Tag Archives: TURTLE

flutterbys (red, blonde, and blue)

She was in Between and she had to stare at it. The chair would face no other way. Turtle Hill, or, in olden days, Turtle Butte. Before the terraforming messed up the mesa effect and made it round and soft instead of square and rough. The center of the Maebaleia continent, some say, yea, some call it the center of *everything*, with religious overtones implied. And perhaps it was. In olden days again. Nowadays these Hills of Bill are emptied out of meaning, devoid of framework, like a void picture in a gallery of no design or wealth.

She sat reading a fashion and furniture magazine in her new-ish apartment in Squared Root City, waiting for Starlight to open so she could peruse the clothing again for that interview over at the fire station this afternoon. Because she considered herself to be one hot item and had to be put out. You keep your friends close, like Molly Jackson here, also a town newcomer (dancer), but you keep your enemies even closer, like the fire department. Soon everyone would know her burning desire for stardom. She would set the night sky ablaze with rockets’ red glare.

Molly had designs on wealth and stardom herself, but not with a fiery dress; instead: cool and calm and collected. She would bid her time in the shadows of the police station and attached department, blue replacing red. She would dance to the tunes of white Guy Lombardo but only after midnight and on the dark side of the moon. The situation seemed to call for it. She got up off the couch formerly shared with red garbed Elisa and moves to the window to stare out between the two stars just below toward both departments, considering balance.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0030, 0315, Hills of Bill^, Lower Austra^, Maebaleia/Satori, Nautilus, Squared Root City

boy next door

I was five years old. And I was preoccupied with the prop that was in my hand, because it was a toy turtle. But I had to pretend it was a real turtle that the audience just wasn’t seeing, and it was dead, so I was supposed to be crying and very emotional, and I remember him looking at that little turtle and talking to me about how it was kind of funny to have to pretend that was dead. So I recall just a very relaxed first impression.

JOURNAL, DAY 5

I met Thatch at a Northern Sea location. He said (in essence), “Come with me and I’ll take you somewhere. Kings Stone,” he said. “Or maybe Kingston… King *Something*.” I knew he was trying to communicate effectively. I had just been to the place he perhaps indicated, but I wondered if it was really the jazz club in Kings Stone he meant. He seemed confused. I knew Kings Stone was next to Druids Post, and there was also a Kingpost to the west. Maybe Kingston was (instead) Kingpost. I would go to both locations and check. In the meantime, I noted that we, in this underwater location, were just next door to the Slaashsides community up in the air in the sim west of here. My neck was starting to hurt slightly. I knew I had to move. Here is a picture of Thatch. He claims he didn’t know what he was looking for here (in Our Second Lyfe), or whom. I told him that maybe he was looking for me, but he hesitated about becoming a friend. I of course knew to quickly back off, then.

His shirt appears to have the word KANE upon it. Or maybe, upon inspecting again, it was KANI.

I looked at the dress code rules (at the jazz club). I would not fit, perhaps. I would have to return, in a different costume. My energy was running low. My wrists above my feet were beginning to ache a little. My arm, where they punctured me with a willy tip day before yesterday’s tomorrow, was sore. My feet were sore. My RIGHT HEEL hurt a bit, always a bad sign. Sign of trouble. I would check out the second “Kingston” location of the night.

It was a small place, giving better indication that Thatch was a true messenger.

On to the second.

I had also been here before. I noted that there were cypresses, in its two expressions, dotting the doubled islands of the sim, its only land. I channel some of my energy from my right foot to my left foot to remain grounded. I had about 15 minutes before the pain would come back. I also decided to dip my feet in the (cool) water by dangling them over the edge of the pier.

I watched a helicopter land in the strait between the islands. It didn’t stay long enough to make friends with the pilot. Thatch might be the only avatar I talk with this night.

I noted from afar that the pilot then disappeared but his helicopter remained. This would be right on the line between Scar and Funnel. I noted that if you slash someones sides a scar would remain. A scar is also usually a line. The pilot appears to have “talked” to me after all. Slaashsides is the true destination.

