Doors of Reception

I screeched witnessing what I witnessed. I should be pardoned for starting from the middle of nowhere because-. I stand eight foot tall and weigh-. I feel blitzed. I am a-. I should perhaps put it with a D. I may be taken proud for a BeingInItself. I do not defend my-. I defend what's behind me. Though it is not all the time the duty befalls me. My kind, they are one of its kind. You should know, I do not boast. I can be accused of pigeonholing. I can allow you that much. Holing, what is without-. There is a visitor, I will come to you. Welcome stranger. How may I assist you? I screech-. You there? Well, he does not seem to comprehend my tongue. It's awful but-. It should sound reasonable if I said I comprehend that not everyone thinks we speak. First we were conceived in the-. Speech came to us late. I feel shell-shocked-. I know I can be a pain in the keyhole. I will keep aside the burden of vindicating my- …and lock yarns with you.

There is this place called Neighborhood nearby. In it was a house that-. It stood up, they wanted to bring it down. It was dug-. They dug too deep it took long. It was leveled and-. The was stood detached. (To say 'It' is a disgrace to us, so 'The') The work took the toll of the workers, for the night the was not attached. The stood sad all by thisself no one to converse with all-. Not all night. Minions came by like they always do in the dreary night. They were four and had two hands and two legs apiece and Doman face. Hurrah they said and snatch they did the. They had it in mind to trade the for-. They tried the Dark Market and they could not even for a voice lock. It is too big to buy, they were told. They drifted away and chanced under the Tallest Tree. The screeched all the-. We will give our last shot with the Doman uptree, they told among themselves. A painter lived uptree in her tree house. They cawed from below for a trade. I got one and another would mean madness, she said. Then they asked, after a moment's discussion, if they can leave the at the top of-. The was too big to hide as well it seemed. She thought awhile and said they can but to leave some-. The house did not have a dome. As to why it did not, she said the whole point of living in Dom is to not have dome. The rest of the Dom, however, never did say anything like it. They climbed the spirals and left the over the top of the top of-. For little reason, she traded them a painting of hers. They tore the in four to share among and yet the made sense not just from one angle but all angles. The though was away from where the should be soon learned to be happy just lying front down over-. Between where the is and where the was the could hear what every door did say. It was more than mere screech. The painter would lie in her wooden bed and look up and count the rangels, the would add those that were beyond her sight. It took little time for her to realize she began to See only after the's arrival and that she began conversing with the in the's tongue. If doors of reception screeched-, she carved above a painting. This is a strange-. Stranger things began to happen. The place was invaded by beagles. At least it looked like it was. These birds that float far above and below horizon, came swooping down and stayed below their natural level. It caused panic because it was not just a pack of them but the whole-. It eclipsed light during day and during night it eclipsed sleep for they rested over short trees and over the dome of houses. Domans who are commonly said to be afraid of butterflies, at this juncture resorted to thought attacks in order to cope with bird attacks. The Force was called upon. They made way to air traffic by means of shielded crafts. They observed the happening from above to no avail. They suspended delicacies varying from cattle to vegetables to attract and divert the beagles all to no-. Smash them, said the Queen. Like it turns out in any combat, few collateral damages to civilian abodes were caused, only few were many upon scrutiny. Though it did scare off the beagles, those that died were many (like the few before), it did not divert their new-found pole of attraction. They became violent, which they weren't before this, and began to drill the ground with their beaks. Thus they made bunkers for hiding and resting places. Most of these were right below and beside fountains. The was safe where the was and the painter was not there when it happened and emerged from the trunk after the commotion had died. She became a prolific painter after this and lived long. Domans abandoned their coping skill but contemplated living in high places since-. Before anything, a statue was built in memoriam of the only casualty on the street, in the same posture he stood and took it, his finger pointing to a certain-. After a few analyses, the finger was alleged to point toward the tree above all trees, that had its roots deep down below, where lived the painter. Some said to bring her below and others the above to the's proper place. After a heated debate, she was questioned regarding the. She said she cannot remember where the came from and that beagles could have brought the up. The was untied and brought below. I know you are unafraid as you know you aren't made of wood and are indestructible, she said to the door. To others, what the said to her was a mere screech. Soon as the was laid on the ground, the ground beneath their feet began to shake. The beagles are drilling further down, everyone said. The door is their limit, they also-. They called upon the highest-flying craft. It carried the above the highest mountains and there where beagles dare to swoop, the was suspended in the-. After which, a cry broke from below that echoed between the stones of Dom, the beagles flew to their high places.

It is a pity how a certain essential is thought better off left unsung. Anyway, it is just a tale told by Domales to Dokids. A door is thought in-capable of reception. You tell them this, they will say: with us it is. -do not squeak. Some do, not all. All of us screech, only it's not what we mean. They agree on it but only on the former. There is a visi-. Oh! He is the child of this house. He's has been away, I remember now. I wish he does not open-. He does. This is something that should never have happened to him. There is nothing above and behind me. The house is in ruins. There is nothing but-. I stand at the mercy of the remains. He is standing there horrified. The fireballs dropped slip of hand, not sleight of hand, they said. Was it-? When I am enclosed by, say, a house you see things through me or nothing at all. When I am not, you see-. He is leaving now lock, stock. I know he has every right to. Yes, we spoke. It is not that imp-. I will say it anyway. You are not the only-, he said. He is right I am not.  In this state, not even one. -know your sympathies go with him. He deserves all-. What about me?

Through the Garden into the Burden of It (Two acts of Five acts)

