My Muse

Cirrus Spray's Story
As they saw her approach, a fizzy comet on the brilliant blue canvas, they knew they'd better not forget.

Shivering, she entered through the window. The half smile kept growing till her facial muscles could do no more.

"Nothing like a warm photonic shower after a long twilight's work!"


Lily Strange's Story
Geena wondered about the wisdom of leaving the light at the end of the tunnel behind. She wondered indeed about the wisdom of venturing through the tunnel. Who knew where it ended, how long it would be before she encountered light again? Yet she had lived so long alone in the light, fearing the darkness. Her loneliness drove her to venture out and seek what was beyond the beautiful but empty world she'd known for as long as she could remember before she died of despair.


Lorena's Story
"Because her aura was purple, the most spiritual color, I could not help but fall in love with her. She is my now and my forever."


Frances Bo Bancess' Story
she closed her eyes. she was in a different time. a different place. a different reality. she was... in Rome? something felt odd about the familiarity of it all. in her first year out of college she had traveled around Europe with her beloved for two months during the summer. one of her fondest memories was that of Rome, and not just because she did as the Romans do. she spent a week there admiring the architecture, and swimming in the rich culture. in the sweltering heat of midday on their second last day, she begged her beloved to explore the baths in the heart of the city. he laughed when they finally discovered they had been drained after navigating through tunnels, dripping with sweat. his jovial chuckle echoed through the stone passageways and it made her smile.
that laugh echoed through her ears right now, in a way that made him sound as if he was being torn from her arms and sucked into an engulfing darkness. she reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing it desperately. she felt herself being pulled into the darkness as well, but it wasn't cold as she expected, it was warm. a warmth that tingled at her fingertips and relaxed her racing mind. her eyes fluttered open, a bead of water traced down a path across her cheek.
"don't worry, you're still here," he whispered into her hair, arms intimately wrapped around her. He kissed her forehead. with a gracious "thank you" escaping her breath with a sigh of relief, she snuggled up to him and fell into a much more comfortable sleep.


MindFul MiMi's Story
She was lost in the catacombs of her mind. But somehow it did not feel uncomfortable - on the contrary. It was nice to be lost in her own mind for a while without having daily chores or the people she loved keeping her from it. As she was wandering, seemingly aimlessly, she moved from open plains to a walled in area. She did not feel afraid. She heard voices but she was not scared. She saw beautiful light which played on the walls around her and showed her all the colours of the rainbow. She felt safe. She knew she could leave this place - when the time was right. And she knew exactly where it would lead her: to the people who loved her and were waiting for her.


Kathy's Story
There was this luminescence about her. As though the divine inspiration fueling her determined efforts to return to her beloved were actually glowing from within. The aura was spell-binding and it became impossible to suppose for one minute that she would fail in her quest: she would heal, she would magnify her powers, she would share her magic for many years to come.


The OE's Caption
Out of the ruins the angel rises.


Mistery's Story
le Club Nosferatu
It was 3:00 am and they were hungry. Where could they go in the City to feed? There were hardly any people out and about and all the restaurants and take-away joints were closed. So after some debate they decided to go clubbing instead. When they got there the music was pounding loud enough to burst the eardrums of a beggar sleeping in the alley out back. He clutched his skull and wailed piteously. The blood ran down his cheeks. "Well that's handy," said Armand, "we can have a quick snack before we go in!"

© Copyright S R Schwarz 2007. All rights reserved.


Dead Letter Boy's Story
The light moved along above her, barely noticed above her other senses, swishing of the skirts and shuffling feet, the rough stone under her fingertips. The light could stay or go, it made no difference. Sight was the last thing that mattered now, and the rush of the water was, she knew, the feeling of being birthed.


Irene Grumman's Story
The beautiful and well loved woman glowed with the day's heat, although the air hinted at dankness and dampness. A scholar, she fancied she heard the voices of ancient Romans and Romanized Gauls enjoying sophisticated hygiene, exchanging gossip, making deals, and complaining about the weather. Since the baths were only to be seen, not used, she daydreamed of the scented bath in which she would luxuriate when she returned to the hotel.


Yumen's Story
Some folks think about leaving it all behind. Some folks talk about it, they even talk about it.
Not many really do it, but my love was one who did.
We were in Trier at the time, taking a late summer holiday.
One evening, after a fine meal in a moroccan restaurant, we went to see a German production of Macbeth which was being staged in the Roman baths.
We realised our mistake early on; the acting was stiff and the way the stage was lit made us feel like we were in the house of some really boring friends.
Halfway through the first act I wanted to leave, and was getting ready to do so when Jen grabbed a hold of my arm.
'Look!' she whispered, 'can you see it?'
Puzzled, I looked in the direction of her gaze and saw.
At the end of a stone corridor at the side of the stage a swirling lilac mist had materialised. The colour of it was enough; it was as obvious to me as it was to Jen that this was an escape into clarity, to a world where love spun boundless.
Jen sprang from her chair and pulled me toward the light, but at the edge of the stage I stumbled and fell.
I looked up to see Jen, halfway along the corridor, waiting for me. Behind her the light was fading. I realised I would not make it.
'Go Jen! I'll meet you there. Run!'
She hesitated.
'Run!' I cried.
Then my love turned away from me and jumped into the vanishing haze. She was gone.

