Tag Archives: White Mage^*~~~~~~~

mannequins

95/95 Sister

89/89 Sister

—–

“I’m just saying she mentioned your name, Duncan; said you need to stay away from those woods and that your karma is done there, along with George’s.”

“Interesting,” he says back to me, still keeping one eye on the tulips, which he then notices that I notice and looks away — for a minute. I’ll check all that out later.

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L is for Red 02

We couldn’t wait any longer…

(to be continued)

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in da woods

She hung up her black hat and dress and boots. She put on her blue flower jeans and rose shirt and red canvas shoes, made for a kid. Because she was a kid again, or at least closer to such. Our friendly, lovely Alysha. And where was projected mate Axis-Windmill these days? Still in Neat Town talking to Kick-ass Boos about bigfoot, locally colored green and called mossmen? Actually the last time we checked in with him, he was in Bellisaria chatting with a painter rabbit about primary colors, specifically about blue and black and how one can change into another. Perhaps he wants to know because of Hatti’s witch hat, which she just hung up. He knows about the alchemical cemetery, the alchemetery or alcemetery if you will (his coinings). He knows he has a rival and he doesn’t have much time, this White fellow.

He doesn’t yet realize he’s also staring into a mirror.

“Whitehead, Mossmen,” he mutters, waking up again, but this time not in the cabin, at least in *that* one. Instead: Reality.

“Welcome.”

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Hooktip again 02

“Let’s go play with The Diagonal,” she requests, getting up.

—–

“36, 35: 100 less in each case than the ottoman at the center where Shelley seduced Tommy (Tailgate). Do you recall who else was seduced on a tailgate?”

“Sid?” I said, suddenly having omniscient author powers. Sid worked for Buster Damm in the Pot-D organization, unless it was visa versa. I also realized that the omniscient author of this here photo-novel, 29 in a series of nothing, had left a lot of choices open-ended. In one fork… well I guess Pot-D is the stable thing, the whole idea of protecting The Diagonal, which only numbers one now, at least on this continent (Heterocera). And this is where it all began — in the Rubi Woods extended to VHC City. The first 5 photo-novels were all about the continent before we — our extended family of core avatars — moved away from it starting in 6. And now we’re in a whole different hemisphere, East instead of West. I looked at the witch, wondering what direction *she* would choose. Does she live in a backwards world, a mirror to our own? Strange thought.

“You have everything you need here — on this spot. You can spot Shelley’s clock tower up toward the center of the sim. You can see my cabin in the woods over there. And over there (she turns): the Good Neighbors pylon marking where The Diagonal enters the sim in the first place. What more do you need? The Sun?”

Indeed it was beginning to rain. I realized my neck ached more because of the coming of such.

East or West? I guess I would go with West, then. She seemed to like it here.

(to be continued)

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Hooktip again 01

He was in a new place, highlighted by purple. Mushrooms all around.

He wakes up. “Witch dream,” he mutters, looking over.

“The cat dreams, you dream,” she says, already involved in her morning reading. Not good today. The Sun. No Moon in sight. “See? Itchy also stirs below you at the same time. I’m sorry: *Scratchy*. Do you remember Scratchy?”

I sit up, trying to remember how I got here. True, I was walking toward the place, then…”

“Trying to recall?” she guessed correctly. “I had to bring you here to replace Duncan. Duncan doesn’t need to return to these woods. His karma is done with it, George (ward) too — Buster be damned.”

I sat up more, straightened out my spine to aid my aching neck. That couch — not what I would have chosen to sleep on. Thanks witch! My day starts out not well. “Buster… Damm?” I reply, trying to get my bearings.

“Yeah, um, Tussock — his home of course — right next door. We’re in Hooktip. In the woods. I have a house here as well, but I keep cracking all the mirrors there. Forest is better when I’m in these kind of states. I seem to have the worse luck lately. And *here*…” she points down toward the cards. “The *Sun* of all things, the *opposite* of what I desire.”

“The Who?” I say back.

The witch, who is of course a new advancement of Alysha, even further beyond child now, looks over. Precisely what I would have said in your position, she realizes. They are one. And she also understands the reading is for him, not her. “How’s your neck?” she asks after turning over the next card. Maybe there’s hope for this day after all.

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shockers (L is for Red)

He told me to look for Green…

—–

“Alright, let’s give up the gig. *Master*.”

—–

He said to give peace a chance and that Horsa is the place. Go see Lena Horned. “She’s the complete package,” he reiterates with others.


after the gig

—–

I was back in Bellisaria. Red’s daughter, or at least the (old?) neighbors.