Let's get written he said!
The Steam-Coach smacked of grape vapor. From within, a soul in a body was caused to propel. By the window, her best spot for sport, Harli, attired for a fine young lady, was led to sit. As the Fly gathered height and speed, a chromatic world beneath gave itself up and a dash of indigo embraced its guest. The vapor in the atmosphere was an irritant guest to Harli's lungs, as her hungry eyes fed on the spectacle that the sun-cracked sky was, and howf she coughed, and again: Lowf. Lovf?, the man adjacent said. Lovf does noth existh. The very thing thath makes you couf will make you puke and choke. Pardon my manners, sir, Harli said. Coufing, I do remember, but asking for your aid I do…owf…not. Yeth, dandy dame, said the man, who asks for help meaning tho these days! The creases on his cheek segued, as he spoke, from being to nothingness indicating there is more life to endure for them to segue from nothingness to being. For the man you are, Harli said, un-pressed and half-emancipated, I impress I would plead exile. I am amazed sky-high the wombless vessel that your lot are, are given to advice and contemplation these days. The man, with a gesture, pursed his lips and took to reading The Domale Eunuch picking it by its dog-ear, occasionally glimpsing toward his unfriendly companion. A steward handsome (to Harli) and automaton (to the man) served Sunshine. I regret my manners, Harli apologized pulling her mask on. The journey I embark upon is life's and it gets to my nerves what if I were to fall apart half way through it. Would you opine on love? As the Fly sailed through the tides of wind it was hard to say what, between the vessel and the waves, slapped what. Lovf, began the man with a smile, like cougf is of body's, is a condition of soul's lungs. You never know whath nourishes ith or whath poisons ith unhtil ith's thoo lathe. Ith is a double-edged virtue. Gone are the days of Sr Paula's precepts uthered in apocalypthic frenzy. But, she said, they can be kept if you believed in being in a moment. Only there are other moments to crash and burn it to nothing… Yet! Anyway, he took off from the tip of his tongue a pin and said, love can be utterly and eternally deadly. Howsoever hard I try I can't seem to fork my tongue. Harli's fingertip, by way of reflex, felt her tongue-tip. She wondered why, kept to herself, and kept it to herself. The Fly lost its gained height as it gave itself in ever so slowly to gravity. Floaters to Destini may unbuckle, announced a voice. You know what, Harli said adjusting her mask, I am going to forget you as early as my sandal touches the sand. No, said the man who by now pinned through sixteen pages, you will not. I will tell you why, and he handed her an Hourglass. The object contained sand as tiny as dust and it had an orifice and the orifice had a cap. This is called Alefor, he said, and it never runs out of what's inside. What's inside, asked Harli. Nothing but dust of time, said the man. It's a medicine to be taken like medicine, and not, ever, drug. It may be of use, again it may not be. She put it in her pouch and said, aren't you the most disliked and the most liked person. What, said the man. I can tell it just by looking into your eyes, said Harli as she opened the door. Before stepping out, she turned this side and left a peck on the man's cheek and said, farewell. The northwestern wind blew even and caressed her face and she found it hard to resist the ministrations of the sunset. Let's get written, said a voice. This came from a boy, and the direction southeast, who stepped out of the same Coach. You mean return, said Harli. I am afraid I am unsure. From Destini to where she will head must be taken on foot. And it's a long and winding road, the road to Harlum.
***
The Aquatic Rider stood unwavered. Through a dark undercurrent, a body's equilibrium was thrust. Over the mid row, wearing curiosity for expression, sat Colum. As the splashes broke into bubbles and disappeared, life in technicolor flickered and faded, the cycle of change recurred. He sat there. He sat there and observed. He sat there and observed, and thought. He sat there and observed, and thought, and wondered. There was this woman who, whom he observed and thought, bore a reflection of grace. There were these kids who, whose parents given too deep to conversation, would be up and about and never on their seats. She would catch one kid and bring it to its seat. Then she would go and catch another. He could not, for the life of him, tell where her seat was for she was always minding the kids. (The stewardess, it was rumored, quit without notice) Beside him was a kid and she had a cigar in her tiny hands. When he looked at her, she offered it to him and he nodded: No, politely. She opened her mouth, as if to bite it, and smelled its tip under the nib of her nose. He enquired the kid as to where she found it. She replied: Can it be found? My uncle gave it to me… I mean when I asked him for it. He rides in the sky most of the time. He asked her why she isn't running around. She said: Well, hmm, because I am strapped. She smiled. I like the ride when it goes vertical! She moved her head about and shook her legs that had its involuntary, singular, calculated way about it. The woman came by, ensured the kid was there, and would not sit. Did you strap them, asked the kid. She left at once to strap the kids who by now were back on their feet. The Submarine paced patiently as it rode through a cave. Is it your big sister? He asked the kid. She said: My mom. I yell at her, but she's just fine. She's everything. She came again and sat this side to his. The kid put the cigar in a pouch as if to hide it. She wore a quiet melancholy underneath her cheerful presence, he observed, strong and vulnerable, a scar on her face, he wondered, that ran from neck to cheek. She noticed this and said: I loved him. What's it that you're after, she added. He thought for a while and said: If Felicity be a quality to attain would be it, smiling. She smiled and said: Through what means do you expect to. He said: I hope it would be reasonable to say through Love. Love, she said, do you not know does not belong to the realms of pleasure. It lingers there but not dwell. Love belongs to the realms of desire. It dwells there and lingers longer, perhaps unbearably longer. It can break you in two. It can crush you to smithereens. You would hope you can escape it. Not if you are in the least bit human. You would know you cannot. The quality you seek and the mean through which you seek it can be fleeting and upsetting. Colum listened with a patience of few and said: So can be any means? It echoed within him and was meant to be so than to her. Perhaps, she said. Your daughter here, she is such a polite, obedient thing, he said complimenting. She said: Oh! She told you so. She's my niece. He laughed out and smiled at her niece. We are going to meet her father where he may or may not be. It's been quite awhile since he visited her, she added. He sneaked in and visited me, I told you so, when you were away, said the kid. He told me not to tell you that he did but I did. Well, in fact, I want to find him and have a word with him, the woman said. Who are you? She asked him. I just Be, he replied in so many words. I see, I sort of Be. You may have noticed, I Catch too, she said. On that note, he said, I throw. I throw caution to the mind. Passengers to Happenstance shall buckle tight, announced a voice. Out of the cave the vessel came, shifted its plane from horizontal, a bolt under the blue, a carousel horse on fire, and aimed in motion sky for its vertical limit. Out of his body, amid the screams of bitter fear undermined by sweet ecstasy, stream of tears from his eyes, Colum saw someone, something watching him and he opened his eyes and screamed some more. The land was warm as a summer skin and Colum bid farewell to his companions. If you didn't know, she said, it's going to be okay. He wondered why she said what he was going to say to her. The kid left a peck on his cheek and they parted.
***
Three to Five to follow...

The Vanishing of Father Hessmas and the Appearance of Host the Mother

Two shadows met in the basement of a 22-story skyscraper and conversed in an all too human tongue. They were human and in an unlit corner they cast a spell of shadows to distant eyes. One was a female’s and the other a male’s for one’s laughter chimed and the other’s giggled.

The beginning of the conversation was inaudible.
Upon sharpening of the auditory sense, he seemed to reply: ...you’re right, I don’t believe in god but... in goddess I do. I but take it you do!
You mean that in plural? No, I don’t. I mean... in god I do.
You mean in plural?
For urban folks we are rather tribal!
Humor me, darkly!...
So too was the ending of it.