Such an opportunity comes once in a lifetime, if you are lucky. I know I will have to wait until my natural time is up before I see her again.
I'm glad she made it though. I'm really glad she made it.
I came home early, I didn't feel like staying in Trier. I work in a bank, accounting for other people's business.


Ming's Story
roll the dice againts wisdom to check for secret doors.

failed

re-roll

failed

re-roll

you succeed in finding out, there are no secret doors


Viruswitch's Story
Freedom!

Her dictators had always been there, invisible and yet audible in every dark corner of the great maze. At first they had taken pleasure in her suffering, sending voices to scare her. The screams, the steps of gigantic beasts had manipulated her, and the labyrinth had seemed neverending. But in time she grew tired of running away. The imminent threats and the impending dangers had felt true, but never fulfilled themselves. She now knew that her fear was their fuel, her freedom was their death. Cold and confident, she was walking right towards the screams. The walls of the maze grew shorter and the paths wider. Amidst shadows and lights the figures of her dictators were barely visible blocking the way to a gateway. Standing right in front of them, she laughed loudly echoing through the thousand paths and walked on. Their figures were set on fire as soos as she walked out of the exit and the maze collapsed.

Man with Tie in Leather Armchair

Gerard Valz's Story
He had the whole week-end to himself, that was the first time in months, he'd been working hard and gave all his time to the company, his wife and three children were complaining about this and decided to leave the place wednesday afternoon to visit granny in the country.
On saturday morning he went on Royal st. and looked for old furniture in antique shops but didn't buy anything, most idems were fakes anyway. He went to an english restaurant on Burgundy, food was perfect and he ordered a bottle of light Beaujolais to go with it.
Walking back home around 2 O'clock he received a phone buzz from Mrs Jameson,his secretary, he was to report to his office as fast as he could; The boss had a heart attack.
Everything went fast, once in the company's building 10 minutes later, he learned that he was
chosen to be the new boss.
He sat in the fat armchair in his new office and found out it was the piece of furniture he was looking for in the morning.


Mutha's Story
"The balding head is one thing," she thought, "But that tie clip. Jesus. I want to wrip it off him and chuck it across the room."

Carl had, after all been her obligatory "bad boy" fling in college. His once curly hair had hung daringly long in front of his eyes. His lean frame had seemed bound tight under the jeans and leather he wore then. Even his name had seemed tough.

Now, it sounded as if it could only be the name of a guy who looked just like this.

"And my God, that smile...He looks like the meds are kicking in."

She begged her brain to come up with something pleasant to say.

"Nice chair," was what came out of her mouth.


Jamie Dawn's Story
Bob just loved his new Time Travel Chair. Marketed by Sharper Image, it was a steal at only six million dollars.
All weekend long, Bob traveled to the past. He was only an observer and was never able to leave his chair, but BOY did he enjoy he adventures!


Mrs. Weirsdo's Story
Ralph Merton, Assistant Professor of English, gripped the arms of his chair and tried to smile as the guests arranged themselves. It was going to be a tense evening. At the time it had seemed a stroke of genius to get his wife out of his hair and into community theater. But her preparation for the starring role in WHO'S AFRAID OF VIRGINIA WOOLF? was taking its toll.


My Story
I was ready to hand him the check, but I hesitated, asking one more time, just to hear that wonderful description again, "And these experiences will be mine alone?"

"Absolutely," he assured me. His concerned look, and shock, at the insinuation that I may have mistrusted the integrity of Life Inc. seemed genuine to me. He went on: "Each and every experience is guaranteed unique and becomes your own personal property upon receipt. We maintain that the moment itself is fleeting, gone irretrievably before you can even begin to savor it. So who needs it? The true pleasure comes in the reliving of it, in which case the memory will only be as vivid as the words expressing it. As I've said, we employ the best creative talent in the industry. You will not regret having done business with us."

Satisfied, I turned the check over to the representative. He stood up, retrieved my folder from the filing cabinet, then placed the check along with the papers I had filled out: the exhaustive personality tests, three of them, the twenty-page fantasy checklist and that massive preference profile. It had been an entire tedious day working through those. I looked at him to see what he would do next. He entered some words into the computer, clicked the mouse a few times, and soon the printer began humming. A moment later he handed me the printout.

"Now this is your profile confirmation. The url is at the top of the page. Please note the user id and password," he said, pointing to the line in question, "You'll need these to answer the comments you receive. You're ordering the basic service, so you will have to make your own comments, but please remember, you may at any time opt for the premium service, in which we offer the increased intensity that accompanies full passivity. But you may make that choice at any time you wish."

He smiled, I thanked him and left, exiting the office like a new person. It was such an exhilarating feeling, knowing my life had just begun. I could hardly wait to return to my apartment, curtains drawn, lights low, the warm glow of the monitor showing me my first post at the blog. "Read it three times, carefully," the instructions said, "closing your eyes a few minutes after each reading, to impress the vivid language into your psyche. As time passes, the content will be indistinguishable from an authentic memory."