I returned to Thatch and stole a bit of energy from his feet, since he now seemed inactive — AFK as the locals say. I calculated he wouldn’t mind. He was kind of my friend after all. Friends help friends. After draining the energy of his feet and also the wrists above them I figured I had 20 more minutes to work with than before, making a total of about 30 now. I had time to visit Slaashsides itself. Just next door.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0027, 0313, Gno Kingdom^, Maebaleia/Satori, Nautilus, North, Outer Islands, Slaashsides

name of thrones

She spoke down to him, hoping he would complement her shoes. “No, this is the Pearl Throne, not Pear. I’m afraid you have the wrong location.”

“I’m sorry mum.” He begins to take his leave. Seems he’d journeyed a long way for nutt’n.

“WAIT.” Sally suddenly recognized him. “You’re… the man under the mistletoe. I know you from that portrait.” He was in disguise but the pointy ears he tried to hide under his antique slouch cap gave him away. This was a man of Jupiter — another planet.

“Lose the old skin,” she commanded from her perch, with mistletoe just behind. “Lose the cap as well. Heck just put on your birthday hat and come here.”

—–

“I swear it’s here somewhere. Eddy,” she spoke to the sea turtle floating before her. “Do you know?”

“I’m sorry mum,” and took his leave.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0027, 0309, Hana Lei^^

Duncan’s hidden

Go to the temple of the tor now, she commanded again. Would Alysha listen this time? Before, she had teleported directly into the ship, enthralled by its shadow. But maybe she could escape the shadow this time and come into the light. “Jasper,” she spoke. “The turtle’s name is Jasper, not Meanie,” she said later on when the shades were drawn again because of the intense sunlight. Too close to a Star, dancing to the beat of a different drum. “Maybe a Moon this time,” said Dr. Paul Mouse, still with switch in hand, if not a kane. Close enough. And a reddish rear was nearby too, plopped painfully on a central log and not facing away from a wall no longer. He will get his revenge.

Peter Oesso strolled down the beach, looking for shells. Shellman some called him. Then he found a miniature Venus of Willendorf and we were on our way…

—–

That’s not a beaver down there, Dr. Mouse.” STOP

“Oh yes it is.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0510, Amazon

birthday?

At 4:13 in the morning, Duncan had something. He sat in a chair in Leemington above Necrotee above Yelloo, high in the sky like (on) a ship or a plane. Pilot Tickie was around, he knew, who wasn’t a bad meanie at all, not any more. He sat with his prescient turtle staring south east. Duncan was here to talk about the turtle.

But then it wasn’t a turtle any longer. It was a lemon. With legs. And they were staring at 2.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0413, Heterocera, Lower Austra^, Nautilus

even odder

He was on a rock just away from the circle. “You must think about who maaade me,” he hissed like turtles do, not quite snake but getting there. I knew I had to return to Magic Mountain. I knew I had to return to *magic*.

I checked his shell. No grid yet, but getting there.

—–

He returned from the rocks and the sharks. “That was admittedly more than I was expecting (!).” He glanced sideways. “And why didn’t I see *that* sign before, pheh.”

He walks between it and the turtle.

“I wonder if Wanda is up for another game of chess yet?” He peers inside their beach house but can’t see her white for his black. And it was Angela. Angela “Hidi” White, the snapping turtle.


“Jerrrry.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0214, Lower Austra^, Nautilus

3 cores and a dummy

The train was 2 full and so that’s how they all met. Jerry, also named Harry; the nice Indian man Hidi the hamburger woman started to date afterwards — the proximity was just too close in there; and lastly but not leastly, Kolya, the damaged one. All we needed was Alysha to walk in and take a seat opposite them, but that was for later. In the here and now, we have the 7 merging into the 6, secret smile discretely packed away like a traveling trunk for boys.

“I knew he was damaged and we shouldn’t touch so I turned the other way.”

“Toward… Jerry,” I guessed. I figured the red complexioned Indian dude might be named Jerry as well. Jerry Lind perhaps, compliment to Jenny.

W thought back to that important time and place. They were traveling at a breath-taking speed, destination unknown, perhaps to New Delhi and Delhi and thereabouts again but maybe not. The white tiles flew by outside, almost at a blur’s pace; opposite of turtle or snail. We were in Wallytown I knew that. W didn’t seem to be able to really leave, now she’d met Jerry Lind (we’ll keep calling him). Giant for a day and maybe giant forever. If Wallytown had its way.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0202, Omega^^, Wallytown/Fishers Island^

Dubya

“Yeah, sorry we got cut off back there. It’s just the kids –” (reply) “No, first it was this turtle, and then a f-cking witch came out of the ditch.” (reply/reprimand). “Oh… I didn’t know that.” (reply) “Wife, eh?”