In a celestial sphere – the heavenly abode, a timeless dimension, take your pick – stood Hesse the Forgotten also known as Tsar Hesse, alongside his rangelic companions Topsy and Turvy, and observed. Time and events merged there and in a blink dispersed. If your dimension locked and unlocked, having nothing better than a human mind you had your perception paralyzed in seconds unless there had been an intervention of some sort.
He’s my archetype. I don’t know if she is… perhaps she’s an inter-archetype! Or they both are.  Lkoioifaskljl kfjasljfio lgklasjl!
We once did elope from here if my memory serves you right... or twice! Oijlfa kuioufol ajkljgoiasu ljaklsjdfio!
Stop being timeless, said Hesse a little worried. Even a small event needs much scrutiny. It’s a solace I am not part of it.
Searwsliocdrds kgeredarabcxcvad. We are, confronted Turvy, so did Topsy, but she put it are we.
I am, but sans control.
Somewhere amid the pile of symbols a form stirred, but could not move, like from a pile of memories a thought would. What fibers it was made of, you could not say. The texture of its life, you could not feel. This much was certain, since it was partly formed, that it was held captive by more than one violent form as two thoughts would one. It stirred again but stayed there again.

The house of Turve had a peculiar shape to it as if it were a bell hung from atop. On the right, a footpath from Leizure Woods led to it and on the left it connected itself to the two-lane in the front. Turve appeared on the doorstep clad in a T and a V upside-down, looked up into the clear blue sky, took a deep breath, frisked his left pocket (his pipe was there), and his feet very gently took the stone path to two-lane. His barefoot kissed the ground, one step then another. The scattered sand tickled its nerve endings and his mind formed a thought: Does walking barefoot make one appreciate nature better, he puzzled. Shit he said as if ashamed of an invisible mole. He stretched his neck back; his sight followed a shooting bird up to front. The lane looked abandoned; a zebra crossed a little further. He thought: It would be splendid to ride it. How some desires never fade with age! Silly me, he said.
...

Athena like a statue alive sat on the bench of Mira’s Hit and Run seven’s ground cross-legged and fingers crossed. She ran her fingers through the fur of Tyger who was neither belled nor leashed observing the lion at one time and the lamb at another and meowed every time there was less silence than usual. Her Dig Pad vibrated and upon touch it read: I’m on my way. Don’t you walk out on me! I never stood you up!! Late *x* She grabbed Tyger by her belly, stood her on her lap, and blew the fur that danced to a warm wind of human source. See a flying rat? She addressed pointing to a bat. She bounced from her lap and on hinds chasing, fores clapping went after an infinitely faster bat. I am forgetting bells, she remarked in her mind.
Who’s got a draw board on poles at the center of a playground, Latisha quizzed as she strode and sat on the wooden bench beside its only occupant. Hai, Atie. Sorry if late.
Hi, Late. Never mind. It’s Rie with a hand of his own on a play-board, Athena cleared the air with a smile. She forgot she smiled and smiled again.
...

Fifteen or so years ago. A few girls all, except one, in frocks gathered one fine morning in the Please-Do-Steel Orchard (thus read the board). The skinniest of them all held a guitara and it appeared she couldn’t wait to lay her hands on it. They stood in a circle and the healthiest of them all (every single one of them were but this one had an additional weight to her) whose familiar name was Feline cleared her throat and said: Here in this borrowed space our sisterhood decreed. We shall forever bond together. I shall never squeal on you over a talking cat, a golden apple, nor the sweetest boyo. Every one taking their turn said I shall Never Squeal on you. Athena who unofficially made sure every one said it forgot she said it at all and said it again. The strings were heard. We shall sing our favorite song said Latisha, and they sang Here Is a Story Untold and a Path Less Tread by a frock band called Love and Buckets. Nafish said more than once that’s not her favorite – and Turve affirmed, though once, it is his – but joined the singing unhesitant. Later she said I think I like it now. Feline pulled her not-so-long-stick from behind her shoulders and fell an apple, took a bite, passed it along so that every one took a bite. Belli said hmm! It’s yummier than yesterday’s. Then they went ahead and played Hit and Speak in that orchard that was corner to corner illuminated by sunbeams in its extravagance.
The same day, but in the noon, a bunch of boys had a fellowship in the same orchard in a different spot…

Doing what!... And the kiddies around... they, is it flip-flops on his feet, eying to get hold of it! Latisha quizzed again, her back against the support, hands across her chest. The T that she wore read I’m not What I’m Inside. She smelled more of honey than a bee ever would.
They’re taught... He’s writing, I assume, how to form a contrary sentence from the preceding one, Athena cleared again, bringing her hands over, cupping her crossed leg’s knee. She wore a crimson three-fourth, smelled more of sandalwood than its carrier ever would.
So do I hear Rie found yet another subject of affection to cut his teeth on? I bet he bites it to its resurrection. Do I guess right I’m conversing with his all too benevolent tutor, Latisha smiled a corner and took a glimpse of her companion’s blushed face. She always enjoys it if it’s a blush of expression, instead of a gloomy stare, after a tease or a prank.
Hah! vibrated Athena’s cords.
They looked into each other’s eyes reading signs and one thought in succession yes, maybe, no and the other maybe, not yet, yes.
The eyes disconnected and fell into staring blanks. Athena wanted to worry about Tyger even if she couldn’t.
Latisha brought her legs up on the bench, hands across her ankles, chin between her knees. She studied a lamb that was unsuccessfully attempting to wake a sleeping lion. There was silence. Athena un-cross-legged, leaned back, studied the snoring lion, feeling a pimple on her temple with a finger. Silence ensued.
Look at him! How does he do that? Latisha broke the silence. Tyger having returned from her venture, held the bat by its ear between fangs, and having displayed the prize caught unscathed, let fly of it.
It’s her specialty. It’s... it’s a her, Athena proudly replied and corrected.
How on... on Dom does he... she, oh! Do it, queried Latisha.
Patience, right? She spots a bat, you find her on hinds first, then on hindsight she pretends to attend to the details on the ground. The bat always swings by. She lets it go a few, reckons its range, in one of those returns she crouches and leaps, and on her leap to landing you see she’s got what she leapt for, Athena explained as briefly as she could.
Such a trickster she is, Latisha approved.
Tyger wandered off again. The unavoidable silence fell in again.
Are we here to talk about that thing I think you want to talk about, Athena broke it this time.
Atie, Latisha came to her feet, it’s something you got no clue to. Nope, not that yet, and broke the ice. She stretched her back and then her neck. Shall we take a walk or pretend to look for Tigress as we do this?