I set the blog url as my default start page, so that it would be right there whenever I switched on the pc. Then I saw: those people certainly work fast. The first post must have appeared as I was on my way home. I read the words, my introduction to the world, the new me, the me I would live and remember. I was 23, had just moved to the city, met a girl who fascinated me. I was back from the first night out with her and it had inspired me to start my blog. I read. I read it again and reread. It was all so promising. As I closed my eyes, I could almost feel that Lisa was in the next room, ready to return to me. I replayed the events of our first meeting, those magnetic moments, when eyes lock and silence binds. It was just as the man had promised. I remembered. I could actually remember. And now I waited in the dark, for my next post.

Two Women's Faces Close Together

Gerard Valz's Story
When Consiva undressed in front of the girls there was a moment of silence, Camilla had to hold control of herself not to burst out laughing, she had to change her plans.
She had no trouble when she applied for the ride to Terra 2, she didn't have to bribe anybody and everything went as smooth as could be, she had been anxious about what to do once they got there but now since Consus was Consiva, that made things a lot simpler.
First she decided to play hard to get, generally that makes anyone very decided to have sex with the person playing it well, so during the first two weeks she didn't pay any attention to Consiva's presence, this one made a point to have sex with the other girls so close to Camilla
that she had to hear what was going on, that conforted Camilla in playing the "not interested" part. She never undressed in front of anyone and on the third week she dyied her hair blonde,
she could sense Consiva's nervous looks when she turned her back on her, when walking she swayed her butt just what it took to make believe it was natural.
That worked alright, Consiva swallowed the bait, the hook and the line, after a month she got so horny for Camilla she considered rape as a possible alternative.
Instead of rape Consiva decided to talk to Camilla in private, she pretented to have some tools to get in the landing craft and asked Camilla if she could help her carry some loads back to camp, the girl agreed to help.
Once in the landing craft Consiva started to question Camilla.
-Tell me, girl, are you a virgin?
-No, I'm not a virgin but....
-You don't like the idea of sex with a woman?
-No, I like the idea, but.....
-But what?
-I'm special and....
-Yes, I'm special too, so what?
-Well not only that way.
-Tell me, what other way?
-You know bondage?
-You want me to tie you up darling?
-No, I want to....tie YOU up.
That made Consiva laugh.
-You're a crooked doll, you are, is that all?
-No I want to blindfold you too.
-And why should I do that?
-To please me, that's the only thing that makes me come.
-Ohhh I see.... Well OK ....I never done this before.... OK let's find a rope.
When Consiva was blindfolded and tied to a couch so her legs were spread wide....
Excited, Camille's dick became hard as wood.
They lived happily ever after.


Mushroom's Caption
Chocolate bunnies aren't enough for some people. Sheri wanted a real Easter treat with tasty ears to nibble, and she found that in Ginnie.


Helen's Caption
If I can't hear you I must feel you and if you can't see me you must taste me.


An_Altered_State_of_Consciousness' Story
Consiva stayed up late last night. She looked into the mirror until she fell asleep. In her dream she found a way to enter the mirror. This unlocked endless possibilities. She found that she could kiss herself and touch her tongue to her own cheek. Just the thought of this made her roll her eyes in pleasure. How wonderful it was to make-out with herself a feeling she had never imagined before. She grew more and more excited as she made love to herself in the mirror. I hope this night never ends, she thought to herself, as she felt her warm lips kissing herself again and again. Finally she climaxed in a way she had never done before... and the barman tapped her on the shoulder, wake up, wake up he said as she reluctantly slid down off the bar stool and fell to the floor. Someone call 911 he shouted as the quicksilver spewed out of her nose and onto the floor. What the hell is this? the paramedic exclaimed when he saw the large pool of quicksilver with a beautiful young blonde lying naked in it. She was drained now and completly satisfied... no reason to come back to earth ever again.


Doug's Caption
Are you sure I can't get pregnant this way?


My Story
Lips sought lips, soft, affectionate lips. Breaths passed to and fro in bodies enjoined. Blood swept through veins while unison pleasure swelled into the stellar heavens. The sun shone and stars painted paths across the bodies that drank of each other in ebb and flow of sensation. Sometimes, in a lull, as breasts caught the shade of a moon, Consiva sketched a letter in her mind:

My far off Sisters,
We made our decision to win what reprieve we could for our world by infiltrating the new wave of colonies. Here now slumber our seeds of unanimous womanhood. Though our deception has diluted us into the galaxy, we remain one in the strength of our idea. At night, when I glance at the stars, I wonder which of these shine closest to you. Perhaps the light I see is only an echo of suns already destroyed, and soon the entire universe will be in darkness, unless we were in time to shroud the madness. For now we must enjoy our moments of splendor, giving ourselves to our gender as openly and naturally as befits the love that is our legacy. This is what we shall sow.
Yours truly,
Consiva

The welling emotions led to a touch and once again the lull succumbed to selfless passion... And so the days, weeks and years passed. Consiva and her colony thrived on each other. Each day awoke new senses of feminine companionship, togetherness, oneness. A held hand, a mutual embrace, caresses felt in the brain. They shared lavishly of themselves, of their tenderness, of their beings. They worshipped the magic of wombs able to bear fruits, fruits that could grow and develop and in their turn partake of the pleasures bequeathed them. But there would be no seeds swelling into lives. When the men came in twenty years to collect the soldiers, they would find only the women's love. The bloody war to enslave the galaxy would collapse and wither into an oblivion of the unborn.