I decide to head west into Cowabunga. Misdirection? We’ll see.

I spotted something to the west after I entered the northeast corner of the sim. Just plain colors. I went there next…

What was it?

I see. A *witch*.

“Welcome.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0029, 0310, Bellisaria^^, Horsa^, Maebaleia/Satori^^, Neat Town

headstone

I’m sorry to inform you, BLANK, that Red is dead. Blonde is where it’s at. Or is it Blue these days? Hard to tell — Blue from Black I mean. Because it’s definitely Blue. Unless it’s Red. Is she dead? Better check. Raise the body!

Ahh, *White*. Should’ve guessed.

—–

Red was very much alive and took White’s place over at the next plot in the graveyard that might stand in for this here photo-novel (29). She saw and felt things she didn’t like…

…. made her quiver and quake in her shoes…

… then got use to them…

… after the shock wore off.

She made peace with the grave.

She can go home again.

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oh boy

He was paler behind the smoky glass but Duncan knew who this was. Indian Wells, part Asian part American. The 3rd wheel to complete the black and white, male and female synthesis. Because everything that was understandable needed to be read… red. It was his job (to observe). He noted the presence and moved on, later thinking how he could get the lost musician back to the other Wells. Little did he know that sister Rosie was behind the disappearance all along. They were studying him (!).

White Mage: I think I’ve changed my mind. I *will* join the new storyline.

(to be continued)

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switchers

White Mage: I should yield to black.

There.

—–

Duncan was, of course, glad of the new assignment from the Pot-D powers that be. Which meant essentially: Buster Damm, his “boss” for several years now. Gave him his red skeleton heart medallion hung on a necklace for tracking purposes and sent him off to parts unknown, or at least for Duncan. Now he was needed again. In the briefing, he’d learned that other black people were involved in this here photo-novel. Good! “‘Bout time,” he said to the small vampire staring across from him at the VHC City bakery where they always met, no exceptions. Because it was away from the Sister sim, where Buster was banned. And Bemberg, the other sim which made up most of the rest of VHC City: off-limits as well for other reasons. Tussock it is, and no need to hide the actual name of the sim there either.

Back to the present. Tonight Duncan was asked to just roam around and take pictures of interesting looking things. Buster said he trusted his instincts by now; always seemed to know where to exactly look for clues to the current dilemma. And boy did they have one this time, Duncan thinks from his cushiony leather chair, trying not to stare over at it until absolutely necessary. The Moon. Crabwoo was back, baby. Probably Blue Feather Douglas the old TILE coot as well. Said to call him the Master toward the end. Weellll… he wasn’t going to do it (!). And neither should anyone else in this here photo-novel, especially the people… that looked like him.

He tried to remember how the man appeared in case he was in any of the photos here. He peered around and saw there were a number in this room alone, and the space base (space base?) had a good number of rooms and levels to go. He better start or else not enough sleep tonight. And he needed to be fresh in the morning because it would start all over again about 9:30 or so. “Purple Rain”: that always got him up and going. Prince of a guy, until he became not-Prince and dead at the turn of the Century. Two thousand zero zero: never made it. But, through the Pot-D Grape Vine (purple again!) he’d heard about alternate realities where he did and wore a raspberry beret through it all. Or was it just a rasp*berry*, as in a disguise. He’d have to check…

(to be continued)

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but wait there’s more!

The mirror had long cracked for Henrietta, locally called Hatti for the obvious. Not because she wasn’t beautiful in a way, but just because of the evil, let’s say. Actually let’s go with: she did it on purpose. She didn’t want to become Vain. She wanted to become herself, beyond the hat. But she knew it would take Time.

She purposefully made holes in it so that her blue-ish hair would poke through. Some say it was black, but that was just a trick of the light. A trick set up by Hatti/Henrietta as well. She certainly had talent in that direction, genius even.

Today she intended to ride her old Schwinn bike down into town and ask Peter Cotton out, who labors in a mill. She likes the way he walks the streets all sweaty and glisteny. Maybe it’s just a passing phase because last month she liked her men bone dry. But the one she had a particular eye on died at the first of the month, struck down by a mysterious malady and gone in hours. Some say deadly nightshade did him in. How peculiar. *She* has a jar of that very substance up in her cabinet over there with the rest of her poisons and potions. And it’s two teaspoons down from what it was last month. So curious, she pondered to herself with a wry smile forming on her cracked, withered lips which she’s covering with blood red lipstick right now. And all because he had the audacity to turn her down; hopefully Cotton will work out better.

—–

Comic Baker Addon Door? How strange.

To the witch house…

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