Turve walked past the hedge. Right, he cried leaning on the bench with a hand, the other holding the pipe stretched out indicating here I’m. Right turned, smiled, made a V out of his middle and index fingers, then wrote another word on his play-board. The kids, as he turned, looked at his turning head and then his flip-flops.
How many twos thought Turve. He sat himself on the bench the wrong way and searched for dry weed. He reached out and plucked some, and sighed as he realized they were half alive. The shine is erratic for a pleasant day he heard a voice say.
It’s dim-to-bright as if the weather-lady turned the low-voltage-day sign on, Turve agreed.
I’m to do a bit, then will wind up. Do stick around, Right requested.
Will do. But have you a convex on you? Might do to dry leaves and lighten up, Turve asked, pipe on one hand and weed on the other.
Sure, here you go, Right handed it over and looked into the sky. Can crawl if walk you can’t!
Turve smiled, ...and go you up and hurry. And De-Will flip-flops says you lost your mind as the day broke!
Piss off, will you. Forgetting footwear is all, Right snapped and hurried. It was ordinary to barefoot the street, not flip-flop it.
So, can you tell who’s the opponent noun, Right asked the kids. The board read:
She who is maybe a goddess says she must worship a god
Sir, aren’t it supposed to be a it or an what. You doesn’t say a word a he, a she, or a who! A kid inquired.
You give respect to be given it. It you don’t want it, you don’t oughta, answered Right.
...
That will be all; we call it a noon, said Right and began folding the stand and the board.
I’m afraid, Sir, not yet, said a kid. The rest stood by the sayer.
...Well, you can go ahead and do what you want on your own, permitted Right, can’t you.
Not really! This here thingy on your feet need a release, the kid said, and a one-way trade done right here and now, confidently.
...But, this is a De-Will flop, he stuttered, ...flop. Then upon reflection, sure, you got it. How will you then... I mean, you’re five here.
Leave that to us, a voice said, and: I told you it is, and: It’s the opponent noun.
No, no, said Right, think further.

The first time Turve smoked a pipe – which was five years ago, he had it between his lips all along between puffs imitating a madman – after three lungfuls, smoke in his nose and eyes, he projectile coughed the pipe flew a mile. This time around, you stood there – the floating whiteness unveiled the dimension whence through the fraction of a gap Topsy sprayed the Antitoxin Dust – and saw him doing the same, but he sneezed in paroxysms. This stuff is too filthy for me, said Turve who by now gathered his audience. This fella is so unpredictable, said Topsy to her audience, and you thought you hallucinated her.
Time and time again haven’t I told you bite a Logic Mushroom, Athena rebuked him.
…And so that makes me throw up and sick to my wee fragile stomach, Turve said still sneezing.
All the same, better-off-weetotaler. Since when has empowerment meant illogic experi-mentaion, she stressed throwing one of her tantrums.
Listen, Domans, the internal herbal baptism of smoke, said Right, is providence for creative activity in my humble opinon if not for a wanker’s recreation.
Said he who so effortlessly loses who knows what, Latisha said puffing out of Turve’s pipe.
The so-called free Domans rot in their self-made so-called paradise, cursed Athena. Tsk…
The four began walking. When Turve saw the bunch of kids baring their teeth for him, he broke from the group having had a thought flash in his mind.
There’s a game you never woudhaf imagined you could play, Turve addressed the kids. Game or not?
Tells us it involves loads of funs or nots, blurted the kid who held one of the flip-flops.
Aye, not loads, said Turve. Loads and loads of it!
The others buffalo-walked to where this deal was happening and stood encircling the remote dealers.
Oye, us does no deals for nots nothings, said another kid firmly.
Then you asks us whazit that yous wants, offered Turve a prize.
The kids had eyes that observed a nothing for a something, and one of them said: This thingy on here cedar missy’s foots. Another said: And ones thats on the maned missy’s.
So it happened, after Turve’s endless persuasion on how critical the deal was, Latisha bereft of her sneakers and Athena of her sandals, they all walked the rest of the way barefoot.
...

I believe I’ve done my best in picking the toys up best suited for you venture, Right said satisfied. His secret lab the four entered looked more a rest room, or a lab converted into a rest room, than a lab.
You could make an orchard if you did sell these thingies, said Latisha with a big grin.
I haven’t even begun, began Right, and it makes me wonder what damage it would do if it gets up there!
…or you could be one of a few who’s giving same imagination forms, said Turve.
Precisely, but that’s beside the point, said Right. The point is what I want to do with these.
...and with your ever shape-shifting perspective, Athena challenged.
I tone down and stay grounded, and you of all people know it, Right defended himself.
Sure, my young man stays when I chain his feet down, came Latisha to his aid, smiling.
Athena wandered about and came to the corner where the Planet Pad was. She waved Latisha for the aid.
You remember from those days, Right addressed Turve, the Funny Dreadfuls we get from across the river? They come as a fruit-shake too much expensive these days, some of them quite impressive still. Wait… he stammered, …this villain called Rodentman who lives in a sewer. Remember?
Faintly I do, said Turve, ...who’s mistaken for a hero. Who... hmm, fights an ascetic and all?
Exactly, continued Right. This fictional guy who’s a pauper sells destructive goods to masses to gain wealth and fight the authority. It gives me creeps... the masses own new means to destroy its own authority.
It’s just fiction, Rie, consoled Turve.
But...
Temple, screamed Athena. Wow! It’s spectacular. Where is it?
Earth, said Turve with a pitch to it from where he was. ... but, keep it down, will ya?
Cons-piracy crap, chided Turve, and at once left the room.
He always... always goes cranky after he says it, regretted Athena. So, this is that Silent Blue Ball From Far Away so close, and she left a big sigh of relief, running her finger on the Pad making an imperfect circle.
Turve showed up again, collected his goods and said, I want us a moment by the hall, to Latisha.
...