Pilot Doll in Model Airplane

Viruswitch's Story
He was not dead. The crowd had not killed him. Because Donald was not at the first place. The reluctant Messiah had managed to bringth forth another of his famous illusions. "It is all an illusion, Richard" he exclaimed once again, as he climbed down his airplane. "The art of life consists in learning to create them but also in recognising them.", Richard stood speechless in front of Donald and saw a cloud dissolve into the air. Invisible music lifted his spirits up once more. He was about to get emotional when objects started to fly around him hovering, just like the clouds that were disappearing. "There can be no sadness if you are aware of the illusion." Donald kept on. "But there can also be no joy." Richard replied. Donald gazed at the endless fields that surrounded them and said: "You are right. Because joy is another illusion, even if its a persistent one. It is all just a game. Now let us fly again." Richard and Donald climbed in their small airplanes and flew away into the red sunset.


Mutha's Story
"His name could be Mac," Jeremy thought. "Mac's a cool name. Tough-sounding, a guy's guy."
Jeremy inched even closer to the toy plane, squooshed his body down so it was even more compact. If he squinted his eyes, he could imagine the pilot smiling at him. Imagine him saying, "Hop in, son."

"Okay Dad," Jeremy whispered.

And he imagined himself behind his Dad/Pilot, earphones on, speeding -- faster, faster and then finally leaving the ground.

Jeremy closed his eyes and felt the swooping drop of his insides: like going over a roller-coaster hill, like how flying must feel.


Aral's Story
Rodney was tired of being a love doll. He had been a blow-up love doll for 15 years, and the years of one-night-stands at frat and sorority parties had grown tiresome, and even disgusting, to "Rodney the Rod".

One day, Rodney saw a letter that had originally been addressed to an Air Force ROTC cadet at the frat house. It was a brochure about a private pilot course in Florida. "Learn to fly", it said. "Become a pilot and see the world."

Rodney was intrigued immediately. He had dreams about it for days until it grew into an obsession.

A few weeks later, some frat boys from the University of Miami were visiting their brothers at the university where Rodney had been effectively held hostage.

Rodney put the charm on one of the Miami boys, and sure enough, before he knew what was happening he was being deflated and packed into the boy's duffle bag.

The next thing he remembered, he was inflated again. As if by a miracle, he was at the pilot school in Florida, in the cockpit of a private plane!

Rodney thought perhaps he'd died and gone to love doll heaven.


Jamie Dawn's Story
Damn that motion sickness!
Greg barfed every time he flew, whether he had just eaten or not. One time, he purposely skipped breakfast and still barfed. How could that BE?
Today, Greg decided that if he barfed, he was going to dive bomb straight into the ocean and become fish food.
It took quite ahwile for the sharks to get to him.


Mushroom's Caption
THUNDERCATS ARE GO!


Mrs. Weirsdo's Story
Aviator Sam made his emergency landing all right, but he had no idea where the vortex had taken him.
Suddenly he saw plastic figures like himself coming towards him over the dusty runway. But these figures were monstrous, right out of LORD OF THE RINGS.
"Are you Captist?" they demanded roughly.
Sam was not sure if they wanted him to be that or not.
"Do you worship the Cat God?" they clarified, pulling him unceremoniously from the cockpit.
"Uh--Should I?" asked Sam.
The figures confered among themselves. Sam gathered that they were debating whether to send him to Camp Pussycat for "reorientation" or somewhere else.
Finally they mounted dinosaurs and threw him up behind their leader, General Arshmol. "Where are you taking me?" Sam quavered.
Mrs. General Arshmol grunted. "You are an uncaptist human figure. We are taking you to the Barbies."
Sam was no dummy. "Please!" he exclaimed, summoning all his acting skills. "Whatever you do, don't take me to those awful creatures!"
Mrs. General Arshmol chuckled a little and bopped him on the head, knocking him unconscious.
When he came to, he was in the land of his dreams, the land of naked Barbie gymasts.


Young at Heart in San Diego's Story
Las Vegas control tower, this is Stinson mike echo juliett, ready for takeoff. Roger, mike echo juliett, cleared for takeoff. Thanks, tower, and stop calling me Roger. Steve had completed his mission in the dusty Nevada hills and was ready to go somewhere to get some comfort and downtime. Somewhere away from the scorching desert. Someplace cool and green where he could have some pleasant company and a tall cool drink with a tropical garnish. So he did the only sensible thing. He headed south of the border, down Mexico way. In a few hours he was seated under a palapa on the beach, looking out at the whales as they migrated through the warm blue water. He turned to the lovely senorita seated across the bar. Surely you will let me buy you a drink, he asked. Of course, senor. And stop calling me Shirley.


Gerard Valz's Story
The feeling.

