenarios, in other words). “We had a stare down, as you term it. Neither of us could believe the other was present. No one came to this plane — still don’t. We received mutual sex gratification in the spider’s cave that very night. The proximate fish promised to pivot their heads, but I couldn’t help notice Wanda, the largest and highest, sneaking peeks during the action. I don’t believe it was a, how you call it, *pervy* thing, though, since fish don’t perceive our species in a sexual manner, and visa versa of course. I think she was just curious how it all worked with us mechanoids. You see…”

Baker Bloch politely stopped him here, not wanting to hear some of the rather uncomfortable details about robot sex again. He had already suffered through the, er, ins and outs of several other such “actions” up to this point concerning his wife and also other robot women he had met before and even after his marriage. Baker instead steered the conversation toward Fourth of Juli celebrations coming up in less than half a year. Melvin was already preparing. This bridged the time it took for them to reach this Spider Cave.

Wanda was still there, flying high and mighty. Melvin avoided eye contact…

… and instead conferred with non-flying (“ordinary”) fish Skippy and Mr. Howe in the pool below on the possible whereabouts of the great 3-n-1. “Inside,” they burbled brightly, if a little out of rhythm with each other. Baker Bloch could feel Wanda’s eyes staring heavily toward them. Weighty like a planet; no wonder Melvin noticed the peeking that night(!).

Music began, a strange, somewhat jazzy piano tune. Haltingly subdued. Coming from the cave.


“Melvin?” Baker Bloch called back over the now louder music upon reaching the impasse within. “Did you guys happen to use a bed while you were in here?”



“Another one, Mary. This time with the primary.”

“Dear Lord!”

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Filed under *Second Life, ., Clemscott, Gaeta V, Hana Lei, Kerchal, Sansara


Philip paused in reading his red book to stare over at the child. “What’re you building, sugar?” He’d become more open in his affections for Heidi Hunt Ives recently; he’d been dreaming about her almost every night. She was fast transforming into his own flesh and blood offspring.

“A portal,” she said mysteriously, still not looking up. “You *do* like to get high… don’t you?”

“High?” Philip coughed. “Nah. That’s more Marion’s bag. Nickle bag, hehe.”

“But…,” she continued while making her sand castle, “… you *do* want to keep him calm and happy. Because he then calms you down. Remember how it was *before*? You were not the nice person that you are now.”

Philip considers again that Marion should have never told the kid about their backgrounds. But she insisted if she was to be part of the group, the *gang*. He remembered his own briefing about the girl. “Shapeshifter,” Marion reinforced. “Can turn old, middle aged, young. She’s even got a dog transmutation… poodle, she claims, although I haven’t seen it up close and in person. Then there’s another one she’s working on, Philip, and this will take the cake. Bug,” Marion says, making him laugh. And now that’s what he keeps calling her in these dreams. My little bug, etc.

Philip decides to walk over to the sand box and take a closer look. It seemed quite detailed from his perspective. She was just finishing up the northeast turret.

“Hana Lei is where it will take us,” she began again. “We thought she was dead but now it’s been found again.”

“What — or who is this Hana Lei?”

“Island,” she speaks, halting her work and looking up at Philip now. *Is* this his child? he wonders, staring into her green eyes.

“Pitch,” she then utters.



Pitch Darkly rouses himself. By his side, Mary was staring at him, wide awake already. “You had another dream didn’t you?”

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Filed under *Second Life, ., Capitol City, Gaeta V, Hana Lei


Philip continued to read his book for hours. Afterwards it described him looking through the telescope at hand and seeing Spica, bright as a bell, like he was back in the northern hemisphere and far away from that dreaded Southern Cross. Back to studying the Spica variable star and the precession of the equinoxes, similar to one of his major heroes Copernicus did before him. Our Second Lyfe’s sun, hmm, he then ponders, wondering if it could possibly be reachable by rocket ship. What is in the centre?