The first night passed sleepless, Turve keeping watch all along it, and nothing happened, so did the second and likewise. The days he was either out wandering or at Right’s. This was the third night and the optical illusions he experienced at the last hour of last night magnified, then he stopped fighting his lids and fell fast asleep, the needed arrangements set up in front of him. The Rare Pipe was sat on the glass stand and its vicinity had an air of strangeness to it but in the dark minimized. In a while, there was heard a thud and a patient struggle but in his depths of sleep he thought he imagined them and grabbed the cushion tight and on the couch further into the night slept. A few hours into daybreak, Turve had his biological alarm ring and the first thing upon wake he saw was a partly dressed-up stranger on the couch opposite. He said: silly me, went on to put the kettle on, turned it off for lukewarm water, took a cloth, wet it, and wiped his face with it. Then he took a manicure, trimmed his eyebrows for there was neither mush nor beard to; took another cloth, held it by the tap, and wiped his face.
Is it Mr. Claws I’m trying to wake up?
...aawwe... I prefer Father Hessmess, young man. Mister?
Turve. As you wish. Thanks for your patience.
Rather, I envy yours. I had sleepy hands... now I have it again.
You may let go of the pipe, Father. I have need of it still.
If you say so, Master Turve.
Is it you who locked the window?
Am afraid so.
Well, before I up-trap you, I want things made clear. Is it a grave error to change the course of a custom?
I’m afraid not so. Only to destroy it would be.
Turve unchained him and said: You may well be my guest here a few days more.
What damage do you intent to cause, young Turve, may I ask?
Nothing earth-shattering. Don’t ask. You’ll know when you’re no more a guest.
How many unlocked windows did you lock yet this year?
This was... was supposed to be the first.
Good. And why?
The shape of the house was welcoming.
...Tea?
Pleased to.
…and by the way, do you cook?
Huh!... as best as a man can.
Grand. Because Da’s craptured. Ma’s hunting this time of the year put up in a tent.
You mean your Ma cooks?
You know the salad, like. And that’s all me needs. Make yourself at home, and if there’s a habit do shower, after the tea and all.

Fifteen hundred years ago. The Dom was at its Bright Ages. Its art flourished, streets were filled with high-bred horse manure (it smelt never better they inscribed), women looked taller and had more flesh on their bones, though men were tough to marry off. The women ruled but the men were consulted. In the Lordess’ Court gathered the officials and four men were brought in concerning an allegation.
The hours ahead are busy, hence may I address all you men as one, began the Lady in robe.
Very well, Highness, said in unison four voices.
Did you or did you not take invaluable fruits off the houses you are accused of have taken?
I as accused have, Highness.
... Why have you?
I have in order to begin a custom, said three of them. I have in order to marry off my son, said Sr. Legloves. And I may humbly add I began the custom in question the year before only to glorify the Highest of our Gods Tsar Hesse, in a voice of patience.
The three were persuaded they do not do it again for Sr. Legloves is its inventor and that he alone shall carry it on unless the custom is halted for any, mysterious or natural, reason in which case a noble soul might substitute it.

In the dead of night, as the Dom slept through its weariness, dwarfed shadows of purpose moved here and there, aiming for the windows open.
During the day, two of out four Sanity Clinic had their shutters down on which the board, in porcelain, read Clinic Full with Thought Patients. A florist owner walked the distance holding a package that read Gift from Claws, dropped it by the lane, correcting his pajamas read the sign, added to it Without Me!, stood there motionless until a Sanity Carrier picked him and tens of others gathered there up to the next clinic.
...

In the Quarters met the head, Noseitall, chief, and lead. The head said in a troubled tone, this is beyond belief, and brought her fist between her upper lip and nose, atrocious, crying shame, left a sigh of horror, it’s no longer taken. What? It’s kept. Centuries of magic undone! Who did it! What did it!! How on Dom did it happen?. What’s been happening these few days? Ms. NoseItAll cleared her sore throat. Head addressed her, track the trails down, bring a dustbin down, chase a ghost down, I DON’T CARE. This is what I give you, with her spread hand held between her face and the addressee’s, and that is five precious minutes. Noseitall took the Chief with her and the Chief took the Lead with him. They gathered in her quarter and drew trails A and B and pinned it on the wall. The Chief took the Lead with him. In his quarter, he said to Lead in a quiet tone, she’s mighty right, Claws doesn’t visit houses in order rather one in this street and one in another. She’s also right that there must be a pattern to his visits. I must be right to assume only these many houses were visited before his evaporation. And guess what!...
...

At Turve’s, Claws was doing the dishes listening to Concubine Free. Turve showed up in the kitchen. He looked accomplished but weary.
I hope you liked the fruit cake for breakfast, Claws acknowledged him his presense.
Very much, and everything else, Turve said much obliged. It’s been dandy having you around.
You say it like I’m off, do you? Said Claws partly relieved.
You catch a drift like it’s flu, humored Turve. Very much, and at this very moment I would add if I may be so rude.
Claws nodded his wise head. He came towards Turve wiping his hands off and said, Young Turve, I’ve been meaning to ask you this before I leave. This is that your Old Man, you do not look so convinced that he was craptured, are you?
Turve felt his heart skip a beat. He felt his whole being shrunk to emptiness. He cracked knuckles and brought them to the back of his head and pressed his skull. Then he rubbed his forehead and said, See, I want you to leave, I got a prep to do, without meaning it to be harsh but not knowing at the moment how else to put it.
It’s... it’s fine. You see, I’m talking like I’m seeing you for the last time, said Claws, in a tone of empathy, and asked, May I have your Pad, Turve?, stretching his hand out.
Turve gave his Dig Pad to him and remained calm.
Any time… any time you want to talk, you know where to find me, Claws said, as he scribbled on the Pad. And he left the place through the window he came, leaving it open.
Turve unlocked the window and stayed in there for an hour that felt like a day.

There was a bang on the door… another bang… Turve pretended he didn’t listen… then a creak-crack… Turve fought in his mind opposites in the form of yes or no to shoot to the back door… a clank… then came an illegible noise. The door was smashed down. Amid its ruin stood a man with a sinful mirth on his face. He behaved as if he was all by himself though he had a team of four SNAT’s about him. So here is my prize – the Dom’s rotten genius, in a voice of thunder. Here I come to show you daylights in a dark room, he cried. Turve having anticipated the breach haven’t anticipated such a breach and its chief. He stood there overwhelmed by the weight of the event preceding this than this, he forgot his weapons if he had them. A fist came like whirlwind and met his chin; he let his passions go and screamed ahh... feckkk. Another met his abdomen, he thought he died and a part of his life in the form of blood splashed from his mouth. He fell to his knees and wished he had more hands than two to comfort his violated parts. There he thus stayed until an unnatural light caught his sight. Or for that matter the rest of the town’s.