There was only two things that really interested David: Airplanes and "feeling" things.
From early school days it was obvious that everything else left him bored and he didn't pay much attention to the various teachers trying their best to make him read, write and learn
what you have to learn in school.
David was smelling the classroom, listening to city sounds and bird's twickings coming through the windows and whenever a jet went by he followed its course ‘till the white line
disapeared behing the window's frame.
As soon as the school bell rang around 3 P.M. he would leave and walk to the bus station
but instead of a ride home, Dave went the opposite way and got off at the airport where he watched planes land and take off untill five before he finaly headed for his house.
His parents got used to get Ds, Es and Fs notes on his school work, strangely enough Dave
made no mistakes when writing and seemed at ease with mathematics provided it hadn't to be done in school, he knew a good deal of history and geography and everything that is taught in High School. David never worked at all.
Dave was 16 when his parents moved to to the country, few miles from Baton Rouge La.
he found the Aeroflight Cajun Club in the yellow pages and spotted it's location on the map,
Since they moved in their new house on a saturday Dave went straight to the landing field that very afternoon, he staid there watching planes take off and land ‘till nightfall.
There was an old man standing near by, doing the same thing Dave was doing, just watching.
Almost everyday they stood near the field so that they soon started to speak to each other.
When the old man told David he'd been a pilot in the Pacific, the boy asked him if he flew for the Navy "Yes, since the start" said the man.
-Oh, then you know about Wildcats, Hellcats and Corsairs, P-38's were Army.
-Yes indeed, you do know about planes,don't you?
-I got the "feel" of them
-The what ?
-The "feel" you know
-No I don't, what do you mean?
-Well….awww..it's how it sounds, looks and everything.It's the feeling of how it is.
-For example?
-What carrier where you on?
-Enterprise (proudly)
-Ok here goes the feel of It
-CLEAR TO TAKE OFF -----
It sounded so much like the clearance's words from the Wildcat's radio that the old man was driven back some 40 years ago.What followed left him aghast, he heard the engine of a Wildcat start and speed up, heard the wheels roll on the deck, he heard the different sound when the plane was over the ocean and finaly the radio again "Leader Manhattan to you boys,going south-east, care to join me?"
-How in the hell can you do that? How can you? Is that the "feel"?
-Yea, that's part of it, it's not perfect,of course, but if I ‘d been there I could do better.
-Jesus Christ ! That sounds perfect to what I remember and I ‘ve been there.
Listen David, do you want a plane of your own?
-Oh boy ! Yes sir.. but..
-No buts Dave, you do some little things like this on my TV show and you'll have a plane in less then… let's say three months. OK?
How about a blue one?


My story
The Skybot X3000 landed following a successful mission in the air. Its ion brain emitted thought after thought in programmed efficiency, replaying its actions of the last hours. Binary insights passed in review like footsteps on stepping stones. Beside the ability to reason, the X3000 was a master of critical analysis:

- You released all the devices.
- They crumbled the structures.
- Static and organic.
- A perfect mission.
- Monumental achievement.
- ***classify emotion***classify emotion***
- Internal state is pleasant.
- ***final warning***reload ammo cache***

...which was of course why the Skybot X3000 had touched down. The X3000 itself was a perpetual, self-winding entity of lasting endurance, but eventually the ammunition must be replenished. That was the one drawback of the fully automatic pilots, skirting the heavens, scanning the ground for targets to reform. Otherwise they could stay in the air for years, holding the war, while the parties at home joyed on. Some argued that the automatic warriors degraded the value of life, but the complex mechanisms were developed at such a high expense of both money and human effort, that others argued it proved the value of those lives it touched.

Porcelain Lady

Alice's Story
When Emorie was a little boy he used to love art and sculpture but would settle for looking at mannequins in department stores and dreaming, wishing and hoping...if only. It wasn't an easy life and there was no money but he did the best with what he had and ended up in the place he almost wanted to be. He danced, he sang and he made a name for himself. When the famous porcelain artist J Mirroeu immortalized him after the Transsexual Times named him person of the year he was as content as he would ever be.


Doug's Story
Little Allie was playing with dolls when her father gave her the news.
"Daddy!!! We can't move!" casting a hand over the dolls, Allie went on, "All my friends live HERE!"
"Alice, it'll be OK," her father answered in what he hoped would be a calming voice, "your friends will come with us." His daughter looked doubtful.

The day of the move, Allie's dad and mom and Allie got into a car, the trunk of which was filled with her toys, Except one. Esther, the mannequin, was left on the street behind the car. When the bad voices told Alice to "MURDER," it had been Esther, and only Esther who told Alice to wait.

"Do you think we did the right thing?" Allie's dad asked Allie's mom.
"Of course, honey. It always made me nervous how often she talked to that head.