“Just get over here,” he barked from the other side of the line. “And expect some kind of spell day before tomorrow’s Tuesday.” (*click*)

The situation was growing worse. Orange now.

—–

The green phone rang. The green phone never rang. He went over and stared at it, wanting it to stop. Green screens flashed all around, as if connected to the rings. It was just that important. Time to calm the hell down.

“Pick it up,” Ballpark Johnson urged from the back windows, staring out at landing passengers, this time with a plane. “It’s the only way to end this.”

Oh I see: a name. “Say my name and I’ll do it,” replied the khaki wearing man beside the phone, smart with book inside him. Anderson County. Now he knows how to build a rock wall a mile long if needed. Which it will.

“*Can*.” Close enough.

“Hello?”

“Pepi?” came the hoarse and raspy voice from the other side, as if beyond the grave.

“Who is this?”

“You – know who. Last time – we met — I was — jovial.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0108, Lower Austra^, Nautilus

Gee

He looked at the book, the book looked at he.

—–

“So describe this woman,” Chef-inspector Petty requested, calm and eating peanuts out of an imaginary bag as usual. He’d been observing the developing situation for a while. The yells of “Tom” from Cory, the hysterics of Jen Saunders yesterday, the tripping over the Asian girl with the dull red book, knocking it on the floor to a specific page he noticed. He flipped 10 and noticed again, then. Anderson County — mention of Anderson. And then the crash. And then the turtle from the ditch, dragged back in by a tiny witch. It was all adding up to something, perhaps 45.

“It *wasn’t* a *woman*,” still a bit discombobulated Jen Saunders exasperated. “I *told* you. It was a plane. Or a missing plane.”

“How many on board when it crashed?” Here he obviously thought of her crashing into oh so yelling Cory.

“It *didn’t* crash. All passengers arrived at Dehli or New Dehli, bodies intact, if not wits.” She shakes her head, as if correcting something loose in it. “Oh, yes, their wits as well. It is as if they never *missed* the plane.”

“You said the plane was full (though).”

“The plane *was* full.” Head shaking again. “Oh, I see. No they didn’t realized there was no plane around them, propelling them forward. ‘Not missing’ as in ‘not realizing’, not: missing the plane in the first place.”

“Oh.” He gobbles another imaginary goober. Or not — doesn’t matter. Description is variable, as is space/time itself. He makes a mental note that he might be dealing with an automaton. She hadn’t answered anything about the woman he was *really* interested in, this W.

What should they say next, I ponder.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0107, Lower Austra^, Nautilus

00260105

I looked at the ship as if entering from below. I had been here before, she said. This W. “Now you know; now you are beginning to see,” she furthered, walking away from me, having given me enough information for the time being. Tick-like Tickie, the blue being, perhaps the blue meanie, pointing a magical turtle in my direction, which is south from him at the time in the back of the ship we sat, he on a break from driving. But not for dining. For *divining*. Turtles have a long history with magic, as in squares, as in other shapes. But, for now especially, squares. Saturn. Southward turning. Malefic as opposed to Jupiter’s benefic. Admittedly jovial blue Tickie north of me was trying to tell me something. I listen to his mouth, which moved in slow motion which was, before that, sped up, making the sound even more lo-fi. I needed definition to understand. I decided to go back to Yellow Submarine. After all, we all live in one, each and every one of us. So says Lemon.

So I began studying turtles and magic squares, immediately coming to this:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lo_Shu_Square

A Chinese legend concerning the pre-historic Emperor Yu (夏禹) tell of the Lo Shu, often in connection with the Yellow River Map (Hetu) and 8 trigrams. In ancient China there was a huge deluge: the people offered sacrifices to the god of one of the flooding rivers, the Luo river (洛河), to try to calm his anger. A magical turtle emerged from the water with the curiously unnatural Lo Shu pattern on its shell: circular dots representing the integers 1 through 9 are arranged in a three-by-three grid.

I checked the turtle still physically in front of me, ignoring the blue being and his slow moving mouth behind it for the moment. No grid patterns, but… something was there.

“Jerrrrrry,” I then heard it hiss. Channeling through the turtle? Yes, Tickie was channeling through the turtle, I answer myself. I refrained from asking who Jerry was in this post.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0105, Lower Austra^, Nautilus