The apparition’s original intent was to pay a suspended visit over the Brotherl, a wise madman later said, but it was sighted by a kid at Sell Your Steal located at the east corner, by a girl reading Kiss or Spill on a terrace at the west corner, a pet dog chasing a sleepy panther at the north corner, all the cats slept they said, a man about to enter the Unusual Bookstore at the south corner all to whom – and those who stayed outdoor, every single one indoor came out driven by a spontaneous go – it was a personal visitation. Every one gazed the Mother like through a giant life-screen, absent 6D glasses, with naked eyes. Masion peed his pants the six-month kidney stone. Paresh wept his tear glands dry first time after sixteen years. Aliban gave up her born-polygamist belief. The 70-year-old born-blind Nadia saw light, colors, and truth. Bimanan took an oath when he grows up he will not become a Brothern. Turve holding his breath and pain almost crawled to the street, knelt, took a glimpse of the Face, got up on his feet and thought I will never kneel again by force or will and I found my true self. His tears of joy emerged and he smiled like a baby would cry. He was no more pained that day.

Latisha caught the scene in front of her uncle’s house where she at the moment was in front of which was Athena’s. Their eyes met in sheer disbelief and both thought for a second it was a shared REM dream. Athena, captured by a sensation of rare occurrences, it was known as whaw, that ran from her bosom to knees, said W…H…A…W, turned hyperactive in no time and before a violent act fainted. Not because she had prayed all noon, and the past few, and binged on everything on sight but because she couldn’t remember how to spell Mother when she saw a real one, or the too-real a one.
...

It’s open, screamed Latisha at the top of her voice hearing the knock on the door. She had herself on the rocking chair as relaxed as she can be.
Miss Latisha Bhavani, inquired a visitor upon entry.
You’re beholding, Latisha presented herself head up from its rest. What brings a young lady and a lad in uniforms to my presence? From the corner where the kitchen was came a clangor that made her shout, What are you up to, Dad. When did you last cook coffee? She turned to the visitors and fixed her attention on them that indicated the suspended question mark.
You’re wanted for the mischief of the eve, said the lady sternly. So-called mischief, added the lad.
I am looking for the 6D Pad all over, sweetheart, said dad appearing in the hall. He grew an expression of What witnessing the uniforms. ... and did you tell me we got guests for supper?
I think I did not, said Latisha, the visitors paid attention to her dad’s appearance, and she ran her fingers successively over her hands as if feeling her second skin. Then said, do I have the right to inquire on what grounds?
On mysterious grounds, Miss, said the lady dismissively. On your feet, she added, and put your hands together, approaching her with her chest up. Latisha did as told. And she had her hands cuffed.
Now what, she asked with an unheard of politeness.
To the Chamber, where else, the lady answered. Is that... sweat on your face? She asked mockingly.
...Oh! Shit, well, I honeyed my face... and I must wash it off before late. Allow me, please, requested Latisha.
The lady smiled a corner and said, you may be allowed it but not do it, knowing full well the possible dangers of the captive on her feet, cuff un-cuffed. Find a cloth and do it, she led the lad.
Dad came to the aid, at an opportunity asked the lad if he would be willing to find the missing Pad which the lad politely refused, but the lady would not let dad do it and only the lad, during the process of which Latisha gestured dad to go in, feeling the wet cloth on her face. Do be back in time for dinner, said dad.
...
Latisha studied the street unblinking as she was let out of the door, the next moment closed her eyes and imagined Athena praying, then she unblinked again. Am I gaining my divine-or-crap femininity, she thought. Listen, she begged turning and facing the lady. I cannot be taken this way, holding her captors hands with her cuffed hands.
Her dad called out from the portico. The lad and lady turned to look, at the precise moment in a matter of few seconds the captive did this: she let go of her grip, rowed her uppers in the air, the cuff was out and on her fingers through the camouflaged slippery second skin; she second skinned and cuffed the captor, gripped the lady’s wrists, brought a lower up, kicked her enough on her belly; the lady flew a few steps back, the skins on this side, she shoved it in her pockets: the captor cuffed.
I said be back for... dad stopped shy of dinner.
The lad stood frozen at the turn of events.
This occurred: Latisha took right and ran, clumsy at first, gathered pace and lifted a pole off the shade tent of the Music Muse shop, then another, and turned back as if ready to run backwards.
Get her by her dirty pony I said, screamed the lady. The key... where did I...
Latisha did a quick sprint, javelined a pole that hit the ground two steps short of the approaching lad, the other end finding its mark on his head. He fell confused which bought her a few seconds.
Then she did this: she turned holding the other pole and shot like an arrow to the end where was a ten-foot wall, slowed her pace a bit, vaulted herself, caught the top of the wall, stood on it and looked the lad gathering his pace; the loose brick under her feet gave way, and with the brick to the other side she fell.
The lad reached the wall, said damn. One moment he thought he go pick the pole up, the next he was climbing the wall. On this event, and observing more akin to this, an anthropologist later would remark: Boys climb walls or trees not to compete with girls but because they like it.
Latisha landed on her fours, and it ached. While she collected her faculties, she heard: ain’t you a nasty piece of work. She came on her back, and he had already jumped. She brought her leg up, hip flexed as if unwelcoming an unfaithful lover. The lad, despite his calculations, crotch-landed on her leg – he whined like a stoned bastard, but more determined in his action than his looks suggested – and gripped her throat. He said, bittersweetness, it’s sadness you can’t grip on me with your softness like I can on you with my... triumphantly, and tightened his grip on her. Her throat choked, her lungs fought for air, and her hand was elsewhere. Phatt came a sound, and it was stone against bone. She kicked him away, leapt on her feet, brick on her hand. The lad, as he tried to stand up, screwed his face and by the looks of it he had his medial collateral torn in two, and he would soon be braced and won’t run for weeks. Latisha dropped her weapon, still breathing hard said, only a wanker whines, mother-oriented.
The lady found the key and pleaded with dad to uncuff her but he wouldn’t do it unless the Pad is to be her priority.
Latisha, recovering still, wobbly on her feet hit by vertigo, but after a few paces, toward the twilight through the wood – like Adma, her Great Mother – like a fierce deer fled.
...