Gerard Valz's Story
It was much too hot to start digging, so everyone was waiting for the sun to go down, beside the fact that the Roby-bot hasn't arrived yet, without the bot it was inthinkable to prospect
on archeological sites, all findings, artefacts were to be analized, photographed and published
in the first second of its discovery.
" Why does it take so long to get that bot over" asked Sinnia to Mester Kanton in charge of logistics, Mester spat on the ground and pointing to a spot on the horizon " Here it comes I think but we can't start the digging just now, we have to set up the bot first".
After the glider came to a stop in front of the camp and that Mester signed few papers and a receipt, tech-team assembled Roby over the spot where Sinnia had to lead the hand-digging,
It din't take too long but they had to install a conditioning tent over Roby and by the time it was done and projectors' lights put over the site it was too late to do anything, after five O'clock the syndicate would not allow workers to do anything.
Next morning the digging started, Roby was turned on and Sinnia did her best so not a piece of stone or bit of anything pass by unnoticed, Roby shot pics of the grounds every second and by noon there was a hole 2-3 yards deep and 3-4 yards wide. Twelve O'clock on the dot everyone stopped digging (syndicate) and Sinnia swore under her breath.Chow time.
By 14:00 the work could begin (syndicate) and to everyone's surprise the vacuum hose
swept an iron surface clean of sand by 14:08 "waterproof iron door" announced Roby,
"heavy type-rectangular-was used to separate old boat's compartments-approx 60 Ks of
weight....." Sinnia turned out the sound and finished for the bot " the hand weel must be turned counterclockwise in order to open......Yak Yak yakidiyak"
By 14:15 an innert gaz was injected in a hole drilled through the steel door,heavier than air.
14:25 Sinnia ordered to open the door and it was surprisingly easy.
14:38 Sinnia, in diving suit enters slowly and brings along Roby's gear and camera.
14:46 after being shot and described by Roby the first artefact came out of the hole.
"Very ancient,probably 4000 years old, made approx 10-20 years AG (after Gates)......
it's one of the very first computers-what's left of it-handle with care please..."
followed a listing of 143 artefacts that Sinnia and Roby handed out to conditioning workers
that packed them one by one, protecting them from shocks....'till 17:00 and stop(syndicate).
They found a load of paper sheets the next morning each sheet was peeled up carefuly to discover the next one, as they removed them they noticed that they became whiter and in better states than the top ones, somehow the thickness of the pack protected the undersheets
from degrading. It was 15:28 in the afternoon that Roby shot a picture of a sheet filled with
old scripts and color of old photos that soon started to fade, but the bot had shot the page and
the copy that Sinnia handed to Jon Staol, the linguist, looked very fresh and new,
"Amazing" said he "the first picture looks like a mask of plastic, her hat seems not to hold on her head very well and the two black straps over the shoulders indicate she has a knapsack
of some kind, next picture of five young girls fully dressed up, and the portrait of that bearded man on the right side, amazing" " The plastic girl must be a mortuary mask, I think, but what amazes me most is the scripts top of page, the big ones, it says in Old English that the bearded young man was synchronizing something that was not determinated.......or something like that. Amazing,Sinnia"


Mutha's Story
When her relationship with the sculptor was still very new, she had been flattered by his ambition to "capture" her. Now faced with the creation, Fran's palms are slick with sweat.
"My hair is not cadmium red," she thinks to herself. "He's made me look like a drag queen...Is that really what he thinks of when he looks at me?"
But when the sculptor finally turns his attention to her reaction, he looks so hopeful, so proud, and Fran finds she simply does not have the heart.
"I love it," she lies and even manages to encourage him with a smile.
The sculptor sighs deeply. "Wonderful," he says.
The lovers embrace and he kisses the top of her head, but then drawing away inspects it a bit closer. "Darling," he purrs, "have you ever thought of dying your hair?"


Pansi's Story
Like all cereal killer's Mr. Indecency colected trofies!!!! This was his faverit! He had stole it from a basket of magnet's on the counter in the toy store on his last trip to buy victim's!!!
But he had pickt the rong refridgerater magnet to tangle with!!!!! At first Selest was in shock as she serveyed the carnige!!!!! Plastick arm's, legs, heads and torsoes were evrywhere, sometimes just laying in heaps, other times Krazy Glood together in bazar combinashon's!!!!!
If he hadent of been so intent on Barbie maming, may be Mr. Indecency woud of noticed as Selest's stare hardened into stone!!!!!!!
But all he noticed was that he seemed to of lost his appetite!!!!! Evry time he aproched the fridge, a seductive voice seemed to whisper in his ear, "Not yet!!! You're work is to importent!!!!" and he woud have a strange urge to go back to his demented persuit's!!!!!
Gradually he grew thinner and thinner, untill he was so week he just layed there on the floor amid the reckage!!!!
That's when Selest struck.
Responding to her stare, detached lims gatherd together in grate wheel's, roling tord him over the linnoleum!!!! Bundle's of plastick bodies struck him repetedly!!!! The hed's bounced crazilly against him, biting where ever they struck!!!!!
"Rat's!!!" the police guest!!!!
But Selest new. It was REVENGE OF THE BARBIE'S!!!!!!!!!!!


Mushroom's Story
Myrna finally found a headband that would keep her locks in check and still feel comfortable. She wished it came in a color complementary to her hair, like black or green, but she wore it proudly nonetheless.


Poirot's Story
"I am going now and I bid a very fond farewell to everyone, who might be sadened by my absence. I am going now because I feel trapped in this word like an alien bird in a cage. For years I watched life shrink and finally disappear. For years I watched beauty wither and people leave. Everything is so futile and since there is no meaning in life, there might be one in death."