By this time, Marion Harding was back down on the ground — grounded — and seeing Capitol City straight and for what it really was again. Bland and boring. The others of his gang were suppose to meet him in Raven Manor’s main dining room at 7:00 (more leftovers from the great spread he had prepared 2 nights back now), but since they both were usually a little late, he decided to drag his feet this time as well. He takes a detour to that recently found ice fishing shed over in Horizons-Spica, part of the sci-fi retro sub-continent where land can be rented so cheaply (thanks Veyot!). Ahh, vacation, he thinks. Could it be possible soon? Perhaps after the one last big bank heist in Farmington. Or was it Bennington?

He teleports to the shack using the landmark created last night. An angler is positioned just a bit down the bank from him, seemingly of the female variety. “Hello?” he says. No answer — but this might be problematic. He wanted to be alone and smoke his grass and talk to his fantasy creations: Peanut Cop, Golden Josephine, and the rest. Away from that nonsense babbling Kid and tough talking Philip, somehow the best of buds now despite their different natures. He doesn’t want other fishermen — or fisherwomen — in his way. Who does own the shack? He desires it for his own, his own centre of the universe, he realizes, at least for a little while.

He decides just to ignore the problem for now and poke around inside again. Chess, he remembers…

He finds himself laying down on the far couch against the colorful throw pillows.

“Fishing,” he murmurs, relaxing, letting it all go. “Fishing for fish. Fishing for answers. Fishing for…”

“Pitch,” the fisher lady then calls from outside, puzzling him. “Pitch. Time to wake up. Wake up.”


“It was awful, Mary. I dreamed I was back in Buster and I’s killing shack, but I was the victim set up this time. I was to be sacrificed!”

“There, there,” Mary comforted, stroking his white forehead. “Only a dream.” Then they laid together. It was like old times.

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Filed under *Second Life, ., Capitol City, Gaeta V, Hana Lei, Horizons


“Well, Wheeler. What’s next for you… us?”

“Call me Kidd here. Billy Jean Kidd. Chroma who is Jimmy has fused with Wheeler and The Musician. The great 3-n-1. Norris.”

“Norris?” the great vampire Pitch Darkly questions. He did not know this name. “Do you mean Morris?”

“I do not,” replies The Kidd firmly, sitting forward with hands on knees now. She stares toward him.

Pitch decides to enter mouseview to get a better look at her.

Such an interesting simulation. Simulacrum. He takes up the thread again. “So, who is this Norris, then?”

“You know. 3-n-1,” she states once more.

“Humm, Sandusky,” Pitch says, nodding. Nodding off, that is.


Blackness again.

Then falling. He recalls a brief glimpse of a large, many windowed building.

Something was lost. Not just eyesight. Earsight; speechsight. He falls and falls, then lands, upright, in the midst of animals.

Solid water. He thinks: ark. But then intuitively realizes this is more simulation and there is a door out of what is actually a small globe. Like a door from Earth to Heaven. He thinks of “The Truman Show” and going beyond “The Wall”. True man.

He finds the door in a logical seam, and faces a different, greener water. Atoll style.

He makes his way to a distant shore via an inflatable mattress.

On the beach, he looks back at the globe with the animals within, but knows the animals cannot see him. He thinks to check the owner of the globe, the inflatable mattress, the water itself and the beach and the rocks. All belong to The Kidd again. He is in her realm, he realizes.


Pitch wakes up. A brief nap, but meaningful. Billy Jean Kidd is still staring at him, wide awake all the time.

“I have removed your cardboard eyes and given you back your sights, all 3 of ’em. All I do for this is to ask a small favor. Only one. Find Norris the Father. Look in Beaver City, Nebraska. Find him and tell him that the time has come to firewalk between Republicans and Democrats. He’ll understand. He’ll come here, then. I know you can pull this off. Else: darkness again. You have all the resources of this island at your disposal. And other entities will be dropping by to help.

“But…” he implores.

“Mary?” Billy Jean Kidd guesses correctly about what is foremost in his mind. “Yes. Her too.” Mary manifests beside The Kidd. Pitch Darkly wonders if she’s grown taller since they last met about a week back.

“One chance out between two words,” she chants.

“Worlds,” Billy Jean Kidd corrects. “You meant worlds there.” Mary turns toward her but doesn’t respond. Pitch blows out air in resignation before shutting his eyes and falling asleep again.

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Filed under *Second Life, ., Hana Lei