Turve walked leisurely to the nearest SNAT Quarter. Albeit what occurred and what he just did took the edge off of his agony, he was beginning to worry about what may transpire after this; nonetheless, he told himself this is the way I do it and put his mind to it.
May I be granted a visit to the Head, he asked the official.
I am afraid she’s extremely busy. I may be at your service, he was answered.
See, this is of utmost importance, Turve said half-heartedly. The Chief and his team is cuffed and locked up in a spot only I can tell where.
You mean... what? The official stammered in disbelief.
My system needs a pep up, Turve intruded, I may do well with a fine drink, wearily and dragged himself to the nearest chair.
The official alerted the rescue team, and Turve was provided a Purple Hit.
...and, Sir, I did it, Turve revealed sipping the drink and added ...I turn myself in.
There were two officials now who took no offense to the One captured. Turve continued, I offered the Chief a twin Hessmas band. He refused. I could only convince him to sit on the chair. I offered the bands to the team that they were pleased to wear. And the chair was a lock-if-you-get-up one, he said looking at one official. ...as to the bands, you can guess, looking at the other official.
...

I’m coming, said Athena, hearing the knock. Tyger kept going round and round her feet, it took her half a minute to get to the door. Coming, I said!
Where the feck is Turve, came a voice that was catching its breath for the thousandth time. It was Latisha’s, and she stood there with her Pad that was dialing Turve. She showed it to her host and snapped, what’s happening? The nerd won’t pick it up... too... huh… you busy Miss Cat-taker. WHAT IS HAPPENING?
Athena’s granny showed up and went right back in.
Late, won’t you step in? Athena said in a voice that pleaded. See all the mess in here? Tyger went berserk after the incident. He has been since he woke up.
Latisha went straight into the kitchen, grabbed a Get-Your-Aid, sipping it she said, like you did, chicken. Only with you it was before. Where. Is. Turve. She snapped again.
Unlike it was to be, he turned himself in, said Athena biting her teeth. He couldn’t explain himself to me. It wasn’t like I was approving of it.
Oh! I see. The sneaky cat bells itself and can’t say why it did, mused Latisha. I’m the rat-taker that said run catty run.
Are we going to do something about it? Athena asked, a little worried seeing her companion’s musability.
It’s not we, affirmed Latisha. I am. You stay put. And if you don’t, and try something like your better-to-be-half, I will knock you unconscious as you spell Mom backward.
...Then I want you to call Rie right away, said Athena. He would want you to. It was I who brought it about in a manner of speaking.
So much for your binging, Atie. Did you call me after Turve called you? No. You want me to call Rie. Why should I? said Latisha, to which Athena responded in empty mute winds. Rie isn’t supposed to be in it, neither are you. If this much isn’t clear as a mountain to you, Hess save you. Then Latisha left.
...

In the Head’s Quarter, Turve sat in the middle surrounded by its occupant besides NoseItAll, and Chief. The Team that was cuffed just had their say and left, everyone with a smile of approval for Turve.
...Do I need to answer right away, said Turve, or if I can take some time to? Clear-headed, you know.
Mister, there’s not a moment to think, said the Chief.
You may as you like, said the Head, throwing a glance towards Chief in the passing. And remember it’s not what we want you to do with us, rather what you want to.
Turve, neither grim-faced nor smiling, said, I will think it over.
Those inside heard a commotion and the locked door began to shake. When they looked through the one-way see-through, they recognized a violent being whom Turve knew for Latisha. She was iron-shafted and her aim was the latch, all the while a crowd around her trying to pacify her but every time failing. The chief, to capture at least one worthy catch, hurried to the door, opened the door, and screamed – the shaft took his foot for a target – and limped like a ton weighed down there. Others came to their feet, as Latisha said sorry not looking at Chief, and Turve said, Late, you’ve got to go easy now. I’m just fine.
Latisha screwed her face as though her mate was a vermin, and stood there shaft in her hand.
Clear it here now, said the Head, unmindful of Chief’s misfortune. I need to have a word with this fine lady here. Turve gestured he will wait outside. The lady, having catered to the lad in the Flesh and Bone Clinic, entered the Quarter, as the others walked out.
...
You say it as is, or you know where you go, said the Head, and the lady had a big smile on her face.
For what it’s worth, all that you know already is what was, said Latisha without a fiber moving in her face.
So, it was your 6D Pad projecting the apparition, said the Head playfully. Incredible!
Latisha nodded her head in approval, yes, and yes.
There you go then, said the Head. You know where?
...No. I haven’t a clue, puzzled Latisha.
Why don’t you explain it to her, said the Head to the lady. After all, she was to be your catch.
...

The next morning, the Chief in his abode found his House of Love replica missing but found a Pipe on his stand. He demanded his spouse he be taken at once to the Sanity Clinic. Turve in his abode found his Pipe missing but found the House of Love replica which brought him warm memories, and how he missed Tops. He made up his mind at once to reconcile with his old buddy who, he thought, had he been around these events would have taken a different turn than it now awkwardly have.

Fifteen hundred years ago. Two men met in the shade of a backyard.
I have not words to thank you for what you have done for me, said one of them.
It’s for His glory, Sr. Legloves, said the one who only the last day presented himself as Legloves to the Lordess beside three others.
You may be immortalized even long after you’ve left the Dom and craptured, said the perpetrator. I may be free to carry on the Custom that I began which you aided in your grace.
All for His glory, said the man. I am to leave Dom this very night. You shall be in my prayers as I shall be in yours.
For His glory, said Sr. Legloves. I shall once in a year take what is not ours but His as a symbol.
A gust broke and with it storm clouds brought a heavy downpour. The Dom flourished.

In the celestial sphere, Host the Mother sat on her throne in a long time which had been vacant ever since a constipation of consciousness down below. Tsar Hesse discussed his altered centrality with his companions both of whom firmly said he must reconcile with his other self.

...
Two shadows met in the basement of a 32-story skyscraper.
I am to Hit and Run, said a voice that had a stoic tone to it.
I am to SNAT, said the other, in a voice that never forgave itself from that moment on for a long time.
...

A Passage From Right W’s Treatise

A fancy
A fence
A query
A dash of truth


You live plainly only once
Not if you could live in books
How playful!


There's no awe in many lives
One is a dash of melancholy
How awful?


Can one define in pain-only land pain
And another in pleasure-only land pleasure
Just-defying!


You could, no one, land in another
Only live many a dash of lands
Plain awe defined!!

The Cons of Playing a Devil's Advocate

In the heart of Topsy-Turvydom, Right for all the right and wrong reasons was reared by his liberal mother and liberal father (he lied about being that) up until eight being taught the yays and the nays (they disagreed on the contrasts) but taught himself then on through the underground periodicals that he hid under his bed (both agreed on its invisibility to naked eyes) and pulled himself through the tunnel of education in flying rags of collars (both lied about it saying it was ragas ♪ and colors). The effect of growing up however dizzying was rather satisfying for he had (rather thought he had) a purpose in life and anticipated his first interview in sheer glee (not without a bit of nervousness) for the position of yet another Devil's Advocate. The City lately had an explosion of factories because the other Cities but also ployed to keep themselves green as possible as the underground movement put it or were not only benevolent enough to let us progress as the upper-ground movement put it. The specialty he chose to master himself in had in it all the tools that could shape a morally uptight world to a morally upright one, or so he thought (meaning only well).