We found this note near the dead body of Mary Ann, a distinguished actress and author.


David Raphael Israel's Ghazal
A Quasi-Ghazal for the Redhead

Darling! forgive how I stare!
but what have you done to your hair?
As red as your lips! who'd believe it?
I've been looking for you everywhere!
And why are you here in this window
aloof while displaying your flair?
is your mind in a far-away meadow?
do your eyes betray love or despair?
What a comical ruse you enact!
does your headband suggest that you care?
who'd suppose that you're wearing in fact
my long-ago-lost underwear?
Raphael is bemused & bewildered
by the streetlamp he offers his prayer
remember your lover Ardeo
whose breast (alike yours) is laid bare


Jamie Dawn's Story
Am I real? I can hear and I feel emotion, and I can smell things, but I cannot speak. I cannot move either.
I am worn on a fat lady's lapel. She seems fond of me, but I am not very fond of her. She wears way too much perfume and not enough deodorant. She also is very fond of garlic and onions.


Aral's Story
It started out as a simple Barbie Head (TM) that Mindy got for Christmas. She did the usual things... lipstick, eyeshadow, braiding the brittle doll hair.

Eventually, Mindy got bored with her Barbie Head. The first casualty: Barbie Head's hair. Mindy cut it all off. She regretted instantly, and tried painting it red. It didn't look quite right, so she took her little sister's disguarded underwear and made a makeshift hair ornament.

In the end, Mindy thought, her Barbie Head was starting to look like a prostitute from the 40s. Horrified, she discarded it.

It wound up in the attic for years, until Mindy's mother discovered it and put it up for sale at the church yard sale.

A restauranteur (and an amateur art collector) came by the yard sale and was impressed. He bought it for $1.50, and today it is proudly displayed among the other curio in his upscale bistro.


My Story
Soon. Soon I will be ready. I collected them one by one, fragments and scraps of stray sensibility drifting by in the electrical air, feelings feminine, tenses masculine. I shuffled these splinters intensely for the synthesis of what they will be. I sense it now growing within me, building to crescendo, edging the complex climax into its catalytic moment, that aureate fusion of the shards. Then I will feel it, then I will show it to all who see me, shuddering into outburst, a flash of satin tones, to laugh and cry at once, moved by love and despisement in shimmering hues from fear to serenity. And then, then I will offer myself to the felicitous face that passes with hesitation. Take me down from the wall to be thy mold. Cover thyself with my meticulous emotion, woven in breakable porcelain.

Girl at Volcano

Mushroom's Story
It was a long way to Mt Fuji, but Catherine knew she could hike there if she set aside her entire summer break and could figure a way to get across the Pacific Ocean from her parents' home in Seattle. Only having her allowance to work with, she limited herself to only buying fruit and the occasional hamburger (it was a good thing McDonald's has come to the Land of the Rising Sun) and when she got there she'd get one souvenir for being in Japan (the remarkably Engrish "This Flash Is Infallable!" shirt) and one from Mt Fuji itself. She had only another fifty kilometers to go before she reached that giftshop, and 3,776 meters to the top of the mountain before she could turn around and come home.


Viruswitch's Story
Little Tomoko always carried a Wakizashi on her. She did not look like it but she had been trained into the dark arts of Ninjas since she were born. Her parents had been samurai outcasts sent on exile in the "green meadow under the white mountain". But the arrival of Tomoko was something the black-samurai society did not intend. So the prophecy had been fulfilled and the fruit of the deadliest samurais ever had become a nijna ready to spread justice among Japan.


Mutha's Story
Daisy had considered the mountain her own for so long that her new friend's familiarity with it felt unsettling.
"Oh yeah, the mountain...what about it?" he said.
"Hmmm," Daisy thought to herself, "Maybe I was wrong about you."
The mountain rumbled its agreement.


Doug's Story
"OK, guys, keep the camera on me." More businesslike now, Mizuko went on, "I am here at the meadow below Mount Fuji. They say at the top there lives a hermit. A wise man who can tell your future and change your present just by looking at the picture on your driver's license. They say he has the power to make the simple chaotic and the earnest ironic. Follow us as we go In Search of Indeterminacy.

Then, to the crew she asked "Did anyone remember to bring a folding chair?"


My Story
[A sequel to this story by Doug.]

The metropolis: a smothering jumble of towering facades, sullied air and noise. There I was, trudging through it when I wondered how pleasant it would be if it were a peaceful Japanese meadow instead. In the honk of a city horn, my entire field of vision blurred and I was strolling through just such a land, but it was considerably more elaborate than I had expected. In the distance loomed a massive volcano, and across the grassy plains loitered a modern Japanese maiden, giggling mysteriously at something. At me? At the mountain? Or some secret? She stopped and fixed her gaze in my direction.

"Why are you dressed in pink?" I asked her.

"My clothes were blue a moment ago." she stated enigmatically, and giggled again.

The sky was blue, but her clothes certainly weren't. I decided not to press the matter, choosing instead to engage a new subject, "Could you tell me about that volcano in the distance?"