He applied Steam Cel on his trimmed hair, Stun You on his face; wore Shoot Me for a shirt, Smiley for a toy that ran from his neck to his incomplete belly, Pull Me for a trouser, Stamp Me for shoes (the rest they won't tell even if they knew). Thus attired, he was all too composed for the impending interview. He had a short videoconference against his jubilant parents (he lived a little away to be close to them) during the full ten minutes of which they wished him well to an extent he had a feeling of having bathed deep in a Wish Well and near the end of it his father was all misty-eyed and mother smiles and pride. Between his ride from his abode to the Interview Chamber, on his roller-skater two ends attached to a remote-controlled Tie Car and one from there to him, is the only time to mention that Right was like a girl when comes to commitment in that he thought a girl would keep him from his climbing the ladder of profession though everyone around was quitting jobs and dropping out of college to wed. He had a way of his own in acknowledging status quo; he said it is pop vulture (certainly not meaning well).


He placed his vehicle in the locker and approached the entrance and for whatever the reason exposed his right eye to the scanner on the side instead of- The door alarm triggered through this action of his won't stop itself from blaring which brought the security to his toes who before a blink shot the Truth Serum into Right's right leg that provoked Right to scream in half agony my right pinkie after which the man in the uniform apologized and retreated to his seat. This behavior of his need not be all that surprising because there was another instance, perhaps at an auditorium entrance, where he tried it with his middle finger (he's only too ex-peri-mental) and began telling mysterious facts about his associates Tops and Turve (mostly upon their own provocation) for which they almost booked him under perjury and soon he began contradicting his own statements. Right now having gained his faculties, it takes only thirty seconds and a shout, came to the scanner and exposed his little finger which for obvious reasons looked like crowbar-proofed, and it was, except for its prints (the Finger Snatchers were growing in number) and tightened his toy and let himself through the door. The Chamber is in the eleventh floor and it's the twelfth on the right, Sir said the receptionist whose joystick-converted fingers quivered as she pointed to the elevator.


He found himself in front of the interviewer who it seemed to have lived half his century inside a machine, his humanly manners notwithstanding. The mosquito that couldn't sleep the day, Right later referred to it as that little vampire, came out of nowhere (for Right) and out of boredom (for the fly) as he began to say good noon, bit him on the side of his forehead so he stopped at goo and scratched his forehead which to the big man opposite looked like a salute that startled him out of his wits but that was only a moment for Right gathered himself back in no time and brought his hands together and made a namaste and completed his wishing to which the man acknowledged it with a good noon and be seated. The little vampire in question annoyed by its denial of space not wanting to lose hope flew a half circle and found a similar spot on the man's and this time around he startled himself with his own repetition of a witnessed action which put Right at ease at once. You may brief me about yourself, young man began the interviewer. What he replied to this query isn't of primary importance. The reader knows, in the absent record of what he did say, what s/he he/shelf would say in such a situation and what he didn't say was whatever can be said from the aforementioned (the serum wears off in five minutes).


The interviewer who is appointed by the City Council – though he held this post beyond his retirement age, he looked young when he swallowed a particular fish every morning – was a reasonable man with respect to intellect and manners and looked affirmative to Right on his briefing. You have an extraordinary portfolio too he said perusing through his ourPapers. Let's get to the rest, mister, he said, the one question you must answer with a pride of having invented the very question, argue the pros of swordfish serum production in an effort to enhance the thrill of underwater human chase games. Hearing the challenge, rather the twist of it, had Right on the edge of his sanity (he was sane only when it's least expected). Had he heard it in a non-air-conditioned Chamber, he would have bathed himself in sweat. Here it only shook his guts off and put him in a suspended sacrificial altar with his head on it and neck below hung down. Hell of a way to ask an un-question and what is it but conning of the con he thought but brought himself to argue it as originally as he can and added yet it may be a nonstarter to ensure he isn't given a go at it. Though he halfheartedly apologized for his pessimism toward the end of it all, as he wished, the big man gave him a fairly done but negative. When I go out the sky must be down and the land up he thought.


On his way back to his place, he saw the same beggar on a roller to whom he didn't pay any attention to at the time. He paused by and gave him his vRead thinking he may not read but he can sell it for a few bucks and eat a few mouthfuls but contrary to Right's assertion this man read a few stories from it before selling it and began telling them to fellow souls and it turned out one day as Right was halted by a little red man as zebras crossed a boy holding a little girl on his shoulder asked a few bucks for a story which he would later refer to as some revival of folktales. It seems early to shed light on the turning of a table but what happened that puzzled Right to the end of his ride back happened at a period he was most ignorant of the status quo. He learned all that he ever needed to learn, he thought, in his very first year to a degree he felt the second year to be a boredom and third year he was either found missing or writing his Treatise Concerning Wordfares. It took him the long ride back home to realize that the world began spinning in the opposite direction when he took that extra nap of his life, and found that he arrived at his parent's instead of his and rode at once to his not prepared to face them yet. He became so ashamed of himself, it showed, he began riding on the pedestrian platform absent-mindedly.

Right pushed his 12-wheeler into his backpack, too much road skiing can be weary, and began walking the last mile for want of a little warmup and fresh air. Upon his arrival, he saw what looked like two bullies trying to break and enter into his place and Right had a smile on his face when he realized it was Tops and Turve. Turve who is a cop was demonstrating to Tops who is a lawyer how impossible in practice the burglary in the neighborhood last week was and why it was only possible the landlord feigned it. Although Right smiled it soon became obvious to them there was something sad about it. Turve said I see a disastrous Chamber visit and Tops said I see a scratched mosquito bite. They sat on the portico railing as Right narrated the events and where his arrogance is bliss attitude got him. The world never ran the same, said Tops, it has and always had a funny good weirdness to it and now it's all down to questions unasked. I may have a solution, said Turve, think it through, it seems you can run for the God's Advocate now with the same expertise. Right felt a candle light up in his head and the breeze that blew the leaves around made that light in his head glow brighter.

Sort: Pisces

Well-Come

Why This and Not That!

This is by and large to hone so use-less a skill - narratives, dialogues, and all that falls between...