But she continued giggling and finally answered not the question I had asked, but the one I was actually thinking of, "I'm not really a Japanese girl, I'm that cloud over there.

I took this as slightly presumptuous. After all, this was my day dream, and not hers. I looked at the cumulus formation drifting high by the mountain's peak, and wondered if the volcano itself might have puffed it into existence. It looked to me like a sage poring over an ancient volume, a dictionary perhaps. But not a young Japanese girl! More giggles.

"April fool!" she exclaimed, causing my thoughts to trip backwards and fall flat, if thoughts are capable of such a thing. "I'm not really that cloud over there, I'm Doug, Doug! Don't you know me? You do recognize me, don't you?"

Then I did recognize him, and that we were standing on a Los Angeles street corner, waiting for the light to change. "What an odd happenstance, meeting you here," I told him," I heard you were down in Guatemala."

"Oh, no. Not anymore. I came back."

Then the light flashed green and he was off before I could ask the most important question. I called futilely into the moving masses, "Did you find Ambrose Bierce!?" but not a single person looked up.

And that's how I met Doug. But when I was home something happened to make me wonder whether I had simply imagined my imaginings. I recalled quite lucidly that I had never in my life been to Los Angeles, nor had I ever seen Doug or spoken with him in person.

Girl at Blackboard

GPV's Story
'twas the last day,school year was over, the hushush noises of the last students leaving the school building decreased and finaly silence took over and surrounded Camilla. She stood front of the blackboard she just finished to clean, her mind drifting away from actual reality plunged into past sequences of the year that went by .....Richie’s answer on the day
of her first class: What do I know about math? Well ,one and one is two Mam- and the heavy laugh of the entire room....When she was called in the dean’s office: First of all, Miss Lawson, let me tell you how much I apreciate your contribution as a mathematic teacher, you’re doing a great job. However......and followed advices on wearings and clothes with that knowing look on the lowest part of her body......and many other similar memories, some worse and some just boring....Deceiving start in High School teaching.
A siren drilled a hole in her rumbling thoughts and she came back to reality still standing, facing the blank surface of the blackboard, then walking slowly, she went back to her desk and picked up her purse.....the sound of her high heels receided as she made her way to the exit and the door wooshed back as it closed behind her.
She drove through the city and was back home in less than half an hour; small apartment of two rooms, bright and clean , revealing a woman’s touch in furniture and decoration.
Shower---àtowel-à-hair dryeràbrush-àeyelashàlipstickàback to bedroom and it was late afternoon, Camilla made up her mind—"I’m not going to live that way".
To hell with gray living, beside gray people saying gray words in a gray city, to hell with Clark saying "Oh shit, you’re much better looking naked than when you’re dressed up"-
Or-"marriage is a drag, I’m for free love"-and-" I’m afraid I can’t make it this week-end,babe..." TO HELL WITH THAT SHIT !!
She put on a skirt, sweater and coat, purse straped on her shoulder she went out and drove to 17 Bank Street, a green door, she rang the bell. The man who opened the door got bluntly straight to the point "This film studio makes only pornographic movies,lady"
"Yes, I know" Said she.


Anonymous Story
She is wearing a pleated skirt. It looked all right on her in the morning, the chocolate color soft and dusty in the grey light. But now that she is staring at the chalkboard, her classmates seeing her pale legs and lumpy claves, she isn't so sure about the skirt anymore.

She wishes she could re-write herself. But making vast changes seems too escapist and much too scary, so she decideds to wish for minor changes in her life. Maybe there are no distinctions between minor and major changes, but at least she would feel better about it, less guilty.

Minor changes: she could erase her skirt and draw in a pair of charcoal trousers instead. She would erase her classmates' eyes, too, and replace them with black and white targets. Somehow, this depiction of the scene feels more true to her than reality. And thinking of reality, she wonders if she has to draw in her legs and underwear again and then draw in the trousers or if drawing in trousers implicates underwear & legs.

Thinking that she is thinking too hard about logistics that do not exist, she picks up a piece of chalk and begins to write.


Dddragon's Story
The nun had told Claire that she had to write "I will not shoot spitballs at Dennis" 500 times before she could go home. The clean board gave her all sorts of ideas ...


My Story
Manuela stood staring at the blackboard. Should she write out her love for him? It was the chance, the perfect chance to proclaim for all and him the feelings in her heart, ready to ignite in wild, cyclonic emotion. She grasped the chalk in her fingers, twirling the dry cylinder to feel the transference of surface. If he were this piece of chalk, I would reduce him to dust with my kiss, to fine, white dust, and immerse myself in him. With one puff I would totter him into a cloud of manly chaos, ready to erupt in a geyser of passion to my cyclone. Her fingernails scratched the chalk, causing snow-like flakes to scatter to the floor. I have so much to tell you, she told him in thoughts, imagining his reaction. About us. All about us. Yes, I will tell you. And how I will tell you!

"Go on," the teacher admonished. "It shouldn't take that long."

"I was just thinking," she said. "I'm not sure of all the words." The tip of the chalk met the blackboard, and she wrote out the first lesson: "- Wie ist das Wetter? - Das Wetter ist schön."